Dance Of The Leaves

I hereby declare that I claim no rights to NARUTO © 1999 by Kishimoto Masashi/SHUEISHA Inc. and recieve no monetary benefit for any narrative I publish hereafter based on this manga or any of its other media adaptations. Warnings are in place for slash (male on male coupling), graphic sexual content, manga spoilers, discrimination and violence. -Xtase Home Again Naruto had not stopped grinning. Not since he had come upon the main road and began to tramp on through the bustling streets. He did not notice the worried expressions of passersby at his shocking state. Yes, worried. He was so covered up in dirt and his normally golden hair so caked with muck that no one could recognise him. "Hey, kiddo! You get beat up or something? Need any help?" A concerned man called out from behind his stall. The boy turned around, showing him a grimy face with clean tear tracks underneath his balmy blue eyes. And he was rendered speechless by the blissful smile on the child's lips. Naruto shook his head no and piped up a simple phrase that felt warm and soft on his lips. "I'm going home to Mother," And happily scampered away. "Oi! Oi, don't run off, kid!" he heard the man call, but he paid him no heed. That man had not known who he was. He had not even seen Naruto's whisker-marks. An d despite knowing that kindness had not been directed at him, Naruto, he was still happy. And so what if they had recognised him? He was on cloud nine. He would see Mother Nonou again, if only for a short time. And maybe he would get to see her again as well. This thought made his insides dissolve into a warm golden puddle and his knees feel mushy. He beamed wider. A little boy in a ripped up tee shirt that hung off his right shoulder heading to the outskirts of town. Smiling blissfully, as if he didn't feel the stings from the numerous cuts and sores adorning his body. And in a way, he didn't. And his spirits soared when he saw the large, barnlike orphanage looming up in front of him. He began to run so fast he felt his muscles grow hot and his head become giddy. And all that came out of his mouth was an endless whooping cry that was almost hysterical. He was home, homehomehome! His screeching laughter brought out a couple of the warden who ran the orphanage. But Naruto's attention was fixed solely, fiercely on a slim, white-blonde woman. On her shocked expression, the happy tears beginning to pool in her pale eyes. And he felt his own tears course down his cheeks. A hot, torrential flow of wetness streaking down his scarred face. She was here, in front of him. She was really there! The weeping boy buried himself in her skirts, latching onto her apron for dear life. And he proceeded to bawl his lungs out, drawing out some of the other children. Even though the blond considered them his family, in this moment he could not care less for them. In this moment, the only people in the world were Mother and himself. They were alone in their warm cocoon of complete happiness. Feeling her soft hands gently stroke his unkempt hair, looking up at her kind, kind face. Feeling her cool, soothing tears plinking against his forehead. Naruto thought she looked like an angel, with her flaxen hair and shimmering pale blue eyes. She was his angel. And he hugged her around her knees, never wanting to let go. Soon enough the entire building was in an uproar. The other warden were swooning in relief at the reappearance of the missing child. They had been about to inform the higher -ups of Konoha of the boy's disappearance. And they would not have been pleased to learn that they had allowed the coveted Kyuubi vessel to wander about unsupervised, vulnerable to abduction. The punishment would have been severe. The children were thrilled to see their blond friend back. A few even followed Naruto into the bathroom where Mother Nonou was stripping him for a bath. Mother Michiru had had to swat them away with a heavy broom, scolding them in her booming voice. One of the more lively wards, Urushi, could be heard complaining rather loudly as they fled down the hall. Nonou stood Naruto up in a large metal basin of hot water and scrubbed him hard with a loofah sponge. Washed him with vigour, until the water was brown and murky. Rinsed his hair out with shampoo until it was soft and shiny-gold again. Throughout his bath the blond had not complained once, which was very unlike him. He only had his gaze fixed lovingly on her features. And he willingly let her swathe him in a thick white towel, reaching his arms up for her to carry him off to the ends of the earth. She sat him on his bed, in his bright sunny room. Applied her homemade calamine to his almost-gone rashes. Gently swabbed the slightly sizzling cuts with iodine solution, even though there really was no need. Naruto's ability to heal was becoming better and better as he aged. Already the wounds had scarred over, and in a few more days would disappear entirely. Then she led him downstairs, dressed in his favourite bright yellow shirt and mossy green shorts. To the large, homey kitchen teeming with life. And he was greeted by a deafening cheer, courtesy of the children, when he entered. Even the usually dour warden all welcomed him with smiles. And he was smiling, his heart and his tummy were smiling. The fellow young faces beamed at him. And the tallest of them all, Urushi, elbowed his way forward. "Outta the way! Make room, he ain't seen his present yet," he exclaimed. The blond's ears pricked up. A present? For him? The older boy grabbed his hand to drag him toward the long, rectaungular table. Naruto hung on to Nonou with his other hand, making her go with him. And as he got closer, an incredible aroma hit his nostrils. That familiar, heady aroma that made his tastebuds jump and his mouth water. "Ichiraku Ramen; Special Takeaway!" Urushi stated proudly. It had been his idea. "Ramen," the blond said, a yawning chasm widening in his belly. There in the table sat not one bowl, not two bowls, but three large bowls of the fragrant ambrosia. He could already feel the noodles slipping down his throat. "Naruto," Nonou said softly, "Whay do you say to your friends when they do nice things for you?" she smiled beatifically at him. Her cloudy hair was free of its coif and framed her face. Her beatiful face. "She's right, chibi! Don't be ungrateful and thank us already," Urushi said. The blond boy looked at him. He looked at the other children's beaming faces. So different from the mean, frowny faces of the other villagers. He looked at the warden, at the bruised-looking bags under their eyes. They had been worried. For him. And he had been a bad boy for making them lose sleep. And his eyes began to mist over as sobs began to rack his little body. He was sorry, so sorrysorrysorry. He had screwed up and made Mother Nonou and Urushi and the others sad. He had made her cry. He always messed things up. Even rmthough he never meant to. He wept more noisily, whimpering piteously. And then he felt warm, soft arms embrace him. Felt the gentle push of her lips on the crown if his head. His eyes were screwed shut but he knew it was her. He knew her smell; rosewater and beeswax. He knew her magic touch. And he cried even harder, though the sound was muffled in her apron. And he decided; until she left for Iwagakure, he would not let her out of his sight. He would not leave her side again. Further west on the other edge of town, in her dark bedroom, Uchiha Mikoto held her older son. Cradled him against her, his head buried in her bosom. Seeking comfort, warmth. Life.His skin still felt clammy from the way he had been sweating. Looking at her son's fetching features, she swept the damp bangs from his forehead and kissed his brow. She sincerely hoped his night episodes wouldn't start up again. She didn't know if she would be able to stand the sight of him wobbling unsteadily into her room. Into her bed. Feeling the tacky moistness of his pyjamas. Seeing his eyes glow red in the dark because he had activated his Sharingan in fear. It had been like that for a year after the Third Shinobi World War. After he had seen all those peolple die in that surprise attack. Almost every night afterward he would have fits or sneak into his parents' bed. His bright, happy-go-lucky personality had seemed to vanish. Fugaku had been distraught, and she was constantly in the grip of an icy fear. The fear that the war had broken their child. But it had all miraculously stopped about two weeks after Sasuke was born. The baby had been a good influence on Itachi. Over the years he had gained back a good deal of his previous cheerfulness. And though it was never quite the same, his parents could not have been more pleased. Itachi was happy, Sasuke was happy, so they were happy. It was as simple as that. But now, as she looked into her husband's liquid black eyes rippling with concern for their firstborn, Mikoto began to wonder... Sweet Jesus, that was so difficult to grind out. Sorry if this chapter is not up to my usual standard. My spirits have been terribly low for the past few days; but I had to get this done, so I tried to soldier through it somehow