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The Revenge of the Hawk
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Hey guys! This is my first attempt at a fanfic, so if you take the time to read it, I would really appreciate some critiques and feeback. For now it’s just a one shot, but if it works out well enough, I will write more. But in the mean time, hope you all enjoy!
*Edit* The premise, just to clarify, is that one year before Naruto and his classmates even graduate the Ninja Academy at Kohona, a certain someone begins making moves to change the fate of the village and the entire ninja world. What exactly will be the consequences of his actions, and how will events play out afterwards?
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Chpt. 1: The Foundation of Death.
The pitch black of night rolled across the landscape, broken in lulls only by the dim lights of the city off towards the distance; the city covered in trees, the Village Hidden in the Leaves, tucked away in the heart in the Land of Fire. The dark was all but silent; there were very few in this area of the village at the dead of night, and even nature itself seemed mute as though weary from a long day of practiced and well executed existence. This place, thought the raven haired man, was perfect for the meeting he had in mind; he stood aloof below an old oak overlooking the village, in area often overlooked in evening patrols, all but invisible in ebony cloak and well hidden to boot. The only thing which might be clearly seen, and only from very close distance, was a multi-colored, crimson and white mask designed in model of a bird’s face concealing his face. Grinding his teeth, he mused his time away as he continued to wait, fuming in a silent, furious rage. This intense anger was not from the man’s being made to wait, for he himself was early (as was his habit), but rather from the thoughts he forced himself to ponder as the cool air of the night seemed to grow all the colder upon his irked mood. Finally, he thought, the object of desire which was so cruelly taken from him so long ago would rightfully be his. Finally, he would have…
A hand reached out, suddenly grasping harshly onto his shoulder, and the man in black whirled around, kunai immediately flashing just short of a pale, barely open throat. Though the cold steel was mere inches away from taking his life, the new stranger didn’t budge an inch. His blonde hair was barely visible behind his cloak and mask, and he stood almost a foot taller than the man in black. Shortly behind the new comer came another shrouded figure, this one even bulkier, but with dark hair matching their master’s. The last of the figures to arrive bowed his head, almost bowing in humility, before speaking in a deep, monotonic voice.
“Forgive us…Lord Danzo, we did not mean to keep you waiting.”
The one known as Danzo shook his head, his neck cringing from the sudden forced motions, and he curse himself for growing old. “Waiting? What do you know of waiting? I have waited decades for this moment…a handful of minutes only means a short delay to the inevitable.” He looked towards the blonde shadow, and behind his mask scowled, his tone becoming gruff. “And do not, ever, lay your hands upon me without orders again, boy; the Anbu are not known for making many mistakes, and we of the Foundation make none! Do you understand me? Watch your discipline…I’m sure you don’t need me to explain what will happen if you don’t.”
The blonde shadow bowed in turn, lowering himself even further to the ground. “Forgive me, Lord; I will take my own life, should it please you.”
Danzo was tempted to slap him for that comment, and instead merely lashed him once more with his tongue. “Enough of your inane babble; do I look like one of those filthy samurai to you?” Looking over his two subordinates, he scratched his chin pensively, examining them up and down. “Be that as it may…you have been brought here as you are two of the Foundation’s most successful operatives. I am here to tell you that from this point on, you will be given names and be my eyes and ears, as well as my personal task force.” Without another word of either congratulation or gratitude, he glanced over to the large, dark haired Anbu, and, after a moment, grunted out “Aburame. That was your clan, was it not? Good, from this day forward, you shall be Aburame Torune. And you…”, looking then to the blonde, “…are Yamanaka. Yes, Yamanaka Foo. Those names should suffice.”
Not seeing, or even caring, for the bow of their heads, Danzo turned back towards the village. His village, for damn them, it was his village! He paused a moment, taking in the nooks, the crannies, every conceivable detail of his homeland, and, with little hesitation, he removed his mask and revealed the ancient crags and canyons etched as wrinkles in his face, one eye covered in white wrappings, appearing almost half dead, and yet he never felt more alive in more years than he could count. Torune, sensing his master’s thoughtful restlessness, after a moment, moved forward daringly. “Sire…I thought our plans were to wait for Orochimaru to coordinate an invasion of the Leaf and then pick up the pieces once both he and the Third were defeated…”
Spitting in disgust, the elder of Kohona glared back at his subordinate. “Bah, the boy has taken too long. You do not seem to understand the words I myself have spoken, Torune. I have waited…planned…schemed and played for position for more years then I care to remember, all of them spent groveling at Hiruzen’s feet! No…I will wait no longer…his time has come! My time has come!
Flash! As his sword whipped across his opponents range, moonlit steel gliding through the air, Gekko Hayate let out a triumphant shout as the last of his opponent’s shadow clones vanished in a puff of smoke. Closing the gap between him and the other fighter in a moment, he quickly barred his sword next to Shiranui Genma’s exposed neck. Chuckling a bit, Hayate grinned at his friend and rival, pausing to cough a bit as was his mannerism when he wasn’t moving too fast. Damned lungs…I should really stop smoking so much…, he thought, lowering off his guard. Genma glared a hole in his head for a moment, then his expression lightened, and he smiled in return. “You know,” the defeated fighter remarked, brushing dust from his field uniform, “if you didn’t smoke so much, maybe you would have a shot of making it to Jonin before I do.” Hayate laughed in a fit mixed with joy and pain, as his cough flared up once again, though he didn’t mind. He shook his friend off and made as if to punch him. “Ha, if you can’t even beat a lung diseased rookie who’s younger than you, who ever said you’re making it to Jonin? Hell, Special Jonin might be too much for you. Maybe I should tell the Hokage you’d better go teach a few more classes at the Academy with Iruka before you deserve to be a real ninja!”
Genma feigned anger, tackling him. “Oh no, you aren’t sending me back to teach those snot nosed brats anymore. Iruka can keep his lousy job with his lousy rank.” Falling back, the two chuckled for a moment lying on the grass before Genma stood, brushed himself off, and gestured to the path back to the village. “C’mon, let’s go home; I’ll treat you to Ichakuru, just for beating me.” Hayate stood in turn, and, thinking for a moment, shook his head. “Thanks, but can I meet with you in a bit? I wanna go grab one of my kunai I threw over by the woods.” Genma slapped his palm on his face, and shrugging it off, waved back to Hayate. “Whatever floats your boat, dumb ass.”
Hayate grunted in amusement, and walked back toward the tree cover, letting the breeze and the sweat still dripping from his face cool his body as he walked towards the undergrowth. Backtracking through the broad area of their fight, Hayate grew increasingly frustrated, and as he reached the isolated edge of the forest which bordered on a cliff, he rested on a tree before preparing to turn back. Before he could move, a ghost of a voice wound across the landscape, and he perked up, suddenly alert to his surroundings. Looking out, he could see three dark cloaked men underneath a tree on the end of the cliff. He arched forward, listening closer.
“…you don’t need to be worried with the how or the why; just do as your told and you will be granting the village of Kohona the best possible chance it has for prosperity and survival. Under Hiruzen, we are little more than a displaced military power. I will bring us to the head of the shinobi world, where we rightfully belong! Orochimaru has already, through his research, handed me the most important keys to the puzzle. If we wait for him any longer, he will merely find more ways to attempt to use us for his own ways, and he is as much an enemy as Kohona as Hiruzen is. All that is left is to dispose of the Third Hokage…”
Hayate bolted upright; dispose of the Hokage! This was not just an unspeakable threat, for these were, by their garb, easily identifiable as Anbu Black Ops. This was a coup in the making. He gathered himself quickly, and prepared to set off, and as he was doing so, he heard the voice of the man again, the one he noticed had not been wearing a mask. “…oh, and you two are dismissed. I wish to test something…so I’ll take care of clean up personally.”
Shit! With that thought, Hayate leapt off as fast as his legs would carry him. Flying through the tree tops, his breath quickly turned panting and he began perspiring again. Before he got far, a figure bashed into his side, and Hayate landed on the ground. His assailant was the old man who had been speaking, and up close, he appeared to have a familiar air. The old man cracked a weathered, malicious grin, and held out a sword mockingly. “Going somewhere? Children really shouldn’t play in the woods at night; bad things happen.”
“You’re the one who is going to experience bad things!” With silent grace, the elite ninja quickly made the hand signs for the Kagebunshin; shadow clones. After forming five clones, all of them simultaneously, in one deadly motion, barred their own swords and flew into the air at the elder. “Miyuzaki no Mai! Dance of the Crescent Moon!” Moving at almost inhuman speed, Hayate felt satisfaction as Danzo deflected all four of the clones, but missed his real strike as the sword penetrated the old man’s neck. As the body fell dead to the ground, blood throbbing from the gash at the neck, the Special Jonin came to a sudden, horrible realization, and prepared to move for the village with all haste. “No doubt about it!” Hayate exclaimed to himself. “This was definitely Shim…”
“Air Bullets.” The force of the wind shredded apart the younger man’s body, severing his sword arm and almost blowing off his entire right side. Hitting a tree with a sickening thud, Hayate looked up as the light began to glee his eyes, and saw with despair the old man, standing as he had been, with not a scratch on him. “Wha…how did you…you should be…..dead…” With those words, Hayate’s head fell limp. Danzo shook his head, with a look of what could be called remorse across his face. “So much young talent…wasted.” He looked up, the moon overhead the only witness to the grisly scene. Danzo grinned, callously and maliciously. “An example, than; an example of what will happen to those who defy the future. My future.” He glared, looking ominously back at the body of Gekko Hayate. “Hiruzen Sarutobi…you stole what I had earned by right. Now I will take it all back from you…by force, as is necessary. The Hawk Faction shall make you rue the day you even heard of the title, ‘Hokage’.”
With that, Shiruma Danzo, of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, began to plot war.
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Hey guys! This is my first attempt at a fanfic, so if you take the time to read it, I would really appreciate some critiques and feeback. For now it’s just a one shot, but if it works out well enough, I will write more. But in the mean time, hope you all enjoy!
*Edit* The premise, just to clarify, is that one year before Naruto and his classmates even graduate the Ninja Academy at Kohona, a certain someone begins making moves to change the fate of the village and the entire ninja world. What exactly will be the consequences of his actions, and how will events play out afterwards?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chpt. 1: The Foundation of Death.
The pitch black of night rolled across the landscape, broken in lulls only by the dim lights of the city off towards the distance; the city covered in trees, the Village Hidden in the Leaves, tucked away in the heart in the Land of Fire. The dark was all but silent; there were very few in this area of the village at the dead of night, and even nature itself seemed mute as though weary from a long day of practiced and well executed existence. This place, thought the raven haired man, was perfect for the meeting he had in mind; he stood aloof below an old oak overlooking the village, in area often overlooked in evening patrols, all but invisible in ebony cloak and well hidden to boot. The only thing which might be clearly seen, and only from very close distance, was a multi-colored, crimson and white mask designed in model of a bird’s face concealing his face. Grinding his teeth, he mused his time away as he continued to wait, fuming in a silent, furious rage. This intense anger was not from the man’s being made to wait, for he himself was early (as was his habit), but rather from the thoughts he forced himself to ponder as the cool air of the night seemed to grow all the colder upon his irked mood. Finally, he thought, the object of desire which was so cruelly taken from him so long ago would rightfully be his. Finally, he would have…
A hand reached out, suddenly grasping harshly onto his shoulder, and the man in black whirled around, kunai immediately flashing just short of a pale, barely open throat. Though the cold steel was mere inches away from taking his life, the new stranger didn’t budge an inch. His blonde hair was barely visible behind his cloak and mask, and he stood almost a foot taller than the man in black. Shortly behind the new comer came another shrouded figure, this one even bulkier, but with dark hair matching their master’s. The last of the figures to arrive bowed his head, almost bowing in humility, before speaking in a deep, monotonic voice.
“Forgive us…Lord Danzo, we did not mean to keep you waiting.”
The one known as Danzo shook his head, his neck cringing from the sudden forced motions, and he curse himself for growing old. “Waiting? What do you know of waiting? I have waited decades for this moment…a handful of minutes only means a short delay to the inevitable.” He looked towards the blonde shadow, and behind his mask scowled, his tone becoming gruff. “And do not, ever, lay your hands upon me without orders again, boy; the Anbu are not known for making many mistakes, and we of the Foundation make none! Do you understand me? Watch your discipline…I’m sure you don’t need me to explain what will happen if you don’t.”
The blonde shadow bowed in turn, lowering himself even further to the ground. “Forgive me, Lord; I will take my own life, should it please you.”
Danzo was tempted to slap him for that comment, and instead merely lashed him once more with his tongue. “Enough of your inane babble; do I look like one of those filthy samurai to you?” Looking over his two subordinates, he scratched his chin pensively, examining them up and down. “Be that as it may…you have been brought here as you are two of the Foundation’s most successful operatives. I am here to tell you that from this point on, you will be given names and be my eyes and ears, as well as my personal task force.” Without another word of either congratulation or gratitude, he glanced over to the large, dark haired Anbu, and, after a moment, grunted out “Aburame. That was your clan, was it not? Good, from this day forward, you shall be Aburame Torune. And you…”, looking then to the blonde, “…are Yamanaka. Yes, Yamanaka Foo. Those names should suffice.”
Not seeing, or even caring, for the bow of their heads, Danzo turned back towards the village. His village, for damn them, it was his village! He paused a moment, taking in the nooks, the crannies, every conceivable detail of his homeland, and, with little hesitation, he removed his mask and revealed the ancient crags and canyons etched as wrinkles in his face, one eye covered in white wrappings, appearing almost half dead, and yet he never felt more alive in more years than he could count. Torune, sensing his master’s thoughtful restlessness, after a moment, moved forward daringly. “Sire…I thought our plans were to wait for Orochimaru to coordinate an invasion of the Leaf and then pick up the pieces once both he and the Third were defeated…”
Spitting in disgust, the elder of Kohona glared back at his subordinate. “Bah, the boy has taken too long. You do not seem to understand the words I myself have spoken, Torune. I have waited…planned…schemed and played for position for more years then I care to remember, all of them spent groveling at Hiruzen’s feet! No…I will wait no longer…his time has come! My time has come!
Meanwhile, nearby, at the same time.
Flash! As his sword whipped across his opponents range, moonlit steel gliding through the air, Gekko Hayate let out a triumphant shout as the last of his opponent’s shadow clones vanished in a puff of smoke. Closing the gap between him and the other fighter in a moment, he quickly barred his sword next to Shiranui Genma’s exposed neck. Chuckling a bit, Hayate grinned at his friend and rival, pausing to cough a bit as was his mannerism when he wasn’t moving too fast. Damned lungs…I should really stop smoking so much…, he thought, lowering off his guard. Genma glared a hole in his head for a moment, then his expression lightened, and he smiled in return. “You know,” the defeated fighter remarked, brushing dust from his field uniform, “if you didn’t smoke so much, maybe you would have a shot of making it to Jonin before I do.” Hayate laughed in a fit mixed with joy and pain, as his cough flared up once again, though he didn’t mind. He shook his friend off and made as if to punch him. “Ha, if you can’t even beat a lung diseased rookie who’s younger than you, who ever said you’re making it to Jonin? Hell, Special Jonin might be too much for you. Maybe I should tell the Hokage you’d better go teach a few more classes at the Academy with Iruka before you deserve to be a real ninja!”
Genma feigned anger, tackling him. “Oh no, you aren’t sending me back to teach those snot nosed brats anymore. Iruka can keep his lousy job with his lousy rank.” Falling back, the two chuckled for a moment lying on the grass before Genma stood, brushed himself off, and gestured to the path back to the village. “C’mon, let’s go home; I’ll treat you to Ichakuru, just for beating me.” Hayate stood in turn, and, thinking for a moment, shook his head. “Thanks, but can I meet with you in a bit? I wanna go grab one of my kunai I threw over by the woods.” Genma slapped his palm on his face, and shrugging it off, waved back to Hayate. “Whatever floats your boat, dumb ass.”
Hayate grunted in amusement, and walked back toward the tree cover, letting the breeze and the sweat still dripping from his face cool his body as he walked towards the undergrowth. Backtracking through the broad area of their fight, Hayate grew increasingly frustrated, and as he reached the isolated edge of the forest which bordered on a cliff, he rested on a tree before preparing to turn back. Before he could move, a ghost of a voice wound across the landscape, and he perked up, suddenly alert to his surroundings. Looking out, he could see three dark cloaked men underneath a tree on the end of the cliff. He arched forward, listening closer.
“…you don’t need to be worried with the how or the why; just do as your told and you will be granting the village of Kohona the best possible chance it has for prosperity and survival. Under Hiruzen, we are little more than a displaced military power. I will bring us to the head of the shinobi world, where we rightfully belong! Orochimaru has already, through his research, handed me the most important keys to the puzzle. If we wait for him any longer, he will merely find more ways to attempt to use us for his own ways, and he is as much an enemy as Kohona as Hiruzen is. All that is left is to dispose of the Third Hokage…”
Hayate bolted upright; dispose of the Hokage! This was not just an unspeakable threat, for these were, by their garb, easily identifiable as Anbu Black Ops. This was a coup in the making. He gathered himself quickly, and prepared to set off, and as he was doing so, he heard the voice of the man again, the one he noticed had not been wearing a mask. “…oh, and you two are dismissed. I wish to test something…so I’ll take care of clean up personally.”
Shit! With that thought, Hayate leapt off as fast as his legs would carry him. Flying through the tree tops, his breath quickly turned panting and he began perspiring again. Before he got far, a figure bashed into his side, and Hayate landed on the ground. His assailant was the old man who had been speaking, and up close, he appeared to have a familiar air. The old man cracked a weathered, malicious grin, and held out a sword mockingly. “Going somewhere? Children really shouldn’t play in the woods at night; bad things happen.”
“You’re the one who is going to experience bad things!” With silent grace, the elite ninja quickly made the hand signs for the Kagebunshin; shadow clones. After forming five clones, all of them simultaneously, in one deadly motion, barred their own swords and flew into the air at the elder. “Miyuzaki no Mai! Dance of the Crescent Moon!” Moving at almost inhuman speed, Hayate felt satisfaction as Danzo deflected all four of the clones, but missed his real strike as the sword penetrated the old man’s neck. As the body fell dead to the ground, blood throbbing from the gash at the neck, the Special Jonin came to a sudden, horrible realization, and prepared to move for the village with all haste. “No doubt about it!” Hayate exclaimed to himself. “This was definitely Shim…”
“Air Bullets.” The force of the wind shredded apart the younger man’s body, severing his sword arm and almost blowing off his entire right side. Hitting a tree with a sickening thud, Hayate looked up as the light began to glee his eyes, and saw with despair the old man, standing as he had been, with not a scratch on him. “Wha…how did you…you should be…..dead…” With those words, Hayate’s head fell limp. Danzo shook his head, with a look of what could be called remorse across his face. “So much young talent…wasted.” He looked up, the moon overhead the only witness to the grisly scene. Danzo grinned, callously and maliciously. “An example, than; an example of what will happen to those who defy the future. My future.” He glared, looking ominously back at the body of Gekko Hayate. “Hiruzen Sarutobi…you stole what I had earned by right. Now I will take it all back from you…by force, as is necessary. The Hawk Faction shall make you rue the day you even heard of the title, ‘Hokage’.”
With that, Shiruma Danzo, of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, began to plot war.
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