My favourite fanfics

Jack and her Green Muse:

Kyoka Jirou scratched her head, growling in frustration as she tore a page out of her notepad, crumpled it up, and tossed it over her shoulder into the pile of another dozen or so pages. Having gotten through the majority of assignments for tomorrow's classes, she decided to write a song in her spare time, a slow rock ballad. Everything was going perfectly. At least writing on the music sheet was. Aside from several minor changes here and there after only half a dozen tests, her pencil was flying across the pages.

However, her excitement died faster than Kaminari playing a console game online in PvP mode as she began writing the crucial part of a song to complement the music: lyrics. Every other sentence just crashed and burned.

"Come on, Kyoka. Cooooome ooooooon….You've been playing music since your damn hands can reach around the entire neck of a guitar." Jirou wracked her brains for another half an hour or so to no avail. Collecting the littered pieces of paper on the floor of her room, she stepped outside of her room in Heights Alliance to empty her trashcan in the dumpster out back on the ground floor. Plus, the night air should do some good and hopefully would let some fresh idea flow into the brain.

This sudden and severe case of lyricist's block weighed heavily on her mind as she sighed, twirling her earphone jacks with her fingers. Leaving the Heights Alliance compound with the trashcan of combustible waste, she jogged over to the dumpster behind the building when she heard a noise. Grunting, followed by a dull sound like a ball hitting a wall, hard.

Having an acute sense of hearing as a part of her Quirk, she stopped in her tracks, listening hard in order to assess the situation. It definitely was not an animal, which left her classmates and now dorm mates of 1-A. But who the hell would be out and about this late at night? She knew she could rule out Iida and Yaoyorozu (or Yaomomo as some of her classmates now call her with affection), being the sticklers they were born to be. Uraraka is usually tuckered out by this time of the day getting through assignments after being put through the wringer called Hero course training exercises.

Jirou shook her head. Process of elimination was not going to work. Steadying her breathing, she slowed her pace, inching towards the dumpster just around the corner. Peeking from there, she saw a figure in short pants and a hoodie, breathing hard. Judging by the grunts, it definitely was a boy.

Bobbing and weaving, he unleashed a flurry of punches, followed up by a push kick, flying knee strikes and a right roundhouse, all aimed at a thick wooden post about six feet tall with a length of rope wrapped around it before he stepped back again, only to lunge forward with his left elbow held out. His right leg then snaked out, striking low, middle and high in rapid succession.

Jirou winced, imagining what would happen if someone with a strength-enhancing Quirk dished that out to someone. A concussion and bruised ribs were going to be the least of their worries.

Then it hit her. It was so obvious who it was. The sneakers. They were high-tops. Red high-tops. The only person she knew with that kind of footwear was a classmate, the resident hero-nerd who declared his hero name to be Deku, the green-haired Izuku Midoriya.

Relaxing a bit upon finding out it wasn't some random prowler, Jirou stepped out from behind the corner. "Hey, Midoriya."

The hooded figure jerked his head around. "Oh, uh, h-hi Jirou." His breathing was heavy.

"Dude, how are you not tired from today's training exercises?"

"I'm just, uh…..it's a good sign, right? More stamina? What brings you back here?"

"Emptying my trash out." Jirou answered, holding up the trashcan. "I suppose. How long have you been doing this?"

"I took about half an hour to warm up, so…r-roughly an hour and a half now, I think?"

"With breaks, right?"

"Um….no, actually. I just…..I might have kinda lost track of time. Sorta."

"Wha…." Jirou was dumbstruck. She never really had any interaction with Izuku despite being in the same class, but she knew enough that he absolutely sucked at lying.

An hour and a half of punches and kicks of that intensity without a single break. Izuku definitely was winded, his shoulders rising and falling with every breath, but he was still standing and looked like he could go on for another half an hour or so. Grabbing the towel hanging on a branch, he replaced it with the sweat-drenched sweatshirt. Wiping whatever sweat his sweatshirt and tanktop failed to absorb, he guzzled about half the contents of a two-liter Nalgene bottle before taking another long breath.

Jirou definitely was no slouch when it came to physical confrontation. She had been in fights before during middle school, and even at UA she managed to survive the assault mounted by the League of Villains during the USJ incident and during the training camp with the Pussy Cats, albeit with backup. But this….this was just beyond anything she had put herself through. The intensity of the aura he exuded was indescribable. Shaking her head in amazement, she emptied her trashcan, but as she got closer to him, she noticed something she failed to from afar. "Midoriya, you're bleeding. And…..wait, have you been crying?"

"Hm? Oww….I was wondering why my legs and k-knuckles were stinging. I guess…I uh, I guess I didn't notice. Plus, it strengthens the bones and skin. If I end up fighting someone like Kirishima, it'll definitely help."

"You didn't answer my question."

"It-don't worry about it, it's nothing. I'm fine. Just――"

"No, come on. Your eyes are red and puffy and you've bloodied your limbs to a goddamn pulp. That's no coincidence."

"It was just a bad dream that's gone on for a while and I couldn't sleep, okay? That's all it is."

"Stop fucking lying. You're no good at it." Jirou growled, the irritation from her lyricist's block taking over. "Now spill. What the hell happened that's got you so worked up?"

"I can't, okay? It's-this….this incident involves more than just me. This isn't something I can just tell anyone without their permission. I could get in trouble. They could get in trouble. I appreciate your concern Jirou, I really do, but this is something that I can't disclose or discuss with you." Izuku then collapsed to the ground, the fatigue finally catching up to him. "Oh, God, no….."

"Well, guess we're going to be here for a while then." Jirou said with a shrug and an evil smirk across her face.

"I just need to rest for fifteen minutes and I'll walk back." Izuku mumbled.

"I doubt you can even crawl with those legs right now. Just tell me and I'll help you up."

"No."

"Alright, fine. See you at class tomorrow. If a raccoon or a possum doesn't give you rabies first."

"Wait, you're seriously going to leave me here?!"

"Like I said. Tell me and I won't have to. Look, I'm not that good at reading people but it doesn't take much to see that your nerves are clearly rattled. We're both trying to be heroes, that's why we're even here at UA. Heroes are supposed to help each other; help me understand so I can help you." Jirou held out her hand. This was a last-ditch effort. If he still says no, then she definitely was going to leave him out here. It was his choice to come out here for this in the first place. He has nobody else to blame.

After a long sigh and pause that lasted a solid ten seconds, Izuku raised his arm as well while wincing. Grabbing his arm and pulling him up off the ground, Jirou realized she never really had a close look at Izuku before. He was about 5'5, a little on the shorter side for a teen boy his age, but his physique which she can now see without the sweater was on par with a professional gymnast. He was lean, toned, and if the high kicks that could reach above his head was any indication, very flexible. She couldn't really help but stare as the sweat-drenched tanktop reinforced his developed muscles, but soon tore her eyes off of him as he managed to stand up.

"Alright, I'll help you to the elevator, but do us both a favor and go take a shower first. I'll meet you down in the common room."

"Yeah, I will….Um, thanks."

While she waited for him with the communal first-aid kit as company on the couch, Jirou continued to ponder how the lyrics of her new ballad will go, but the lyricist's block remained persistent, firmly putting its foot down and impeding the rocker girl's creative endeavors. To make matters worse, the song was still untitled. Titles came to Jirou relatively quickly, usually during or before she even writes the lyrics, but this one was just not coming to her.

"Sorry to make you wait, Jirou. I was getting ice."

"It's fine. C'mere. Hold out your hands."

"Please be gentle...?" Izuku whispered with a nervous smile as he saw Jirou soaking a piece of gauze with alcohol.

"Nah." With an evil smile, the stinging pain came, making Izuku mewl in his throat as he gritted his teeth while Jirou callously and thoroughly disinfected the wounds. "And….done." With a satisfactory nod at her handiwork of patching up Izuku, she leaned back onto the couch.

"Right…..A deal's a deal, so I'll tell you, but Jirou, I need you to promise me that this conversation needs to be kept under wraps. I can't stress the importance of this enough."

"I'm not Mina or Kaminari, chill. My lips are sealed."

"Okay," Izuku huffed, taking several deep breaths as he mentally prepared himself. "You remember the incident at the training camp when the League of Villains attacked, right?"

"Yeah."

"One of the nightmares, I was fighting one of the Villains on my own. Muscular. And I lost. I watched him as he killed Kouta with his bare hands. Again and again. Then the other one is about the incident at Hosu with the Hero Killer."

"Right. Endeavor saved your skin along with Iida and Todoroki's, right? Not to be a dick, but that was a while ago――"

"Let me finish. That's what the media says, but…it's not true. Not entirely."

"Huh. You don't say."

"The fact is….Iida, Todoroki and I took him on to cover a wounded Pro Hero."

"What?!"

"Iida first found him, I tracked him down, then called for help and Todoroki showed up. Endeavor came only after we barely beat him. The burn marks were from when he tried to escape. The Hosu City Police Chief decided to not publicize what we did out of gratitude and respect for stopping him. I've recently been having nightmares about how the fight in the alleyway went with him." He hugged his knees against him tightly, keeping his tremble to a bare minimum.

"He was…..he was so powerful, even without taking his Quirk into account. The only reason we barely won was more or less sheer dumb luck. Every dream, I would make a mistake, a fatal one. And Iida would die. Todoroki would die. I would die. From a knife throw, a stab wound, a spiked boot to the throat and such. And every time, I'm helpless because I can't move. Even when they're all within arm's reach. They all died. I mean, I did my best to learn from my mistakes, but――"

"You still think you just might encounter that figurative landmine again at some point and you'll freeze up and actually fuck up?"

"Yeah….and when I have that dream, I can't go back to sleep. So I just…..I try to physically tire myself out. Which is why I was doing what I was doing when you saw me."

Jirou chewed on her lower lip, trying to digest everything that she just heard. She had heard about him getting grievously injured every now and then because he couldn't get a grip on the power output of his Quirk, but this just puts the matter in an entirely different complexion. He fought the Hero Killer. The Hero Killer who had put dozens of Pro Heroes and their Sidekicks in ICU and the morgue. This was some heavy baggage that would put the heaviest bass track to shame. "Ho-ly fuck, man. Now it makes sense."

"So yeah, this is why I looked so out of it every now and then. Like I said――"

"I know. Keep it under heavy wraps. You have my word, my lips are sealed. I won't breathe a word of this. I wouldn't want the karma of causing the expulsion of a classmate on my soul."

Izuku frowned. "Since when do you believe in karma?"

"I don't, dummy. It's just an expression. You might wanna talk to Recovery Girl about that and get some meds if it's really bad."

"I really hope it doesn't come to that. Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"What're you doing up so late? You're not really an early riser. I've seen you yawning a lot in the mornings."

"Wait, how do you know that?" Jirou frowned.

"U-um…i-i-it's not like I'm, you know, stalking you or anything." Izuku began waving his bandaged hands, turning away from Jirou in a sudden panic as he continued to explain himself through stutters. "Just that, you, well, I just see you out of the corner of my eye every now and then and you h-happened to be yawning every time."

"Oh. Well, it's not that big of a reason. I've currently hit a lyricist's block."

"What's that?"

"You know what a writer's block is, don't ya?"

"Yeah….oh. Oh."

"I have the music down, but I just can't come up with words. It's so fucking frustrating. I can't even come up with a title for it."

"Sounds like you've fallen out of favor with the Muses."

"Oh shut up, you All Might fanboy."

"Hey! Leave All Might out of this! But seriously, you might wanna….do something…..different."

"Different how? And don't tell me to scrap this and start over."

"No, no, no. I mean…. like, uh….listen to other genres of music that's not rock."

"Like what?"

"You clearly have more friends than I do. Ask for suggestions."

"You honestly think I didn't try any of that? It's. Not. Working! It usually goes away in less than three days, but it's been a whole fucking week!" Jirou threw her hands up in anger. But then, she suddenly had an idea. It wasn't something she would usually do, but she was itching to blast the lyricist's block to oblivion and maybe a little something that was unbecoming of her is exactly how to regain the favor of the Muses. "Wait, I might have an idea, but I'll need your help."

"Uh, okay….? Care to elaborate?"

"I've got a Quirk that can deal with enemies at mid-range and track movement via hearing, but my actual combat skills at close range is….well, still a little sloppy. I got some pointers from the office I interned at and I'm getting more from Yaomomo and Uraraka here, but I wanna be able to integrate my Quirk to actual combat. So, I want your help with that."

"M-me?" Izuku squeaked.

"You're the only All Might fanboy here right now with me."

"Um…b-b-but, I mean, I'm flattered that you'd ask me for advice. I'm not saying that I don't want to help you, but I uh, th-there's OJirou who's been doing karate since he was in elementary school, Kirishima's a tough in-fighter――"

"You're the one with all those notes about us, so I figured you'd have the best answers. C'mon, please. I need this lyricist's block gone ASAP. I will owe you big-time for this."

"Okay. It's the least I can do. But seriously, you don't need to do me any favors."

"Alright," Jirou grinned, "so we'll use tomorrow after classes and plan from there. Thanks a lot! Night!"

"Um, yeah….yeah, sure thing. Good night." Izuku sat on the couch for a bit as he heard the elevator ding once, and ding once more as it stopped at the girl's floor. "Oh my God…..what the hell have I gotten myself into?" But at this point, he was too tired and sore to think about it, much less care. Standing up with a groan, he dragged himself back to his room with a slightly lighter heart and a weak but genuine smile.

____________________________________________

Poison Pen:

Chapter 1: Dear Editor

Daily Prophet Reporter Emily Anderson was walking into the office of the Editor-In-Chief, when a balled up bit of parchment went sailing past her.

"What's up Lord Charles? Another complaint?" The slender brunette asked as she bent to retrieved it. Unfolding it, she hummed as she read.

"Dear Editor,

I have been reading the Prophet all summer and I am confused. Are you a newspaper or a gossip rag? Do you enjoy printing articles that make no sense? Where is your professionalism and pride in reporting news accurately?

Why am I asking somewhat impertinent questions? Well, all this on going smear campaign against a teenager has me wondering. What are you and the Minister of Magic so afraid of? I mean, come on, Harry Potter is only fifteen years old. I see less negative news concerning He Who Must Not be Named than you print about Harry Potter.

Are you and the Minister that insecure? Where are the facts? The solid news reporting? All you are printing is hear-say and conjecture that runs the gamut of making a saint of Harry Potter to making him as reprehensible as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You really can't have it both ways. Where in Merlin's name are you getting your information, or are you just making it up as you go? If that's the case, don't libel laws apply here? If you were writing about me, my parents would sue you! Just because Potter has no one to stand for him doesn't mean he's fair game. If you were to print half as much hearsay about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, you probably wouldn't have a paper to print.

Has anyone really asked Potter what his side of the story was? All you've reported was "Mr. Potter is unavailable for comment." That's the easy way out. Where are those that are reputed to be his associates and friends? Why haven't you interviewed them? Is the Ministry afraid of what they might say? Do you run your newspaper or does the Ministry? Is the term, 'a free press' a myth?

Well, as a student of Hogwarts, let me tell you something about my observations of Harry Potter. I have had some classes with Potter and let me tell you, the Potter you portray in your articles and the one I see around Hogwarts are totally different.

So please tell me, are you really printing the truth as a reputable newspaper is obligated to do? Or are you printing the truth according to the mandates of the Ministry?

As for the whole debate of whether He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back or not, I'm neutral. This letter isn't about that but more about the misuse of the power of the press. I guess what I am asking is, are you printing the news necessary to keep your readers informed of current events, or are you pandering to the lower standards of the gossip mongers seeking their daily titillation.

I dare you to print this letter. If you don't, I'll know just how scared of the truth and the powers that be you really are.

Oliver Twist"

"You know, the kid has a point," she said, looking up at her boss.

Lord Charles Witherspoon the fourth, Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Prophet, snorted, "And if I printed that letter, Old Fudge would shut us down. We can't afford to antagonize him. Look, Anderson, I know that you spent two years over the pond, but I keep telling you, we run things differently here."

"Don't I know it!" she sighed, rolling her eyes. She'd had run ins with the stodgy minister before. "Well, can I keep this? I just may have an idea on how to answer this kid's questions and get us off the hook." She thought for a moment, rereading the letter. "Any chance this could be Potter, himself?"

Lord Charles shook his head. "By all accounts, Potter's a mediocre student with average intelligence. Which is strange in and of itself, as his parents were both exceptional wizards."

"Right, thanks Lord Charles. So who do you think wrote this?" She asked.

Lord Charles shrugged. "Twist isn't a pureblood name, so it was probably a muggle-born or half-blood with muggle ties."

'Idiot.' Emily rolled her eyes. She grinned to herself, 'then again maybe he's right, most purebloods don't seem to be able to think for themselves and few know their Dickens.' Walking back to her desk, she tapped the letter against the desktop thoughtfully. 'However, I know just the person that may want to see this.'

0o0o0o0

Xeno Lovegood was busy working on his latest fact finding results on the sexual exploits of the Crumple Horned Snorkack, when there was a knock on his office door.

"Oh? Why good day Miss Anderson," Xeno said as he ushered the brunette reporter into his office. "How may I help you?"

"I have a letter that Lord Charles was reluctant to print and thought you might like to see it?"

Now Xeno Lovegood may appear eccentric to many, but the one thing he was good at was knowing a good story when he saw one. One of the reasons he started the Quibbler was to be able to print the truth in its many forms as well as to be able to say what he wanted to without censorship.

As he read the letter, he lifted one eyebrow, then the other. 'My oh My,' he thought. 'This will set the kneazle among the puffskeins!'

"So the Prophet was asked the hard questions and reneged on their responsibility to the public," he chuckled.

Emily Anderson grinned. "I thought you might see it my way."

0o0o0o0

Harry Potter was pissed with the Wizarding World in general and Dumbledore in particular. The headmaster, in his infinite wisdom, had decided that Harry would be safer with his relatives yet again this year.

'And Let's not forget good old Fudge, who refused to believe Voldemort was back. Yeah, right,' Harry thought as he glared at his locked bedroom door. It was, of course, locked on the outside with him inside. 'Then Dumbledore decided that it wasn't safe for me to get the news and canceled my 'scription to the Prophet. Way to go, Dumbledore! Let's keep the Golden Boy ignorant! It's not as if I need to know what's going on. After all, it's not as if I have a Dark Wanker out there who wants to kill me.'

A slow, evil grin appeared on Harry's face. Too bad the old arse hadn't realized he'd had found a way around all the restrictions. Before he left Hogwarts, the Golden Boy of Gryffindor pulled a tactic worthy of a Slytherin. He asked for help from the one being in Hogwarts that was loyal to him alone – Dobby. The house elf, now secretly bonded with him, would do anything to help his most favorite hero and master.

So this summer, when Harry wasn't working as a house elf himself, Dobby made sure that all of Harry's personal needs were met without the Ministry or Dumbledore finding out. It seemed that house elf magic was under the MoM's radar and not restricted by any wards.

When Dobby had used the hover charm in Harry's second year, he'd made it mimic Harry's magical signature, thus laying fault on Harry for the deed. Now however, he was masking the magic he used at Privet Drive for which Harry was eternally thankful. Harry hadn't missed a meal since he left Hogwarts and Dobby helped with his many chores around the house as well. His relatives weren't even aware of Dobby's presence, much to Harry's relief.

Harry now had a way to get the news and to communicate when he chose. So what if he was a semi-prisoner living in one room, if one could call it living, in the same house with three very magic-phobic muggles. With Dobby's help, Harry was able to come and go as he pleased and no one, magical or muggle, was the wiser.

"Master Harry Potter, sir," came a high-pitched squeak near his waist.

Harry smiled as he looked up from doing his potions homework. Another thing he had to thank Dobby for; strange how things didn't seem to stay in a locked trunk when there was a house elf around. "Yes, Dobby?"

"The newsy didn't print your letter. They'se did send a reply."

"Oh?" Harry took the newspaper and scanned it. A slow grin formed as he read. "This is perfect!"

A small advert in the editorials read: "To Oliver Twist. We have taken your questions under advisement. We hear that the Quibbler is looking for interesting articles like yours, therefore we forwarded it on to their staff. –the editorial staff of the Daily Prophet."

"Dobby, I need you to get a subscription to the Quibbler for me, under the name of Oliver Twist. Have it delivered to my private post box for now. I'll set something up with the Goblins in the future," Harry ordered, setting the newspaper aside.

"Dumblydore is watching your mail still?" Dobby asked, wringing his fingers.

Harry sighed and nodded. "He's even keeping Hedwig at Hogwarts. Says it isn't safe for her to travel."

"Dumblydore is being bad, Master Harry Sir."

"That's why I had you set up the post box. You still have the key to it?"

Dobby's head bobbed rapidly. "Yessir, Master Harry, sir. Dobby keeps it safe."

Harry grinned. "Perfect."

Ever since Primary School, the young wizard had hidden his true nature and potential from the world. The Dursleys hadn't liked him out-shining their precious Dudders, so Harry had to go underground as it were. It so happened that Dudley and his gang had an allergic reaction to libraries and books which made them Harry's favorite hide-outs. So books became the friends Dudders denied him.

Of course, when he finally thought he was free from such oppression, he found he was just as trapped by the Wizarding World's perception of him. So Harry decided to keep his true talents hidden from them as well.

He didn't think either Hermione or Ron knew how intelligent he really was and as much as he loved his friends, he couldn't let them know. Hermione prided herself on her knowledge and being first, he knew she would resent him doing better than her. Ron, on the other hand, was a jealous prat to start with and wanted nothing more than to goof-off. So Harry decided to use Ron's level of ability as a gauge to go by and avoid conflict.

So what if he turned in mediocre essays, what did it matter in the long run? He wasn't sure that he would live to be an adult, all things considered. Between Dumbledore's asinine testing of Harry's self-preservation skills, Snape's hostility and old Tom's determination to kill him, Harry's life span didn't look to be too long or too pleasant!

That's why he wrote to the Prophet. He was tired of that gossip rag dragging his reputation through the mud. If he was an adult, he would be suing the rag for libel. He was not as stupid as people thought, he knew if he had signed his own name, he would have everyone under the sun jumping down his throat for such cheek. Thus proving the Prophet right in the eyes of the Wizarding World.

0o0o0o0

Emily smiled as she read the next issue of the Quibbler. Oliver Twist's letter appeared as a front page editorial. Xeno Lovegood printed the teen's letter word for word and his answer was priceless.

"Dear Mr. Twist,

Unfortunately, our esteemed competitor, The Daily Prophet declined to print your letter for reasons of their own. Only they can reply to your probing questions, I am afraid I can not speak for them.

However, I am more than happy to try to address the more intriguing questions. I may fail to address them fully, but I will try.

Truth, I am afraid is a relative term in the Wizarding World. One man's truth is, sadly, another man's lie. The Prophet must cater to authority, while I cater to those who seek the truth. Although, my reader base is fewer, I hope they are more open minded.

Your comments about Harry Potter mirror those of my daughter's, who it so happens is a year behind him at Hogwarts. According to her, Harry Potter cares more for Quidditch and his friends' safety than calling attention to himself. If anything, Mr. Potter tends to try to hide from the crowd rather than seek attention for himself.

As far as I know, we of the press corps, have been asked not to seek out Mr. Potter as he is currently enjoying the summer with his family. So unless we hear directly from him, we have no recourse but to say, "Mr. Potter is unavailable for comment at this time," for it is true.

Only in America can you find true freedom of the press. As I understand it, it is one of the many basic privileges guaranteed by the laws of their land. I will have to look into it but I think the Prophet is a privately sponsored newspaper and must therefore answer to their sponsors. If the sponsors have no objections to what is written, then you can be assured it will appear on their pages.

Your questions, Mr. Twist, come at a time when we must review many of our beliefs and loyalties. I hope I have answered a few of them to your satisfaction. If not, I would invite you to write back and institute a dialogue between us.

Xeno Lovegood

Editor-In-Chief

The Quibbler"

0o0o0o0

____________________________________________

Make a Wish

Goodbye

An oppressive quiet hung over the car throughout the beginning of the ride from King's Cross station.

"Let me out here" Harry commanded quietly, breaking the silence.

"What" Vernon blustered, "who are you to tell me what to do."

"I'll give you a simple choice" Harry gave his uncle an icy glare, "you will either let me out of the car right now, or I will inform my friends that you have been mistreating me, that you need a little visit to remind you to be courteous."

"Fine" Vernon growled in anger, "but don't expect me to wait around for you."

"I don't" Harry stepped onto the curb taking only his owl, "what I do expect is for you to take Dudley and Aunt Petunia out to eat and to take your time heading home."

"Who are you to order me around boy?" Vernon was begging to lose control over his temper.

"Here" Harry handed his uncle a fifty pound note, "enjoy yourselves."

"Where did you get this boy" Vernon asked in shock.

"Goodbye Uncle" Harry waved to his astonished relatives, "I don't believe that we will be seeing each other again."

The Dursleys didn't bother to respond, choosing to drive away without a backward glance.

Harry smiled sadly as he watched them go and then he opened the cage to let his owl free.

"Take this to Hermione girl" he attached a short note to the owl's leg, "and stay with her until I come to get you."

Hooting sadly, Hedwig gave his ear a last affectionate nip before taking off to deliver her master's message.

Harry watched until his beloved pet had faded from sight then he turned and began the short walk back to the wizarding world.

Taking a deep breath before he entered the Leaky Cauldron, Harry opened the door and quickly walked to the door that guarded the entrance to Diagon Alley.

He paused for a second in front of the brick entrance, fearing that cries of 'the-boy-who-lived' would erupt from behind, destroying his chance of having an enjoyable summer.

After several moments of silence, he tapped the correct sequence on the bricks and walked through the entrance to the wizarding world.

Rushing to Gringotts, he immediately went to the nearest open teller; "yes" the goblin looked down at him.

"I need a way to access my account while abroad" Harry answered quickly, "and I'll need to be able to get muggle money as well as Galleons."

"Key" the goblin asked reaching out to accept his vault key, "one moment please."

The goblin rummaged through a small chest on his desk for several minutes before pulling out a small pouch, "this pouch will draw coins directly from your account and if you tap it three times with your wand then it will change into a muggle wallet which will allow you to draw the appropriate muggle currency, will that be all?"

"I'll also need all of my transactions to be kept private" Harry hardened his features, "I do not want anyone finding out about any of my purchases."

"Of course not" the goblin seemed mildly offended, "we pride ourselves on our confidentiality."

"Good" Harry nodded in satisfaction, "otherwise I would have been forced to close my accounts and announce to the Daily Prophet that I no longer trust Gringotts to manage my fortunes."

"I see" the goblin frowned, "rest assured that no one but yourself shall receive any accurate information concerning your account."

"Thank you" Harry nodded politely, "so unless you have anything you want to talk about, then I've got to be going."

"No Mr. Potter" the goblin's face could have been carved from stone, "I don't think we have anything else to discuss."

Resisting the urge to smirk, Harry turned and slowly made his way towards the exit, for hopeful that his plan to have an enjoyable summer would work for the first time.

From Gringotts, Harry made his way to the 'Ye Olde Travel Shoppe' which was a small specialty shop for wizards and witches intending to spend time abroad.

Harry heard a faint ringing sound as he opened the door and he looked around for the shop keeper.

"What can I do for you?" an old man approached, "planning to go abroad are you?"

"Maybe" Harry shrugged, "I just want to drift around and see where I end up?"

"Ah" the old man smiled with understanding, "just graduated from one of the magic schools and now you want to go find yourself."

"Something like that" Harry agreed with a sad smile.

"Then I have just the thing for you" the old man replied enthusiastically, "my patented ultimate backpackers' kit, it has everything the young wanderer could ask for, a large multi compartment leather, frame pack, charmed to be light as a feather and to hold many times its normal capacity."

"Really?" Harry began to take an interest, "what else?"

"It comes with a portable stove, cookware, a tent, sleeping bag and much more" the shop keep was really getting into it, "everything you need to travel anywhere from the tropics to the top of Mt Everest, this pack has it all."

"Wow" Harry was mildly impressed, "what else would you recommend for someone who was planning to drift around?"

"A few more things sir" he shrugged, "the pack contains all of the essentials but there are several items that I can recommend to make life more pleasant in addition to the pack" the old man looked at Harry's ragged appearance, "you'll be wanting some new clothing, something to help you with other languages, and it may be a good idea to have a guide book along as well."

"Ok," Harry shrugged, "give me the best of whatever you recommend, just be quick about it, I want to be out of the country as soon as I can."

"No problems kid," The shop keep put several items on the table, "these glasses will adjust to any prescription, and in addition to many other things, allow you to read any language. This silver hoop goes in either ear and converts any language you hear into English, this ring goes on whichever hand you use to write with and allows you to write any language, and finally this small bar of silver goes through your tongue and magically contorts your mouth to allow you to speak any language, in time and with enough use they will eventually teach you the languages that you use."

"Wow," Harry nodded impressed by the items, "what else?"

"This book," the man indicated a book entitled 'Everything you will Ever Need to Know while Traveling around the World,' "is full of useful information and . . . I would recommend that you read the warnings in the front about underage magic before you do anything else, and this set of clothing will magically alter its self to whatever is needed for whatever climate you are in, it has charms to be self-cleaning and self-repairing and it can change colors and stiles with a thought."

"There is one more thing that I would like to get," Harry bit his lower lip, "I was wondering if you had an item that would allow me to . . . blend in better?"

"Want to immerse yourself in the culture huh?" The storeowner nodded his head, "got just the thing, this bracelet creates a powerful SEP field around you and it will help you remained unnoticed unless you commit an aggressive or incredibly strange act."

"Thanks," Harry gave a relived smile, "do you know where I could arrange for a portkey to get me to the continent?"

"Pick up you kit and I'll have one ready for you in a jiffy"

"Thanks"

"Here you go lad," the man handed Harry a small stone.

"Thanks, how much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it Harry," the man smiled at Harry's shocked look, "conceder it a thanks for looking out for us and sorry about believing the worst of you, it's untraceable and it will take you to Holland right about . . ." Harry disappeared, "now, I hope you find what you are looking for lad."

Pandemonium would best describe the scene outside number 4 Privet Drive when the Dursleys arrived without Harry.

Within minutes, Albus Dumbledore had arrived along with several members of his Order to begin their investigation.

"The Dursleys say that he had them drop him off in London Professor," one of the Order members reported to the Headmaster, "says that he didn't want to stay with them and decided to just leave."

"I found something in their car that belonged to Harry," Remus Lupin ran up brandishing a small paper pamphlet, "it has Harry's scent all over it."

"Thank you Remus," the Headmaster accepted the small pamphlet, "I believe it's time I went and had a chat with Harry's friends about his whereabouts."

The Headmaster appeared before a small upper-class suburban home and rang the doorbell once, "Hello?" A good looking woman answered the door, "what can I help you with?"

"Greetings," Dumbledore smiled, "I'm the Headmaster at Hermione's school and I was wondering if I could speak with her."

"Of course," the woman nodded, "won't you come in?"

"Delighted to"

"Professor Dumbledore," a bushy headed young woman called from atop a stair case, "I'm glad that you got my letter, but I didn't expect to see you this soon."

"I'm afraid that I didn't get any letter Ms. Granger," Dumbledore smiled at her kindly, "what was the problem?"

"I got a strange letter from Harry that I thought you should know about," the intelligent young witch looked worried, "and I was hoping that you would check to see if he was doing ok."

"I'm afraid that I have some bad news," Dumbledore took a deep breath, "Harry had his uncle drop him off somewhere in London, and he has been missing for several hours."

"You don't think he got captured do you?"

"Rest assured that I've had no information that would lead me to that conclusion," the Headmaster reached into his robes and pulled out the worn pamphlet that had been found by Remus Lupin, "I'm afraid the only clue we have is this brochure that we found in his relatives' car."

"May I see that Professor?" Hermione took the pamphlet gently, "this looks like a standard handout from one of the charity organizations that were in the Muggle Portion of King's Cross."

"Why do you think that Harry kept it?"

"Well, this particular charity tries to help dieing children and . . . oh no." The pretty young witch paled, "Harry thinks he's going to die."

"What do you mean by that Ms. Granger?" The Headmaster demanded, "What leads you to that conclusion?"

"This belongs to the 'Make A Wish Foundation' they do things to bring happiness to terminally ill children," Hermione brandished the pamphlet, "Harry must have learned something that makes him think that he doesn't have much time left to live."

"I see," the Headmaster's shoulders dropped, "is that why he didn't return to Privet Drive?"

"He wants to make the most of the time he has left," Hermione was holding back tears, "not to spend it with people he hates."

"Thank you, you've been most helpful," the Headmaster gave Hermione a sad smile and disappeared with a faint pop.

After Dumbledore's disappearance, Hermione ran up to her room and reread the short note that had been sent along with Hedwig, clutching it to her chest she let the tears fall and hoped for the safe return of her best friend.

Hermione,

Please look over Hedwig; I want to live before I die.

Harry

AN: I included the shopping trip because I like writing about the items that one can find, sure I could have done something different but at least I confined myself to one store. Harry sent Hedwig to Hermione for several reasons; one of them is that she does not have access to an owl during the holidays. Got the idea for this from the 'make a wish' foundation, Harry is convinced that he is going to die so he wants to do the things he always wanted to do before he goes. The scene with the goblin was because of all the fics that have Dumbledore watching Harry's funding, he may or may not be in this fic, don't think that it will be important to the storyline but I thought that I may as well throw it in. Hermione figured it out because she is A. Muggle Born and B. Very Intelligent, besides I like the character and I wanted to give her a bit of screen time. For any who don't know, the 'Make a Wish Foundation' try to give dieing children their fondest desire before they die, things like meeting pro athletes and going to Disney Land.

____________________________________________

The Lives Worth Saving

Chapter 1 – To Live Again

Hoarse coughs disrupted the heavy surroundings as dying flames crackled quietly across the corpse-littered ground. A body stirred amongst the rubble and ash as one bloodied hand reached up to sweep aside dirtied locks of blond hair.

'Is he dead, Kurama?'

The demon fox's voice was faint when the answer came. 'As dead as he possibly can be, Kit. Even his body's been completely destroyed.' A pause followed for several heartbeats. 'But we're not far behind either.'

A dry half-chuckle was offered at this statement as Naruto heaved himself into a sitting position, ignoring the blood that dripped from his wounds and joined the dark crimson already staining the battlefield. 'No doubt. I can practically feel our chakra leaking away. Can't believe how strong that bastard is.'

The fox didn't reply, and under normal circumstances, Naruto would've been worried that the demon merged with him now found it too exhausting to even speak. Instead, the blond turned dull blue eyes to the broken figure lying only a few feet away, a hole in his chest, limbs twisted in an ugly rendition of a ragdoll.

Naruto released a bitter scoff at this, too drained to even consider crying for his fallen best friend. He hadn't cried since his godfather had died. The irony here was painful. Once upon a time, he had been the one struck down like this, almost killed by the very attack that Madara had slaughtered Sasuke with not even an hour ago. And the Chidori hadn't even been aimed at the raven-haired ANBU General in the first place. His stupidly proud, unbelievably protective, brilliant best friend had jumped in the way at the last second.

'Hey Kit,'

Naruto blinked slowly, pulling his wayward thoughts back together as the Kyuubi's soft, almost wavering voice thrummed in his mind. 'What is it?'

'What do you think you're doing?'

The blond frowned, dragging himself over to some leftover debris to lean against a slab of fallen rock. He doubted he could stand anymore. 'What does it look like? There's nothing left. Konoha's gone. Madara's gone. Not much left to do but wait until I go too.'

A feeble snort batted at him, somehow managing to convey the same amount of annoyance the Kyuubi once did at full strength. 'That's a pathetic way to die. And I for one am not going to just roll over and wait until death takes us like some common dog.'

Naruto would've rolled his eyes if he had the energy left to do so. 'Don't think we have much choice, Kurama. Unless you want me to commit traditional suicide.'

A growl berated him. 'Think, you damn brat! Last time I checked, you were a Fuuinjutsu Master. What were you working on after that pervert of a Sannin was killed?'

Naruto blinked, mind sluggishly retrieving the memory of a complex seal he had started on after Jiraiya had died. In his grief, he had holed himself up in his apartment and had gone through stacks of paper and numerous jars of ink in a half-crazed attempt at reversing the event of the Toad Sannin's death. It had been a stupid thing to do, and he had always known, in the back of his mind, that he would never go through with it. One man's death, no matter how precious to him, was not worth erasing his other friends' futures. He had put it aside after a week and a furious beat down from a subtly panicking Sasuke once the Uchiha had managed to break through his seals and into his apartment. But now...

Now, what was there to lose?

'I have no paper, no ink,' He thought stupidly even as he cleared a rough patch of ground in front of him. 'And it takes a huge amount of chakra. And it might not even work.'

'You have blood, Kit. And we still have enough chakra to pull this off if we pour everything we have into it. I'll be damned if you won't at least try. We have nothing to lose anymore.'

Focusing now on the seal he had come up with years ago seemed to lift the haze fogging his mind. Naruto held no doubts that it was mostly a last rush of adrenaline that forced him to concentrate even as his life continued to slip away like sand through spread fingers. But his hand was steady as he drew out the seal in his own blood. He only paused when he started drawing the time frame of the jump. Originally, he had drawn it out to be before Nagato's attack on the Toad Sannin, but if he was going to travel back, he might as well do it properly.

Kurama, how many years do you think we can jump?'

'...A decade, maybe a little more than that,' The fox responded after a considering pause. 'And it would be easier if you jumped back to a significant point in time. Significant to you, I mean.'

Naruto remained still. The day of the Kyuubi attack was out of the question. That had been a significant date, and he had played a large part in it, but he had also just been a baby. There was no way he could jump back so far to a time he couldn't even remember. The Uchiha Massacre was also impossible. As much as he wished to spare his best friend the loss of his family, he hadn't known Sasuke back then, and the Uchiha Clan's destruction had never affected him directly. The best date to jump back to would probably be the day he had been assigned to Team 7. It had been one of the happiest days of his life, and had occurred before everything had gone downhill.

'Good choice,' Kurama approved. 'It will take every last drop of chakra we have, but that is a strong point in time. It will serve as an anchor for us.'

Naruto nodded absently and quickly drew out the correct symbols before finishing the rest of the seal. His hand dropped back into his lap, studying the seal with a critical eye for any mistakes.

Kurama, where will I end up once I get back? My apartment? On the streets of Konoha?' He frowned. 'In my twelve-year-old body? I can't do anything like that.'

The demon fox was quiet for a long moment, the silence contemplative. 'You will most likely still have your own body,'The Kyuubi admitted eventually. 'Seals this strong consist of symbols, chakra, and the user's own desires. You wish for the ability to save your friends and family, as well as the village you call home. To do so, you would need the knowledge of this future and the abilities you have gained along the way. But to retain this self, you risk a paradox, where there will be two Uzumaki Narutos running around in the same timeline. That should not be possible. It should not happen at all.'

'But it will happen,' Naruto thought back fiercely. 'I am going to change it all.'

'Yes Kit, I understand that,' Kurama replied with a surprising amount of patience. 'And your desire to prevent another war of this magnitude and the eventual deaths of everyone around you will be strong enough to keep the paradox at bay. But it will not last forever. Your ultimate goal is Uchiha Madara. The things you change along the way will either help you towards this goal or simply hasten the inevitability of the same thing happening once again. Time is as rigid as it is flexible. You could prove to be strong enough to end up creating a completely different timeline, or prove too weak and end up with the same results. Time does not like being tampered with. But whichever outcome you end up with, it does not change the fact that you do not belong in that timeline. When your job is done, for better or for worse, you will simply cease to exist. As to where you will end up, that I do not know.'

Naruto had remained almost unresponsive throughout this entire explanation. Now he sighed, the movement causing a wave of agony to his already damaged lungs. 'I don't think I really mind,' He thought detachedly. 'I've lived long enough. The only reason I want to go back is because this could be a chance to give everyone a different future. A better one. But if I am to disappear, you will disappear with me. I thought you wanted to live?'

A derisive scoff echoed in his mind as the Kyuubi shifted irritably. 'Only fools and cowards wish to live forever and I am neither nor both. I simply do not wish to die due to a murder-suicide and at the hands of Uchiha Madara no less. At this moment in time, we have accomplished nothing more than ridding a broken world of a madman. When I finally leave this plain of existence for the next to meet my Maker so to speak, I would like a little more than murder to my name. And since those higher beings up there seem hopelessly enamoured with such pathetically weak humans such as yourself, preventing the apocalypse from wiping out your pitiful kind would be excellent fodder to throw back into their faces.'

Amusement stirred in Naruto's chest as the insults flew past him without harm. He was far too used to the Kyuubi reiterating his stance on humans to care. 'You don't seem to like those higher beings very much.'

'I don't. They place nine demons in a world where much weaker creatures roam and give us unlimited power only to condemn us to an imprisoned life in a human container because we brought destruction to those who sought to destroy us. There is neither logic nor intelligence in their decision. No doubt, once I pass on, they will try to condemn me for said destruction.'A dark smile curved the fox's mouth. 'But with this, I shall be ready to face them.'

Naruto just shook his head. He had never asked Kurama about any of the 'higher beings' on high, simply because he had no interest in them. As far as he was concerned, he carved his own path in life and he would deal with any judgment dealt to him when the time came.

'Alright then. Are you ready?'

Immediately, the demon fox settled down and the Kyuubi's red chakra rose to the surface along with his own. Naruto focused on the seal, one hand pressing over it as he concentrated on that fateful Spring day fourteen years ago when he had finally made Genin. Chakra flared around him and the seal flared up under his hand. Gritting his teeth, he forced as much chakra as he possibly could into the seal, ignoring the immediate warning bells that told him when he was at his limit. This technique would take everything he had.

All around him, the world exploded into a blinding landscape of white, the very air around him trembling with energy. An invisible force seemed to close around him and Naruto only had a moment to wonder, distantly, whether or not he would end up arrested and in a prison cell before the day was up.

And then, with a deafening roaring ringing in his ears that Naruto instinctively knew to be the rush of time, darkness engulfed him and he knew no more.

x.X.x

'Kit. Kit. Kit, wake up! YOU LAZY MIDGET-SIZED PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A MIDDAY SNACK! WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!'

Blue eyes snapped open and Naruto jerked up, almost banging his head against a low-hanging branch. With a low groan, the blond's hands reached up to clutch at his head as a jackhammer set off inside his skull.

'Goddamnit you stupid fox! I'm awake! What do you want?'

A snort and Naruto could almost see Kurama stretching smugly in his mindscape. 'We're back, Kit. Just thought you want to get a move on. You've been out for three hours. I was getting bored.'

Naruto would've shot something derogatory back at the demon if he hadn't been caught up in the fact that he was back. Because he knew this forest, knew it like the back of his hand. He was at the very edges of the Forest of Death in the shadows of one of the trees, and from his position, he could see the rest of Konoha, real and bustling with life spread out before him.

Kurama, we did it!'

Another snort, this one more of fond amusement than anything else sounded in his mind. 'Yes Kit, that's what I said. And it seems you're wounds have disappeared. You have the scars to prove it of course, not to mention that your clothes are abysmal, but your chakra reserves are almost back to normal and I feel better than I have in a long time.'

Naruto couldn't quite help the small grin that tilted his lips as he staggered to his feet, tugging absently at the torn clothing that hung off his thin frame. He hadn't felt happy in a long time, and it had been even longer since he had shown it openly, but this was it. This could be everything he had ever wanted, and the best part was that his younger self could grow up, ascend the ranks, and become Hokage without half as much suffering as he had gone through. This time, Uzumaki Naruto would have his friends around him, supporting him, and there would be no war to take away the millions of lives that had been lost in that other timeline.

'What will you do first?'

Naruto blinked, frowning thoughtfully as his eyes drank in his village. 'The old man. At least one person will have to know who I am. And I still have baa-chan's necklace to show him. He's reasonable. I'll be able to convince him.'

The fox made a sound of agreement. 'Go on then. I'm going to sleep. Try not to get killed between here and the Hokage Tower. If anyone could, it would be you.'

Naruto rolled his eyes before performing a henge. His blond hair faded to normal brown, blue eyes quickly turned brown as well, and his clothes matched those of an everyday civilian. His henge was also a few inches shorter but his frame was the same slender build. All in all, he looked harmless and nondescript. Still, Naruto hurried along the streets of Konoha, not lingering as he hurried towards the Hokage Tower. He would not be able to get in like everyone else as he had no identification on himself, but his gaze flitted to the open window of the Hokage's office, his eyes quickly pinpointing the small squad of ANBU on guard duty at the moment. Casually, he turned left, putting him parallel to his destination even as he disappeared from the ANBU guards' line of sight. And then, with a quick half-step to turn back towards the Tower, Naruto pushed off from the ground, flashing past the guards and through the open window before coming to a halt in front of a startled Sarutobi Hiruzen.

It was so easy that it would've been funny if Naruto didn't know this also meant that if he had been an enemy, the Third Hokage would've been dead before anyone could've reacted.

Speaking of reaction, Naruto already had his arms in the air in the universal sign of surrender as ANBU rushed towards him, kunai extended and pointed at him. Sarutobi had risen to his feet, eyes narrowed at him, body tense as his sharp gaze assessed the intruder.

"Hokage-sama," Naruto started formally. "I mean you no harm but I have something of great importance to speak to you about. If you would allow me to show you something, I would ask you to consider granting me a private audience with yourself."

The Sandaime stared hard at the brown-haired man, observing the now obvious henge. This man, obviously a ninja, had entered his office before any of his ANBU had even been able to react, and then had stood still while his guards had surrounded him. If he had meant any actual or immediate harm, this man could have already done it. Wordlessly, Sarutobi nodded curtly, keeping his eyes on the man as one of the ninja's hands slowly reached into a hidden pocket and withdrew a necklace.

Sarutobi immediately stiffened, recognizing the necklace instantly. "Where did you get that?" He demanded as he came around his desk and contemplated whether or not the man would give it up without fuss.

The henged nin held out the necklace without hesitation. "From a slug currently on quite the losing streak."

Sarutobi's eyes widened at the analogy and he studied the brown eyes for a moment longer. This man knew Tsunade, and while an enemy nin could just as easily have gotten this information, he also knew his former student would never give up this necklace to some random shinobi.

With a decisive nod, he turned to his ANBU guards. "Wait outside," He ordered, ignoring the silent protest that immediately flared up. "Go. I can handle this."

Reluctantly, the ANBU withdrew, and once they had left the office, Sarutobi quickly activated the privacy seals set up around the room. He turned back to the stranger, blinking in shock as the henge dropped and a tall, slender-framed blond with piercing blue eyes stared back at him, a puzzling sort of affection tilting his lips.

"Minato..." Sarutobi whispered, taking a shaky step back.

The blond sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his face. "Not quite, old man. Try his son. I'm Naruto."

The Sandaime quickly pulled his thoughts together, steadying himself in the present as he studied the man in front of him. Now that he took the time, he could see the differences between the Yondaime and this blond. While the two had the same hair and eyes, this man, Naruto, was more slender than and not as broad-shouldered as Minato had been. His jawline and facial structure were deceivingly delicate but also held the same strength Minato had had. And the faint smile that still quirked the blond's lips as the man waited patiently for him to finish his observations was all Kushina. Absently, Sarutobi wondered if his laugh would be like Minato's.

"If what you say is true," Sarutobi finally voiced carefully. "Then you must be from the future."

Naruto nodded, the slightest flicker of relief flitting across his features. "Yes, fourteen years in the future to be exact, give or take a few months." Here, the blond hesitated before forging on. "You could ask me some questions to make sure."

Sarutobi didn't think anyone could pull off this sort of henge and not many people knew Minato and Kushina even had a son, not to mention that the whisker markings on the blond's face and the distinct Kyuubi chakra he could now sense inside the younger man were dead giveaways, but a few identity questions couldn't hurt either.

"Who were your parents?"

Again, that faint smile appeared briefly, and Sarutobi frowned inwardly at this implication. Naruto had always been optimistic, and always had a ready smile for all. For his expressions to have faded to a mere shadow of what it once was (still is now?), was a clear indication that things in the future had not turned out well. "Namikaze Minato and Uzumaki Kushina."

Sarutobi nodded. "Your godfather and godmother?"

This time, a shadow of pain and deep sorrow darkened the cerulean eyes before that too disappeared. "Raiya and Tsunade."

Sarutobi blinked, startled. "He lets you call him 'Raiya'?"

Naruto, for it really could be no one else, blinked back. "Well, I also call him Ero-sennin, but after I did that a couple of times in front of those women he tries to get to as well as a few dignitaries, he finally told me I could call him Raiya instead, at least while in front of other people." The blond scoffed a bit. "There's nothing wrong with Raiya. It's not perverted or degrading or anything. It's just a nickname. If he hadn't told me that he didn't let anyone else call him that, I would have ignored him altogether."

Sarutobi chuckled, finally relaxing entirely. "I used to call him that, but he insisted on his full name after he turned fifteen. He thought the name sounded too female and I believe Tsunade somehow teased him enough when they were younger that Jiraiya now has the irrational impression that the name is a patronizing insult to his sense of self. Or something of that sort anyway." He paused before continuing softly, "You two must have been very close."

The blue gaze darkened once again even as the blond nodded curtly. "Yes."

Sarutobi nodded and made no further comment on the matter, instead taking in the ripped clothing the ninja was wearing. "Very well. I believe who you are. Now, why have you come back? Are things really that bad in the future?"

Naruto closed his eyes briefly before nodding. "Konoha is gone," He said simply even as Sarutobi frowned at this revelation. "Razed to the ground. Its civilians and shinobi all dead. I was the last."

For a moment, Sarutobi couldn't breathe as he tried to imagine a world where Konoha no longer existed. He glanced at the window towards the rest of the village before looking back at the blond.

It wasn't just the inner strength that was so like Minato, Sarutobi realized, because Kushina had had that strength as well. It was Naruto's entire bearing that reminded him most of Konoha's Yellow Flash. This man currently standing in front of him, frame relaxed but ready, had the air of a Kage, and a powerful one at that. The kind of power that Sarutobi had only ever seen Minato exude.

"You became Hokage then," Sarutobi couldn't help but enquire.

Naruto inclined his head in affirmation. "Rokudaime Hokage." The haunted look passed over the blond's features once more. "Just in time to watch my village burn."

Sarutobi almost shuddered at the near-overwhelming grief in the younger man's voice. It was always hardest on the Kage when their people's lives were lost. The entire village was their responsibility after all.

"I came back to change it," Naruto suddenly looked almost anxious, and Sarutobi found himself relieved as he caught a glimpse of the Naruto he knew in this time.

The Sandaime nodded briskly, turning to step back behind his desk. "Of course. If Konoha will fall then we will have to find a way to prevent it. But not now. Can I assume that nothing drastic will happen in the immediate future?"

Naruto frowned in confusion but nodded nonetheless. "Everything will start going downhill at the next Chuunin Exams. Before that, as long as I keep an eye on things and root out some spies, things should be alright."

"Good." Sarutobi pulled out a list of empty apartments and sent a reassuring look when Naruto stared in bewilderment at his assessment. "If nothing will happen anytime soon, I would like to get you settled in. You look ready to keel over, Naruto."

The blond blinked before looking down at himself. "Oh. I just finished fighting Ma-"

Sarutobi put up a hand to halt the younger man's explanation. "Not now Naruto." He chided gently. "No doubt, if you continue, I will have many questions for you and we will be in here for another few hours. Right now, you need rest, not to mention we still have to create a background for you."

Naruto seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding silently in agreement.

"Very well. While you are here, you will need to use a different name. Do you have one in mind?"

"Kazama Haruki," Naruto said after a moment's thought. "That's the name I used when I infiltrated Iwagakure."

Sarutobi opened his mouth to ask before shaking his head ruefully. Questions later. But who knew Naruto had the potential to be a spy? "Alright," He continued on. "I'll write up the necessary papers and tell anyone who asks that you've been on a mission for me for the past eight years. We can use the Hyuuga Affair, you know what that is? Good. We can use that and say you've been in Kumo to make sure they wouldn't try anything again. They won't try anything again, will they?"

Naruto shook his head. "They won't be stealing anymore Hyuugas anyway. But the Council will want proof."

Sarutobi frowned. "Indeed. Is there any knowledge from the future that you can use here?"

Naruto stayed silent, gaze flickering over to the window to stare absently out at the sky. "How long can you keep the Council at bay before they start asking questions?"

Sarutobi shrugged. "As long as you keep a low profile, word won't get back to them too quickly, but even if it does, I can hold them off for several days, maybe a week."

Naruto nodded. "Alright. Give me five days. I can get to Kumo and back within that time. And I'll bring back Hyuuga Hizashi's body. The bastards preserved it so I'll still be able to present an actual body."

If Sarutobi had been anything other than a Kage, he would've gaped. "Wouldn't they keep that well-guarded?"

Naruto shrugged. "I can do it, old man. I'm above ANBU level, plus I've done it before. And I'll leave a body clone behind so they won't notice. As long as the Hyuuga Clan doesn't go flaunting it through the streets of Kumo, everything should be fine."

The Sandaime considered this for a few seconds before nodding in agreement. "Alright, I'll call a Council meeting when you get back. You'll leave tomorrow?"

The blond nodded. "And I'll be back in five days."

"Good. Now for your looks. The village will be in an uproar if they get a good look at you. At first, and maybe even second and third glance, you look very much like Minato."

Naruto frowned thoughtfully before performing a few one-handed seals. His long golden locks immediately washed away, leaving a crimson fire in its wake. The new redhead cocked a questioning eyebrow at the surprised Sandaime. Sarutobi smiled and nodded approvingly. While there were still traces of both Minato and Kushina on the former blond's features, anyone would just dismiss it as a coincidence if they noticed. He couldn't detect the henge either.

"Moving on to where you will be staying then..."

"I'll take the apartment next to my... younger counterpart."

Sarutobi blinked. "How did you... oh. Right. Are you sure?"

"Very. This way, I'll be able to keep an eye on him. Keep him company too. He'll get lonely sometimes."

The Sandaime frowned sadly but said nothing. He had a feeling this Naruto wouldn't appreciate it. "Very well. Just show these papers to the landlady there and she'll give you the keys." He smiled warmly at the redhead. This Naruto exuded a quiet strength and seemed comfortable in his own skin. He had grown up well. "Get some rest, Naruto."

Naruto offered that faint half-smile again before tucking Tsunade's necklace away and withdrawing a small paper seal instead, extending it towards Sarutobi. The Sandaime blinked, taking the seal and noting the complex design.

"Just press it against any piece of clothing you wear and it will automatically imprint itself onto the material," Naruto explained quietly. "If you are ever in trouble, sending even a drop of your chakra into the seal will automatically inform me of your position and I will be able to step to your location in an instant."

Sarutobi examined the seal curiously before pressing it to his kage cloak's inside collar. A flash of chakra and the ink on the paper dissolved, reappearing on the cloak instead. "What does it do?"

"Hmm," This time, Naruto's smile held the faintest traces of mischief and Sarutobi found himself hard-pressed not to smile back in the face of such familiarity. "Try it."

Reaching up, Sarutobi sent a small current of chakra into the seal and then almost stepped back when Naruto appeared beside him, a quiet crackle of dry lightning as his only warning. Wide-eyed, Sarutobi stared between the spot the redhead had been and the spot where he was now standing. "Hiraishin...?"

Naruto was already shaking his head. "One of my own actually, although it is based on the Hiraishin. I call it Raikou Hitokiri no Jutsu. Same concept but less, well, like my dad's I suppose. Enemies rarely see it coming. The seal helps me lock onto the location but if I have a very clear picture of where I'm going in my head when I perform the jutsu, I can get there just as easily."

Sarutobi was speechless for several seconds. While he knew that this Naruto was essentially an adult version of the twelve-year-old Naruto, it was still hard to connect the two. To think that Naruto would one day grow up to create his own jutsus sent a thrum of pride rushing through the Sandaime. "This is amazing."

The younger man seemed to brighten a little, blue eyes glowing with momentary pride at the compliment. "Thanks old man."

Sarutobi nodded before making a shooing motion at the redhead. "Alright, go on then. We'll figure everything else out later. Get some sleep. And," He reached into one drawer and withdrew a wallet, deactivating the seal with a flick of his hand before offering several bills. "Buy some clothes and food. That should be enough for a month, and then you can start doing missions to earn your own money."

Naruto eyed the bills before accepting them with a nod of thanks. "I'll pay you back, old man."

Sarutobi would have refused if he wasn't certain Naruto would be stubborn about it. So he simply nodded in acknowledgement, deactivating the privacy seals as Naruto, now Haruki, sketched a simple salute before jumping out the window and disappearing over the rooftops within seconds.

"Hokage-sama?"

Sarutobi glanced absently at his bodyguards as they slipped back into the office. He waved a dismissive hand in the air as he sat back down and started on a new stack of paperwork. "One of my spies. He had to pull out quite suddenly though so I was not expecting him. I sent him out a long time ago and haven't seen him in a while. He was also under a henge and it took me a moment to realize who he was. Now I better start on this. I swear, the paperwork grows every time I turn around."

The ANBU on guard duty seemed to accept this easily enough as they relaxed and moved back into the shadows again, some almost palpably amused at Sarutobi's grumbling.

But even as he started scanning a request for new medical equipment at the hospital, Sarutobi contemplated the few things he had learned in the last twenty minutes. Dark times lay ahead, waiting in shadowed corners. But perhaps, with the time traveler's help, a man who seemed both familiar and foreign to him at the moment, they would somehow manage.

They would have to.

Raikou Hitokiri no Jutsu - Lightning Step Jutsu

First chapter finished! Review and tell me if it has the makings of a good story and that I should continue with it!