From the moment the stone fell, Kurama wasn’t sure what to make of things. His composure was shattered like glass, and the more he picked up the pieces, the less sense his visions made to him.
That dark presence surrounded him. He could still feel it residing inside, fraying his nerves. His efforts to get a lock on the source were in vain though. With a start, Kurama resolved to bottle it down, and get one over the ordeal.
He had marginally more success in that, but it still felt like blindly groping through the dark. Bushy shapes, dim and in a frantic whirlwind of motion. His sense of sight was fracked to hell, and the cause was about as easy to pin down as the nightmare plaguing him.
Then there was that fire, shining through the abyss. Even if he wanted to turn a blind eye, that light cast a trail that he could follow. A place untouched by this malice. Kurama felt a familiarity in it’s presence, begrudging, but reassuring all the same.
It still echoed through his mind, even now. On dampened floors, and a cage only as large as he was. The moment when that sense of familiarity gave out, the flames felt colder, and in that moment he could no longer turn away.
He felt the aura of the forest close in on him. More than enough to call stifling, and very nearly enough to call oppressive. Kurama had had his chain yanked, chakra pinched, and even been soundly defeated, but he’d never felt such an overwhelming presence before.
It was not nearly so clean or steadying as the first hokage’s mokuton, but it was enough to drive the shadows from his mind. Kurama would never admit it aloud, but he was grateful. Relieved at least.
He wasn’t completely free of the offending illusions just yet. The damage to his person was extensive, and he would lose consciousness with much more than essential movement. It was distressing to lose his grip on the world, even the poorly lit chamber that it was. So, biding his time, and tapping his senses one pressure point at a time, Kurama rested and waited.
Down the halls, through circuitous tunnels and beyond where the labyrinth had a stable form, a wic burned. A tiny river of flame. Steady and calm, it bobbed. However, further from there, it and others like it accumulated to form a tumultuous flow.
Hiruzen was vexed by the presence. It was a powerful aura. One that took every ounce of experience he could muster to brave. It was like standing in striking range of the fox, to do so before the jinchuriki.
Those who had the unfortunate means to recognize its presence, and those who had personal losses to that effect, they would be subjected to one far more potent. If an assassin bore the intent to harm the boy, they may not survive the attempt.
It had been like holding his own heart in his hand. True enough, every twitch of his fingers had involuntarily sparked seals which had become second nature. Just the idea of casting a jutsu in that aura had him holding his breath.
What to do. They literally could not afford to abandon the boy. Even now, there was a task force assigned to bottle feeding him with a ten foot pole. Diplomatically, there was no excusing him. Which. Ironically, also made negotiation to that effect seem natural.
No one doubted the dangers the boy represented. His presence could be felt from the council chambers on the other side of the building. Spreading word of this was treacherous on a base level. Seeding unrest was a powder keg on their shoulders. Hiding him, or keeping him secret was unthinkable, and already there were subtle pushes to smooth things over.
Whatever that may entail.
Hiruzen heard the click of footsteps, and before there was even a knock, “Report.”
A jonin entered with an armful of documents. At this point, bureaucracy was in overdrive, and those with the talent for secretarial work were stuck as acting proxies for the hubs. There was a team of jonin in rotation - three of them at last check - ferrying vital documents between them.
“Manifests from the intelligence division, as well as the emergency census. There is… a review of the safehouse.”
Classifying the subject was asking too much at this point. If this topic stayed confined to the upper ranks of the shinobi sect, it would be a miraculous feat.
“Very well.” Taking the documents he dismissed the jonin. A quick bow, and click of the oak doors, Hiruzen looked over the reports.
The chunin ranks, and adult ninja in their prime took significant losses. The hospital was full with patients in critical care. The rest were either dead or mourning.
Plugging the psychological drain was becoming a high priority for the retiree. Hiruzen was putting a lot of thought into raising morale. It would take everything he had, but he knew the circles, and the means to push beyond diplomatic effect. Given the right spin…
There was a lot of work to be done meanwhile. While he was no longer a spearhead Konoha could rely upon, his knack for the administration game was sharp as ever.
There was a monster in Konoha. A draft cut the natural airflow, and carried into a vortex of chakra so heavy laden in was visible.
Seals burned away on contact with those currents. Twice chakra suppression had failed to contain the effect. By now, a lengthy study to stagger the effect across the space was underway.
It wouldn’t do to have a central facility vacant, and any success in containment would be a breakthrough, and necessary so long as Naruto was kept in the village.
Hiruzen was rather adamantly opposed, when it came to stashing him in a hillside somewhere.
There was some heavy compensation, and support for the nurses that kept him healthy. Over the months, this had resulted in some rather explosive career growth for the lucky few. Granted, it took standing in front of what amounted to an active volcano, so not the first subject of envy.
There was a light on the horizon, thankfully. Six weeks into his life, Naruto’s aura had halved its intensity, and then again. Coupled with the successful dispersal of his aura…
It had well and truly spared his life. Hiruzen had been forced into making hard choices, and the decline was discovered just shy of the point of no return. It would be years before the effect lessened enough to be admitted to the populous, but they now had a way to house him.
Albeit, at the cost of some very finicky home renovation. That was only the beginning of a very long and difficult road, and the boy had yet to take his first steps.
