Needle
Survival
In the end, Naruto is the only one still standing. Kakashi is slumped against a tree, trying to stop the bleeding in his leg. Tenzo is unconscious, nearly dead from chakra exhaustion. Shisui is in the worst shape of all of them. If it weren’t for the dull flicker of his chakra, she would think he were dead from the amount of blood pooled under his head.
For a moment, surrounded by the bodies of her friends and enemies, she can’t think. She can’t breathe. For a moment she feels like she had on their very first mission together, utterly helpless in the face of injury and blood and death.
But Naruto isn’t a child anymore. She breathes in the iron tang of the blood she’s spilt and jumps into action. As a medic-nin, her duty is always, first and foremost, to the continued survival of her team.
There are three of them and one of her. She makes a snap judgement - Kakashi is still conscious, and there is nothing she can do for Tenzo’s chakra exhaustion. Shisui must be first, then.
She hurries to him - the bleeding from the wounds to his head and face have already stopped, but that does not mean the danger has passed. With careful hands, she feels around his skull and spine for breaks. There are none, but he has been unconscious for over fifteen minutes. That he hasn’t woken is worrying, and suggests a deeper injury to the brain. She is exhausted, but she carefully reduces the swelling inside his head - in this regard, her low chakra is a boon. It is far easier to control a trickle than a river constantly bursting its banks.
He will wake soon, she thinks. Of more concern, now, is the broken leg from the fall. It is not life-threatening, so she conserves her energy for now, splinting the leg with Shisui’s tanto. This will complicate matters - if he cannot move without help, and she cannot heal him, they will be forced to slow to a civilian’s pace.
Next is Kakashi. His painted mask has nearly been split in half, although he has escaped a serious injury like Shisui’s. But his leg wound is deep, and long, and she is nearly spent. Still, she summons the dregs of her strength to focus her chakra and stop the bleeding. The artery is not cut, but it is a close thing. She’s so low on energy that Kurama’s chakra bleeds into her own, and she cuts off the flow with a gasp and doubles over. It will have to be enough.
The wound must be stitched before Kakashi can move. Rummaging quickly through her med-kit, she locates a familiar blister-pack - identified by touch alone. She gives Kakashi half a painkiller and pointedly looks at the ground while he swallows it, then she disinfects and sews the wound with fifteen neat stitches, and binds the wound tightly.
She leans back on her heels and breathes in, once, twice, three times. It is only then that she notices the burning in her left shoulder, right over her old ANBU tattoo. She almost bursts out laughing - a single senbon, stuck in her arm, the only wound she has sustained in the fight. The burning is undoubtedly caused by her body doing its utmost to heal around the needle - she pulls it out and unceremoniously tosses it to the ground, turning back to Kakashi.
“Can you stand?” she asks.
“I think so,” Kakashi rasps back, struggling to his feet. They do not exchange further words, but they understand one another implicitly. The failure of this ambush does not guarantee their safety. They must move, and quickly, before reinforcements arrive.
“I’ll take Tenzo,” she says, glancing back at Kakashi. “I don’t - I can’t - I don’t have enough for a bunshin. Can you get Shisui?” This might be the first time she has been unable to summon even a single clone to their aid, and she cannot quite keep her voice from cracking.
Kakashi only nods. She can’t see his face behind the ANBU mask, but she can read his eyes well enough. His Sharingan is closed, but his grey eye is hard as flint.
Tenzo is the larger of their two unconscious teammates, but Kakashi has a leg wound. She eases Tenzo into a fireman carry, and with one hand, reverts to ANBU hand signals. West - interrogative - she signs. Back towards Konoha, who had sent over fifty shinobi to kill them. The only place they could go to and not be labelled missing-nin, hunted for the rest of their lives. The place where their friends and families and clans lived, under the threat of a coup, of kidnapping, of brainwashing and sealing and death.
Affirmative, Kakashi signs back.
Choices
Naruto kicked her feet and shrunk down in her chair, avoiding the Hokage’s gaze.
“Explain it to me again, Naruto?”
“Can’t you just let Iruka-sensei punish me?” she asked.
“You’re not in trouble.”
Naruto peered at him disbelievingly.
Hiruzen sighed. “I’ll take you out to Ichiraku’s regardless of what you tell me,” he pressed. “When have I gone back on a promise like that?”
It was true, Naruto thought. The Sandaime had never dangled a reward in front of her without following through - from doing her best at the academy to keeping her apartment tidy to apologising to the mean lady downstairs she pranked.
“Okay, fine,” she said. “But I still don’t see what the big deal is. I just ran and hid.”
Naruto’s latest mischief - mixing the ground coffee in the chunin lounge with dirt - had not been received well. Personally, Naruto couldn’t tell the difference, but the irate ninja who had fallen victim did not seem to agree.
“From chunin and tokubetsu jonin, quite impressive.”
Naruto’s chest puffed out at the praise. “Is it? I mean it’s not - it’s not hard to figure out when people are coming, I just timed it right.”
“Oh?”
“It’s hard to miss them, y’know? They go back and forth, in straight lines. I just had to make sure I stayed out the way - and then I just concentrated on hiding until they left the area.”
“Yes, but how? It takes great skill and years of training to avoid our search patrols, Naruto.”
Naruto cocked her head to the side. “I just do it, Jiji. I can’t explain how I just do things.”
The Hokage folded his hands in front of his face, contemplative.
“You said that you knew when the patrols were coming. Could you tell me if there are shinobi nearby, right now?”
Naruto narrowed her eyes. “You mean you can’t tell?”
“Humor me.”
She paused a moment, then said, “there’s three really close. Maybe in the next room? And then there’s two at the mission desk downstairs, even though it’s really late. And then there are four on the roof, I think, and more but they’re too far away to really tell.”
The three nearby shifted at that, looming closer. They fluttered in a pattern she had come to understand as interest and attention. She couldn’t name what sense she used to “see” people she couldn’t actually see, but she felt it as clearly as she felt fabric on her skin and light hitting her eyes.
Naruto shifted uncomfortably in her chair, disliking how watched she felt.
“I see. I’ve been considering your future as a kunoichi for a while, now, and in light of recent… incidents… I don’t believe that the Academy is the best path forward for you - ”
Naruto surged forward, alarmed. “You mean I can’t become a ninja?! I’m sorry, I won’t pull pranks ever again - “
The Hokage raised his hand to stop her in her tracks. “That’s not what I said, Naruto-chan. I believe you have tremendous potential as a ninja, potential that the Academy will not be able to nurture. Tell me, what do you know of the ANBU?”
Naruto’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “They’re really, really cool ninjas - the best of the best. They guard the Hokage!”
“That’s not all they do. They take care of the most important missions for the Hokage, personally. It’s become clear that you have immense talents for tracking, evasion, and sabotage, talents I believe would be wasted in the normal shinobi forces. I won’t lie -” he looked sternly at Naruto, “it will be difficult to transition into the ANBU Black-Ops, and it is not a decision to take lightly.”
“I’ll do it!” Naruto didn’t hesitate. She didn’t think the Hokage would joke about something like this, even if other people would. And this was more than she had imagined in her wildest daydreams about what it would be like to be powerful and respected and loved.
“Are you sure? You can’t change your mind about this, Naruto.”
“I’m sure, jiji!”
It was then that Naruto met Hound.
Needle
“This is a somewhat unusual situation,” said Hound. “Usually, ninja must rank chunin or higher to join the Black Ops - direct recruitment hasn’t happened since the Third Great War.”
So why you? his single grey eye seemed to ask her.
Hound had turned out to be one of the three close by - the most attention-grabbing of the three by far, he felt like a clap of thunder sitting next to her, compressed, suffocating, blazing white.
He and Naruto were in a small room off the Hokage’s office, with bookshelves from floor to ceiling and a single chair. Naruto was still clutching brand-new standard issue Konoha headband, which the Hokage had unceremoniously thrust into her hand as Hound had gripped her by the shoulder and guided her away.
“The first thing is to get you your tattoo -” he gestures to the one on his shoulder, “without it, you won’t be able to access ANBU facilities.”
Naruto can’t quite hide her nerves at this - weren’t tattoos done with needles? The thought made her feel vaguely ill, but she nodded in assent anyway.
“Go on, sit. And shouldn’t you put that on?”
He meant the headband, she realised. She wrapped it around her forehead as she’d seen Konoha shinobi do a thousand times, and fumbled for a moment to knot it behind her head. It was awkward with her long hair.
“Here, let me.” Hound tied the headband with swift, practised hands. “You should think about cutting your hair, it could be a liability this early on in your career.”
“It grows so fast,” she protested half-heartedly.
Hound hummed in response, and produced a whole swathe of objects from a pouch at his waist - disposable gloves, a needle, ink, swabs. He gestured for her to sit and roll up her sleeve.
Kneeling at her side, he ripped open a sterile alcohol swab.
Naruto stared, transfixed, as he wiped down her shoulder and readied a needle.
“Ah - Hound? How can a tattoo give me access to ANBU-only places? Couldn’t anyone fake a tattoo?”
Naruto was mostly trying to distract herself, but Hound paused and squinted at her. “It’s chakra-infused ink, you see, made from beetles raised by the Aburame clan. The same ink is used to paint the seals -” Naruto fought to keep still as the needle pricked her, once, twice, three times, “- that mark the entrances to our headquarters. Like a lock and key.”
He paused to wipe away ink and blood, before continuing.
Naruto couldn’t see the tattoo on her own arm, but she could see it on Hound’s - a red, swirling design, not so different from the one adorning her brand new hitai-ate. His arms were big, and muscular, and scarred. Naruto felt faintly ridiculous by comparison, small even for her age. She was shorter than anyone else in her class by seven centimetres exactly.
Naruto didn’t speak further, concentrating intensely on not embarrassing herself. Shinobi aren’t afraid of something so small, she told herself. And kunoichi don’t cry - Naruto’s eyes burned - even if they hate everything to do with needles and doctors. She didn’t look away, even if the sight of the needle plunging into her skin made her stomach roil.
Before she knew it, it was over, and Hound was wiping away the last of the mess of blood and ink on her skin. Both were deep, dark red - she couldn’t really tell which was which. Maybe that was the intended effect.
Hound made to tape a dressing down over her shoulder, then stopped. Without warning, he poked the fresh tattoo.
“What was that for?” Naruto said indignantly.
“It doesn’t hurt?” Hound poked her shoulder again for good measure.
Narutos’s heart sank. “Should it?”
Hound didn’t answer. Eventually, he shrugged and half-turned away from her, storing away the dreaded needle and ink. He pulled out one final item - a small, painted, red-and-white mask. Its wide red mouth grinned at her. Naruto reached out to take it, but Hound ignored her, hooking the wire of the mask over her ears and securing it in place. It fit perfectly.
“From now until you are discharged, or die in the line of duty, you will be known as Fox.”
The words sounded practised, official - Naruto floundered on how to respond. “Yes, Hound-sama!” she stuttered out, bowing low.
Hound’s shoulders hunched unhappily. “None of that now. It’s Hound-senpai or just captain, got it?”
Kunai Holster
Hound-senpai showed her a network of tunnels that ran underneath all of Konoha - or at least, she assumed they did. As they entered, Naruto had the distinct and unpleasant feeling of being dunked under something viscous, clinging. It made her skin crawl and her new tattoo prickled, just under her skin.
The tunnels were long, and winding, and dark. They passed several other masked shinobi on their way, who stared at them curiously behind painted porcelain. Naruto folded in on herself when they approached, aware of how small - how out of place, how childish - she appeared in comparison.
Eventually, they arrived at what appeared to be the centre of the maze: a sprawling network of workshops, break rooms, and mission desks. She tried not to stare at the thirty-odd masked men - there were only a few women, she noticed - as they darted back and forth, fast, efficient, and powerful. Naruto wondered if she would look like them, soon.
Hound made a bee-line for one of the less-inhabited areas - Naruto almost tripped over her own feet trying to keep up. He stopped at what was clearly an armoury, with racks of tantos, kunai, shuriken, and other, less-common weapons lining the walls. In between were rows and rows of uniforms, chakra-infused ink, sealing scrolls, kunai holsters - more gear than Naruto had ever touched in her life.
She couldn’t help but pause and linger, fingers trailing over the sleek black of a brand-new kunai holster. She’d never actually had anything new - her kunai were all scrounged from training grounds, her kunai holster she had sewn herself.
Hound was speaking to the bird-masked attendant of the armoury, she realised, trooping over to stand by his side.
Naruto watched with unabashed curiosity as the attendant started pulling items off the shelves. He laid out item after item - a med-kit, a set off five brand-new kunai and fifteen shuriken, a sleeping mat, a new kunai holster. As the tools and gear piled up on the counter, something horrible occurred to Naruto.
“Um, Hound-senpai?” she whispered. “I can’t pay for all this.”
She meant to be discreet, but bird-mask’s head turned towards them anyways.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re one of us now - the armoury will supply whatever you need for free,” said Hound. He didn’t look at her when he spoke.
A wash of emotions - guilt, disbelief, incredulity - ran over her. For a moment, she considered refusing, insisting - Naruto did not accept charity.
“How tall are you, Fox?” bird-mask interrupted Naruto’s thought train.
“127 centimetres,” she said, and flushed behind the mask. She was the shortest in her Academy class, and it wasn’t close.
“She’ll need a custom uniform, then,” said bird-mask to Hound. Naruto was intensely glad to no longer be addressed. “We’ll deliver it by sunrise.”
Naruto left the armoury with a sealing scroll, instructions on how to open it, and gear worth more than her monthly rent.
Fox
Hound gave Naruto strict instructions to report to training ground 53 at 7 am the next morning to meet the rest of their team. She barely slept, tossing and turning fitfully. Outside her apartment, the world was a flurry of motion. At one point, she sat bolt upright, sure that she feel Hound’s white-hot presence in her room. She sprang out of bed and checked her traps - she might be only an Academy student, but she had learned to be cautious - only to find not a wire or slip of paper out of place.
She must have been dreaming.
As the sky began to turn from black to deep blue, she gave up on sleep entirely. As she moved silently into her kitchen, she froze.
On her kitchen table was a neat, brown-paper parcel.
Naruto scrambled back into her room and snatched one of her shiny, new kunai from her bedside table. The grip wasn’t worn at all, and her fingers slipped, trying to find their familiar resting place.
She crept forwards, kunai held at the ready. Before she could lose her nerves, she burst through her bedroom door. The kitchen was empty. She stood for a moment, then closed her eyes, searching. She felt - the timber frame of the building settling and creaking - a downstairs neighbour moving back and forth, dull and difficult - and other, more distant things, people lying still and asleep, glittering pinpricks of birds on the roof, the ever-present buzz of activity that defined Konoha.
There was no-one in her apartment but her.
She laid the kunai down on her kitchen table, turning the package over in her hands. Using the kunai, she slit the tape tamping the ends of the paper down and carefully unfolded the package. Inside was an ANBU uniform, much like Hound’s, in miniature.
Naruto left it where it was while she prepared a quick breakfast and bento. After, she brushed her teeth, combed her newly-cut hair, and dressed for the day.
As a rule, Naruto did not like mirrors. Her bright red hair only reminded her of the fact she was a no-name, foreign orphan, so very different from her classmates who wore their Uchiha black or Yamanaka blonde hair with pride. She didn’t like to see the patches on her clothes and the dirt on her knees, or the marks on her face so frequently compared to a kitsune.
But today was different.
Naruto adjusted her grey arm-guards in the mirror one final time, then slid the wire of her red-and-white mask over her head. For a moment, she imagined a powerful ninja staring back at her - Fox, a member of the ANBU, elite guard and personal operative of the Hokage. Fox didn’t worry about the price of food or affording a new kunai holster. Fox didn’t worry about sneers on the street or mean ten-year-olds in her class making fun of her hair.
Naruto’s toes curled and she lifted up the mask to wipe away her unruly tears - she knew, logically, that she was just an Academy student. That ANBU were usually scouted from pools of ninja with years and years of battle experience, that this sudden turn in her life was just another strange thing about her. She replaced the mask and glanced at herself one last time.
Fox’s eyes bored into Naruto’s, two spots of blue glaring out, porcelain face twisted in a perpetual snarl. Why you? Fox’s eyes asked. Why? Why? Why?