Naruto: The Prince of Lust

Chapter 3: Chapter 3



Chapter 3: Chapter 3

"This has to be a prank!" Naruto calls out. 'How could it not be?' He thinks, when suddenly information, a memory, knowledge he didn't have of a lost shiruken he tossed somewhere in the woods, pops into his mind.

It feels like a little strained pulling, like someone quickly ripping a single strand of hair from his head. As he takes in the entire memory, he questions how true it is, how real this is.

His first step to fetch his newly recalled shuriken is interrupted with another flash-memory, leaping into his mind, cause the ache on his brain to momentarily sharpen.

Before too long, Naruto learns where all six of his shuriken went and has a headache similar to prolonged brain freeze for his efforts. The concentrated, lethargic pricks of pain don't last longa couple minutes or soand it's not nearly the worst pain he's ever experienced.

However, it's an effect he makes a note of nonetheless.

With all his worn throwing stars in his pouch, the first of his shadow's conversations floods his mind. Naruto squints his eyes at the pinch to his brain as a whole conversation with Ayame-nee plays out in his mind. It was a simple conversation.

Nothing of note or relevance other than the usual, 'hey, Ayame-nee,' and, 'how's it going?' Though she had finished their short conversation with a phrase she's often directed at him. "Nothing but the freshest ingredients for our favorite customer."

No sooner had he thought that sounds just like her, did another memory materialize in his mind. He was in the Hokage tower. He tried to see Ji-chan but his secretary had informed him that the Hogake was in a council meeting.

"That should be easy to double check," Naruto says to himself. Whether the voice knew about the meeting or not didn't matter.

He himself didn't know about the meeting, so if there is, in fact, a meeting, the Voice will have told him something about this jutsu that neither Kakashi-sensei or Ji-chan informed him of. He's not angry with them, but he certainly doesn't understand why they wouldn't mention this neat little trick.

If he wasn't a serious shinobi of the Leaf, he would certainly be planning the biggest chronicle of pranks for the year.

The final memory he received on the path home. It was a hurried memory. His clone had been found trying to get past the entrance, and they chased after him. The majority of the staff may be talented in saving lives but he's been chased for most of his.

He managed to hold them off until he finally found Iruka-sensei. He was asleep, propped up on his bed with at least five pillows and a harness around his torso, keeping him up. It was the last image before his clone ended its existence, but it was enough consolation just to see Iruka-sensei.

'He didn't look great,' mentally Naruto admits and if he were honest with himself, he's having a hard time keeping the guilt from assuming control. So much so, in fact, he stops his journey back home in favor of returning to Training Ground 28 to continue training.

He may or may not have spoken to his future self... he may or may not have been duped... but he wasn't going to waste any time on his path to get stronger. If everything Naru-nii said turns out to actually be true, he will not fail again, just like he won't fail Iruka-sensei again.

KURENAI

"Thank you very much for granting me audience, Hyga-dono," Kurenai clearly and evenly tells the Hyga Clan Head, her palms placed daintily on the floor in an upside down V as she bows her head respectfully.

The large receiving chamber in the main branch's home of the Hyga compound was as traditional as every other resident on the large property.

Despite the antiquated style of the sitting room, the hardwood furnishing, the tatami mats, the gold and silver trim lining the beams, counters, and zaisu, was immaculate. It gave the impression of wealth within tradition.

The sliding doors were closed for privacy and despite there being no windows the well-lit room was not stuffy.

Hyga Hiashi sat rigid, kneeling on an elevated platform ahead of the bowing kunoichi, while Kurenai sat kneeling ten paces away, her lush ebony hair flowered the sides of her bowed head. Such deference to a man that wasn't her Hokage was unfavorable to her, but sadly unavoidable.

The beautiful kunoichi was taught well and studied hard.

Though coming from very little, she had unassailable drive; a drive to make her father proud, a drive to prove her mother wrong, a drive to exalt the reverence of Konoha's Will of Fire.

She worked hard to be the best genjutsu master in all of Konohagakure, as much for herself as for her deceased father, but what made her most proud, is that every ounce of hard-earned skill and knowledge gained is in profound service of future generations.

Their distinguished gains as shinobi of the Leaf is her greatest honor. In mind, body, and soul, her goal is to help the youths in her charge in any and every way she can, so they might pass on their Will of Fire to the students in their time.

Determined, Kurenai knows she needed to be respectful to Hyga Hiashi for her goal, far more than she would otherwise be.

In truth, she doesn't approve of the Hyga system, but for her charge, she'll bow and give reverence to the arrogant slave owner, even if she'd much rather trap him in a hellish never-ending nightmare for the rest of his miserable life.

"You've declared this meeting was in regard to Hinata," Hiashi stated in a deep, belittling tone nearly to the point of offensive. "Speak." The man had little eyes of steel, the kind that would express the same amount of emotion to an infant as an enemy.

He peered over her, exhuming nothing but vain misogynistic pride.

Now that he's spoken to her, Kurenai raises her head to meet his brass gaze and address him. "As you are no doubt aware, I am your daughter's Jonin Sensei."

"You are not who I would've chosen were I given the honor of petitioning for recommendations," Hiashi easily explained, as if his callous judgment on the choice of his daughter's sensei was beneficial to how Kurenai viewed herself.


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