A steady, slow hand carefully drew complex and complicated shapes on a flat, otherwise perfectly smooth and featureless surface. A cubic room, six meters in every direction from the center, was covered from ceiling to floor and in every wall by strange markings, runic etchings whose meaning was a secret closely guarded by time, that which eventually claims all things.
The blonde woman the hand belonged to was expressionless, her pale face betraying nothing. She could've been said to be pretty, with aristocratic, sharp features that showed a member of the noblesse featured in her parentage. Beautiful, even. However, her features were marred. Her ears, they were too long and pointed, almost like knives, and her eyes… her eyes were terrifying to all but the bravest of men, for her stare was as dead as any corpse's. Even its coloration was simply wrong. A black pupil, a red iris and finally, a black schlera to surround it, on each of her eyesockets.
Pale blond hair framed her face and cascaded down her back, swaying slightly as she rose to her full, if unimpressive, height. Her every step caused the ragged cloak that she wore to ripple as if it were liquid, giving a vague approximation of her feminine body.
She moved until she was at the center of the room, in which a ritualistic circle had been prepared, five lit and melting candles set in a pentagram around her. She sat, cross legged, and closed her eyes. Her hands moved outwards, until she held them level with her shoulders. Soon after, a pair of blades materialized on each hand. Terrifying things, chipped and rusted from overuse, a result of having been bathed in the blood of countless victims. So soaked in blood were they that they were dripping the vital fluid even before they had rented any flesh.
The sound of blades cutting the air could be heard, as they moved with incredible speed and unerring accuracy, and they were suddenly held above the belly of their wielder, in a clear position to be driven through it.
A squelching sound broke the silence, and the splatter of blood followed it, but soon, the world faded to deafening silence, as the markings in the room began to shine softly. The sound of the little droplets of blood that were hitting the growing pool on the floor was soon overtaken by the hum of the markings, which began to grow brighter and more intense with each passing second.
"… Finally… I shall have… peace…"
Rozalin, the proud daughter of Overlord Zenon, closes her eyes for the very last time.
***
Namikaze Minato was many things.
He was the fourth Hokage of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, also known as Konoha, short for the name it had been given in the old language, Konohagakure no Sato, which translated to what was the city's true name. Despite it not actually being a village, but a city, but Minato digressed. This title came with its duties and privileges. He was to protect and nurture its society, he was to regulate and control it, ensuring a brighter future for its inhabitants. In return, he enjoyed a higher paycheck than any of his subjects, barring those who took high risk missions on a regular basis. He enjoyed the position of authority, and its perks, as much as he put up with its disadvantages and the tasks it forced upon him.
Minato was also a teacher, tasked with the nurturing and educating of Konoha's genin, a trio of which had been entrusted to him. He had enjoyed much with his team, and he was certain that they had enjoyed their time with him, as well, but he had failed in his duties as a teacher. Two of his students lay dead, both in defense of what they held dear, and whilst Minato could not be prouder of them, he could not help but admit, in his heart of hearts, that it was his fault that either of them had met their end, but he digressed again.
Beyond a Hokage and a Teacher, Minato was a Shinobi, a Ninja. He had all the abilities of one and, infact, even more than the abilities that the grand majority could ever hope to achieve, for he was a genius in the arts of a Shinobi, and far outpaced all of his peers. In return, he faced harsher challenges and was given more difficult duties. The prices of greatness were many.
Any of those three would've defined Namikaze Minato in the eyes of the public.
But there was another word that could define him, and what Minato wanted to be more than anything else. More than Hokage, more than a Teacher, more than a Ninja…
Minato was a Father.
First and foremost, he was a father.
It was for this reason that he looked down upon his neonate daughter, and his face twisted into a grimace of sorrow and anger, even as she let out her first cries. Justborn, and she had already had an attempt on her life. By the same monster who had ripped the Kyuubi from the seal on his wife's belly, at its moment of weakness. The monster who had fled, as soon as Minato disrupted his control over the Kyuubi. Minato was certain the monster wouldn't notice the Hiraishin seal until it was too late, but for now…
Minato swallowed.
It was this, the moment he dreaded. His duties, as a Ninja, as a Hokage, as a Teacher, they all conflicted with his wish to be the best possible father that he could be. He knew what had to be done. He knew what his actions would entail. It was for this reason that he called Gamabunta, and it was for this reason that he led the gigantic toad to battle against the creature that frightened every sane man in the world.
He hadn't been a father for more than sixteen minutes, and already he had failed as such. He was a genius, one who set new records in every category, and this was no different, he supposed. His failures, they had always been catastrophic, hadn't they?
"I'm sorry, Rozalin-chan… I'm sorry you had me as your father… I wish… I wish I could've given you the life you deserved," he said, his throat constricting, threatening to cut off his words. Gamabunta shifted under him, his size-appropriate sword deflecting one of the Kyuubi's paws, stopping it from shredding the toad and at the same time killing Minato and his baby.
His wife was on her feet already, and he felt his lips twitch upwards. Her resilience was legendary, and her strength of will unparalleled. A wild, untamable beast, rampaging through life… Uzumaki Kushina was the same way she had been when Minato had fallen in love with her, all those years ago, when he'd assisted her escape from the Kumo Shinobi that had captured her.
Their plan was already in motion. Kushina's chains snapped into action, their strength more than enough to restrain the Kyuubi for a short time without issue, becoming progressively harder the longer she held it. Minato had to work fast.
However, as it thrashed, snarled and roared, the Kyuubi's eyes suddenly came to rest on Minato, and for a moment, Minato thought it had recognized him as a threat
What Minato saw in the Kyuubi's eyes shocked him to the core. He could see an immense terror had gripped the beast, and it redoubled its attempts at breaking out of the bondage Kushina had put it in. Minato hadn't felt the beast's gaze upon himself, and so his eyes shifted down.
His child?
Did the Kyuubi understand that his child would serve as its next prison? It was likely, Kushina had said that the beast was intelligent enough to hurl insults at her every time she met it…
But still… that wasn't desperation born of a fear of becoming imprisoned once more. No, that was the kind of terror Minato inspired in Iwa Shinobi. And so Minato looked at his daughter, truly looked at her, focusing each and everyone of his senses upon her.
What he found… Minato wouldn't say.
But his plans changed, right then and there, and he found himself having more than a little hope for the future, and for redeeming himself. Perhaps… perhaps he hadn't yet failed entirely as a father.
***
"OJOU-SAMA!" shrieked a dark haired woman in a rather ragged and torn long and puffy black dress. The remains of an apron and lace ornaments littered her dress. She was on her knees, extending her right hand forward, towards the object of her fright and desperation, for in front of her, was a man.
The man was a rather muscular person, tanned and sporting numerous scars. He wore baggy pants and a simple, black tank top. What was important was what he held in his hands. In one hand was a blonde child, a girl of a mere four years, with ruby red eyes and a frightened expression on her face. He held her close to his chest with his left hand. In his right, there was a simple throwing knife, a Kunai, which he held with its tip pressed against the throat of the girl he held in the other arm. "If anyone moves, I'll slit her throat."
"Damn!" yelled a man in a dark suit, with silver hair that defied gravity and any notion of styling, eyes narrowing as he dropped the man he himself was holding, a rather beaten up looking sod, who might've once been wearing a getup similar to the muscular man. "Rozalin-chan…" he muttered. "We'll get you out of this. I swear."
"Now, nice and easy, you'll all let my teammates go, and nobody has to get hurt."
"N-Rozalin-sama! Are you okay?" asked the woman in the dress, looking at the blonde girl, who was clearly petrified by fear.
The large man laughed. "I haven't even touched her yet," said the guy, hoisting her up a little and moving his large hand until his fingers met around her waist. "Such a tiny little thing she is, feels like a doll. Heh. I used to break my little sister's dollies when she would annoy me, though I preferred squeezing their little heads right until they popped!" the man said, laughing boisterously as he did.
"You won't get away with this, you fiend!" another woman in a dress, this one without the apron or lace ornaments being damaged in any way, other than being dirtied by specks of blood in some cases, spoke, her purple hair swaying with the slight wind that filtered in through the large windows in the dance hall of the Namikaze Manor.
"To be fair, none of us really expects to survive," the large man said, grinning. "Though you're gonna let my team get away, unless you want me to see how much pressure this here dolly can take before she pops…"
"Very well. Your teammates will be allowed to retreat without pursuit. As soon as you let Ojou-sama down," the woman in the torn dress said, taking a step back and focusing her eyes on nothing but the man who held a knife to a child's throat.
"I'm not stupid, ya dumb broad. We've all got radios on us. As soon as they give me the all clear, I'll let the brat down, and then you can kill me," the man said. "We got what we wanted, anyway. That blond jackass knows his spawn ain't as safe as he thinks it is."
"Very well. Ojou-sama's life is much too valuable for us to risk foul play, as you might well know."
"What—Uchiha-sama! You can't trust this man!" the woman in the pristine dress said.
"Silence, Uzuki-kun," the woman said, shaking her head. "As I said, Ojou-sama's life is far too valuable to gamble with."
"Uchiha-taichou is correct," Kakashi said.
The two men who had been engaged stood on their feet, and with nasty grins on their faces, calmly jumped out a window, smashing it as they went through, clearly intent on getting away. It was an agonizing half hour that followed, spent entirely in silence, as each of the three in servant gear awaited for a moment in which the slightest twitch that implied violence was made by the large man.
However, the silence was broken by the man's radio, strapped to his waist, buzzed to life. "All clear, cap'n! We're out of Konoha and heading back to base, over and out! It's been a pleasure, sir!"
The tanned man grinned an insane grin. With a flick of his wrist, the kunai in his hand was buried in Rozalin's throat.
He didn't survive much longer, as he was instantaneously pounced on by two of the servants, while the third, their leader, quickly picked up the body of the injured child and, at a frantic pace, began running, shouting for medical assistance.
***
Life continued.
Rozalin smiled widely as she looked at her birthday gifts, a mountain piled nearly sky high, or so it looked from the limited perspective of a child of six. "Mikoto-obachan, I think there's even more than last year!" she said with a cheerful tone.
"There are! I had Kakashi-kun count them, Rozalin-chan, and he said there's sixty two gifts this year," she explained with a kind smile, grabbing one that seemed precariously close to falling out before putting it back at the foot of the pile. She smiled and walked around the pile, absent mindedly running one eye over the secure confines of the girl's room. Mikoto wouldn't ever have guessed that a girl could have a room that was so stereotypically girly. Plush animals, in particular foxes for reasons she knew very well, littered it, ranging from hand-sized to a life-sized stuffed bear, and all the pastel colored small equines one could think of.
It was a far cry from her own room, a spartan affair with little to decorate it but the first set of Shinobi tools she'd gotten, now blunted and made useless by age and overuse, as well as her old ANBU mask and a few photographs detailing the moments in life that she had cherished.
"Did you ask Daddy if he could come home tonight? He has to! It's my birthday!" she said, looking up with an expectant, almost painfully hopeful expression in her face.
Seeing it cut Mikoto deep, it made her heart ache, because she knew the answer. "He had a lot of work, Rozalin-chan, you know he works very hard to make Konoha a fit place for you to rule as a princess," she explained, trying to give her kindest, warmest smile.
Rozalin nodded, though her smile became noticeably strained. She was not yet anywhere near good enough to lie to a genin, much less so a jounin who'd spent a six years long tour of duty as an ANBU before taking this assignment. Her chances of succesfully lying to Mikoto were even less than they would've been otherwise, as she had been Rozalin's primary caretaker for exactly a week less than the time she'd been alive.
"He works really hard," Rozalin said, though she sounded decidedly less than enthusiastic about it.
Mikoto winced at the tone, but decided to instead encourage Rozalin to go check her presents. It was a good thing Rozalin's room was the largest in the entire manor, rivaling the size of a dinning room, even, because otherwise, all of her gifts could never have fit. Somehow, however, Mikoto didn't think that Rozalin felt that the fifteen gifts that her father had sent her made up for the fact that he'd been absent, only arriving at his home well past the wee hours of the morning.
Poor Rozalin had valiantly tried to remain awake to greet her daddy, whom she had only briefly seen that morning, but alas, she had been unable to remain long enough. Mikoto tucked her in.
***
Life nevertheless continued.
"Three. THREE. THREE!" Minato yelled, his fist smashing into the desk that had served the three Hokage before him, and then he began to furiously pace around his office. "I have no solid proof—nothing to initiate a war over. But I know it was them. They tried with Kushina, so of course they'd try their hand at getting Rozalin, as well," he said, his hands beginning to run through his hair. "There were three attempts on her life in just last month! How is this happening, Sensei? How do they keep doing this? I've tightened security up immensely, how do they keep slipping in!?" he asked, planting his hands on his desk and looking through his bangs to stare at Jiraiya, who was sitting on the windowsill of the window that was behind the Hokage's seat.
"It's all attempts to get at you, of course," stated the white haired Super Pervert, also known as the gallant Toad Sage of Myoboku-zan. "Iwa's tried their hand at her, what, sixteen times now?"
"Seventeen. Itachi-kun intercepted an assassin trying to give her a poisoned apple at the market," Minato said, gruffly. "I dont know what to do. I don't know how to protect her. Should I seal her up in the mansion, never let her out where she could be hurt? I can't do that to her… that would be even worse than being in constant danger," he said, knowing how being holed up inside of the Hokage tower with no ability to go out made HIM feel, and he was an adult!
"Anyway, they're probably trying to provoke you into doing something rash. It's clearly fodder they don't mind losing. Infiltrating into somewhere is a lot easier when you aren't worried about keeping an exit route. But they've got the ball on their court, as of now. Going to war is not an option. We're not in condition to fight a war, and they're bound to have developed some form of countermeasure to you by this point. We can't even rely on using the threat of war, since they know Konoha took way more damage than it should have in the last war," Jiraiya said, sounding just as he most likely felt, rather angry at the entire situation. He clicked his tongue, as if to show his displeasure at the world. "maybe it's about time you began training her?"
"What are you suggesting? The academy starts for her in a year. She's not ready yet, physically or mentally, to handle that kind of strain… Plus, it has to be her choice whether she wants to be a shinobi or not. I won't force this on her," he said, gesturing towards the dozens of papers that littered his desk. "I… I don't think I want her to be a Shinobi, Sensei—"
"Don't be dumb, Minato. You knew the life you condemned her to when you sealed the fox in her!" Jiraiya said, hotly. "Besides… It's her. I know it's her. It has to be. She will be the one, Minato, but in order to achiever her destiny, she has to be strong!"
"Screw destiny!" Minato yelled back, hotly.
Jiraiya sighed. "If nothing else, Minato, at least get someone to teach her how to defend herself. Mikoto's thinking about beginning her second child's training. I've been hearing rumors about a second prodigy at the Uchiha family head's household. Maybe you can ask her to take Rozalin too, and in return allow her to use the time she'd normally be guarding Rozalin in to also teach her brat?"
"I can't ask such a thing, Jiraiya… that's her family business and—"
"Well, that's not a problem. I already asked her, and she already said yes," Jiraiya said, smirking.
"What the—" Minato began protesting, but was soon cut off when his teacher moved with speed that was not proper for a man of fifty years and threw an arm around his shoulders, almost knocking Minato off balance by the sheer weight of Jiraiya's muscles.
"Why, you sound almost as if you can't believe thay your teacher, who knows you inside-out, wouldn't know what's been bothering you! You didn't think that I'd come here without a solution prepared, right?" Jiraiya asked.
"That's incredibly presumptuous of you," said Minato, deadpan.
"Why yes, yes it is. Now stop being such an uptight little brat, relax and think about looking for a new mother for Rozalin-cha—"
Jiraiya was singing soprano for a week, as Minato never, ever, took kindly to his reminders that he ought to be looking for a new wife.
To be fair, he was a lot harsher on Jiraiya than he was on anyone else who suggested finding a replacement for Kushina. He had never been able to look at another woman without comparing them with his wife and finding them horribly… lacking, by comparison.
"Will you at least relax a bit? You know what today is, don't you? You ought to at least enjoy the festivities a little…" Jiraiya said. "Come on, join your old teacher on a tour of the village. I even got my own teacher to join us. It'll be an S-Rank only casino night! Tsunade-hime even came around, since there's a high stakes game in your honor that a gentleman might have offered to host," Jiraiya said with a wink.
At this, Minato sighed. "Okay, but just for a short time. I promised Rozalin I'd be coming home tonight, and I'm on thin ice with her as is…"
"Awesome! You won't regret listening to your wise teacher, I swear!"
***
Meanwhile, back at the Namikaze mansion…
"Mikoto-obachan, did I do it right?" Rozalin asked, looking over her work with a critical eye, while at the same time tightening the crude bandages that she'd made around her fingers. Mikoto smiled warmly, looking at the spread Rozalin had made.
The girl was not skilled in the least in the art of housekeeping. To be fair, neither was Mikoto. That was what they had Kakashi for, most of the time, Yugao if he wasn't available. Itachi was a last resort, as even he was more skilled than his mother in the kitchen. But Kakashi had departed halfway through, having to get ready for a deployment to border patrol near the Iwa border, especifically acting on a lead they'd obtained from one of Rozalin's routine assassins. Yugao would actually be taking the night shift this day, guarding the Namikaze house as the owners slept, and Itachi was actually with Kakashi on that assignment.
Mikoto smiled, internally, when she remembered how well her son had taken to his godmother's last wish. Who'd have thought that such a short meeting would leave such a strong, lasting impression? Ah, but she was getting lost in memories.
Still, they'd worked as best as they could from Kakashi's instructions and, through a lot of shared effort, mostly Rozalin's since she refused to let Mikoto do anything for her entirely. They were finished, now, and while the dishes they had made were far from an extravagant affair, Mikoto had no problems telling Rozalin that she had done very well for her first time cooking, better than Mikoto usually did, in fact, and should be proud of the meal she had prepared.
One might wonder why Rozalin was cooking, particularly given that she was but a seven and a half years old girl, who could hardly reach the stove, let alone cook.
The very simple reason that Rozalin's hands had been cut, stabbed and burned that night, despite Mikoto's best efforts to keep them pristine, was that she had been preparing a home made deal to receive her father, on his birthday, with, after he came home from work. Rozalin felt that her father worked way, way too hard, and she knew very well that he did it for her sake. Because he loved her very much, he worked hard so he could give her everything she ever wanted. And so she wanted to reward him for his hard work.
With painstakingly slow, methodic and methiculous work, Rozalin set the table, arranging everything so it was just perfect, putting everything in such a way that her father would be presented with a relaxing atmosphere so that he would only need to sit down and rest while she did everything for one night. That was the least she could do, just one day in which she did something for herself instead of relying on her servant staff, but her auntie had told her that this would make Minato very happy.
And finally, after everything was ready, Rozalin sat to wait. Her father was running late, as usual, already by thirty minutes, but she had expected such a delay. He tended to overwork himself, and came home late and exhausted.
Still, Rozalin sat, dutifully, without moving a muscle, on the table she had set. Mikoto had left shortly after the meal was done, explaining that she had to get home to eat with her own family, because this was a private moment that Rozalin should have with her father, and so Rozalin was alone in the gigantic mansion, though of course she was perfectly safe, as she knew her father had reworked everything from the ground up to make it airtight against the usual violent psychopaths that tried to assassinate her for being the famous Yellow Flash's daughter.
The minutes passed, as Rozalin worried that the food might get cold, but she refused to move from her spot. She had to receive her father with a kind smile, it was intrinsic to the entire plan to get him relaxed so he could forget about work for a few hours. And so she continued to sit, stilling even her mind.
The minutes soon turned to an entire hour, and Rozalin's tummy rumbled its disapproval at being empty, but she quietend it with a slap. The food was for her daddy first, then she'd eat, but daddy had to eat first so he'd have all he needed to be healthy.
Her tummy continued to protest through the night, but there she'd wait, still, until the first few rays of the morning soon began to peek through the night sky.
Only then had she heard her father as he stumbled past the front door, and in her haste, she had forgotten that standing still in the position she had for so long had made her legs fall asleep, even if the rest of her hadn't. When she had tried to rush to her feet, in order to show her enthusiasm and greet him properly, she had stumbled, tripping forward and landing, chin first, on the table that contained the meal she'd painstakingly prepared for her father.
Unfortunately, Rozalin was stronger than she looked, or acted, at any given time, and when she had tripped, she had hit the table so hard that she caused it to be tipped over. Furthermore, this caused all of the plates and trays that she had used to place the food she had prepared, much of which was rice, different cuts and styles of cooked fish as well as sauces to dip them in, to come crashing down on top of her.
The plates crashing to pieces on her hurt, but for a moment, she was glad that the food was cold.
That was until she heard the door to the dinning room creaking open, as her father came in, possibly guided by the loud crashing noise that she had created by destroying the plates.
Rozalin's eyes went upwards, and she saw her father wince as he walked into the brightly lit room. He was bleary eyed, and his entire frame spoke of incredible exhaustion.
"Huh. What a mess," he commented, idly.
Rozalin, for a moment, felt horrible. She'd ruined everything!
However, then bloodloss and sleep deprivation took over and she merely fell unconscious, and she felt no more.
***
Rozalin looked around herself, at the children in the academy, with a smirk, before her eyes came upon her hated rival, who regarded her cooly.
Had someone been paying attention, they would've seen the bolts of lightning flying between the eyes of Namikaze Rozalin and Uchiha Rin.
For Rozalin, it was only natural to be at the top of her class.
She was, after all, the daughter of the widely feared Yellow Flash!