The Brightfield of the Scarecrow (Sakumo Hatake x Naruto)

Chapter 6: Demon? Which One?

It was exhausted, worn, sore, and hungering that I found myself returning back home -or rather, what I had begun to call it at this point.- To Sakumo-san and Kakashi-chan's place, as it had become warm and comfort unto him. Though not as embracing without Kakashi there to bid him well, even if it was an understandable absence. While I know that I am not truly alone; being monitored by ANBU or elite Jounin in constant while my Hatake guard is away. I still have a wish for some form of actual company, a feeling remains within me that holds a familiarity I cannot explain. As expected my own mentality only confuses me, not differing from that which I had come to anticipate over the past few weeks.

In making dinner, I hope for Kakashi-chan's happiness, his Mother seemed a stale woman, and unpleasant in comparison to Sakumo-san. Though, I know nothing of her, I might only hold judgement based on my own bias.

Today I am making a stew that cannot go unstirred for long. Despite that, the knock disturbs me, leaving it be for now as I answer the door instead. Something has me distracted.

There at the threshold stands two persons, a Yamanaka, the very same one who had found me. Along with one other, one man I do not know. With long spiking brown hair and darkened eyes and a slight goatee. "Sorry guys Sakumo-san left this afternoon, he had a mission." Hatsuhana grinned briefly.

"Actually we were looking for you Naruto-kun. Sakumo gave us good word on your cooking, and we were hoping to have a taste. If it isn't a bother." Mainly my response was surprise at the company so clearly offered. Has Sakumo-san spoken to them to come and see me? Or was it merely coincidence? Either way, it didn't matter now with the comfort provided. I found myself opening the door wider and moving to the stove.

A grin had settled onto my face that stretched my cheeks.

I could not think back to any reasoning I may hold for being so warmed inside by such a simplistic gesture. Even so, it feels large in scale unto me, a way that I know hasn't happened before. Somehow.

We all end up speaking, many topics passing by us as Smalltalk, laughing to some stupid jokes made within the conversation. Non-important, and forgotten as soon as they are spoken, though while I brought forth a small desert I had prepared: We all managed to transition into something serious. It had to have been Shikatsuno-san who began it, for while he laughed along with the rest of us his demeanour gave me a stern impression.

"Naruto-san, I'm sure you understand the situation the village is presently struggling in with this war. I'll put it bluntly. You are measured as both an asset and a risk." This made me pause, putting a sour taste to the desert I'd made even while it was still in my mouth. Hatsuhana stopped eating, but the change in subject seemed to have been planned. "An asset for the fighting skill you possess, Jiraiya-kun mentioned to me you have an exceptional natural affinity for ninjutsu and taijutsu. That kind of ability would be more then helpful while fighting in this war." There he gripped the tea I'd made him, the compliment I felt flattered by, now slipping away from the knowledge bad news or insult was coming. "A risk for varying reasons, many I'm sure you are aware of. Mainly, your lack of memory, alongside our missing files regarding just who you are. We cannot be certain as to your loyalty towards the village." For some reason, his final sentence sparked something in my mind, nothing particularly clear but it felt familiar, and it put a sensation over me. This was pained, I don't know why, but it hurt as a memory.

I push it down, I have no intention of remembering something so painful. "So, what do you intend to do?" I say instead of mentioning it, there would be no point in speaking out about a memory that wasn't even poignant. I have to focus on the here-and-now as it is. Continually trying to force myself into remembrance wouldn't work. Regardless of what my past my have hidden.