Love him, Kushina begs, spirits somehow flickering in the dim light of the fireflies that gather at her son's altar. Love him, cherish him and give him everything I couldn't. Give him everything you gave me.
Kushina blesses her son, Minato long since gone from this world.
Oh, land of leaves and of sun, island of whirlpools and of tides. Love my sweet prince, the crown of both kingdoms.
Her son wails and her heart breaks just a little more.
~~~
His classes have gotten harder. Mizuki-sensei is always staring at him with a disappointed frown. He never seems to be able to get his hands signs right. He misses the days where he could sleep, fish and run in the sun.
He dreams of warm glistening waters, wind grazing his skin. He only manages to feel the shine on his face before he wakes up and cries.
It's normal now.
The sea doesn't give him disappointed frowns. It doesn't laugh at him when he aims his shuriken too low or punch too weakly. It doesn't sigh when he miscalculates the angle of a kunai or performs his kata wrong. He finds himself ignoring his homework in favor of the ocean that doesn't judge when he can't remember the names of the minor villages or the previous Hokage's history.
He sleeps.
He just barely heard a woman singing before his alarm wakes him up.
~~~
He sits on the swing during break. The dark emerald leaves of the old oak tree covers him in a cooling shadow. He longs to taste the salt on his lips. The wind drifts across his neck, sharp and piercing just like his life, but soft and warm like his dreams. It doesn't hurt him. It slides away and offers him comfort.
He hears the babble of the brook and he starts to cry.
Class ends for the day and he sits in the little stream to listen.
It isn't quite like the gentle tides against the shore, but the steady flow of the river was close.
He nods off with the woman's sweet voice lulling him to sleep.
~~~
He rests his head on the windowsill, letting his mind run free, away from a boring lecture of Konoha's history. He stares at the dancing pines in the forests that his village was proud of. He dreams of sea-shine and a warm sweet breeze.
He hears the woman's lullaby again, and he falls asleep.
He wakes up to Moshiro-sensei's furious shout, and he stands at the corner of the classroom as punishment.
He listens to a song that rings in his head, that tells of a home he's never known.
He faces the wall and cries, back facing Moshiro-sensei's droning voice and his classmate's bored frowns. He lets the tears fall into his shirt and listens to the soothing voice whispering in his ear.
Oh, sweet prince of whirlpools and of tides. Oh, dear child of leaves and of sun. Run away, dear prince. Come to the swirling tides and spiraling waves. Come to where the wind sings you to sleep. To where the sun shines on your skin. Run away, to where you belong.
Naruto returns to his apartment and collapses on his bed. He sobs.
He wants to go home.
~~~
He graduates, the wind softly cheering him on as he battles his sensei. He feels the morning sun on his skin as warm fabric wraps around his forehead. He cries, and the wind sings for joy. He doesn't fall asleep and gives his teacher the brightest smile that he can muster.
He still longs for someone he can smile to.
Was it wrong?
Maybe. He deserved one, though. The wind said so.
~~~
He meets his team. He's paired with the girl whose hair reminds him of the rose-colored beaches he dreams of. He's teamed with the boy whose eyes remind him of the shadows that comfort him. He meets his teacher whose voice is as soothing as the wind.
None of them like him.
Especially his teacher.
He returns to his apartment and weeps in the cool embrace of the shadows.
He can smell the scent of the Third, the ink and musty scrolls, and his new teacher's pine tree smell. He can differentiate the scent of a dog from the trees that define his teacher.
He chokes on air and cries even harder.
~~~
He passes his test. His teacher's voice was a forced cheer, wistful and sad. But it was hopeful. He listens to his teacher's motto and stares at the names carved into stone, wondering if his parents were on there.
He goes back to the memorial in the evening when no one was there, and traces a name with a scarred finger.
Uzumaki Kushina.
A child from the land of whirlpools and of tides, like him.
The name is repeated in his head like a mantra.
He falls asleep and dreams of soft scarlet hair that dance in the wind. He wakes up and cries.
~~~
He's going to the Land of Waves for a mission. He feels his chest bursting in excitement. For the first time, his life is something other than sharp or piercing. He laughs and steps out the gate. His teacher writes off his enthusiasm as his eagerness to exit the village for the first time.
The girl with cherry pink hair snorts and the boy with black eyes huffs.
They don't understand his need to finally go home, to the home of tides and currents, to the sea-shine on his face, the wind in his golden hair and the salt on his lips. He feels giddy and the wind laughs.
It isn't the land of the Uzumaki, but it's close enough.
He can't wait to feel the sun on his skin.
~~~
They are attacked by two men. He smells poison on them, but there's a faint hint of sea-salt on their clothes that make him falter.
He votes to continue the mission.
He stabs his hand with a kunai to let the thick liquid drip to the ground. He can't wait to stain his toes with clear blue water.
His teacher blinks, then sighs and lets them be.
~~~
The wind whistles shrilly when a man wielding a sword descends on their team. He smells so strongly of the warm water he constantly dreams of, and he yearns for more. He manages to free his teacher and they continue on their journey to the land of waves.
The boy that took the man away smelled like ice, the kind that pierced your nose. Naruto didn't want to go anywhere near that boy.
He reached the client's home, made sure his teacher was comfortable, and went out to sit on the port. The wind sang in his ears, a soft whisper that echoed in his head.
Oh, prince of trees and shine, kin of sun and sea. You see the ocean, hear the ebb and flow. The blue blue water that calls for you. This isn't home. Home is sand under your feet and sun staining your skin. Home is where you belong. This isn't home, but it is close.
He felt the ice-cold water beneath his bare feet, a contrast to the warm waters he dreamt about. He smelled the rotting wood he rested on, the fog his companion instead of the sea breeze.
Yes. It wasn't home, but it was close enough.
YOU ARE READING
Of Whirlpools and of Tides
Fanfiction'Save him', Kushina prays to spirits of sand and water. Of salt and shine, the ones that she remembered from stories of old. 'Save him, my child of waves and gales. The crown of leaves and sun. Save him, my darling son.' As she feels herself slippin...
