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Birthright	By : sadfascist Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3579 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own NARUTO, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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BIRTHRIGHT
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: “One More Dawn”
The soldiers kneeled in the waves and prayed.
Naruto watched them. At this distance they were like little dots, a swarm of ants in leather and steel armor, pouring out into Fire Fan Bay. A dull roar shook the air as they beat their spears and shields together. Naruto had been on many campaigns, but he’d never see an army so large. The entire strength of the Blood Country was here. Hundreds of thousands of grim men, waiting, for one more dawn.
The Sage of Six Paths was coming.
The latest scouting report had arrived that afternoon. An enormous fleet of golden ships was just south of Sawara, carried onward by a fierce wind. The fleet would be here within hours. Perhaps even before the sun had set; it set late this time of year, the sweet hazy spell between spring and summer. The sun was beside Naruto. It perched atop the ruins of Uchiha Castle, at the eastern mouth of the bay, bright orange like a flame. Soft rosy light washed over the harbor. It colored the waves red, like the sails of the warships of the Scarlet Fleet, like blood.
Blood came out of Naruto’s wrist when he pressed the tip of his sword into it. There was pain, but the pain was nothing. It was like a distant memory. The blood flowed from his arm and dripped down into the wild green grass of the Haunted City.
Naruto wondered what would happen if he let all the blood run out and he died. The Zen priests spoke of a wheel of fate; a cycle of karma and reincarnation. Some spoke of heaven, in the mountains beyond the clouds. Some spoke of hell. Naruto did not know. He only knew that death wouldn’t be so bad.
Love is a poison, Misain Rin had told him. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.
Three weeks had passed since Sasuke had escaped with Rin and Sougon Sawar. Three weeks of torment, worse than any of his master’s beatings. Naruto’s bones and bruises healed quickly. But the wound in his heart festered. Feelings gnawed at his insides, and only when he opened his wrists and watched his own lifeblood drain away, did the pain subside, at least for a moment.
Love was not poison, he thought. It was madness. Naruto was mad, he was possessed by a demon. That was the only explanation. For fifteen years he’d been happy. He had been Master Itachi’s favorite. Dutiful, loyal. A good slave… but in three months Sasuke had changed all of that. Sasuke had driven him mad. Sasuke was a demon, he was the Demon Fox.
Naruto let the blood flow until he grew faint. Then he stopped it with a compress, and bandaged the cut. It was not deep enough to leave a scar. They never were. Perhaps his master had noticed the bandages, but the Warlord had never said anything. It didn’t matter, as long as Naruto did what he was told.
His master was waiting for him in Uchiha Castle.
The Warlord’s generals had set up a command post in the front of the castle, within a large rectangular ruin. The throne room, Naruto thought. Crumbling stone walls still stood on two sides, buried over with moss and vines. Broken towers loomed behind them, and the ground ahead sloped sharply downwards, ending in a rocky beach.
From this vantage point Naruto could see all across Fire Fan Bay. To his right, due north, was the imperial palace, and the Haven River that flowed past it into the bay. The harbor itself was shaped like a circle, widening outwards and then closing back in on itself. Its southern mouth was barely a strait, surrounded on both the east and west by land. The ruins of Uchiha Castle stood at the eastern tip of the harbor mouth, protecting Sawara from attack.
When Naruto looked to his left, toward the Endless Sea, he saw the storm.
In the clear sunset sky it was an edge of clouds, lining the horizon. The clouds were black, and very unnatural. A cold wind blew insistently, driving the storm north. The wind seemed to grow fiercer with each passing minute. Fire Fan Bay was becoming a tempest.
Suddenly Naruto remembered the little paper fans he’d seen in shops in the low city. They were called fire fans, and they were shaped like the bay; the harbor was the circular fan itself, while the handle was the Haven River. The handle was colored white, and the top half of the fan was colored a deep red. Fire fans were very good at creating wind.
They were also very easy to break.
“Come here, boy,” the Warlord said, when Naruto joined his war council. “I want a massage.”
Uchiha Itachi was reclining on a couch in a gold silk kimono embroidered with ruby dragons. Naruto massaged him while his councilors drank wine and made last preparations for battle. Naruto did not listen very carefully; he’d heard their words all before. The war council seemed to be perpetually discussing the same things over and over again, like trout leaping back to the place they were born.
The new admiral Makoto Tojuen—Misain Arashi and his entire clan had been purged with extreme prejudice after Rin’s betrayal—talked about the Scarlet Fleet, he talked about Fire Fan Bay and the natural barrier the mouth of the harbor would present to any invasion by sea. The admiral’s eyeballs bulged out so far it seemed that the only thing that held them in their sockets were the mounds of corpulent flesh that ringed his face. His cousin Makoto Satetsu was even fatter. Inari rested his fingers on his plump stomach as he declared his intentions to vanquish Hagoromo the Butcher in single combat. Hyuuga Neji likewise vowed to avenge his father’s assassination by killing the Kitsune.
At this Hayate Gatou, a young but decorated general, laughed. “How do you propose to defeat anyone, if you cannot do magic?” he asked. Hayate Inari, his cousin and General of the Army of the North, replied that magic did not exist. That caused much muttering and dissension among the councilors. The monk Maito Gai quoted a Zen sutra that proved magic was an illusion. The Sabaku twins said that money was not an illusion, and that they were losing money every day because the Scarlet Fleet was blocking so much of Fire Fan Bay there was scarcely any room for trading ships to anchor port. The losses were already catastrophic, they insisted. Best to destroy Hagoromo as quickly as possible, so as to resume regular business.
The Warlord spoke little. He listened, watching his advisors squabble with merciless judging eyes. Master can smell weakness the way a dog smells fear. Naruto did not need to guess at the Warlord’s thoughts. The councilors were all incompetent to a man, every last one. The sole exception had been Sougon Sawar, and he was good only for turning piles of gold into rather larger piles. It does not matter. If Hagoromo is slain then his army will fall apart as well. The hydra does not die until its head is cut off. Naruto said so when his master asked him for an opinion, and his master nodded. “Good boy.”
By then the massages were done, and Uchiha Itachi was fucking Naruto hard in the ass. Itachi pounded into him from every which way. Every position. On his back, on his hands and knees, on his stomach, with his legs wrapped around his master’s torso and around his shoulders and kneeling in to ride him from both directions. The Warlord gave orders to the war council as his manhood drove deep inside the slaveboy, their sweaty bodies slapping together with every thrust. Naruto screamed his master’s name. He was screaming it when Uchiha Itachi reached a climax, hot speed spilling into his upturned ass, and screamed it again when Itachi offered him a reach around. The Warlord gave a last terse order and pulled out.
“I shall greet Senju Hagoromo with justice,” he said. “The Butcher shall not escape.”
All the councilors bowed. Then they left, to prepare their armies. Naruto was alone with his master, in the broken charred remains of Uchiha Castle.
“My armor,” the Warlord ordered.
Naruto obeyed. First he put on the Warlord’s undergarments: loincloth, thick felt shirt, leather pants. Then he added padded quilt cushioning to vital body areas. Leather gloves came next, socks and mail boots. An overcoat of light chain mail was draped atop the padding. Finally came the body armor, a full set of lacquered dreamsteel plate. Each piece needed to be strapped on one by one. Greaves and leg guards first, then the steel skirt, gauntlets and scaled sleeves, breastplate and shoulder pads. After Naruto fastened his master’s sword belt, the Kusanagi almost weightless in its scabbard, the last remaining piece was the helmet. But the Warlord rarely bothered to wear the helm into battle. He preferred his enemies to see his face, before he killed them. It was a fearsome face, even more frightening than the crimson and black steel.
No one ever wanted to see the Warlord’s scar.
It took several minutes to put on the armor, and by the time Naruto was done it was growing dark. The sun was a brilliant sliver of red, just peeking over the collapsed towers. In the dusk Uchiha Itachi was like a giant bird of prey. His long hair flapped in the wind like outstretched silver wings. Rubies gleamed in his black breastplate, the shape of a soaring raven.
“Put on your robe,” the Warlord said.
Naruto did so.
“Good boy.”
“I live to serve you, Master.”
“Yes.” The man cupped a hand around the boy’s cheek, bending down for a kiss. “You shall fight by my side.”
“I’ll kill him,” Naruto said suddenly. “Sasuke. I will, I promise.”
“My foolish little slave.” His master’s tone was flat as marble. “Do not make promises you can’t keep. It is of no account, however. I ask you only to protect me. I can brook no distractions, when I face Hagoromo. He is a very powerful sorcerer. And a bloodline child.”
Naruto bowed his face to the grass. “I’m sorry. I… I’ll try.”
Uchiha Itachi looked south. The storm was much closer than before. It churned above the Endless Sea, a mass of impenetrable swirling black. Lightning streaked across the horizon, bursts of white on the sunset water. The wind howled through the lichen-crusted carcass of Uchiha Castle. Soon it would be raining, and soon thousands of men would be dead in puddles of their own blood.
“Do you know why I named you?” Itachi asked.
“Master?”
“I never told you. I could not, before you knew the truth. Perhaps I should have told you earlier. You had no name when I picked you out of that pile of corpses. To this day I do not know how you survived. You should have been dead.” Itachi coughed into his armored fist. “I should have been dead as well. My mother named me after her father, Kaguya Naruto… a great warrior. I was no warrior, not then. I was a sickly child. A dozen times I went to sleep and my mother thought I would never rise again. But in the end it was my mother who died. I lived on… I clung to life. Do you understand? That is why I gave you my name.”
“Why did you make me a slave?” The words slipped out of Naruto before he knew what he was doing, too late to take back. Naruto had never asked that question in his life.
“Because I could,” said Uchiha Itachi. “And because an Emperor must have slaves, or he is no Emperor at all. An Emperor is the master of the people. The Birthright Emperor must be a god.”
The Warlord of Blood raised his face to the sky. His eyes seemed to burn in the blaze of the setting sun, as if he was lost in reflection, as if he was recalling a memory from long ago. “One day they shall all be mine,” he whispered, and walked towards the storming beach.
Towards the end.
The slave followed in his master’s wake.
Next: CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: “Hereafter, Part One”
- 16
- 17
- 18
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Birthright