The Cycle of Hatred: A Naruto Insert

With the winter break steadily approaching and the Academy settling into a routine schedule, I found the days whizzing by. They were a blend of boredom and brief moments of curiosity amidst a hail of biting wind and infrequent snow. I say boredom because nothing of note had happened since discovering Fujino’s sabotage. Classes ran as usual, with me zoning out during everything but her classes and sparring.

I leaned back against the bench, releasing a slow, quiet yawn. My eyes tingled and I swallowed another yawn as I looked out of the window. The barest pinkish hues of sunlight stretched over the bleak, grey sky.

Homeroom had come to a close. The room exploded into noise as Iruka closed the sliding door behind him. I could see almost everything and everyone from the back of the layered classroom. A small crowd of eager-eyed girls had formed around Sasuke, with another crowd of jealous boys glaring at him.

I shook my head with a smile. Well over a month now – closer to two – and you’d think the fixation would die down on both sides. Maybe the mysterious allure of him being the last Uchiha is something irresistible to a child’s mind.

Not that I’d be one to know.

The rustle of packaging crinkled beside me, followed by a sharp crunch. I turned with a raised eyebrow more amused than anything else.

“Choji?”

The round-faced boy paused mid-bite, pulling the untouched morsel from the depth of his mouth.

“You understand that it’s only nine in the morning, right?”

He nodded.

“Did you have breakfast?”

He nodded again.

I scratched my cheek, thinking of a way to word this that wouldn’t set him off. For all his gentleness, even insinuating that he was fat would upset Choji for at least an hour.

“I… guess you must be hungry then.”

He frowned at me, suspicion in his brown eyes. He clutched the bag of crisps closer to his chest. “What’s it to you, Naruto?”

“Relax, bud. I’m not going to steal your food.”

He nodded – almost to himself – and popped it back into his mouth. “Good. Do… you want some?”

I stared at the outstretched bag and tilted my head. “...Why not?”

When our history teacher walked in, I was working on dislodging the remains of the spicy-flavoured crisps from my teeth. The classroom plummeted into silence. Mizubayashi wasn’t the sort who’d stand for any foolishness on that front – his words, not mine.

He opened a notebook and settled behind the podium, scribbling a question on the blackboard. The class moved on at a snail’s pace. Mizubayashi started with a quiz before launching into what I can only describe as a lecture on the establishment of the strange civilian counsel sessions that Lord Third holds each month.

It was interesting… at first anyway. I had always wondered why he did so when the Hidden Leaf’s pretty much an autocracy, at least on paper. But then it veered in a direction I didn’t care for. For the vast majority of the lesson, I skipped ahead in the textbook and read up on Tobirama Senju who – despite his questionable actions regarding the Uchiha – was arguably the best Hokage this village had ever seen.

I felt a pang of longing alongside a thrum of frustration. Dad would’ve probably been the best Hokage in the village to date. If nothing else, he was taking steps to solve the decades-long Uchiha dilemma.

Mizubayashi clapped his hands.

“Right, to finish, we’ll take a look at something very fundamental to our village’s existence in preparation for next week. We’ve covered it in passing but we’re going into detail today. Now, who wants to tell me what the Will of Fire is?”

Sakura’s arm shot past her pink hair.

“The Will of Fire is the founding belief of our village. We use our love for our family and friends as motivation to defend ourselves from our enemies. If we lose the Will of Fire, we’ll turn to evil and hatred.”

“Perfectly summarised, Sakura.” Mizubayashi smiled and began to pace about in front of the blackboard. “The Will of Fire is universal – that means the same for everyone – in Konoha. It goes beyond the divide between shinobi and civilians. We all feel love for our family and friends. We all care for neighbours and everyone who helps the Hidden Leaf keep moving, right?”

He nodded at the chorus of yesses.

 “The Will of Fire, as Sakura says, is keeping that love in mind in everything we do. Remember who and what you’re training for – and when you go out on missions – who you’re fighting for… Jun?”

“But the whole village, sensei? I can’t imagine the whole village!”

Mizubayashi chuckled. “Neither can I. But you can imagine your family and friends, can’t you?”

“...Yeah.”

“Keep them in mind. Your friends and family live in the village too. So when you fight for your friends and family, you fight for the village as well. It's something you can take pride in.”

Jun stumbled over his words. “I… still don’t understand, sir.”

“Don’t worry. You might not understand it, but you feel it and live it. You came here to be a shinobi, which means the Will of Fire burns within you. If not today, then you’ll understand one day.”

Someone else raised their hand. “Sir! Do other hidden villages have the Will of Fire too?”

There was a round of laughter that Mizubayashi took part in. He raised a hand to put an end to it with a smile.

“No, Tatsuo. The other hidden villages don’t have the Will of Fire. It’s why they might be possessed by greed – like the Hidden Cloud, who are famous for stealing bloodlines. But we have the Will of Fire, passed onto us by Hashirama Senju, who put an end to an era of warring clans and barbarity. So long as we keep those we care for close to our hearts, we won’t fall to hatred and greed like the other villages.”

A few more questions flew across the classroom. Some weren’t the smartest while others were thought-provoking. Mizubayashi’s answer to Tatsuo left a bad taste in my mouth.

He’d twisted Hashirama Senju’s hopes for genuine understanding among people into propaganda. Not just him, but people like Tobirama Senju, Danzo, and even Lord Third as well – which brought a pretty controversial question to mind. Part of me wanted to know the answer to that question, but another revelled in the tight spot it would corner the chunin into.

I chewed my tongue for a bit before tentatively raising my hand.

Mizubayashi nodded.

“Sir, what if the people you love and fight for one day become enemies of Konoha? What then? Would we lose the Will of Fire?”

He tilted his head. “Mind explaining what you mean?”

I swallowed. This was going to be bad, but what the hell? Not like there’s any guilt stopping me.

“Take… Orochimaru. He was one of the Legendary Sannin – he almost became the Fourth Hokage at one point. But he betrayed the village. Doesn’t caring for him – no matter who he was before – mean you’d go against the Will of Fire?”

Now, I don’t know about it being so quiet that you could hear a pin drop – I probably would if anyone had a pin to drop – but it was quiet enough that the howling wind outside intruded through the closed windows.

The mention of the disgraced Sannin was enough to turn the curious glances into slight frowns and critical whispers. I stared defiantly at the dozens of judging eyes pointed in my direction. This would probably push me further away from my peers than I already was, but it didn’t matter.

I’m conflicted about Hashirama Senju’s ideals and the thing known as the Will of Fire. Love and understanding are important in reaching peace – be that a happy one or simply grudging coexistence. But what happens when it gets in the way of peace like Lord Third’s refusal to kill Orochimaru? Because of Lord Third, Orochimaru was at large in the Elemental Nations, kidnapping and experimenting on God knows how many innocents.

Looking at it in another way, what happens when hatred and vengeance overlap with the pursuit of peace, leading to even more war? I clenched my jaw at the remembrance of that night, expelling the surge of negativity as best as I could with an explosive breath.

This wasn’t about me right now. It was about the Will of Fire as an ideology.

The silence stretched on until it was almost unbearable. Mizubayashi hummed. His jaw shifted like he was carefully considering his words before voicing them for the class to hear. Before he could, though, there was a rattling bell that announced the end of the period and the start of lunch.

Whatever he was going to say would have been – and was – drowned by the collective scuttles and rattles of everyone packing up.

I took a few curious glances at Mizubayashi as I followed the queue down the stairs. His eyes were cautious, almost. I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that they were intense. His stare dug into my back when I turned to leave through the door.

Maybe it was my questioning or something else entirely, but I had a feeling he’d be taking notice of me a lot more from now on. Beyond being a twat of an essay marker anyway.

As usual, I took to the rooftop for lunch, back against the locked doors of some kind of storeroom. Distant cries and giggles drifted from the playground below. A strange heaviness rooted me to the ground as I took frequent bites out of my sandwich.

I’d made sure to pack some extra protein in advance. Two hard-boiled eggs. Coupled with the sandwich, I’d have more than enough energy for this afternoon’s spars. Some ramen after school would be perfect for some carbs – the taste is just a bonus.

I shivered a little and zipped up my coat. As cold as the weather is up here, I prefer it over the inevitable awkwardness that would come from playing with children in a sandpit. My lips turned down in disgust. Almost two decades later I can still feel the grind of sand grains in the back of my mouth.

I took a swig from my water bottle and leaned back against the metal doors, the chilling wind’s sharp prickles dancing across my face.