Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If Hiroki’s acquaintances had to define him in a few words they would probably say that he was “A carefree and strange, but very skilled Beta”, “a loyal and attentive friend”, “an evasive and somewhat withdrawn companion”, “an upright and competent superior”, but above all “a terrifying enemy”.

Hiroki could be an orphan like many others in the leaf village, he had the same calm and melancholic countenance characteristic of them, he spoke little and suffered difficulties communicating with others due to his insensitive behavior.

Over time his talent was demonstrated, he was a prodigious ninja, he had been born with an innate talent in ninjutsu, unstoppable footwork when it came to combat, a decent sensor, a quick and tactical mentality.

And a very withdrawn personality that had only gotten better as the years went by.

Yes, Hiroki stood out from the rest, he steadily advanced on hapless civilians and reached unimaginable ranks, worthy of praise and jealousy, he graduated at the age of 8, was commissioned into active service in the war at the age of 10 and earned a renown written in the bingo book as an A-rank threat at only 11 years old.

Flee if seen.

He was marked as an indispensable soldier and put into the anbu corps by the fourth hokage and boosted by the third.

The old and retired ExHokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, a renowned beta, with more wrinkles to count on his aged face, shoulders that seemed to have sagged under the weight of the hat, but now more relieved to be away from him, tired eyes and that stinky pipe, looked at him after Minato Namikaze told him about his hasty but not unexpected promotion.

The fourth Hokage was also looking at him, calmer than the third and with his typical charming smile, sitting in his comfortable chair at the long desk clean of papers, only a few reports ready, scrolls, stamps and ink.

Hiroki didn’t even have a chance to say anything about it or deny the “promotion”, if you could call it that.

Namikaze Minato was a flawless alpha, with spiky blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and lightly tanned skin typical of a citizen of the land of fire.

A noble soul of those that were not left, he contained the dominance worthy of a superior alpha and unwavering leadership, many said that his presence felt like a breeze, a wave, relaxing and cool, friendly when it was addressed to a comrade, stormy and abrupt when it was an enemy.

It didn’t work in Hiroki.

He couldn’t feel it no matter how much the smell pricked his skin trying to get into his pores to calm him down, the Namikaze’s blue gaze, firm and even proud of Hiroki’s promotion, did not move him.

He could hear the rookie genin chatter and chatter about how great the room was and how relaxing it was to hover around it, the omegas go off and sigh about his attractiveness and his exciting smell, (as long as that reddish-haired woman wasn’t around of course), and the Jonin talk about him with a respect and admiration that if he didn’t know better, he would think they were praising a reincarnated god.

Hiroki felt nothing, he could, from afar, admire his strength and applaud his achievements in the war, his skills not only put Konoha one step ahead of Iwa and the other enemy ninja villages, but also put an end to the war with the battle of Kannabi Bridge.

He believed it was crude to rely on how someone’s pheromones felt or smelled to determine whether they would be a good leader.

And no, he did not believe that the third hokage was better, he himself was aware of the mistakes that the old man had made, his incompetence hurt the people he was supposed to protect, he seemed to be going on a journey where he made important decisions but never turned around twice to check their long-term consequences, as if they were not his responsibility or affected him, the danzo crimes were the perfect example.

The old man’s weakness caused the suffering and slaughter of thousands and were the same ones that had lent him a hand when he was young.

You could ask Hiroki to hate Hiruzen Sarutobi, tell him to curse his incompetence and his lack of authority in the people he ruled, to cry for the death and torture that thousands of children and innocents suffered under the dirty hands of Danzó, the right hand of the third hokage and Orochimaru, his very student, all under the nose of the aging beta.

But he would never do it, because Hiroki’s heart did not listen to reason.

Hiroki was a prodigy and orphan perfect for the ranks of ROOT according to Danzó’s ideals, the problem was that, unbeknownst to the Hokage’s right hand, Hiruzen had his eyes fixed on the orphan.

That marked his end, a simple planning error and his own lack of understanding.

…~•~…

Hiruzen still clearly remembers when he saw Hiroki for the first time.

A little 6 year old boy holding a toy train and rolling it across the dirty floor inside the sandbox he played in. He looked so childish and innocent, Hiruzen had a hard time thinking that this was the same boy who had broken an Uchiha boy’s nose days ago in a training match inside the academy.

The squeak of the toy’s rusty wheels woke him up from his thoughts, little Hiroki’s lips were being bitten and his frown highlighted his baby face tenderly.

He looked so lonely.

The old Hokage cleared his throat to gain the infant’s attention. Hiroki turned his head abruptly, causing the Hokage himself to startle internally. The boy tilted his head.

“Just like an owl”

The two stood looking at each other, Hiruzen saw those golden eyes with fascination, if he didn’t know better, he would say that he belonged to a clan with dōjutsu, but he himself had investigated the boy’s roots and knew that he came from two normal civilian parents, with the slight exception of the eye color on the paternal side, the dark skin typical of the citizens of the land of fire, and the unruly dark hair.

Suddenly in that struggle of glances the boy looked down self-consciously and his stomach growled loudly.

The third Hokage blinked in disbelief for a few seconds and a shrill laugh burst from his lips, smoothing his beard with his fingers he wisely asked.

—Do you like ramen kid?—

…~•~..

Hiroki was shy, he saw the boy on a few occasions, simple occurrences that guided him towards him by coincidence, a simple tour of the town, a review at the academy, the little 5-year-old Hiroki found him and invaded his personal space wherever he went, holding on to his white and red tunic, hanging on like a monkey and entering his face into the fabric, following him closely like a duckling would do with its mother.

Hiruzen did not understand the emotional attachment that he had caused in the orphan with the first outing, but he would never feel bothered by his approaches no matter how much they made him stumble while walking. He fondly remembered his own children of almost the same age as Hiroki and snorted, his own were closer to their mother due to her clear absence at home.

He learned interesting things from Hiroki the short time they met, the boy didn’t really like ramen, but he was a huge fan of sweets, more specifically cinnamon rolls, he was talented in ninjutsu and had an affinity with the wind, apart from that, he used to get into a lot of trouble with his clan mates for his unconscious toughness in combat.

Reports of complaints were coming to him about such a “brute civilian” and Hiruzen wanted to rub his forehead as he reminded everyone that (aside from the fact that they were training children to be ninjas) during Taijutsu training time, it was actually beneficial for clan children to find a good challenge.

But the complaints did not stop, especially those of the Hyuga clan, so with regret, they advanced Hiroki year after year in the academy, the petulant teachers applauded him, the older children disowned him for being stronger than them despite being younger.

And Hiroki…

—…I heard that you successfully completed the special exams and were promoted one year…—hiruzen sat casually on the park bench, watching the 6-year-old boy sitting in the sandbox and hunched over with his fingers busy tracing the toy train—..congratulations Hiroki, that is an achievement that not many can do…—

“…they don’t like me…” the boy’s weak voice interrupted him long before he could continue his compliments, Hiruzen caught the regret in his words, it wasn’t a question, Hiroki was affirming it and the eldest between the two could only make an incredulous sound.

—..hnm?..—Sarutobi hummed diffusely, deep inside he wanted his trusty pipe like never before to show false calm, but he had stopped taking it to town due to his encounters with Hiroki, who used to cough from the smoke and no matter how much Hiruzen tried to push him away, the boy stubbornly refused, preferring to inhale the toxic smoke than get away from his robe.

Hiroki’s trembling voice continued, —…they kicked me out because none of my classmates like me…— he exclaimed before letting out a watery sob and turning around, Hiruzen suffocated his breath when he saw the pain and sadness in the child’s crying face—..Ojissan, why doesn't anyone like me? What am I doing wrong?..—his pursed and trembling lips twisted down. Weaker, Hiroki hiccupped, looking up at the old man, watching him as if he had all the answers to his problems.

He had the fragility of an infant, he laughed when he wanted to, he cried when he felt too much, he got angry and sulked stubbornly, there was not that arrogance or hardness in his eyes like that of any prodigy in his prime, he did not calculate or think coldly, the little he had known the golden-eyed boy could confirm that he simply was not cut out to be a ninja.

He was just a child, and Hiruzen had no way to explain to him that he caused jealousy and hatred in his classmates, not only did he stand out because of his ability, but also his indifference and social deficiency.

Tiredly he motioned for the boy to come closer to him, and Hiroki did so without hesitation, he stood up awkwardly and ran to his side, leaving his broken toy train on the floor, the boy stretched out his still chubby fingers and grabbed hold of his robe, burying his tearful and mucous face in the fabric.

Sarutobi wisely ignored that detail.

The old beta would have liked to give Hiroki a different childhood, and not only to the boy who cried in his arms, but to everyone who stepped foot in the ninja academy, giving them the opportunity to decide what they would like to be, their dedication, their passion.

But again, his dreams remain nothing more than that, due to his lack of conviction.

His most faithful friend had always told him that his strongest weakness was his heart, it got in the way of his reasoning and important decisions.

He never denied his words and in the same way Danzo ended up being silenced with a single look if he pressured Sarutobi too much.

—..it’s not your fault, hiroki..— he spoke, taking the boy’s wet cheeks in his calloused hands with practiced delicacy, roughly wiping them with his thumbs.

It reminded him of when his own son fell and scraped his knees, he always tried to hold back his tears, because according to him, he was already grown up and doing so would only be embarrassing for a future and incredible Ninja like him.

Of course, her beloved son, no matter how hard he tried, always ended up in his mother’s arms crying when the cotton with alcohol touched the wound.

Hiruzen heard Hiroki sniffle and look at him like an abandoned puppy in the rain, “..the jealousy of your classmates clouds their vision of you, but remember this, you are a talented and sweet child…”

“You were born to be loved Hiroki, Don't let anyone make you think otherwise.”

How he would have liked to have his pipe.

Chapter Text

Hiroki had no friends, no family, and his acquaintances were minimal.

Danzó’s greedy hands simply couldn’t stay still in those perfect conditions.

So much talent in a single child, a beta no less, he had analyzed it, he was somewhat sensitive for his own good, but those things would be fixed with a training routine and hard indoctrination for his weak little head, he would be a good soldier in their ranks, the bandaged man could already feel it.

The alphas tended to be influenced, the omegas were vulnerable, the betas, with minimal smell and pheromones, were the ones who ran the least risk of being manipulated by them and losing control.

Orochimaru had already tried to remove these qualities from test subjects, but both alphas and betas could not withstand the procedure, the betas died, the alphas ended up with serious psychological problems, the omegas on the other hand were very difficult to obtain and it was not worth putting their valuable, almost extinct race in that they clearly would not work, since these had even weaker bodies than the other two.

They tested it on children, adults, even newborns.

Nothing worked.

It was simply not feasible and Orochimaru seemed obsessed with discovering why taking away something as vital as their instincts was so lethal, he was involved in an extensive, exhausting and demanding investigation, and that made it more interesting.

The snake sanin, an Omega, and shimura Danzó, an beta, could also have tried it on themselves, perhaps the lack of chakra maturation of the civilian loyalists was the problem, but they also tried it with renegade ninjas from other enemy villages and only achieved the same result every time.

But an exquisite premonition told Danzó that Hiroki would achieve it, something in his gut rejoiced when he saw those golden eyes, whispering to him that this was his winning card.

He trusted Orochimaru’s abilities to accomplish it, after his successful recreation of the mokuton on one of his test subjects, he would have no doubt that he would achieve it eventually.

It would be wonderful to get that experimental mokuton user to stop tensing up when an alpha caste opponent exposed his pheromones when practicing, it was an unacceptable weakness.

He could be wrong of course, it was a risk he could pay, it would be unfortunate, but if he could get a soldier who managed to resist those wild desires, it would be worth the price to pay.

It would be a valuable addition and from that research, they would have a thread to hold on to to continue and thus ensure that the ROOT soldiers are truly what Danzo wanted.

Unstoppable machines without feelings or desire, that would elevate Konoha to the top, where no other village could challenge them.

He knew from reports that his own agents had given him after a stealthy investigation, that the boy was hovering near Sarutobi like a limpet, this connection could be an obstacle to his plans if it were any other ninja, but Shimura Danzó boasted of knowing his former teammate to conclude that Hiroki’s life was just a speck of dust in Hiruzen’s busy thoughts.

It is doubtful to claim that he ever even respected the authority of his closest friend, for he said, Konoha’s supremacy came before all else,

Tobirama Senju, his respected mentor, had passed on to him, the blade above all else, if he believed that Hiruzen was straying from the correct ideals.

Well…

He would have to do what was best for Konoha.

…~•~..

Hiroki had gone out through the hallways when, after having dinner with all the other children in the dining room, the matron, an elderly black-haired woman, with a loud and raspy tone of voice from the cigarette, had stopped him in the middle of the hallway. The golden-eyed infant looked at her carefully, seeing her hunched figure tense at the innocent gaze.

Hiroki on the other hand only analyzed her sharply.

High heart rate, sweat and trembling in the hands, their smell exuded a stagnant emotion, a strong anxiety and… fear? Such a strong emotion capable of being captured from afar, it was not common for betas to expel it, in itself, they had a more indistinguishable smell, but not non-existent, you had to get too close to the beta in question to even distinguish a little of their smell, but they did have one.

It was strange, the woman who “took care of them” was not one to express affection with her words, but neither was such obvious agitation, much less with her pheromones, something very bad must have been disturbing her and that something had to do with Hiroki, because she would never approach the child on her own unless it was for some task or assignment.

The beta caste woman was not like that, she was tough and demanding, not bad, but not open about her feelings either.

He saw how he shuddered when he saw him narrow his eyes, Hiroki was waiting for anything, a warning, a scolding, an order.

I never, ever expect a pat on your head and a packet of cookies in your hands.

Frozen by the other’s touch, he found himself completely stunned by the sudden kind touch, his curly hair fluttered in the woman’s fingers when she caressed his head, Hiroki’s eyes were bulging in surprise.

I hear her clearing her throat—they’ve told me how well you’re doing in your studies, Hiroki…—she began, her tone hesitated but returned to its firm current with skill when she weakened, she seemed to be struggling to release the words without choking in the attempt—keep it up, you’re doing a good job boy—she finish.

And just like that, his suspicions and concern vanished, his body went numb, he opened his eyes looking up at his caregiver’s face with inexplicable happiness, the hand on his head retreated faster than he would have liked, leaving only the burning warm feeling in his chest and the package of cookies pressed possessively against his chest.

A painfully innocent blush on Hiroki’s face caused the gleam of guilt in the matron’s eyes as he came under her gaze and nodded, murmuring a soft “thank you.”

And so, drowning in the sudden affection that had been bestowed upon him, Hiroki ignored all the signs and opened the package in his hands, eating one of those shortbread cookies and savoring the sweet taste on his palate.

The matron left in silence, letting him continue his journey.

…~•~…

Heat, dizziness, confusion and drowsiness, that was the state in which Hiroki found himself when he woke up abruptly due to the cold, gloved hands were taking him out of his comfortable futon and lifting him up to stick him to a colder, smoother fabric.

Foolishly, he curled up with effort, trying to conserve a bit of the heat that his body had before, his numb senses struggled to continue, he felt weak and when he opened his eyes, everything was a blurry cream color.

With terror he put his nose to work and pressed against the new fabric, looking for any hint of smell, whatever was imprisoning him seemed to tense up when he felt it move and smell, but Hiroki had already reached a vital point and it didn’t affect the gloved hand to move his head to the side.

Grass, he smelled like grass and he was an alpha, because the smell was easily distinguishable, and that only scared him more because, Hiroki had never met any alpha who smelled like grass.

He forced his eyes to sharpen to capture his surroundings with force, a rush of adrenaline surged through his system, as he realized that they were moving with terrifying speed and that, in effect, two masked men in cream-colored tunics were kidnapping him.

A spike of alarm and horror crept up his spine and his entire shut-down system came on fire as he forced his chakra to act and his mind to think.

He was drugged but not immobilized and although the hooded man’s grip was strong, it would not be impossible to escape.

Hiroki stifled a strangled gasp and with all the speed he could, he threw himself back, empowered with chakra and unstable from drugs, he stood unbalanced and ran as fast as he could, climbing the dirty walls and running along the walls.

He had taken them by surprise, his previous behavior confused them, but he seemed to assure them that he was high enough to let their guard down.

Run run!..

Hiroki needed time, he had to think, stabilize himself and escape.

And luckily they didn’t call him a ninjutsu prodigy for nothing, the first thing he did at the academy was learn to control his chakra to climb and do jutsus.

Unfortunately for him, the library had a limited repertoire on the subject, the vast majority of jutsus were classified for clans or you had to buy them and he didn’t have any of those things.

So he had to rely on his mere talent and creativity, Hiroki…he didn’t have many responsibilities, nor many people to share his time with, so ninjutsu was all he had.

 And he made sure to make it his best hobby.

He learned the paper test and discovered that he had 3 affinities.

And the first was land.

Hiroki turned around and faced his pursuers.

—Doton!: prison of the giant!—He moved his hands and the earth on the ground rose deformed and solidified behind one of the masked ones, trapping him with the arms that he was struggling to form.

Hiroki sweated anxiously, he was not perfect, and the shock of the hooded man who smelled of weed had given him an important advantage because the speed with which his imperfect creation had caught him was far from being lethal for a good attack.

Because Hiroki never created any jutsu to damage, the giant was an investment to see if he could plant things on it, but mostly it helped him carry heavy things when his hands were full.

In the worst case, to simply accompany him in his loneliness.

The second hooded man launched himself at Hiroki, making him act out of impulse and panic, they didn’t seem to want to kill him but rather catch him no matter what part of his body they had to break.

Second affinity, fire.

Hiroki did not use it frequently, perhaps for his campfires when he went camping, small sparks to light candles or illuminate places that were too dark, now, the adrenaline converted into chakra ran through his body and panic made him fail in the position of his fingers.

The fire went out uncontrollably, creating an explosion fueled by more chakra than it should have, its reserves remaining at 20%.

The sparks were beautiful, like those sparklers with bright and brilliant colors that are lit during festivities, but more furious and ephemeral.

Hiroki never thought that any jutsu of his could turn into something as cruel and terrifying, as a roar that would have crashed and burned the hooded man if he would not have hurriedly dodged.

Hiroki whimpered pathetically as he felt his palm raw, the boy already felt all the emotion taking its toll and presenting itself as thick drops of tears, his head resounding like a drum from the explosion.

Hiroki just turned around and tried to run away again with the beeping in his head.

His feet scraped the rocky ground as he slid, the alleys were, without a doubt, the worst place for an orphan late at night, but his hiroki instincts were not for decoration, and he knew that that earthen prison had only bought him a few extra seconds.

Now he had to rely on his agility which was difficult to do in a state like his, shaking in fear, low on chakra and weak from drugs.

And Hiroki was agile, but he couldn’t work miracles either.

He was able to make little progress before the remaining hooded man fell in front of him, causing Hiroki to fall backwards abruptly in surprise.

“…please. Please. Don’t hurt me…” he begged in his head, joining his bloody hands, not daring to speak to duplicate because he knew that only pathetic sobs and indecipherable stutters would come out of his mouth.

“I will leave the ninja world!...I will be a blacksmith or carpenter!” Please let me live!”

He only had time to blink before a gloved hand was in front of his face.

Third affinity, wind.

Oh!...how he loved to use the wind, it was the one he had put the most effort into, some clumsy little colorful birds got stuck in branches and Hiroki had to gently free them, finding them became a habit, so in order not to have to climb the tree and get them out with his hands, why not better to shake the leaves a little so that they come out themselves!

—futon! Whirlwind of spikes!—

Yes, their jutsus were beautiful and harmless, it was a relief to see the little birds free themselves and take flight again.

But it was always sad to see them go.

The wind roared in his bloody hands, like a wheel that was getting faster and sharper, just like a chainsaw would feel, but round.

And it cut the same way.

Hiroki stood petrified, his entire world froze except for the imposing figure that now had its torso destroyed, the golden-eyed boy had raised the whirlpool that was spinning directly around the man and then…

 The guts fell unevenly across the blood-stained floor, the hooded man staggered forward, ready to fall while holding his stomach. Hiroki could only raise his trembling arms to instinctively support the falling hooded man.

Then fingers wrapped around his neck and a sharp pain welcomed him into the deep darkness.