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The Hokage's coat was a long-standing symbol of power in Konoha- each and every one before him bore it with pride and a sense of achievement; however, it did not come without its fair share of weight. Citizens' lives rested on the broad shoulders of those who had been chosen to display the honorable title, as did the balance of the entire Ninja world..... a weak leader would surely lead to a flimsy foundation, and such a folly could cause the entire collapse of a peaceful organization like this particular village. Many years and many lives had been put into the creation of this place, and that was a detail that would not be forgotten throughout the centuries.
It didn't arrive to him on the day of his coronation ceremony- but that was alright. He wanted it to be of high-quality, and he understood the responsibility that the old woman felt when it came to the tailoring of these cloaks; there could be no blemish, and there could be no mistakes-- for the Hokage would need an exquisite garment to display to the fellow shinobi that were under his command. A beacon of hope for those who struggled on and off the battlefield, a promise of protection to those who needed it.
Gingerly, the Jinchuuriki picked the cape up to inspect it; his eyes sparkled as he ran his bandaged fingers over the text reading "Seventh Hokage"... it seemed as if he were living in a dream, it only felt as if yesterday had been his youth when he was striving to become the finest Shinobi in the village. To become the finest Shinobi that the village had ever seen, even surpassing that of the people he owed the most to: his parents.
Unfolding it was a long process, because he felt the need to see every detail. The flames curling up from the bottom signified the determination that would never sputter out in the core of Konoha shinobi hearts, and most importantly... the fire that burned within his own heart and soul, the fire he would one day entrust to the generations coming after him.... Just as it had been done in the past, the torch would one day be passed to those who had proven their worth time and time again to both their leaders and their comrades.
Naruto cracked a smile at the familiarity of the flame-pattern-- of course, he would always recognize that tell-tale sign of Konoha's leadership. Though he had spent years without his father, the memory of Minato's pride burned in the depths of his very being, as he chose never to forget that detail; what would his father say now, seeing his son inherit the same coat that he wore with such dignity? A small chuckle was all he managed to exert as he carefully draped the mantle over both of his shoulders, bringing himself to straighten up to full height once he had successfully clasped it into place.
His heart ached, but not in a negative way- he longed for his parents to see him now, but he never doubted that they were watching from a place much better than this. It was their turn to relax while he took on the heavy burden of protecting his home-- no... their home. Their family, their comrades, and their will of fire that had reached a volume of young ninja that walked in their footsteps.
Naruto had kept his new family waiting, and he heaved a sigh as he stood to move to the doorway of his office, flipping the lights off as he passed through the exit, only to jerk forward before catching himself on the door handle. Jerking his head to the side, his blue eyes darted to the side in order to catch whoever it was that had just shoved him, but found himself to be absolutely bewildered once he realized that he had, indeed, been the only person occupying the space of the office. He scratched the top of his head in confusion before grumbling curses to himself, once again turning on his heel to leave, the flowing length of his coat fluttering behind him-- very much reminiscent of those who had preceded him.
A smile of pride was reflected on both of their faces, once of which had grown quite teary-eyed at the sight of him-- God, when did he become to look so much like his father? The rather slender blonde-haired man moved to the side of his son's desk, running his fingers over the familiar fabric of the Hokage hat that had been left behind, amusement playing across the features of his face.
I ... guess he did listen to his motor-mouthed mother in the long run?
 Portgas D Ace · Tue Jan 05, 2016 @ 08:14am · 0 Comments |
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