Naruto woke with a start, his eyes burning fiercely as if flames had been ignited behind them. He winced, blinking rapidly, but the effort only seemed to intensify the discomfort. A heavy fog clouded his vision, making everything around him blur together in a mess of indistinct shapes and shifting shadows.
Groaning, he stumbled out of bed, his legs sluggish and unsteady beneath him. With one hand gripping the doorframe for balance, he half-blindly made his way to the bathroom. The cold tile sent a jolt up his spine as he leaned over the sink, twisting the faucet handle with clumsy fingers.
A rush of icy water splashed against his face, the chill biting at his skin and momentarily dulling the relentless sting in his eyes. He exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the counter. Was this the pain Vision warned me about? he wondered, squeezing his eyes shut before slowly cracking them open again.
His blurred reflection finally swam into focus. Bloodshot and puffy eyes stared back at him, ringed by dark circles that made him look even more exhausted than he felt. His usually bright blue irises seemed dull, overshadowed by the irritation swelling around them.
"How long is this gonna last?" he muttered, his voice rough from sleep and frustration. He reached for a towel hanging by the vanity and pressed it against his face, wincing as the fabric brushed over the sensitive skin beneath his eyes.
"A week at most," Vision's smooth, detached voice answered, his tone as composed as ever. "Until your eyes fully adjust to the alterations."
Naruto groaned, rubbing the towel against his forehead before tossing it onto the counter.
"I suggest asking Namori for some eyedrops to alleviate the discomfort," Vision continued.
Naruto grumbled something unintelligible but nodded. His fingers twitched with the urge to rub his eyes raw, but he resisted. The burning itch was unbearable—like a thousand tiny needles pricking beneath his eyelids—but he knew scratching at them would only make it worse.
With a frustrated sigh, he trudged back into his room, every step slow and heavy. The dim lighting still felt too bright, making his head throb in protest. His gaze drifted toward his desk, where he began rummaging through the drawers, pushing aside papers, pens, and the odd crumpled note until his fingers finally brushed against something familiar.
A pair of sunglasses.
He pulled them out and examined them—old, scratched, a little bent at the frame, but still wearable. Good enough. With a tired huff, he slid them onto his face, sighing in relief as the tinted lenses dulled the sharp sting of the light. The soft darkness behind them was a welcome reprieve.
For now, this would have to do.
A soft knock at the rice-paper door drew Naruto's attention. He blinked, momentarily distracted from his lingering eye irritation, and shuffled over, sliding the door open with a practiced hand.
Standing before him was Namori, a tray of steaming breakfast balanced expertly in her hands. Her sharp gaze swept over the chaotic mess of his room, and she clicked her tongue in disapproval. Without a word, she stepped inside, her movements brisk and efficient as she made a beeline for the small wooden table at the center of the room. With a soft thud, she set the tray down, crossing her arms as she turned to face him.
"Young man!" Namori's voice was firm, carrying the no-nonsense authority of someone well-accustomed to obedience. "You are staying in this room until you clean up this filth."
Naruto opened his mouth to protest, but the sharp glint in her eyes made his words die in his throat. He swallowed hard, quickly reassessing his life choices.
"No arguing," Namori continued, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "You have three hours after you eat to get this room spotless. If it's not done by then, you'll be helping the other servants wash the clan's dirty laundry."
Naruto's stomach churned at the thought. Laundry duty? The mere idea of scrubbing clothes for the people who treated him like dirt made his skin crawl. He could already picture himself hunched over a washbasin, wringing out the damp, stained fabric while smug clan members walked past, enjoying the sight of him being put to work.
Yeah, no. Not happening.
With a stiff nod, he silently accepted his fate.
Namori gave a satisfied hmph before turning on her heel. She reached the doorway, pausing just before sliding the door shut behind her.
"Remember, Naruto. Three hours," she reminded him, her voice carrying a quiet warning. And with that, the door snapped shut with a decisive clack.
Naruto exhaled heavily before his stomach reminded him of the more pressing matter at hand. He all but lunged for the tray, scarfing down his breakfast like a starving man. In record time, he inhaled the last bite, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and tossed the used napkin into the wastebasket beside his desk.
"Hey, Vision?" he called out, eyeing the disaster zone that was his bedroom. "Can't I just use the Reality Stone to, y'know, poof my room clean?"
"No," Vision answered immediately, his voice as calm and unyielding as ever. "You need to learn to clean up after yourself. As I've told you before, there are no shortcuts in life. Now, hop to it."
Naruto groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You're mean, you know that?"
A soft chuckle hummed through the air, but Vision offered no sympathy.
Resigned to his fate, Naruto let out one final dramatic sigh before rolling up his sleeves and diving into the grueling task of cleaning his pigsty of a room. Three hours. He could do this. Probably.
✨🟣🔵🟢🟡🔴🟠✨
After three grueling hours and countless tantrums, Naruto finally managed to clean his room. He collapsed onto the tatami mat with a dramatic huff, limbs sprawled out like a puppet with its strings cut. His body ached from the unexpected labor, and the lack of sleep from the night before was catching up to him fast. His eyelids grew heavy, and just as he was about to give in to the temptation of a well-earned nap, the door creaked open.
His self-appointed blackmailer had arrived for inspection.
Namori's sharp, critical eyes swept across the room, scanning every corner with military precision. She took her time, ensuring not a single speck of dust remained. Finally, her gaze landed on Naruto, and for the first time since she walked in, her expression softened.
Without a word, she knelt beside him, her fingers reaching out to ruffle his unruly blond hair with an affectionate touch. A small smile tugged at her lips.
"Thank you, Naruto," she murmured. "I know you hate cleaning, but living in a clean environment leads to healthy habits."
Naruto groaned dramatically, stretching his arms over his head with a whine. "Yeah, yeah." He shot her a playful side-eye. "I don't get why I have to clean my room when the prince and princess get servants at their beck and call."
Namori let out a deep sigh, settling down beside him. She gave him a knowing look, her expression tinged with something unreadable.
"It's unfair," she admitted, her voice low and honest. "There's no denying that. But don't let their preferential treatment poison your outlook on life. You're learning to be independent while your younger siblings remain as useless as a blunt kunai."
Naruto snorted, a grin pulling at his lips despite himself. Namori always knew just what to say. She was the only one who truly saw him, the only person in this entire compound who made him feel like he mattered.
When his family ignored him, when his name was little more than an afterthought, it was Namori who listened. It was Namori who let him vent, who gave him advice, who reminded him—no matter what—that he wasn't alone. He loved her more than he could ever express. More than he loved his entire family combined.
He didn't even want to imagine where he'd be without her.
But the warmth of the moment shattered like glass at the sound of someone clearing their throat.
A new presence stood in the doorway, stiff and unwelcome.
Naruto's stomach churned as he looked up at the elder. An old man, with graying blond hair and cold brown eyes, loomed over them in a pristine red kimono, the Namikaze crest embroidered on his chest. His gaze was as sharp as a blade, cutting into Naruto with the same contempt as every other elder in his forsaken clan.
"Boy," the elder spat, his voice thick with disdain. "Your presence is required in the council chamber."
His eyes flicked to Namori, as if she were beneath his notice. "Uzumaki Namori, escort the boy and make sure he behaves. Lord Third has requested his presence."
The air in the room turned heavy.
Naruto's jaw clenched, fingers twitching at his sides. He didn't know what pissed him off more—the way the elder refused to say his name or the way Namori was ordered around like a servant.
Either way, he already knew this meeting wasn't going to be anything good.
*** End of Chapter 4 ***