The boy sat by the fire, arms crossed, cheeks puffed out like a sulking toad. His blue eyes glared at me with all the fury a child could muster.
I stared back, unmoved. I had faced shinobi battalions, survived Orochimaru's lab, stolen secrets from the grave.
Yet somehow, this child's glare weighed heavier than all of it.
Fine. If I was to raise him, I had to at least try.
"Eat," I ordered, handing him roasted fish on a stick.
Naruto wrinkled his nose. "It's burnt."
"It's food. Eat it."
He bit it anyway, scowling as if I'd poisoned him.
So far, fatherhood was… not going well.
Night fell. Naruto yawned, rubbing his eyes.
"Where's my blanket?" he mumbled.
I blinked. "Blanket?"
"Yeah! And a pillow! And a bed! You kidnapped me, so the least you can do is gimme a bed!"
I sighed, yanking my cloak off and tossing it at him. "Use that."
He held it up, unimpressed. "It smells weird."
"It smells like survival," I muttered, lying back against the tree trunk.
Naruto huffed, wrapped himself up, and muttered just loud enough for me to hear: "Worst dad ever."
At dawn, I woke him with a firm kick to the ribs. "Up. We train."
Naruto groaned, rolling over. "Five more minutes…"
I grabbed him by the scruff and hauled him upright. "No. If you want to live, you'll train."
I tossed a kunai into his hands. He nearly dropped it.
"Hold it properly," I instructed.
Naruto waved it like a stick, nearly stabbing himself in the foot.
I buried my face in my palm. "This… is going to take longer than I expected "
By noon, Naruto was sweaty, bruised, and furious.
"This sucks!" he shouted, throwing the kunai at the ground. "You suck! You're not my dad—you're just some mean old jerk who kidnapped me!"
The words cut sharper than any blade.
For a moment, I almost shouted back. Almost told him he didn't understand, couldn't understand the world he was destined for.
Instead, I rapped him on the head with my knuckles again.
THWACK.
"OWWWW! Stop hitting me, you jerk!"
"That was the iron fist of love," I muttered.
"Well your love SUCKS!" Naruto yelled, stomping away to sulk under a tree.
I sighed, staring at the sky. Fatherhood was… harder than war.
Later, when Naruto had fallen asleep against the roots of the tree, still clutching the kunai like a toy, I watched him quietly.
He didn't see the danger waiting for him in Konoha. He didn't see the hunger of men like Danzo. He didn't see the chains the world was already preparing to bind him with.
But I did.
Even if I failed as a father, even if my iron fist was too heavy and my words too cold, I would protect him.
Because if nothing else… he was mine
But
The boy never stopped talking.
As we walked through the forest, I had expected silence — the rustle of leaves, the crack of twigs, the faint howl of wolves.
Instead, I got:
"Hey, hey, hey, mister! What's your name? Why's your hair so messy? Do you always wear that grumpy face? Are you strong? Stronger than the old man Hokage? Stronger than Sasuke? Wait, I don't know a Sasuke. Do you eat ramen? I love ramen! Do you like fish? I hate fish. This fish is burnt. Why do you burn everything you cook?"
On and on he went, until my temples throbbed.
For the first time, I doubted myself.
Perhaps leaving Naruto in Konoha to suffer might have been… quieter.
After hours of travel, Naruto's small legs wobbled. He groaned dramatically, collapsing in the middle of the trail.
"I can't walk anymore! My feet hurt! My legs are gonna fall off! You're the worst dad ever for making me walk so far!"
I glared at him. "Get up. Shinobi endure."
He pouted, puffing his cheeks. "No. Carry me."
"What?"
"Piggyback ride! C'mon, you're my new dad, right? Dads give piggyback rides!" He raised his arms expectantly, grinning like an idiot.
My eye twitched. The Mangekyō itself seemed to ache.
In the end, I sighed, crouched down, and let him climb onto my back.
"Yay!" he cheered, kicking his legs happily. "Faster! Faster! You're like a horse!"
I grit my teeth, sprinting through the trees with the jinchūriki bouncing on my shoulders like luggage.
Somewhere deep inside, Madara Uchiha rolled in his grave.
That night, Naruto wrapped himself in my cloak, yawning loudly. Then he peered up at me with wide, eager eyes.
"Tell me a story."
I froze. "What?"
"A story! Bedtime stories! The old man Hokage told me once about the Will of Fire, but it was boring. You gotta know something better, right?"
I sat in silence, my mind blank. The only stories I knew were filled with blood and betrayal.
"…Once, there was a boy," I began slowly. "He was born into a cursed clan. Everyone hated him. So one night, he decided to burn them all—"
"WHAT?!" Naruto yelped, sitting up. "That's a terrible story! Where's the hero? Where's the ramen?!"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "…Go to sleep."
"Not until you tell me a good story!"
So I sighed, stared into the fire, and muttered the first thing that came to mind: "…Once upon a time, there was a little fox who was very, very angry. Everyone feared him. But then one day, a boy came along who wouldn't stop talking. And somehow, the fox didn't eat him. The end."
Naruto blinked. Then he grinned. "Heh. I like that one."
Finally, he curled up and fell asleep.
I watched him breathe softly, his face peaceful in sleep. The tantrums, the noise, the demands… they should have driven me mad.
And yet, against my better judgment, I found myself adjusting the cloak so he wouldn't get cold.
Doubt gnawed at me. Had I stolen him for power? For revenge? Or had I stolen him… because I couldn't stand to see him live unloved, as I once had?
The night whispered no answers.
But as Naruto snored, muttering nonsense about ramen in his sleep, I couldn't help the smallest, most reluctant smile.
"Maybe… this won't be so bad," I murmured.