After drying himself with the towel he had brought, Menma slipped into a clean set of underwear and pulled on the same clothes he had taken off before entering the water. Slinging the basket of fish over his shoulder, he was just about to leave the mountains and return home when the faint sense of surveillance—something he had grown used to feeling—suddenly vanished.
"So… today's the day, huh?"
His face remained calm, but his heart murmured quietly. That subtle sensation always came from the invisible eyes watching him.
Menma had first noticed it two or three years ago, during an unexpected awakening. His instincts told him the ability came from his bloodline—the red-haired heritage of the Uzumaki clan. He had inherited what was most likely Kagura's Mind Eye, the sensory gift that allowed some Uzumaki to detect chakra signatures with incredible clarity.
Even though Menma could not yet mold chakra, this innate talent still allowed him to sense things beyond normal perception: the flickering presence of the Anbu assigned to shadow him, or the faint disturbance whenever the Third Hokage used the Telescope Technique with his crystal ball.
Menma's current mastery was crude. He couldn't pinpoint locations with precision, nor identify chakra signatures the way Karin Uzumaki would in the future. Still, he could faintly detect when surveillance began and ended, enough to confirm that he was constantly monitored.
And that knowledge alone gave him a small measure of security. At least he wasn't blind to the eyes around him. It also let him choose the best moments to act carefully, especially when Hiruzen himself was watching—those times left absolutely no room for mistakes.
Fortunately, the Third Hokage didn't have the time to keep his gaze fixed on Menma every day. At most, he observed once every few days, and never for more than a few hours. As Hokage, Hiruzen had the weight of an entire village on his shoulders. For daily surveillance, the Anbu loyal only to him were more than enough.
By now, the sun stood high overhead. As Menma descended from the mountains, he chose the more remote paths for his return. His Kagura's Mind Eye gave him the sensitivity to pick up malice far more keenly than Naruto had at the same age. The hatred, the disgust—it pricked at him like sharp thorns each time villagers looked his way.
That was why Menma avoided people as much as possible. It wasn't cowardice, but caution. His capacity, his self-control, wasn't strong enough yet. He feared that if he absorbed too much of that malice, he might one day lose control and let his anger slip out for the world to see.
And that—above all—was his greatest taboo.
Unlike Naruto of the original timeline, who responded to loneliness with noisy antics and a desperate hunger for recognition, Menma had no room for such reckless gestures. To draw attention now would only bring disaster.
The only path forward was survival. To endure the dangerous years of childhood, unnoticed, until he had true strength of his own.
For five long years, he had followed this principle faithfully. He rarely encountered villagers face-to-face, always steering away the moment he sensed them nearby.
But today… an exception found him.
Taking a detour around the back paths, Menma arrived at a small clearing near his apartment—and froze.
Several children his age stood there, their circle closing around a small figure in the center. At first, Menma considered turning away. But then his eyes caught sight of her.
Soft black hair. Pale, opalescent eyes. A delicate face, timid and uncertain.
"Hyūga Hinata…"
The eldest daughter of the Hyūga clan's main family. In the story of his past life, she had been one of the most beloved heroines. And for Menma, a personal favorite.
He remembered clearly: in the original timeline, this exact moment shaped Hinata's heart. Bullied by other children, she had been defended—foolishly, bravely—by Naruto. Even though his rescue failed, that act of courage left a mark that endured for life.
And now, that same scene unfolded before Menma's eyes.
His heartbeat quickened. Should he step forward? Should he take the role himself?
But before he could move—
"Stop it! What do you think you're doing!? A bunch of boys ganging up on a girl—are you even men!?"
The voice was bright, indignant, and childish.
A flash of gold burst into the clearing. A small, sunny figure rushed forward, arms spread protectively as he placed himself between the bullies and the trembling girl.
Blond hair. Blue eyes. A face so similar to his own.
Menma's expression faltered.
The other boys froze too. One of them started to bark back an insult, but the slightly older boy in their group pulled him aside quickly, his eyes going wide with recognition.
"W-wait, that's… Master Naruto!"
He bowed deeply, tugging his friends down with him. The others, confused at first, quickly caught on. The son of the Fourth Hokage—the boy born of the hero who died sealing the Nine-Tails—stood before them.
To oppose him, even as children, would mean punishment their parents could never forgive.
"Master Naruto, forgive us! We—we were wrong. We'll leave now!"
Naruto blinked, clearly surprised at their sudden change of tone. But a moment later, his personality shone through—rough, simple, straightforward. He waved his hands and laughed.
"Just admit you're wrong, that's enough! Men shouldn't bully girls, got it?"
"Yes! Yes, of course! Forgive us, Master Naruto!"
The group scrambled away in a hurry, bowing one last time before vanishing.
Naruto stood there, scratching his head with a grin.
And behind him, Hinata looked up at the boy who had stepped between her and the world.