The boys scattered, fleeing in a rush. Normally, they might have seized the chance to stay close to the son of the Fourth Hokage, but today their luck had run dry. No one wanted to test how Naruto felt about them after such behavior—better to slip away before things turned worse.
Naruto stood blinking after them, confused by their reaction. Still, as long as the situation was resolved peacefully, that was enough for him.
His identity here differed from the Naruto of the original timeline, yet in spirit he remained the same—sunny, straightforward, unchanged in heart. Only his environment and circumstances had altered.
"They're gone now, so don't worry. What's your name? I'm Namikaze Naruto," he said brightly, turning toward the girl he had protected.
"T-that… my name… is Hyūga Hinata. Th-thank you, Namikaze-kun…"
The moment mirrored the original scene, though the details had shifted. Hinata's eyes, however, shone with the same admiration as always—her heart caught by the boy who stood for her.
"Oh? Hinata, huh? That's a really good name!" Naruto replied warmly, his cheerful grin unchanging.
Hinata's cheeks flushed pink, her small hands fidgeting as her hair swayed gently. Their eyes met in an innocent exchange, a spark of connection igniting between them.
Three figures, two paths.
Menma watched from a distance, his expression stiff, his heart tightening.
"So that's how it is, Naruto… We really are different after all!"
His gaze lingered one last time on the smiling pair before his eyes lowered. He turned sharply, walking away through the falling snow.
Two worlds divided—Naruto basked in the warmth of companionship, while Menma walked alone through winter's cold. The gulf between them stretched vast, like heaven and earth.
The Hyūga clan's guards emerged quietly to escort Hinata home, while Anbu in the shadows continued their watch over Naruto. Their presence marked the importance of the children—precious heirs of powerful lineages.
"Miss Hinata."
"Master Naruto."
The destined bond between them had formed even earlier than in the original timeline, and with a harmony that seemed fated—truly a match made in heaven.
All of it belonged to them. None of it touched Menma.
The ripples faded, leaving him in silence.
Back at his apartment, Menma handled the fish and vegetables he had gathered, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. His face remained blank as he cooked, sat, and ate alone. The emptiness and cold he felt were emotions no one else could glimpse.
"I shouldn't have hoped for anything more. These things don't belong to me—they belong to the son of the real Fourth Hokage."
Menma's heart grew cold.
December of Konoha Year 53 was the coldest winter he had known since his arrival in this world.
And on the last day of the year, with a new one about to dawn, his solitude was broken.
"Little Menma, have you been eating well and resting properly?"
The Third Hokage arrived once again, carrying gifts—snacks and food children would love. Hiruzen Sarutobi had made this routine over the past five years, visiting Menma roughly once a month. On New Year's Eve, he never failed, believing it was the best way to show care.
In the original timeline, these visits left Naruto deeply moved, regarding the Hokage as someone who cared for him.
But Menma was different.
He recognized that Hiruzen might hold genuine concern, but above all, he viewed Menma through the lens of the village and his duty as Hokage.
Orphan? Son of the Fourth Hokage?
No.
In Hiruzen's eyes, Menma had only one true identity: the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki of Konohagakure.
"Yes, Third Grandpa. I've been eating well and resting properly. I also exercise regularly. Look—my body's much stronger than before."
Menma's words were measured. He couldn't act with Naruto's reckless honesty, but he could display a careful, natural closeness to Hiruzen. It was a performance born not of deceit, but survival instinct.
Because in Konoha, only Hiruzen could shield him, granting limited protection and a fragile freedom. Compared to Shimura Danzō, Hiruzen was the lesser evil. The old war hawk would strip him bare, a weapon with no will.
Hiruzen, for all his flaws, still carried fragments of justice.
"Oh? That's good. Eat more, sleep more, exercise more. Our little Menma is growing well," the Hokage said kindly, his eyes soft.
"Yes, Third Grandpa," Menma replied with dutiful respect.
"The New Year is almost here. Do you have any wishes for it?" Hiruzen asked.
"I… I want to grow up quickly. I want to become a great ninja—recognized by everyone."
Menma's tone carried a seriousness beyond his years, his words spoken with deliberate conviction.
"Oh? A great ninja recognized by everyone? That's a fine dream, but you'll need to work hard to achieve it," Hiruzen said warmly, ruffling his red hair.
"Yes. I'll work hard, Third Grandpa," Menma nodded firmly.
"Well, you'll be turning six soon. That means it's nearly time for you to enter the Academy," Hiruzen added.
"The Academy? Really? Third Grandpa, I can really study there!?"
Menma's eyes lit up with genuine excitement. For once, it wasn't an act.
His age, his timeline, everything weighed on his mind. He wasn't Naruto. He was Menma. The path ahead wasn't guaranteed to mirror the story he remembered.
The original timeline was only a reference.
To assume everything would play out the same was the gravest mistake of all.