The sky above Konoha bled into pale orange, as the first rays of sun came brushing over the tiled rooftops and dew-laced trees. The village stirred slowly, a gentle rhythm of life unaware of the silent, irreversible truth that had created a new future for one boy.
Naruto Uzumaki stood at the foot of the Hokage Tower, the tattered, oversized Scroll of Seals strapped tightly to his back. The ANBU at the gate shifted slightly as he approached, their porcelain masks turning to track his movement, but they didn't stop him. Word must have already reached them- or they'd been watching all along. They always were.
He stepped through the heavy wooden doors alone, his muddy sandals echoing against the polished stone floors like lonely drumbeats.
Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, looked up from his seat, a small plume of smoke rising from his pipe. "Naruto, come in."
Naruto entered, but only took a few steps into the room's vastness. He didn't sit and neither did he smile. His eyes-once a vibrant, mischievous blue didn't sparkle with awe or defiance anymore. They were simply flat, like two chips of slate.
He placed the Scroll of Seals by the table. It slid with a rough sound, a few of the jutsu scrolls sealed inside ruffling from the rough handling of the previous night's desperation.
Hiruzen didn't seem to notice the wear and tear. He retrieved the valuable scroll with practiced ease and secured it in a cabinet.
"You've been quiet since that night," the old man said gently, returning to his seat and resting his elbows on the desk. "I wanted to make sure-"
"I'm fine," Naruto interrupted. His tone wasn't cold, just deadened. It was the sound of a voice with nothing left to risk.
The Hokage waited a beat, his expression unreadable beneath the brim of his hat. He reached into a drawer and took out a folded strip of dark cloth with a metal plate fixed to it, a Hitai-ate. "You've shown great strength. You are a genin now and I'm proud of you."
Naruto took the forehead protector but didn't answer. He simply gripped the cloth.
Hiruzen leaned forward, his voice a quiet rumble. "You must understand, Naruto, keeping the truth from you was never meant to hurt you."
Naruto finally looked at him- but it wasn't the same look of innocent belief that had always been easy to dismiss. It was sharp, clear, and judging.
"Then why did it?"
The Hokage opened his mouth, a lifetime of prepared excuses hovering on his tongue, but Naruto continued, his voice sharp and low, every word like a shard of glass.
"All my life, I wanted just one person to tell me why I was different. You were supposed to be that person, not a traitor like Mizuki."
Hiruzen sighed, the sound heavy with remorse. "It wasn't your burden to carry at that age."
"I am already carrying it," Naruto said quietly. He glanced down at the fresh hitai-ate in his hand, then back up at the leader of the village. "I just didn't have a name for it."
He turned toward the door.
"I'll be reporting for duty like every other genin, Hokage-sama."
The words hit the Third Hokage harder than any childish outburst or furious scream. It was the sound of Naruto resigning himself to the system that had failed him.
The old man sat back, the weight of his years suddenly heavier than the Hokage hat. "I see," he said.
Naruto reached for the door. An aged voice from behind spoke softly, a final official order. "Team placements will be held a week after. You should submit your ninja registration by the day after tomorrow."
Naruto nodded, a single, sharp dip of his head and left.
Sarutobi stared at the empty room long after the door clicked shut.
He could have called him back. Could have dropped the formality, given him an apology more personal, more human. He could have told him about Minato and Kushina.
But instead… he sat there, drowning in the knowledge that the boy he'd once seen as a grandson now looked at him like any other shinobi in the system, just another figure of authority.
Trust had been broken. And Hiruzen knew, he wouldn't be able to earn it back so easily.
The door creaked open, and Naruto stepped into the tiny, dimly lit apartment. He didn't bother closing it all the way, just enough to hide the world outside from the interior.
His muddy sandals slipped off with a dull thud. He didn't pick them up, simply kicked them out of sight. The small apartment hadn't changed, the peeling wallpaper, the one broken cabinet hinge, the tell-tale stack of empty ramen cups beside the sink. The window above his bed rattled faintly in the breeze, a cheap and familiar sound.
Everything was the same, except him.
He sank onto the bed without bothering to change out of his dirt-caked clothes. His fingers were still scratched, his nails rimmed with forest soil. Mizuki's blood a few dry, rust-colored specks marked his sleeve, a stain he hadn't noticed yet.
But he felt it. He couldn't stop feeling it, he had killed someone. Not with a prank and not with some clever distraction but with intent and rage. With a clenched fist that didn't stop moving until the gasping stopped.
Mizuki's voice echoed again, sharp as kunai in his memory: "You're the Nine-Tailed Fox."
Naruto gripped the edge of the mattress, till his knuckles went pale. "I'm not a monster," he whispered to no one and no one answered.
His mind spun, images flashing too fast to hold still- Iruka, bleeding on the grass, Mizuki, gasping for air and Hokage's calm, practiced eyes. The villager's sneering stares all these years. Himself, grinning stupidly, trying to earn an approval he never had a chance at.
He suddenly stood, his breath catching in a silent choke. He kicked over the flimsy ramen shelf. Cups rolled across the floor, bouncing off the wall with hollow, pathetic clatters.
"I'm not a monster!" he shouted this time. His voice cracked as it echoed in the small, empty room. And again he was left alone with- silence.
Tears welled in his eyes, uninvited and unwanted. He wiped at them angrily, scrubbing the moisture away with the back of his hand.
"Stupid…" he muttered, turning to a shaking focus. "Stupid for thinking they ever cared. Stupid for thinking ramen and head-pats meant something."
He turned toward the mirror, stared at his reflection. Same spiky hair and distinct whisker-marks. But the look in his eyes? That was new. Something older, angry and broken.
Naruto lay curled on the bed, still fully clothed, his body a tired knot beneath the thin blanket.
The moonlight slanted across the floor as his mind whirled, recalling every side-eye, every vulgarity and the casual beatings he would occasionally incur. Everything came crashing down on him, and with it, the terrifying reason for it all.
His thirteen-year-old, still partly naive and innocent mind struggled to digest the fact that this entire village took out their anger for the loss of their loved ones on an orphan child who didn't even know what he had done.
His already physically and mentally tired and battered body suffered a deep, heart-wrenching ache. And somewhere, beneath this overwhelming grief and pain, a quiet whisper hummed in the back of his mind, cold and clear, "I'll show them all."