It took some time, but I eventually managed to stand in my crib by grabbing onto the wooden railings.
Wobbly at first. My legs felt weak, like they weren't used to carrying weight. Which made sense—I had barely used them before.
But I had walked before.
As a fox.
As a dog.
As a mammoth.
I had run through forests, plains, and mountains. I had galloped across the earth with thunderous steps. I had climbed trees and sprinted through underbrush.
So why was this so hard?
I gritted my teeth—or I would have, if I had any—and tried again.
My tiny fingers gripped the railing. My chubby legs tensed. I pulled myself up.
My knees wobbled. My feet slid against the mattress.
But I didn't fall.
I stood.
For the first time in this new life, I was upright.
It wasn't much.
But it was something.
And as I stood there, gripping the crib's railing, I felt something unfamiliar yet strangely familiar stir within me.
A flicker of something deep in my chest.
Not fear.
Not sadness.
Not anger.
Something else.
Something I had felt once, long ago, in a body much larger than this one.
When I was a mammoth, standing tall and strong against the biting cold.
When I was a bird, soaring high above the world, untouchable and free.
It was pride.
I had done it.
I had stood.
And if I could stand—
Then I could walk.
—ToT—
Yuagō Uzui, or Neko as she was known in ANBU, watched the baby from her usual spot in the shadows of his small apartment.
She had been assigned to protect Naruto Uzumaki for months now, and in that time, she had come to one simple conclusion—
This child was strange.
Not in a "he has a demon sealed inside him" way. No, that was already common knowledge. What unsettled her was something far more subtle.
Naruto never cried.
Well, almost never. He cried when he was hungry. He cried when his diapers needed changing.
But that was it.
No tantrums. No random fits of distress.
Nothing.
Even when he should have.
She had been there when an intruder—a shinobi drunk off his ass, slurring curses about the Kyuubi—had tried to kill him.
She had been seconds away from intervening when Inu, her fellow ANBU, had appeared and cut the bastard down in a single, clean motion.
And Naruto?
The one-year-old baby who had just been inches away from death?
He had just stared.
Not in shock.
Not in fear.
Not even in confusion.
Just curiosity.
As if watching a man die before him was nothing more than an interesting event.
That was what made Neko uneasy.
She had told her comrades about it, and they had all agreed—Naruto Uzumaki was not like other children.
"I killed a man that was going to stab him—in front of him," an ANBU operative had said. "He was just... staring. No fear, just... curiosity. He's a baby, shouldn't he cry a bit?"
"Maybe it's the Kyuubi's influence?" another had suggested.
But Neko didn't think so.
This wasn't the unnatural malice of a tailed beast. This was something else.
Something older.
But it wasn't her job to understand it. It was her job to protect him.
And right now, it was her shift.
No need to overthink it.
She watched over him at night, crouched in the shadows, her porcelain mask blending into the dim candlelight.
It was routine by now. Stand guard. Protect the child. Erase threats. Repeat.
But despite the cold efficiency drilled into her as an ANBU, despite the mask that was supposed to keep emotions locked away, she found herself pitying him.
Naruto Uzumaki, son of the Fourth Hokage, vessel of the Nine-Tailed Fox, orphaned before he could even say their names.
Sleeping alone in a crib too big for his small form, in an apartment too empty for someone so young.
He didn't know loneliness yet.
But he would.
Her golden eyes softened behind her mask as she stepped closer, kneeling beside the crib.
His breathing was slow, steady. Peaceful.
A rare moment.
His red hair—vibrant like his mother's, unruly like his father's—had grown longer, strands curling over his chubby face.
He needs a haircut.
The thought was strangely domestic, almost out of place. ANBU didn't worry about things like that.
And yet, her gloved fingers twitched with the ridiculous urge to brush his hair back, to do something—anything—to offer him a small comfort he'd never receive from the villagers who feared him.
She sighed, straightening. Her shift wasn't over.
Tomorrow, she'd mention the haircut to Inu. Maybe he'd handle it.
—ToT—
Kakashi avoided looking at the crib.
He stood by the window, arms crossed, mask secure, eyes locked on the moonlit streets of Konoha instead.
He couldn't look.
Couldn't let his gaze drift even once toward the tiny bundle sleeping in the crib.
Naruto Uzumaki.
Minato-sensei's son.
His sensei. His mentor. His father figure.
Dead.
Kushina. The woman who had scolded him, fed him, made sure he ate his vegetables, ruffled his hair like he was still a kid—
Dead.
And all that was left of them was this baby.
A baby who had his mother's hair, his father's eyes—his father's bright, kind, stupidly optimistic eyes.
Eyes that Kakashi would never be able to meet.
Because if he did, he would break.
And ANBU didn't break.
He was supposed to guard this child. Protect him from the threats lurking in the dark corners of Konoha, from the people who saw a monster instead of a baby.
And yet.
He couldn't even bring himself to stand near him.
He always chose the farthest corner of the room. Always took the highest perch. Always made sure the shadows swallowed him whole, just out of reach, just distant enough that he didn't have to see the resemblance.
Didn't have to see the ghosts of the people he had failed.
So when Neko mentioned Naruto's hair was getting long, that someone should cut it—
Kakashi had barely nodded. Barely acknowledged the words.
Because if he got close, if he touched the child, if he let himself care—
He would be right back in that night, watching his sensei die all over again.
Unfortunately, Inu lost the game.
It was a simple game of chance—one that he should've been able to win, considering his skills, experience, and sheer luck.
But no.
He lost.
And now he was stuck with this ridiculous punishment.
Cutting Naruto Uzumaki's hair.
Kakashi sighed, running a gloved hand through his own silver strands as he looked down at the toddler. Naruto sat in a small chair, legs too short to touch the ground, staring blankly ahead like he wasn't even there.
It was strange how still he was.
Most kids his age fidgeted, whined, cried, or something. But Naruto just… sat. Watching the abyss like it might swallow him whole.
Kakashi ignored the feeling of unease curling in his stomach and got to work.
He unsheathed a pair of scissors, their sharp edges gleaming under the dim light of the apartment. The soft snipping sounds filled the air.
Cach. Cach. Cach.
Strands of red hair fell to the floor, pooling around Naruto's feet.
Still, the boy didn't move. Didn't blink.
He just sat there, completely silent, letting Kakashi do whatever he wanted.
It was unnerving.
"Alright, done," Kakashi muttered, brushing stray hairs off Naruto's shoulders before pulling out a small mirror from his pouch. He placed it in front of the boy.
And then—
Naruto's eyes widened.
Kakashi blinked.
Oh.
Naruto had never seen his own reflection before.
The toddler stared, completely transfixed by the image staring back at him.
His small hands reached forward, pressing against the cool glass. Fingers tracing over his own face, his cheeks, his nose, his mouth—like he couldn't quite believe it was real.
Those glowing sapphire eyes were the most striking thing of all.
Kakashi had noticed them before, of course. Naruto had inherited Minato's bright blue gaze, but there was something… unnatural about them. They glowed.
Even in complete darkness.
Even without a single source of light.
It wasn't normal.
It wasn't even animalistic—some creatures had eyes that reflected light, but this? This was different.
And it wasn't just his eyes.
His skin, too, was almost unnaturally bright. Pale, like it caught every bit of light and held onto it.
Kakashi narrowed his eyes.
That would be a problem.
Glowing eyes and luminous skin? That was a death sentence for a shinobi. Stealth missions required blending into the shadows, disappearing into the night.
Naruto?
Naruto would stand out like a lantern in the dark.
As the boy continued staring at himself, completely enraptured, Kakashi sighed heavily and crossed his arms.
"Alright, we get it. You're pretty," he muttered. "But don't go becoming a narcissist, kid."
Naruto didn't react.
Didn't even look at him.
He just kept staring at his reflection, mesmerized.
Kakashi watched as the toddler pressed a single finger to the mirror, right over his own glowing eye, tilting his head slightly.
And for the first time, there was something in his gaze.
Something distant. Something old.
Kakashi didn't like it.
Something about this kid wasn't right.
No one could explain it.
Not even the ANBU, the best-trained elite of Konoha, those who had seen the darkest corners of humanity, the most bizarre bloodlines, and the strangest chakra phenomena.
But this?
This was something else.
Butterflies.
Flies.
Dragonflies.
Bumblebees.
Beetles.
All sorts of insects gathered around Naruto Uzumaki.
It wasn't just a few curious bugs, either.
It was swarms.
Every single day, they would enter the apartment through any crack or opening they could find, fluttering around like tiny, silent watchers.
And it wasn't just insects.
Snakes came too.
Slithering in through the vents, slipping under doors, curling up near the crib, or wrapping around the chair legs.
At first, the ANBU stationed in Naruto's apartment dismissed it as a simple coincidence. The place was near the outskirts of the civilian district, surrounded by patches of trees. It wasn't that unusual for insects to wander in.
But then, they noticed something.
The creatures never left.
They didn't just pass through or land randomly.
They stayed.
And they watched.
The insects perched on the crib, on the window sills, on the ceiling. The snakes coiled silently in the corners of the room, their tongues flicking out in slow, measured movements.
They never harmed him.
Never bit, never stung, never crawled over him aggressively.
They just… came.
And they stared.
It was unsettling.
Yuago Uzui—Neko—was the first to report it, but the others quickly confirmed her observations. No matter who was on duty, the creatures always returned.
At first, the ANBU tried getting rid of them.
They swatted the insects away, set up barriers, tossed the snakes out the window.
It didn't matter.
They always came back.
And when a black mamba slithered into the room, curling itself at the foot of Naruto's crib, that was when they called the Hokage.
They were ANBU, highly trained assassins, but this? This was above their pay grade.
Sarutobi Hiruzen arrived not long after, clad in his Hokage robes, flanked by two of his own personal guards.
As soon as he stepped inside, he noticed it.
The presence.
Naruto's crib sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by creatures. Fireflies blinked in and out of sight. Dragonflies hovered in still air. Ants crawled in uniform lines along the wooden floor.
And the snakes…
The snakes just watched.
Hiruzen stepped forward cautiously.
Naruto was awake, small and quiet, sitting up in his crib. His sapphire eyes—those unnatural, glowing eyes—stared back at him.
No fear.
No distress.
Just calm curiosity.
The baby wasn't bothered.
Not by the insects, not by the snakes, not by the presence of so many living things crowding the small apartment.
If anything…
It felt like he didn't even register it as strange.
Hiruzen studied the baby carefully.
And then, he reached out with his chakra.
And he understood.
Naruto's chakra wasn't just potent.
It wasn't just overflowing, or brimming with potential, or even influenced by the Kyuubi.
It was natural.
Not in the sense of raw chakra reserves.
No.
Naruto's chakra was Nature itself.
The insects, the snakes, the creatures—they weren't just drawn to him.
They recognized him.
Like he was a part of the earth, the trees, the wild.
Like he wasn't human at all.
If a blind sensor had been placed in this room, they wouldn't have been able to distinguish Naruto from the nature surrounding him.
It was bizarre.
Even terrifying.
A human child with the chakra signature of the natural world itself?
Hiruzen furrowed his brows.
Was it the Kyuubi?
Perhaps.
The beast had always been an embodiment of raw power, its chakra overwhelming and impossibly alive.
But this?
This wasn't the Kyuubi's influence.
The fox's chakra was malice. Hatred. A force that repelled, that burned, that devoured everything in its path.
Naruto's chakra was not that.
It was welcoming.
The earth breathed around him.
The insects danced in his presence.
The natural world whispered in ways even the greatest sages would envy.
Hiruzen's lips pressed into a thin line.
He had seen many things in his long life.
But this?
This was something new.
—ToT—
Orochimaru had always been drawn to the unknown.
The strange, the unnatural, the impossible.
And when he first heard the reports from the ANBU, detailing the phenomenon surrounding Naruto Uzumaki, his interest had been piqued.
A baby whose chakra attracted insects and snakes like a beacon?
A human child whose presence was so deeply tied to nature that even a blind sensor wouldn't be able to distinguish him from the earth itself?
That was not something that could be ignored.
That was something to be studied.
To be examined.
To be understood.
But Hiruzen—his foolish, sentimental sensei—had outright forbidden it.
"No."
That had been the only response.
A single word, final and immovable.
Hiruzen had looked at him with a sharp, unwavering gaze.
"No, Orochimaru. You will not experiment on a child."
It was infuriating.
How could he be so short-sighted?
How could he refuse to see the opportunity before them?
Naruto Uzumaki was not a normal child.
Even without the Kyuubi, his very existence defied normality.
Something about him was different.
Something about him was unique.
Orochimaru needed to know why.
So, naturally, he had tried to gather information himself.
A simple test.
Nothing drastic, nothing dangerous.
A small DNA sample.
A single strand of hair, perhaps.
Just enough to analyze.
To confirm.
But he couldn't even get close.
The ANBU had the apartment on lockdown.
A constant, unrelenting presence.
They swarmed the area twenty-four seven, guards shifting out with military precision.
He had even tried sending in his best operatives, but they returned with nothing.
Not a single hair.
Not a single trace.
Naruto Uzumaki was being protected.
And that was when Orochimaru realized.
Hiruzen hadn't just refused his request on moral grounds.
No.
He had refused because he already suspected something.
Something important.
Something worth protecting.
And that meant only one thing.
Naruto Uzumaki was even more special than he first thought.
A child with a sealed Bijuu was already a rarity.
But a Jinchuriki whose chakra attracted and connected to the natural world?
That was completely unheard of.
And so, Orochimaru waited.
He observed.
He watched from the shadows, gathering information where he could.
But the opportunity never came.
The ANBU never faltered.
The Hokage never relented.
Naruto Uzumaki remained untouched.
It was frustrating.
Infuriating.
But Orochimaru was nothing if not patient.
And so, when the time finally came for him to leave Konoha—to abandon it all in pursuit of true knowledge—he set his goals carefully.
The Sharingan.
And the mystery of Naruto Uzumaki.
He would discover the truth.
No matter how long it took.
To Be Continued