Naruto dipped his brush into the ink, watching as the black liquid bled into the bristles. The room was quiet except for the soft scratching of the brush against the paper. His hands moved instinctively, tracing out lines that formed the image in his mind. It wasn't something he had seen firsthand, not something he could remember with certainty, but somehow… he knew.
His mother lay in a cave's bed, cradling him in her arms. Her red hair cascaded around her like a blanket, shielding him from the world. She was smiling, exhausted but happy. Beside her, his father sat, looking at both of them with an expression Naruto had never seen on anyone's face before—pride. Love. A quiet, unshakable joy.
The brushstrokes softened as he worked on their features. He had his mother's eyes. Her hair too, though his was spikier. His nose, though… that belonged to his dad. And his ears.
Naruto stared at the painting for a long time once it was done.
He had never met them, not truly. And yet, he had their faces burned into his mind as if he had seen them a thousand times before. Maybe he had, in another life. Or maybe… something deep inside him refused to let him forget.
With slow, careful hands, he set the painting under the window to dry. Dawn was already creeping in, light stretching thin over the rooftops. Time to go.
He pulled on his white jacket, adjusting the collar as he slipped into his blue pants. His fingers worked quickly, securing his shinobi sandals before moving to the small pouch on his waist. He checked his supplies—kunai, shuriken, wire. Enough for whatever Inu had planned.
He stepped outside, the morning air crisp and biting against his skin.
Training Ground 7 awaited.