Iruka marched Naruto toward the village center. They had just stepped off the stairs of Hokage Rock when Umino-sensei—arms full of exam papers—rushed over and blocked their path.
"Iruka! Finally found you! The answer sheets for next week's graduation exam were printed wrong. The Third wants you in the print room immediately to fix the template. If we're late, they won't be ready in time!"
Sweating profusely, Umino shoved a stack of wrinkled papers into Iruka's arms. "You've got the clearest handwriting. Hurry!"
"But this kid…" Iruka glanced back at Naruto. Blue paint still streaked across his face. He stood by the roadside kicking pebbles, looking unusually obedient.
"Oh, he's just a half-grown brat. Where could he possibly run off to?" Umino grabbed Iruka and dragged him toward the Hokage Tower.
With no choice, Iruka shouted over his shoulder, "Stay right there! Don't you dare run off! I'll be back soon! We're getting ramen after! If you disappear, I'm docking half a month of your allowance!"
"Got it, Iruka-sensei!" Naruto raised a hand obediently, the picture of compliance.
The moment Iruka's figure disappeared around the corner of the Hokage Tower, the meekness vanished from Naruto's face.
He looked up at the sun. It had just reached its zenith. Konoha's noon sunlight warmed his back.
He remembered clearly—at this exact time, twelve-year-old Hyūga Hinata would be cornered three streets ahead in a back alley by three genin who had graduated two years earlier.
In his previous life, it had been during this exact window—while Iruka was called away—that he had slipped off to buy dango and happened to pass that alley.
Back then, he had been the despised Nine-Tails brat. He'd stood at the mouth of the alley clutching a bag of dango, listening to the insults inside, without the courage to take a single step forward.
All he could do was watch as the small girl had her forehead protector stolen and ran away in tears.
That frail, trembling back—
He had remembered it for sixty years.
"Let's see who dares touch what's mine today."
Naruto rolled his wrists and turned toward the alley. As he passed a red bean bun stall, he grabbed two fresh, steaming buns, tossed the vendor a couple of coins, the motion smooth as if he'd done it countless times.
The backstreets were the most secluded alleys in Konoha. Old war-era houses lined both sides, faded slogans still painted on the walls: Beware of Enemy Nation Shinobi.
Broken wooden beams lay piled in the corners. Moss crept up the damp stone walls. Even sunlight struggled to reach inside, leaving a chill in the air.
The moment he turned into the alley, familiar insults drifted toward him—sharp and grating.
"Hey, Byakugan freak! Hand over all the money you've got!"
"Can't understand human speech? Do you think being from the Hyūga clan makes you special? You're just a fatherless reject! If you don't cough up the cash, we'll gouge out those white eyes and sell them!"
Naruto stopped instantly.
It felt as if an invisible hand clenched around his heart, squeezing until breathing hurt.
He leaned against the wall at the alley entrance and looked in.
The scene matched his sixty-year-old memory perfectly.
Three older genin had a little girl cornered against the wall. The tall one in front had a thin mustache and was stepping on a Hyūga forehead protector, grinding Konoha's emblem into the mud beneath his shoe.
A skinny, monkey-like boy reached to grab the girl's hair. A chubby one leaned against the wall laughing, twirling a kunai in his hand, his eyes lingering on the girl's pale pupils with malicious intent.
The girl trapped against the wall wore a faded Hyūga training outfit. Dust smeared her white jacket. Sweat dampened the bangs on her smooth forehead.
Fear had activated her pale lavender Byakugan. Long lashes trembled, tears clinging to them as she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.
In her hands, she clutched two red bean buns she had just bought. They were crushed out of shape, sweet filling seeping through the paper onto her sleeve—yet she didn't dare loosen her grip.
Twelve-year-old Hinata.
Even smaller than he remembered. Her shoulders shook like leaves in the wind. Terrified, yet stubbornly refusing to yield.
Softly, she protested, "Th-that forehead protector is mine… Give it back… I—I don't have any money."
"Talking back?" The tall boy raised his hand to slap her.
Naruto's pupils shrank.
In his previous life, that slap had landed on her face. Her cheek had been swollen for three days. When he later ran into her, she had covered half her face and claimed she'd fallen.
"Kurama. Lend me a little strength. Don't let anyone notice," Naruto said quietly.
Inside the seal, the Nine-Tails rolled its eyes and flicked him a thread of nearly undetectable chakra.
"So you finally grew a spine after sixty years? Hit them hard. Don't embarrass me."
Naruto didn't respond. He flexed his fingers and deliberately crushed a shard of broken glass underfoot.
Crack.
The sharp sound echoed.
All three boys turned toward the alley entrance.
There stood a blond kid in an orange tracksuit, blue paint still smeared across his face like a little tiger. Two warm red bean buns were tucked under his arm. He leaned casually against the wall.
His eyes were cold as ice.
"Well, look who it is!" The tall boy laughed when he recognized him, grinding his foot harder on the forehead protector. "Isn't this the unwanted Nine-Tails freak? What, you just finished vandalizing Hokage Rock and now you want to play hero? Do you even know your place?"
The skinny one snickered. "Yeah. A dead son like you thinks he can interfere? If you don't want to get beaten too, scream."
The fat one twirled his kunai and leered. "I heard Nine-Tails meat can grant immortality. Maybe we should grab him too. Probably worth more than a pair of white eyes."
Their laughter overlapped, shrill and ugly.
Hinata froze when she saw Naruto. Panic flashed across her face. She knew him—the boy who always sat in the back row at the Academy, always scolded by teachers.
She also knew he was the village's shunned Nine-Tails jinchūriki.
She didn't want to drag him into this.
"N-Naruto-kun, run!" she cried urgently, voice trembling. "They—they'll hit you! Don't worry about me!"
The more she spoke, the more frantic she became. Tears finally spilled, soaking into her sleeve stained with red bean paste.
Naruto's chest ached at the sight.
Sixty years ago, he had watched her cry—
And hadn't stepped forward.
Sixty years later, he became the Seventh Hokage. He had protected the peace of the entire shinobi world, safeguarded billions across the Five Great Nations.
How could he fail to protect the girl he had loved his whole life?
He stepped forward, expression calm, voice colder than winter.
"I'll count to three."
"Take your foot off my wife's forehead protector. Pick it up. Wipe it clean. Apologize."
"Or you won't be walking out of this alley today."
Silence fell for a brief second.
Then the three older genin burst into laughter so hard they doubled over.
"Your wife? Hahaha! Are you insane? A nobody like you wants to marry the Hyūga heiress? Keep dreaming!"
"Counting to three? Let's see what you can actually do!"
The tall boy cursed and lunged forward, fist swinging toward Naruto's face, kunai in hand, blade flashing toward his cheek.
Hinata screamed, "Naruto-kun, be careful!"
Naruto didn't move.
Not until the fist was inches from his face.
Then he tilted his head slightly.
The punch missed effortlessly.
He looked at the three charging boys and let a faint smile curl his lips.
With sixty years of perfected taijutsu fundamentals—even without using chakra—dealing with three freshly graduated genin was easier than crushing ants.
He flexed his fingers.
Crack.
His knuckles popped sharply.
A debt sixty years overdue—
It was time to settle it.