As the year drew to a close, the sting of winter seemed to soften beneath the warmth of the coming holiday.
After days of heavy snow, Konoha looked as though it had been wrapped in a brand-new silver robe. Thick, untouched snow blanketed the eaves, the treetops, and the training grounds, glittering under the pale sunlight.
In sharp contrast to that pristine white were the bright red lanterns already hanging all across the village.
They looked like warm, full rubies strung along the streets. Once night fell and the lanterns were lit, their soft crimson glow spilled over the snow, weaving together a scene of silver drifts and red lights that felt both peaceful and steeped in old-world elegance.
The entire Hidden Leaf Village was immersed in the bustle and joy of the New Year.
The air carried the rich aroma of meals being prepared for the holiday. Children in brand-new clothes chased one another through the snow, setting off tiny fireworks, their clear laughter ringing through the streets.
Even the shinobi, temporarily freed from their heavier duties, wore more relaxed smiles than usual.
Against the white-washed mountain and the warm village lights below, even the carved faces of the Hokage Rock seemed gentler than before.
With the festival drawing near and the whole village wrapped in celebration, Naruto wanted to experience that lively atmosphere too.
He had made a point of tidying himself up in his little apartment before heading out. He straightened his clothes, fixed his hair, and did his best to make himself look neat.
But there was one mark he could never get rid of, no matter how hard he tried.
It was the six whisker-like lines on his face.
They were something he had been born with, and ordinary methods simply could not remove them. Naruto had even tried shaving them off before, only to find that it was completely useless.
If shaving did nothing, then what was he supposed to do—peel off half his face just to erase them?
He cultivated chakra, not some bizarre body-refining technique from a different universe.
In the past, those whisker marks had earned him countless stares, whispers, and fingers pointed from a distance.
So, in order to blend into the crowd as quietly as possible and avoid ruining his rare good mood on such a festive day, Naruto came up with a plan.
He had secretly bought a bit of concealer and foundation. Standing in front of the mirror, he carefully covered the whisker marks little by little until the face staring back at him looked clean, bright, and no different from that of any ordinary child.
If I go out like this, there should be less trouble, right?
He thought it over in silence.
In Konoha, a little boy with six striking whisker marks on his face was simply too distinctive. Those lines were practically a signboard pointing straight at him and screaming demon fox.
He did not want that indelible mark to destroy his hard-won good mood.
And, as it turned out, no one paid him any special attention on the way.
Naruto pushed open the wooden door of the flower shop with the small sign that read Open, and the wind chime hanging from it let out a clear, delicate ring.
With the New Year so close, the store was quieter than usual.
Today, the person minding the counter was not Yamanaka Rino, but her husband, Yamanaka Inoichi.
Taking advantage of a rare holiday, he had come to watch the shop himself so his wife could rest peacefully at home.
Beside the dazzling rows of flowers, their daughter, Yamanaka Ino, was there too.
She had not been dragged in by her parents to help. She was simply enjoying the flowers, moving carefully from pot to pot with a small sprayer in hand, misting each plant with obvious enthusiasm. Her rosy little face glowed with a bright, innocent smile.
"Welcome!"
Hearing the familiar chime of the bell, Inoichi smiled and looked toward the entrance.
But the instant his eyes landed on the guest standing there, the last note of his greeting seemed to freeze in his throat.
The boy at the door had sun-bright blond hair and blue eyes as clear as still lake water.
And today, because Naruto had painstakingly covered the whisker marks on his cheeks, that face could be seen fully and clearly.
That face. That hair color. Those eyes.
Put together, they made him look almost exactly like Minato Namikaze as a child.
As a shinobi of the same generation, Inoichi had naturally known what the future Fourth Hokage had looked like in his younger days.
So when he looked at the smiling boy in the doorway, his thoughts wavered for an instant. It felt as though time had suddenly run backward, and he was seeing that gentle, dazzling genius once again.
He looks so much alike.
Shock, nostalgia, and sorrow rose together and gripped his chest.
But the illusion lasted only a moment. Cold reality returned at once and pulled him firmly back to the present.
The brilliant Fourth Hokage, the man who had once saved the village, was already gone.
The Fourth had died protecting Konoha.
That silent realization weighed heavily on Inoichi's heart, and when he looked at Naruto again, his gaze carried a faint, complicated sorrow that he could not fully hide.
"Welcome," Inoichi said again, recovering himself and putting on a gentle smile. "What kind of flowers would you like?"
But although his voice was warm, the complexity deep in his eyes had not fully faded.
So the rumors I saw on internet forums in my last life about half of Konoha being selectively blind really were true.
Naruto muttered inwardly.
He had noticed everything with perfect clarity—the brief daze in Inoichi's eyes, the flicker of remembrance, the trace of sadness. He understood at once that the other man had seen Minato's shadow in him.
"I don't really know much about flowers," Naruto said as he stepped forward, his tone carrying exactly the right amount of childish sincerity.
"But it's my teacher's birthday tomorrow. Could you recommend a bouquet for me and help me prepare it?"
"Of course," Inoichi answered immediately, and his voice softened a little more.
Looking at the polite child standing there, he could not help sighing inwardly again.
What a good child.
He's practically a miniature version of Minato.
While Inoichi considered what bouquet would be most suitable, Naruto let his gaze wander curiously around the flower shop.
The interior was arranged with quiet elegance. Countless flowers bloomed in careful order, crowding together in brilliant color, with far more varieties than Naruto could name.
Apart from the most common ones, he could not identify most of them. Still, the fragrance hanging in the air and the neat, thoughtful arrangement of the place silently spoke of the owner's care and devotion.
As his eyes swept past one of the stands, they met the gaze of Yamanaka Ino, who had been carefully watering a pot of pale violet flowers.
Ino had obviously noticed the blond boy as well.
She looked up, her big eyes full of astonishment and curiosity, clearly not expecting to see another child her age here—much less one like this...
A very handsome boy.
Wait. Since when were there boys this good-looking among kids their age?
When it came to blond hair, the only one she could immediately think of was Naruto Uzumaki, the child her mother had specifically told her not to approach, even while telling her never to join other people in mocking him.
Seeing the stunned look on her face, Naruto gave her a gentle, friendly smile.
"Judging from your expression, Ino, is this your family's flower shop?"
"Huh?"