Back in the Hokage's office, Sarutobi didn't dive into paperwork immediately. Instead, he pulled out a crystal ball.
At first, the image that appeared inside showed the interior of a bathhouse, with droplets of water echoing in the empty space.
He frowned, bored, and shifted the view.
Soon, the orb displayed Sasuke—still practicing diligently.
A soft smile formed on Sarutobi's face.
Originally, his decision to take in Sasuke had been made on a whim—just a way to preserve the Uchiha bloodline within the village.
But he realized early on that if Sasuke remained in the cold, desolate Uchiha compound, isolated and angry, it would only be a matter of time before he grew to resent Konoha… and abandon it altogether.
So Sarutobi brought him into his home.
Publicly, it sent a message: that the Hokage himself had taken responsibility for the orphan of the Uchiha clan. Despite their reputation, the clan had once served the village with distinction.
Privately, it ensured that Sasuke remained close. Konoha was firmly under Sarutobi's control now—no clan dared challenge him—and Sasuke could be nurtured as a "seed" for the village's future.
It didn't hurt that it might burnish his legacy as well.
But the more time he spent with Sasuke, the more the boy surprised him.
He wasn't a prodigy like Itachi or Shisui—slightly slower to grasp some things—but he trained with remarkable perseverance.
In that, Sarutobi saw a reflection of his younger self.
Unknowingly, a bond had started to form.
He found himself enjoying it—guiding this lonely child, watching him grow. It was a way to soothe the quiet regrets that had lingered in his heart for years.
His own sons had grown up without much of his presence. His eldest had died young, leaving behind only a grandson. His second son had grown distant over time. Even his prized students—Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and Tsunade—had changed in ways he hadn't foreseen.
Those were old wounds.
And perhaps, in caring for Sasuke, he could begin to heal them.
Children have a curious way of healing the hearts of adults.
In caring for Sasuke, Sarutobi was also finding a kind of peace. Mutual healing—quiet, unspoken.
And now that his grandson, Konohamaru, was three years old, Sarutobi hoped that one day Sasuke would be there for him too. A good boy, guiding the next generation.
His thoughts drifted, more and more, into those of an aging man.
The urgency of power had faded. Konoha was stable. The village, unified under his leadership, no longer needed him to tighten the reins. What remained now was to pass on his vision to the next Hokage—someone who would carry the Will of Fire into the future.
—
As Sarutobi's attention turned fully to Sasuke, another child faded from his care: Naruto.
While Sasuke trained under gentle guidance, Naruto sat alone in a cold, dim room—eating expired milk and stale instant noodles.
He doubled over soon after with stomach pains and passed out, unsurprisingly.
When Naruto finally stirred, he dragged himself to the fridge, only to find it empty once more.
Gurgle…
"Damn… I'm hungry again… Why hasn't Grandpa Hokage come yet…"
He had barely filled his stomach, and after the diarrhea, it was empty again—his small body trembling with fatigue.
Iruka, too, struggled in silence.
He should have been Naruto's light in the darkness—his first real support—but he hadn't reached that point yet.
Deep inside, Iruka still resented the boy. Naruto's existence reminded him of what he had lost—his loving parents, killed during the Nine-Tails' attack seven years ago.
For those who had been happy, seven years passed in the blink of an eye. But for those burdened by grief, the days were slow and painful.
To Iruka, Naruto wasn't just a student—he was the Nine-Tails.
As a teacher, Iruka knew he shouldn't treat Naruto differently. He knew he shouldn't avert his eyes like other villagers did, shouldn't isolate the boy as classmates did.
But he couldn't help it.
Every time he looked at Naruto, he saw the shadow of the beast that had stolen everything from him.
It hurt too much. So he chose to look away.
If he had the choice, he wouldn't even want to see Naruto at all...
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Naruto lay weakly on his bed, having just gulped down a few sips of water to soothe the cramps in his stomach.
A knock came at the door.
"They're here!" Naruto perked up instantly.
Today was subsidy day. He had stayed home all morning, stomach growling, hoping to grab the envelope and treat himself to a bowl of steaming ramen.
"Grandpa Hokage, you're late today—I'm starving!" he called out cheerfully as he opened the door, a bright smile lighting up his pale face.
Sarutobi Hiruzen was the only person in the village who treated him like a real child. Only the Hokage didn't look at him with cold eyes or whisper behind his back.
But when the door swung open, Naruto froze.
It wasn't Grandpa Hokage.
It was a masked ninja.
"Here. Your subsidy," the man said curtly, his tone clipped and void of emotion.
Naruto blinked, the excitement fading from his eyes. "Oh—uh—thank you, big brother!" he stammered, quickly bowing as he reached out for the envelope.
Without this tiny monthly support, he would have long starved in this prosperous yet indifferent village.
The Anbu agent stared down at him. Under his cloak, his hand clenched into a trembling fist.
His younger brother had died seven years ago in the Nine-Tails' rampage. And standing before him was the very monster responsible—or so he believed.
Rage boiled inside him. He wanted to run his sword through the boy.
But the Hokage's order echoed in his mind, keeping his fury barely in check.
After several long seconds, he managed to calm his trembling hands.
Naruto, unaware of the storm brewing in the man's heart, reached out his bony, malnourished hand toward the envelope.
That small, pitiful gesture snapped the last thread of restraint.
The Anbu struck him with a sudden kick.
Naruto flew backward, crashing into the wall. He crumpled to the floor, dazed and in pain, looking up at the man in stunned confusion. His eyes seemed to ask, Why?
The Anbu tossed the envelope toward him. A few silver coins spilled out, rolling across the wooden floor and into the shadows.
"Speak a word of this to anyone, and you'll regret it," the ninja growled.
Then he vanished, leaving only silence and the faint clink of scattered coins.
Naruto didn't cry.
He just sat there, staring at the glinting silver pieces. The sunlight streaming through the door felt strangely cold.
'Why is the world like this?' he wondered.
Why did everyone else have loving parents and friends to play with?
Why could others walk freely through the village, buy what they wanted, smile and laugh... while he could only watch from afar?
Even when he had money, shopkeepers would refuse him. Only one old vendor, under cover of dusk, would sell him expired milk and instant noodles—and even then, at inflated prices.
That's why he loved Ichiraku Ramen so much. Not just for the food, but because the owner never looked at him like he was something vile. He even slipped him extra toppings now and then.
But his meager allowance wouldn't stretch far...
Today's envelope held even less than usual.
Naruto's stomach cramped again. He winced, curling up slightly.
'Can I even survive this month...?'
He tried to sit up, using the wall for support. But the warmth of the sunlight did nothing to lift the chill in his heart.
From the shadows, another Anbu watched silently. He made no move to intervene. He didn't even acknowledge what his comrade had done.
If Naruto ever dared complain to the Hokage, they'd silence him. After all, he owed everything to the Third. And lately, the Hokage had grown distant—distracted by his new grandson.
If this neglect continued, some within the shadows were already considering... other measures.
Naruto slowly gathered the scattered coins and clutched them to his chest.
The pain in his gut and the ache in his heart made it hard to breathe.
He didn't even have the strength to crawl back to bed. He lay where he was, the coins clinking softly as he moved.
The sunlight shifted as the day passed.
Eventually, Naruto drifted into a shallow sleep.
In that fragile dream, he saw two blurry figures.
Parents.
They were eating together, smiling at him.
For once, Naruto felt happy.
He didn't ask for much. Just this.
Far within him, a faint warmth stirred.
The will of Ashura—an ancient energy passed down through generations—worked quietly to soothe the darkness taking root in his heart. It patched the gaps with soft illusions, weaving small fantasies to hold his fragile spirit together.
But this time, the light was weaker than ever before.
Naruto's pain, his isolation, his silent suffering—it far surpassed that of previous reincarnations.
The light couldn't keep up with the shadows.
His world teetered on the edge of collapse.
Even Sarutobi Hiruzen, once a beacon of hope, was growing dim—his own heart slowly engulfed by regret and neglect.
No one knew when the breaking point would come.
But it was near.
"Heh... Fourth Hokage," a dark whisper echoed in the void, "I wonder how amusing you'd find this scene now."
A flicker of crimson chakra seeped from Naruto's body, quietly mending the damage done.
Not out of kindness.
But amusement.
Kurama, the Nine-Tails sealed within him, watched it all unfold with twisted pleasure.
Naruto's suffering was the only entertainment it had.
After years of betrayal and hatred, its heart had long turned to ice.
And the more Naruto hurt, the warmer it felt.
Like a butterfly's wing brushing against time, these small moments of cruelty were steering the world down a darker path.
One step at a time.
Toward a future no one could predict.
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