The sky above Konoha bled into pale orange, the first rays of sun brushing over the tiled rooftops and dew-laced trees. The village stirred slowly, unaware of the truth that had now created a new future.
Naruto stood at the foot of the Hokage Tower, scroll strapped tightly to his back. The ANBU at the gate shifted slightly as he approached, but didn't stop him. Word must have already reached them—or they'd been watching all along.
He stepped through the doors alone, muddy sandals echoing against polished stone floors.
Hiruzen looked up from his seat. "Naruto. Come in."
Naruto entered, but only a few steps. He didn't sit. He didn't smile. His eyes didn't sparkle with mischief or awe anymore.
He placed the Scroll of Seals by the table, a few of it jutsu scrolls inside the seal ruffled and roughly handled.
Hiruzen didn't notice and placed it securely in cabinet.
"You've been quiet since that night,"the old man said gently coming back to his seat. "I wanted to make sure—"
"I"m fine,"Naruto interrupted. His tone wasn't cold, just flat.
The Hokage waited a beat, took out a forehead protector (Hitai-ate) from drawer, then said,"You've shown great strength.You are a genin now. I'm proud of you."
Naruto took it but didn't answer.
Hiruzen leaned forward. "You must understand, Naruto, keeping the truth from you was never meant to hurt you."
Naruto finally looked at him—but it wasn't the same look of innocent belief.
"Then why did it?"
The Hokage opened his mouth, but Naruto continued, voice sharp and low:
"All my life, I wanted just one person to tell me why. You were supposed to be that person. Not Mizuki."
Hiruzen sighed. "It wasn't your burden to carry at that age."
"I was already carrying it," Naruto said quietly. "I just didn't have a name for it."
He turned.
"I'll be reporting for duty like every other genin.
The words hit harder than any outburst.
The old man sat back, the weight of his years suddenly heavier.
"I see," he said.
Naruto reached for the door, aged voice from behind spoke softly"Team placements will be held a week after, You should submit your ninja registration by day after tomorrow."
Naruto nodded and left.
Sarutobi stared at the empty room long after Naruto left.
He could have called him back. Could have given him an apology more personal, more human.
But instead… he sat there, drowning in the knowledge that the boy he'd once seen as a grandson now looked at him like any other shinobi in the system.
Trust had been broken.
And Hiruzen knew—he wouldn't be able to earn it back so easily.
[Scene Break]
The door creaked open, and Naruto stepped into the tiny, dimly lit room.
He didn't bother closing it all the way. Just enough to hide the world outside.
His sandals slipped off with a dull thud, he kicked them out of sight.
He moved like a ghost—quiet, slow, mechanical.
The small apartment hadn't changed: peeling wallpaper, one broken cabinet hinge, and ramen cups stacked neatly beside the sink. The window above his bed rattled faintly in the night breeze.
Everything was the same.
Except him.
He sank onto the bed without bothering to change out of his dirty clothes. His fingers were still scratched. His nails rimmed with forest soil. Mizuki's blood—a few dry specks—marked his sleeve like a stain he hadn't noticed yet.
But he felt it.
He couldn't stop feeling it.
He had killed someone.
Not with a prank. Not with a clever distraction.
With intent.
With rage.
With a clenched fist that didn't stop moving.
Mizuki's voice echoed again, sharp as steel: "You're the Nine-Tailed Fox."
Naruto gripped the edge of the mattress, knuckles pale.
"I'm not a monster," he whispered to no one.
No one answered.
His mind spun—images flashing too fast to hold still:
Iruka, bleeding on the grass.
Mizuki, gasping for air.
The Hokage's calm, practiced eyes.
The villagers stares all these years.
Himself, grinning stupidly, trying to earn approval he never had a chance at.
He suddenly stood, kicked over the ramen shelf. Cups rolled, bouncing off the wall.
"I'm not a monster!" he shouted this time.
His voice cracked. Echoed.
And again—silence.
Tears welled in his eyes, uninvited and unwanted. He wiped at them angrily.
"Stupid…" he muttered "Stupid for thinking they ever cared. Stupid for thinking ramen and head-pats meant something."
He turned toward the mirror, stared at his reflection.
Same spiky hair. Same whisker-marks. Same kid.
But the look in his eyes?
That was new.
Something older. Something angry. Something broke.
Naruto lay curled on the bed, still fully clothed.
The moonlight slanted across the floor. One of his shadow clones had left a cracked cup of water beside the bed before poofing out.
He hadn't touched it.
He didn't feel thirsty.
He didn't feel hungry.
He just felt... empty.
His mind whirling and recalling every side-eyes, vulgarity even beatings he would concur occasionally, everything came crashing into his mind as well as the reason of it.
His 13 year old still partly naive and innocent mind still digesting the fact this village took out their anger for the loss of their loved ones, on an orphan child who didn't even knew that he had done anything.
His already physically and mentally tired and battered suffered deep ache.
And somewhere, beneath this heartwrenching ache, a quiet whisper hummed in the back of his mind:
"I'll show them all."