When he was just eight years old, Naruto had caught the flu. Even though he didn't have a tendency to fall ill, on the rare occasions that he did, he hated it. The headaches, the itchy sore throats and body racking coughs made Uzumaki Naruto a very cranky boy. So as soon as the Sandaime had appeared through the apartment door and saw Naruto with mucus oozing from his nose, he knew that the boy had caught the cold. The Sandaime nearly smiled at the sight of his surrogate grandson. The tiny blonde wore blue pajamas that matched his cerulean orbs that were currently glassy. In his right hand, the frog plushy was unceremoniously dragging on the floor. Young Naruto's eyes were drooped half way accompanied with a brightly congested red nose. He was sniffing before he rubbed away the gunk from his eyes. "Ojisan" he croaked with a raspy voice followed by some dry coughs. The Sandaime's eyes softened before he picked up the boy in his arms. Crossing the threshold, the boy snuggled against his chest, and he knew that the boy was running a fever from the scalding heat radiating off his forehead. He ran his hand through soft spikes before walking to the messy bed. His eyes took in the apartment cluttered with empty ramen cups, dirty as well as clean laundry and his manga. He gently laid the boy on his bed and Naruto groaned. He signaled his hidden Anbu.
"Get this place cleaned up and get me some medicine for the child" he said and because of the urgency of his voice, they were off.
Everything after the Hokage's departure was hazy to Naruto. He didn't remember when occasionally he was awoken from his slumber to take his medicine or even who was the person who administered the bitter substance. All his thoughts were mashed into a sloppy jumble as the fever chilled him down to the bones. Every now and then, his body would tremble even though it was room temperature. He moaned and turned, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, a sign that his body was fighting to protect him from the cold that had its slimy grip on him. He shifted again, until he was on his back. He glanced around his empty, cold apartment. Unlike other kids, he didn't live with parents who could spoil him when he was sick. That is what he wanted then. He craved for a mother's touch but the creature known as mother, had always seemed to elude him, even in his dreams. He wanted her to stay by his side as she nursed him to health once more. He yearned for a father to hold him close to his heart; giving that sense of security: he would never leave his side. But alas, young Uzumaki was but an orphan, scorned by the very villagers in his home. Naruto turned to the wall and curled into the fetal position. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears away but to no avail. The tears broke forth like a dam giving way to the surge of raging flood waters. He covered his mouth and cried like he hadn't cried in years. That was when a sharp scent of apples assaulted his nose. Red hair, the same color of sun set blocked his teary vision and a soft hand rubbed soothing circles on his back.
"Ne, you're a big boy, Naru-chan" a silky serenade danced towards him. He turned to the silhouette of a man standing at the base of his bed and Naruto was instantly reminded of sunshine. The warmth these two people offered him, wrapped him a blanket, effectively causing him to stop crying. Even though he couldn't make out his face properly, his tender grin had caused a tingly feeling to blossom in his chest. These adults didn't hate him, in fact they loved him. Love, the thought made him want to cry again.
"It's okay, my sweet baby boy" the woman said and her voice was sweet as the richest honey in the Elemental Nations. She encased him in a hug and the scent of apples grew stronger as those crimson locks threatened to smother him. Her hair felt like the softest wool and as he closed his eyes, he welcomed its feathery touches that flitted across his face. However, she pulled away and his eyes immediately opened. Their forms were getting blurrier and they were fading away. He stretched out his hand, trying to reach out to the unknown specters that had shown him the warmth he desired so deeply.
"No matter what, never forget that you're never alone" they whispered and he jolted awake. Brown aged eyes curiously peered at him. The smell of tobacco had overtaken that of the apples that reminded him of home. Cold tears flowed down his whiskered cheeks at the thought.
"Are you alright? You were crying in your sleep" the Hokage said, wiping his face. Before he could answer, a severe pain bashed against his skull and he cried out in pain. The Hokage helped him to lie back once more as he changed the wet towel on his forehead. As he watched the Hokage, who no longer wore his hat, he softly smiled.
"You're right. I'm never alone" he whispered to himself. That was a lesson he would never forget, just like he would never forget those faceless ghosts that had taken care of him when he was sick.