Uzumaki Naruto ran up the stairs, through the waiting room, ignoring the secretary's yells, and into the office of the one person in the whole village who didn't look at him with those eyes every time he saw him.
"Hey, Hokage-jiji! Look what I did!" the smiling five year old boy told his grandfather in everything but blood as he proudly held up a stick figure drawing that looked to be of the Hokage and himself. But the boys smile faded as he saw the cold look in his Jiji's eyes. The old man attempted to hide his obvious distain behind a horribly fake smile, but the unassumingly observant five year old still saw it. The old man was looking at him with those eyes.
He loved his jiji, and most of the time, his jiji loved him. It was because of this that on these rare days, that only happened once in a while, Naruto pretended not to notice that cold look of hatred in his jiji's eyes. And so Naruto placed his smile back on his face, walked over to his jiji's desk and put his drawing on it before walking back out the door shutting it quietly behind him.
Sarutobi Hiruzen listened as the quiet footsteps got closer to his office and watched as Naruto slammed open the door causing papers that he had just spend the last hour sorting to flutter to the floor. Hiruzen tried his best not to hate the boy for things he did and did not have control of, he really did, but some days were just harder than others, one of those days being today.
Thirty years ago today, was the day him and his lovely Biwako were married, and instead of being here celebrating with him, she was six feet in the ground, dead.
It was on days like this, that he tended to look at things the villagers way.