Three whisker-like marks on either of his cheeks, yellow hair, blue eyes and an orange shirt: the little boy crying on the swing.
Hinata decided one day that it was the day to speak up. She wanted him to know she existed. She was sue she could do it.
She began to say his name, but can only form the first syllable. Even that much came out strained with her eight-year-old's squeak. On her second attempt, she managed his name. It was meek, and small, but it was the best she could do.
"Naruto-kun…" he heard her say.
The eyes he looked at her with were cold. She wanted to run away. Instead, she cleared her throat, and fiddled with her fingers, pushing them against each other like when she played with one of those finger trap toys. If she focused on her fingers, he wouldn't realize how nervous she was. He wouldn't notice her at all. That would be easiest.
His cold blue eyes did not waver. "You're here to make fun of me for being a lousy ninja. Well there's no point…" he sniffled, holding tears back, and she saw his chin wrinkle with the effort to look stern. To not sob. "Everyone does it, so you aren't gonna be able to make it any worse."
"N-no…" Hinata tried to argue. "I would never do that! It's…" she felt foolish for even trying. But it was so hard watching him suffer each day. Sometimes she cried with him, but he didn't realize that. Her eyes lowered. "Sorry…"
She thought of her dad and thought of his warning. Don't talk to the Kyuubi. Never talk to the Kyuubi. "Do you know what the Kyuubi is, Naruto-kun?"
This question annoyed him, and he spat out a response. "Like hell I know!" That day she learned he was developing a potty mouth. She wonders where he heard such swears, and realizes he probably has heard them from adults he barely knows.
That made her heart sink, and she glanced at him. He was still on that swing, his small fingers clenched around the chains, his feet kicking it to keep it in sway. "I- I'm so sorry! I was m-making assumptions. It was terr- terribly rude... of me…"