Prelude

"The true essence of a person lies behind their hidden face."

I always thought that the world could be divided into two different categories of people. The first category held those born with a crystalline purpose, their life's journey a grand narrative etched through their unwavering pursuit of some grand goal or dream. Growing up with Naruto served as a vivid testament to this belief. He who he was once isolated by everyone and treated like an outcast had risen as a radiant hero. On his relentless quest to claim his title as Hokage, he had won over the hearts of every single person he crossed paths with, never giving up and never going back on his words.

Of course, I knew that Naruto was an exemption. This initial group of individuals not always had to be good. And the bad was always worse. In my 16 years of life, I'd crossed paths with evil several times. I lost of count of how many enemies I had to encountered and how much they took from us. Orochimaru, Kabuto, Akatsuki, Obito, Madara, you name it. In my eyes they embodied the darker aspects of humanity.

I was are of the hardships that the life of a shinobi brings to everyone who signed up in the academy to become a ninja. Your path will always be marked by countless battles - some well-prepared, others thrust upon us unexpectedly. Victories and defeats hung in a delicate balance. And, after many years, I'd come to realize that heroes and villains, in my personal estimation, were shaped by the same unyielding resolve.

I refused to believe, however, that anyone was born inherently evil. Consider Pain, for example. It took a lifetime of anguish, suffering, loss, and torment for him to metamorphose into the harbinger of mass destruction, ultimately reducing Konoha to rubble. At that time, the reasons behind such unimaginable devastation eluded me. Yes, we lived in a fucked up world where children, barely old enough to form coherent thoughts, were sculpted into instruments of death. Yet, I was very naïve. I clung to the hope that human evolution would steer us away from past mistakes and towards a brighter future. I had hope that one day everything would be better. That we would switch kunais and explosive tags for diplomatic meetings and cooperation.

Another case in point was Sasuke. I often wonderes what the alternate trajectory would have been for the boy who sank into darkness if his family had been spared by the hand of his beloved brother. Could he have emerged as a legendary shinobi, a guardian, a savior to the Hidden Leaf? Could he have experienced simpler joys like friendship and love, instead of pursuing a solitary path of revenge? Yet, such thoughts seemed pointless now, just reminders of days gone by. Itachi Uchiha, whether we wanted to acknowledge it or not, had acted in what he thought was the village's best interest. As much as it hurt, his actions had paved the way for a future that would not have been possible if the Uchiha coup had succeeded. But we will go back to this at some point in this story. For now, I really want to continue talking about the way I see the world.

I was convinced that heroes and villains, through their unyielding resolve, are always doomed to become the main characters. They don´t always want to but their determination and strength grants them a charisma that I, regrettably, always felt lacked within myself. They seemed destined to lead, while I found solace in the role of a follower - a nobody - a clanless, civilian-born shinobi, surrounded by the most formidable shinobi of our generation.

This leads me to the second category - the uninspired secondary characters, individuals without an intrinsic purpose, whose actions and loyalty ended up always dedicated to the side they found themselves on. Born and raised in Konoha, my allegiance naturally rested with my people. I invested every ounce of my being in the pursuit of strength, to protect my loved ones. It wasn´t really a purpose though, it was just how things were supposed to be. And I gave it my all. I even sought the mentorship of the Fifth Hokage, all in a bid to make that possible. Yet, even then, I continued to feel like an insignificant entity, destined to fade into the shadow of someone else's narrative.

To be entirely honest, I didn't mind my unassuming place in the background. I wasn't a particularly skilled ninja, and my motivation to fight dwindled each day. I acted like I was less intelligent than I really was and felt comfortable being protected by my teammates. Long before I acknowledged it, I'd let go of my feelings for Sasuke. Someone I thought I would do anything for. I no longer loved him but the mission to retrieve him was still on. I don't think I would have been able to quit. Naruto would not have let me. But I'd reached a point where I was prepared to end his life on that bridge. I really thought that death would have been a much better ending that for him to continue destroying himself. Yet, I wasn't able to fulfill that task either, and it was my team that ultimately saved me from my own reckless intentions.

I still remember the journey back from the Kage Summit, a profound shame gripped me for my actions, a shame that words could hardly articulate. Naruto forgave me without hesitation, yet that day, I felt something within him was broken - his trust in me, perhaps. The reality check I received was as sharp as the frostiest February night, drenching me in a chilling awareness. Observing Naruto's pain was a deeply painful experience. I think something within me broke as well.

Regretting my own actions and ashamed of my inability to carry things through, I chose to confide everything in Naruto. Like a coward I left everything to him: Sasuke's return, the impending war against Madara, and the future that awaited our nations. Naruto was the hero, the protagonist, and if anyone could make it, it was him.

So, I receded into the background, assuming the role of the observer, the follower. I watched him and I watched the entire alliance as they confronted the forces of darkness waging war against us. I, too, took part in the battles, tending to the wounded and killing our enemies - not just Zetsus but also the shinobi who had defected to Madara's side. It was my duty, after all.

But there's a point where the weight of duty becomes too heavy, surpassing the limit of lives I was willing to sacrifice to maintain that balance. I thought I was willing to do anything to protect them, but the unending death that surrounded me began to erode my soul. Five years after the war, I had become a living corpse, my spirit withered by the relentless carnage. I found myself praying that every dead body I signed off was not once of my friends, and secretly yearned for a kunai to strike my heart in the next battle, just to escape it all.

But these dark thoughts were fleeting, swept away by Naruto like a warm summer breeze. He often proclaimed that we were close, that it would all soon be over. And I believed him every time. That's the curious thing about main characters; they possess the uncanny ability to speak untruths and yet make them sound like a solid truth.

But Naruto wasn't lying to us. The war did come to an end, and we emerged victorious. Not in the way any of us had initially anticipated, however.

Six years after that initial battle, Madara agreed to sign a peace treaty with the five nations. I remained ignorant of the motivations that led him to such a decision, and I only found out about them much later. When it was already too late for us. One might assume that the formidable Uchiha Madara, resurrected and seemingly invulnerable, leading an army twice the size of our own, had no reason to surrender. But he did. In exchange for a promise that the alliance would remain after the war and that hidden villages would avert internal conflicts. With that he withdrew into the village. The one he destroyed and was still in process of rebuilding.

Yes, our former adversaries were now living under the same roof as us. And if we were to maintain the fragile peace, we had no choice but to accept the arrangement. Some, inspired by Naruto's words, embraced this change, while others couldn't let go of their resentment and chose to leave.

Sasuke returned as well. But his motivations for staying, remained a puzzle to me. It might have had something to do with Itachi, who, after his own resurrection, had pledged his undying alliance to Konoha. He still considered it his home and wished for the life he missed out on while being an S class criminal. I have never seen Naruto so happy. His smile shone brighter than the sun despite what he had gone through.

I stayed as well. Partly because I had nowhere else to go. I didn't have a family anymore, and Konoha was the only place I knew. But another part was that I couldn't trust the arrangement. The first night after signing the agreement, I slept in the still-under-construction hospital after my shift and woke up screaming in fear. I was on high alert, ready to defend myself against my enemies. The nights that followed were no different. I couldn't trust them. I couldn't let Madara, Obito, and our enemies live there, going about their lives as if nothing had happened. In the end, it turned out I wasn't as forgiving as I thought I was. Guilt, anger, and sadness consumed me.

But every time my thoughts took a dark turn, Naruto was always there to make things better. Somewhere along the way, he had evolved from the annoying little brat he was to someone I felt compelled to protect. He became like family to me, and everything I did, I did for him. If Naruto could endure all the pain and suffering while maintaining his unyielding commitment to his dreams, then I felt a deep obligation to continue living, even if it seemed like I was drifting aimlessly.

I wanted to be there for him and support him in achieving his goals. With the new, albeit fragile, era of peace, I held onto hope that things could improve. We had already weathered the worst - homes reduced to ruins, families torn apart, and a lot of healing left to do. It might not be an instant path to prosperity, but at least we couldn't break what was already shattered.

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Or so we thought.