Chapter 3

The first time the boy met the Hokage, he would later admit it wasn't exactly during his 'proudest' moments.

For one, he wasn't exactly in what you'd call a 'good mood', even if most couldn't tell by looking at him. He'd been thrown out of four stores today alone, and he still didn't understand why. He'd even brought money to pay for the items he wanted, but none of the adults would take his money—some even going as far as to accuse him of stealing even though he'd found that money himself. He even asked Suzuki-san if it was right to keep the money, to which she happily replied with 'anything you find is rightfully yours to keep'. Onee-san said the same, if not in bigger words that went in one ear and out the other.

So why wouldn't anyone take his money? He knew he didn't steal it, so why did they not believe him? Why did they keep kicking him out when he tried defending himself? Why did they keep calling him a demon? Absolutely none of it made sense to the boy, and it only left him bitter and sad.

If he was being honest, he didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse that he could physically show how much their words and actions hurt him. If they knew, would they have taken his money then? Was it because he was different from other kids that everyone hated him? Why was being different so wrong, and why did everyone care so much? The question made the boy feel something within, which only increased upon not understanding the ugly feeling filling his body.

And it was in that moment of confusion that he bumped into a wall, which was just weird because he was sure he was walking down a street and not an alley. Slowly looking up, he noticed the wall was red. Correction: It was wearing red and white. Said wall also had a face—wrinkled, but a face none the less.

And that same face was smiling down at him.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise," the wall said in this grandfatherly tone that seemed to want to put him at ease. "Now what is a young man like yourself doing walking the streets at this hour?"

The boy blinked at the wall. Looking around him, he noticed something significantly different about his surroundings than before. For one, the sun was now behind the tall gates, and the street lamps had replaced the light the sun took with it. Looking back up at the wall, the boy thought about an answer he could give. None came, so he replied with a simple shrug that was followed by a chuckle from the wall.

"Well, how's about I walk you to your home? Wouldn't want you getting lost now, would we?"

Despite the grandfatherly assurance and lack of hostility, the boy made no move to follow the old wall. "Suzuka-san said not to go with strangers."

The wall chuckled as if he'd just told a joke. "Ohoho! My boy, surely you know who I am."

"No." The immediate flat response made the old man trip despite standing still. He recomposed himself quickly enough, but his smile was somewhat strained.

"A-ah, you were far too young when last I visited... but surely an orphan knows the-"

"How did you know I was an orphan, old man?"

The wall faltered. "Uh, well-"

"First you want to tell me to walk with you, then you assume I don't have parents? You are very suspicious, Ji-Ji." The wall's jaw hit the ground at his accusation.

"Wha! Me? Suspicious?!" He pointed at himself animatedly before directing his attention to his hat. "Don't you see the symbol, brat? I'm the HOKAGE!"

Despite the outburst, the boy didn't even twitch. He remained composed despite the wall seemingly losing his cool. Gears were currently moving in his head at the word 'Hokage', the word sounding familiar even if the old wall was suspicious. A moment later, a fist met his palm and he stared up to the old man with recognition. "Ah... you're Lord Third. This makes sense now."

The newly revealed Hokage composed himself after finally getting recognized and tried to bring himself back to their previous topic. "Hmph, well, at least you aren't ignorant. Now, as I was saying, how's about we get you back to-"

The man was interrupted as a hungry stomach made itself known. The boy blinked up at the Hokage before looking down to the sound's origin, to which his stomach once again howled from lack of substance.

"Ah... I'm hungry..."

The Hokage smiled at the opportunity given.

"Say, my boy, have you ever had Ramen?"

Ichiraku Ramen Shop

"Here you go! Two Large Miso Ramen Bowls on the house! Hope you two enjoy!" Hiruzen gave his thanks to the Ramen Shop owner before looking over at the youngster next to him. The boy's chopsticks were already separated and digging into the broth. It would seem that even though the kid didn't show emotion, that didn't necessarily mean he didn't feel them. That eager slurping was definitely excitement if he'd ever seen it.

"Ohohohohoho! Slow down, my boy. I promise the food is going nowhere." His words fell on deaf ears. The boy continued to absorb the bowl, Hiruzen opting to follow his lead. Hiruzen was only able to get a few noodles into his mouth before he looked over and saw the boy had already finished, soup and all. From the way he longingly looked at the empty bowl, Hiruzen could deduce that one just wouldn't cut it. "Oi! Teuchi-san, another bowl for the lad."

"Coming right up, Hokage-sama!"

The second bowl was out in no time, and the boy tore into it with equal vigor. It was the same for the third bowl and the fourth. It wasn't until the fifth that he slowed down considerably, finally choosing to savor the noodles over inhaling them. The Hokage had tried starting conversation with the boy on many occasions, but the boy seemed content with only giving short and to-the-point answers. It matched what his ANBU had described, but it didn't make it any easier to deal with personally. He was going to try his luck at conversation again when, to his surprise, it was the boy who took the initiative—through noodles and broth, of course.

"Jiji, what's a Hokage?" The words were barely recognizable with the food still stuck in his mouth, but the question made the aged man's eyes widen.

"Oh? Asking me a question for a change? And here I thought you only tolerated this old man because he was buying you dinner." Despite the man's lighthearted tone, the boy's face remained the same mask he'd held throughout their entire encounter. He seemed frozen for a moment before the noodles he hadn't finished disappeared behind his lips. Swallowing, there was another lull in the silence before the boy spoke so low that the Hokage almost didn't hear him.

"...No one really listens when I talk, so I don't."

Hiruzen's smile dropped, Teuchi's chopping in the background also slowing at the boy's words. "And who told you such a lie, my boy?"

"No lie, Jiji. Just a fact. When I want to make friends, everyone ignores me. When I want something, no one helps, so I stopped trying." Saying his peace, the boy went back to slurping the remainder of his noodles, his vigor from before noticeably missing. Hiruzen looked back down at his own bowl that was now cold and noticeably soggy, but even if it wasn't, he'd already lost his appetite. Pushing the bowl aside, the Hokage looked over to the boy who'd just finished his own. Even though his face was unreadable, the atmosphere told it all. And Hiruzen was resolved to change that.

"Say, my boy, do you want to wear my hat?"

The child's answer was a confused blink. The only thing the blonde could find that was even remotely unique about the hat was its weird diamond shape and the single kanji on the front that was surrounded by white while the rest of the hat was red. From his lessons with Suzuki-san, he could tell the Kanji on the front stood for 'fire', but it didn't make it any more interesting.

"Not really. It's just a stupid hat." The blonde's reply, surprisingly, got the old man to smile wider.

"Ah, but this isn't just any stupid hat, my boy. It's a special stupid hat." The old man spoke, removing said hat from his head and revealing his gray locks to the world. "Tell me, son, do you know what a shinobi is?"

The boy didn't know where the old man was going with this, but he nodded slowly anyways. "Suzuki-san said they protect the village from bad people and hurt those who hurt others." As lacking as the answer was, the old man nodded.

"You are correct, my boy. However, there is more to a shinobi's life than just protecting and serving." The aged Hokage smiled fondly at the hat in his hands. "A shinobi's job is to defend their homeland from threats both inside and out. A shinobi is someone who is willing to risk their lives for their home and the people within it. A shinobi is one who trains relentlessly to protect the things and people they care about and open a future for the home they are protecting. A shinobi is one who willingly goes through days of torture to keep the secrets of their home away from those who wish harm upon their loved ones." An old hand rubbed the Kanji almost lovingly as this look came across his face that the blonde could not understand.

The words that came next were said in almost a whisper, "…for the true measure of a shinobi is not how he lives, but how he dies."

Silence once again engulfed the two, but looking over at the blonde told Hiruzen it was no longer filled with that fertile awkwardness. In fact, the boy looked to be paying more attention than he had in the last hour since their meeting.

"This hat, my boy, is a symbol that you understand and uphold the shinobi code. The one who wears this hat is not only viewed as a true shinobi, but also holds the power and allegiance of all Konoha shinobi. In other words, this hat is the symbol that you have not only been acknowledged as the strongest ninja in the village, but have also achieved the peak of a shinobi's career in Konohagakure no Sato."

"So, I ask again: do you want to wear my stupid hat?"

The boy hesitated while looking at the hat outstretched to him.

"But, I'm not the strongest... and I'm not a shinobi..."

"Maybe, but as Hokage, I also make the rules. Which means I can let anyone I want where my stupid hat." The boy looked up at the grandfatherly smile the old man gave before looking back down at the hat. With clear hesitation, he reached out and grabbed said hat. Taking it from the old man, the boy absentmindedly thought about how much heavier it was than it looked before placing it on his own head.

It felt, heavy. It wasn't very comfortable at all, yet the old man willingly wore it every day.

"Jiji," the boy whispered.

"Yes, son?"

"Do you... Do you think, an orphan like me can, become Hokage?"

A smile grew as Hiruzen reassured, "My boy, anything is possible with hard work and the Will of Fire. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

The boy sat on the words and Hiruzen was content to let his mind wonder.

"Then, can I be a shinobi, too?"

Outwardly, Hiruzen's smile grew wide, but inwardly, he felt a relief he'd never known was there be lifted from his shoulders.

"What's your name, my boy?"

Brown orbs met green for what felt like the first time.

"...Naruto. Uzumaki Naruto."

Unknown Location

Sothis sat on her throne as she observed the old man through her ward's eyes.

The boy was being groomed, something that was painfully plain to see. It was to be expected of the leader of a nation where their main source of military strength began with training their young to eventually be their front-line force, but that didn't mean the Divine approved of this world's motives or methods. However, as bright as she liked to believe her ward to be, it would seem he was not yet mature enough to catch such subtle hints of manipulation.

...But that was no concern of hers. What the boy wished to do with his life was ultimately his choice (not that he really had much control of it either way). She only hoped he lived long enough for her to find a way to free herself and return to her own realm.

She only hoped he would keep the shenanigans to a minimum...

Oh, who was she kidding? Trouble in her new life was an inevitability the moment she was placed in Naruto Uzumaki's head.

Fodlan

Church

Four days.

It had been four days since the incident in Hevring.

It did not take long for word to spread. In the Adrestian Empire, it was not uncommon for villages to disappear. In fact, the Adrestian Empire was home to many demonic beasts, with just one being enough to challenge a battalion. But a horde of them? The thought alone would bring even the toughest warrior dread.

And his daughter had done the impossible and killed more than even an army could handle.

Looking down on the girl who hadn't even twitched in her coma since that day, Jeralt looked to the man who had called him back into the room. He was removing the straps that Jeralt had reluctantly allowed, a contemplative frown on his face as he did so. The man, a priest, was the only hope Jeralt had of finding out what happened to his daughter. He'd been to healers across the Adresian Empire, even nobles, yet none of them could find even an inkling of something wrong with the girl. Everyone of them said the same thing in the end, and it pissed him off so much that he nearly threw a healer through a window. Out of options and running out of patience, Jeralt decided to go to the one place he thought could help her: the Church.

Thankfully, the church was a minor one southwest of the Hevring and not the monastery, the fact being the only reason Jeralt yielded in the end, even if the priest was likely to report this to Rhea afterward. Nevertheless, he was out of options, and his child's continued existence was more important than his paranoia.

Now, he stood quiet as he listened to the priest give his final analysis.

"Well, I can at least assure you that there is nothing externally wrong with the child, Sir Jeralt." The mercenary immediately sighed, not in relief, but in frustration. Yet another person to tell him the exact same thing. "Sir, I don't believe you're grasping the importance of my words." The remark caused Jeralt to focus intensely on the priest.

"So you've found something then?" He asked, sounding more desperate than he thought possible for him. The priest confirmed it not with a gesture, but with words.

"The mana within is like nothing I've ever seen before. Everyone has the potential to wield Miracle magic, but in order to do so, there must first be faith in the Goddess as well as mana to pull from. That mana is located in the soul of every living being, a gift given by the Goddess upon her first descent onto Fodlan. However, and I cannot stress this enough, your child's Mana pool has been dangerously tainted by a malicious, almost living aura that I'm not even sure is of this world."

Despite his years as a warrior and mastering the art of suppressing his emotions, Jeralt found it difficult to fight the worry from showing on his face.

"I do not know what this foreign substance is, nor do I know how to remove it safely without it tainting my own. I have tried making a connection to the source by way of linking our cores through my own miracle mana, but the foreign substance tried clinging to my own. If I had let go even a millisecond later, we possibly wouldn't be having this conversation."

The priest let out a sigh as he lifted his glasses to rub his tired eyes.

"Sir Jeralt, I have seen a lot in my day. I have cured diseases and even helped exercise a demon once upon a time. However, I fear this case may be far above even the Archbishop herself. In fact, I doubt anyone short of the Goddess herself can fix the battle that is currently raging inside this child."

Jeralt felt himself age a few years at the man's deduction. He felt his knees begin to weaken, and he was increasingly finding it hard to control his breathing. He began thinking of how all of this had come to be. What had they done in the last week for such a curse to be placed upon them? Who had they angered? Was this Rhea's doing? Was this why she wished to keep her? Question after question plagued him, yet there was only one he could ask at the moment.

"What, are my options?"

The sigh from the priest was answer enough.

"You, may not like my answer, Sir." Instead of answering, Jeralt simply stared at the priest. His tired eyes said enough, and the priest whispered a short prayer before his voice returned. "Truth be told, you only have two—both of which can be considered cruel, depending on your perspective. The first is to do nothing. Thankfully, the malevolence within her seems to have made a home in her core. It does not seem to be attacking any of her vitals or even attempting to break free. In fact, it is constantly giving off pulses of mana that are slowly spreading through her body—merging with her blood cells and making her far healthier than any human being I've ever given a physical examination to. I would not be surprised if she was capable of lifting carriages or even boulders in the near future. The symbiotic relationship with your daughter has destroyed any chance she ever had at wielding any form of Miracle magic, but the physical benefits may-"

"Sir, please. Just, get to the point." Jeralt stopped the priest as he suddenly began trailing off topic.

"R-right. Sorry. To summarize, the malevolence has molded into your daughter's core and now survives by feeding off whatever mana her body naturally takes in. However, like every boon, there is always a drawback. I have examined her body, and what I've found is, troubling. When the malevolence broke free from her core, it not only allowed her inhuman feats, but also changed parts of her anatomy—the scars on her face and long nails are proof of this. With this, and the mindless rage you described, I can conclude that the malevolence also has a grip over her sanity... which leads to the problem. Inside her core, the malevolence is harmless to anyone not seeking it, including herself. However, the pulses I mentioned earlier could possibly affect her mentally over time—more so if the girl loses control. Seeing that you are a soldier, Sir Jeralt, I do not need to tell you the dangers of a walking Bolganone."

Jeralt felt worse the more the man revealed. It was long and winding, but he understood every word and kept hoping for some good in it all, even if he knew the chances were slim to none. "So...how long do you think, she can keep going on...?"

The priest shook his head. "In this case, Sir Jeralt, it's not about 'how long', but 'when'. The power you speak of is like nothing I've ever heard, even in text. It's demonic, a power no priest or human should even be near, let alone connected to. I can only hope you make a decision thinking not only of your daughter but Fodlan as a whole."

Jeralt's anger spiked at what the priest was insinuating. "Are you implying that I..." He couldn't even finish his sentence, proving the state he was currently in.

"I do not suggest such hard and cruel actions without a heavy heart, Sir Jeralt. Your daughter is still but a child and has yet to see the world. Dimming her light at such a young age is not something I wish on anyone, let alone their parents. However, you must also be able to live with the consequences of your decision. As I said before, the malevolence may not only affect her physically, but mentally. We have no idea if her core will hold, but even if it did, it would be meaningless if her mental state slowly morphs. Watching as she changes and morphs into something completely unrecognizable to the point where she no longer sees you as kin is a different kind of cruelty in and of itself. If that ever comes to pass, then you cannot deny that the alternative would assuredly be the lesser of two evils..."

Both stayed quiet at the end of the priest's words. By this point, Jeralt's head had lowered, thoughts of what he should do and images of the future plaguing him. It was a decision he did not wish to think about, yet he was forced to accept the responsibility. It was his daughter they were talking about, yet his morality failed to speak over the typhoon that was his heart.

"...In the end, it is your decision, Sir Jeralt." The priest ended, adding no pressure to the distraught father.

"...Can I have some time alone with my daughter."

The priest nodded without hesitation and exited the room, leaving Jeralt alone to look down at the sleeping form of his child. She looked at peace, as she had for the last four days. Her sleeping face reminded her all too much of his late wife and what she would do in this situation...

It only took him seconds to notice the tremble of her lips. Soon after, a single tear ran down her face, followed by many more. Lids began shakily opening, and big blue eyes the color of the ocean peered up at him. It wasn't till he saw the fear those blue orbs held that he knew she'd heard at least part, or even everything, of what he and the priest had said.

"D-Dad," her voice was shaky, this being the first time he'd heard an emotion other than the stoic countenance. "Are you *sniff* a-are you really, going to...to-"

"No!" Jeralt didn't think about whether she still had injuries, nor did he think about the choices he would have to make. He engulfed his daughter, his only child, into his arms and allowed her to grip him tight and cry freely on his shoulder. "No. No, I won't, nor will I ever, kid." A determined glint shone in his eye as he made comforting strokes to her hair. "Don't worry, kid. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise... I swear it."

A/N: Nearly 100 follows in the first 24 hours? You guys are AWESOME! This be the third chapter and I still got 17 more. However, are the 7th, chapter updates will slow so they don't catch up with the chapters I have on the backlog. Until then, thank you all for the support and the next chapter will be released tomorrow morning!

Thank you all for the follows and favorites. If you like this story, consider giving my other work 'The Fate We Have Chosen' a try. Reviews, both good and bad, give me motivation to write, so please keep them coming, and I hope you all have a damn good day.

Current Age in Scene:

Byleth: 7 (cannon 9)

Naruto: 4