A blond child with relatively innocent blue eyes stands, with a man fully covered in a black cloak and wearing a seagull mask behind him.

The boy wears ragged clothes, yet they are suitable enough not to hinder him, though there are some simple patches despite the absence of wounds.

It's obvious they have been treated—perhaps they healed on their own, considering what he carries inside.

The boy stands trying to see beyond the barrier that surrounds him like a one-way mirror. He sees others but is only seen by his guard, his eyes wide open, trying to see.

"What is this, Seagull-san?"

I ask quietly after failing to understand. Although I love discovering things for myself, the last time I tried to escape the barrier because I was curious about the smell of dew droplets, I was severely punished. And for the record, I still don't know what it was, and the last time I exceeded the minutes I was allowed to read, I was also punished. In both cases, it was hell, so Seagull-san is my best chance.

"It's a playground."

Seagull-san replies.

"And what are playgrounds, Seagull-san?"

I ask while still staring intently at the playground, trying to unravel its mysterious riddle.

"They are places where children play."

I become more confused as I press my face hard against the barrier as if I could break through it with sheer willpower and ask,

"And who are children, Seagull-san?"

I ask like a five-year-old waiting for Seagull-san's response.

"They are people who are still growing and developing, and they are young and need care."

He answers without moving from his place or changing in any way.

"Then am I a child, Seagull-san?"

I tilt my head to the side, my eyes shining.

"No, you are a weapon and a tool of Konoha."

He says in a tone that is completely convincing and sincere, as if a mathematics teacher were explaining an addition and subtraction problem to a child, and I believe him completely, just as a child believes their math teacher's explanations.

Or perhaps he said it in the tone of an old leader promising peace, providing proof that peace will happen, explaining it to his people who have had their country torn apart by war.

A calm, balanced tone, but firmly believing, as if he were saying the sun is bright, and the grass is green.

And I believed him like someone who has just taken the first sip of freedom after years of slavery.

Like a civilian university student listening to the revolutionaries talk about how to liberate their country from the occupiers and the usurpers of the throne.

(He was my only guide and mentor, and I did not know that this man, like a mathematics teacher, was ruining the education of his student so that they would come to him more, carrying money, asking for help.)

Then I ask my trusted mentor for an explanation of the scene before my eyes.

"Seagull-san, what is the woman doing to the child?"

I ask while focusing my gaze on the mirror; she is pulling the child close to her, surrounding him with her arms. The child looks sad, and his knee is bleeding, but he doesn't seem afraid—perhaps relatives?

[Perhaps even a mother?]

"She is hugging him."

Seagull-san replies. This sounds strange, but at the same time, it seems nice, warm, and sweet.

"That sounds… really nice."

Suddenly, he lifts me up and presses me to his chest; my hands are in an uncomfortable position, and my legs are tightly compressed. I swear something has broken.

I can't breathe; I'm suffocating terribly, as if a mountain has fallen on my chest.

There are black spots in my vision, and I feel unconsciousness gripping me, pulling me into... something, as if it's crawling on my skin and taking hold of me.

And just when I thought I was going to die, Seagull-san finally let me go.

I fall to the ground, gasping for air as if I were inhaling for the first time, like a blind person seeing the light for the first time.

Tears roll down my cheeks, and I look like a mess. Seagull-san finally speaks, saying,

"Was that nice?"

I glance back at the child; he looks sad. This must be the reason.

"No, it was bad."

I say, turning my gaze back to the child; he is definitely miserable. He must be on the verge of death; the hug lasted too long. I place my hand on the barrier and push against it, unable to break through.

I step back and bump into Seagull-san, nearly falling to the ground, but he catches me by the shoulders, preventing me from falling.

As I steady myself and adjust my posture, I look between the barrier and Seagull-san repeatedly, and I understand something new today.

I always thought I had one barrier surrounding me that moved with me and prevented me from knowing the feel of grass and the smell of wood.

But today, I understood something important: I do not have one barrier.

My back is still leaning against Seagull-san behind me entirely. . . . . . . .

I think absentmindedly as I return to the main location, where many Anbu and instructors meet my gaze.

"I have many barriers, and the best I can do is obey and submit to the authorities that move me and the barriers, wearing the mask of submission."

. . . ...And perhaps I will forget that I am pretending and truly submitting... . . . . . . .

And yet, when you wear a mask for a long time, the skin grows on it, and it becomes part of your body, then you become part of it, and in the end, the mask turns into your being.

I am gasping heavily while pressing on my side; I think it's purple from the bruise caused by the wooden sword.

And Bats-san remains in her place as if the last four hours meant nothing to her.

As for me, on the other hand, I suffer a purple bruise on my side, a swollen black eye, a sprained wrist, and bruises all over my body.

My left hand leans in front of me, my body hunched over, and my right hand, holding the sword, is not firmly locked while my knees shake.

But I am still standing on my feet because if I fall, I will be severely punished.

And I have just reached my limits; if it weren't for my seal-bound tenant and the blessed Uzumaki genes, I would have fainted hours ago.

My six-year-old body cannot withstand four hours of sword training.

"Naruto, you have been dismissed."

Seagull-san says before I bow deeply and exit the room. The word "dismissed" means you are allowed to go.

For in the Anbu Root, the least number of words is used, and "dismissed" or "expelled" means you can leave.

Because here, when your value ends, you are either killed or what remains of you is used in suicide attacks.

I go to my room, which I share with another boy older than me. Although we don't talk, we know each other; his name is Shisui, and he is a full Anbu Root, not a trainee like me, but he has returned here because Danzo-sama felt his morals as a Root ninja had shaken, and he forgot the oath he took.

He makes space for me beside him on the bed, so I climb up beside him.

He grabs a few bandages and wraps them around my torso, puts my wrist back in place, and hands me water.

He places his hand on my hair and ruffles it before hugging me. I freeze; it was warm, sweet, comforting, and painless.

I feel his touches like a balm, and he runs his hand over my back, massaging it. We weren't allowed to talk; we couldn't, but the words between us were heard.

I curl around him, intertwining with him as I sleep, but he guards me while I sleep, as he always does.

Shisui is dead; official reports say he committed suicide, but he was part of Root; Root does not commit suicide. He lost his value and was no longer useful alive, so he would either be involved in a suicide attack, or that's what I think, anyway.

I adjust his bedding while my hands glide over the fabric filled with memories.

I tilt the pillow to check if there's air in it, but I'm startled when a piece of paper falls out. I check the pillow again and find a small scroll with a whirlpool symbol in the middle. I place the scroll in my pocket and lift the paper to my face to see what was written, ignoring the seal on the back.

My face remains expressionless as I read.

I pledge to carry out Shisui's last wishes and his final will for me, and what I understood from it is as follows:

"Naruto, be strong, endure, and obey, and then I will be happy."

(This is what I understood at the time, but a six-year-old child won't necessarily understand what a fifteen-year-old would understand, especially if they haven't spoken before... Well, outside of Genjutsu.)

I gaze at the forehead protector on the desk in front of me and look ahead; I see the faces of my teachers, and I wish to see their faces, but that would be disrespectful. I just finished the graduation test.

Graduating early at seven, I reach out and touch the headband, holding it in my hands.

The teachers exchange glances laden with something I don't understand before Lord Danzo steps out of the room, leaving me alone with Lord Third Hokage.

"Naruto, do you know who I am?"

Lord Hokage asks calmly, in the tone of someone who knows they will be heard and obeyed. And even though it's phrased as a question, it is more of a statement.

"Yes, Lord Hokage-sama," I reply, my gaze fixed on the ground in silent obedience and submission.

"Would you like to walk with me for a bit?"

Lord Hokage-sama asks in a tone suggesting that the answer is yes. It was a question, but there was only one answer; I couldn't refuse, and we both knew that.

He hasn't removed the smile from his face since the beginning of the conversation, and this is complete nonsense; I know it, and he knows I know it. He has been Hokage for forty-five years, and no one can tell him no.

On the other hand, I have never stepped outside the barrier surrounding me, and everything I've seen, I haven't experienced or touched. I am literally at his mercy; with a snap of his fingers, he could make it so I never see the sun again. With a single command, he could change the host of the Kyuubi and kill me.

And if he so wishes and sees me as a mistake, he can order Yamanaka to break my mind and reconstruct it as they please. No matter what he commands, I do not have the right to say no.

He allowed me to come today without the barrier because I am with Lord Hokage-sama, and he can subdue me without even trying.

"Of course, Lord Hokage-sama."

I respond to the question that was not a question at all, and he exits the room, expecting me to follow, and I do.

He walks through the village, and I follow behind him, lowering my head to the ground as I was taught, as if I have no right to walk beside him at the same level.

Like a subordinate following their leader, which is currently true, he doesn't comment or react.

He climbs the stairs with the poise of a leader, authority radiating from him, and I follow behind, lowering my head in submission.

He walks, and I follow him up to the top of the Hokage Mountain, specifically above the head of the First Hokage, surpassing the head of the Fourth Hokage, the man who sealed the Kyuubi, the giant beast that attacked the village on October 10th, to become the physical jailer of a devastating monster.

A flying squirrel lands on my hand; it's a flying squirrel, a type of squirrel that can glide, and it grips my hand.

I pet the squirrel's head and smile at it, and in return, the squirrel walks up to my neck and settles on my head.

I snap out of my distraction to notice that Lord Hokage has been watching me, and it seems he has been observing me for quite some time. Although his smile hasn't faltered, I just realized I had ignored him, even if it was by accident, and I looked at his face as well.

So, I quickly lower my head to the ground, fearing the punishment for my disobedience, and I say quickly, "I'm sorry, Lord Hokage-sama, it won't happen again."

I almost fall to the ground, kneeling, had he not grasped my shoulder to steady me and said, "It's okay; I don't mind."

He says, excusing me. I can almost breathe a sigh of relief if it weren't for my controlled breathing and Shinobi training, and instead, I say gratefully, "Thank you for your mercy, Lord Hokage."

I bow my head further to the ground to avoid kneeling on one knee. Since I was looking at the ground, I didn't see his lips tremble or the sadness in his eyes or how he held himself back from saying something at the last moment.

"Kneel."

He says instead, and I don't need to be told twice. I immediately drop to my knees, looking at the ground in silent submission.

"Do you know why Konoha was built?"

He asks, but he doesn't wait for an answer; he continues.

"It was built by my teacher to protect the next generation from death and to create a safe place for them to grow up."

He begins his lecture, continuing on.

"To protect the children, to protect the precious ones, to protect the people here in Konoha, because everyone here is part of the family."

He gazes at the horizon contemplatively before he takes a puff from his pipe and continues.

"Protecting every part of it is my duty as Hokage and the duty of every Shinobi because when the leaves scatter, the flames grow endlessly; that is the Will of Fire."

He concludes his lecture and speaks to me afterward.

"Today, you have become a Shinobi, and this role has also passed to you to protect the next generation. Recite the oath and embody the Will of Fire, Naruto."

He finishes speaking, and it's my turn to respond, so I recite it, having memorized it by heart, and I recite the Shinobi oath, embracing the Will of Fire, even though it is a principle, not a religion.

"I pledge to protect Konoha and be loyal to the Hokage and follow no one else. I swear that I will not oppose him and will be his tool to use as he wishes, whenever he wishes, and that I will never betray him, being loyal only to him, and I will be a weapon for Konoha."

I finish my oath and tie the headband around my neck, ignoring the part that feels bitter. The moment I became a Jinchuriki and the vessel for the nine-tailed fox, I became a tool. The moment I became a Shinobi, I was no longer human, and now, as I tie the headband around my neck, I am marked like everyone else, a child soldier and a slave to my village and the Hokage.

I suppress all of this and do not allow myself to feel anything but pride, telling myself that I am now protecting my village and helping it. I am now protecting my Lord. I am happy, and I repeat it in my mind, and now I understand Shisui's will differently.

He meant:

"Naruto, obey, endure, and follow orders, follow your leaders, and when you serve, you will be happy."

(A seven-year-old child will not understand the will of a fifteen-year-old boy, so did I understand it correctly this time?)

I am filled with pride, happy to fulfill his wishes.

﴾And I did not see the Hokage's sad eyes for washing the mind of another child.﴿

Once Upon a Time...

Everyone has a memory of the first time they were old enough to call themselves "existent." I ponder if I exist at the point where one can recognize when they are something.

The moment one knows themselves as a being, as a person, and recognizes themselves as someone who possesses memories and a life that belongs to them—like flashes—unable to discern whether they are memories or dreams.

Some recall them vividly, as if they occurred yesterday, while others conveniently forget, yet they remain etched in the subconscious. Often, these memories are mundane, like routine actions.

A random conversation or perhaps an outing, but a few are unfortunate enough to have extraordinary first memories.

The early years of life hold the mind captive, and if your memories are an electronic hell, you will not escape it for your entire life, following you like your shadow into eternity.

I have always been cursed and a bringer of bad luck. Ironically, my name is Itachi, which means "weasel"—a creature symbolizing misfortune and bad luck.

And my first memory extended my bad fortune.

I remember the color red and the smell of decay. I remember the corpses and the silence. I remember the absolute stillness. I recall speaking in hushed tones, fearful of breaking the sanctity of the place.

I remember a man who carried a picture of a family he no longer had alive. I remember my reaction as he deprived a child of her father.

I recall my father's grip on my shoulder, the familiar warmth that was neither for comfort nor consolation, and his pressure did not assist me in finding peace; no, it was a pressure like vice, meant to keep my gaze from drifting away.

I remember him repeating, "Don't forget, Itachi, this is your future. Don't forget, this is the battlefield."

Perhaps I did not fully understand at the time, but I knew enough to realize that this would not be the last time I would witness it and that this would be my life—one I never chose, yet I would not be granted the choice to refuse it.

I remember the blood on my sandals and the tears that never fell from my eyes. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I felt that if I cried then, I would lose a part of myself forever.

And I didn't know that by choosing not to cry, I lost a larger part of myself than I would have lost had I wept.

I wanted to help; I did not mean to carry a kunai. I wanted to assist a man who was not yet dead in a place surrounded by corpses. How could I have known that the first thing he would do would be to attack me?

The father embedded in my reactions taught me how to kill someone twelve times before I lost my first baby tooth.

I did not sleep a night afterward without waking from a nightmare. No... that memory just kept replaying.

And it didn't end there. I never sat in a quiet place after that without the feeling of fear accompanying me.

It didn't end there either. We did not return home; the ordeal continued as I fought the war.

I had a third cousin named Jiro; he wasn't special—his name even meant "second son."

But he followed me like a duckling; I was only a few months older than him, yet he appeared to be a whole lifetime older.

I thought we were safe until the day our paths diverged, and each of us went into different camps and directions of war.

... He was tortured severely. One of his eyes was gouged out, and the other was blown apart. His fingers were broken, and his wrist was twisted in an inhuman manner. He suffered a tear in his ankle ligament, and his head bled—there was blood on his lower body.

There are no limits in love and war, and sadly, we are not in the former. Perhaps whoever captured him was one of those who exploited the war for their filthy desires. Jiro was four years old, and that did not spare him from them.

When we found him, he wasn't dead. He smiled at me with relief, despite knowing his escape was impossible. He gestured for me to come closer and whispered to me, "I'm glad you didn't forget me... I didn't want to die alone."

Then... he died. And when the autopsy was performed, I discovered he had ingested poison himself—the kind placed under each of our molars for suicide if caught.

I did not mean for my first kill to happen, nor did I intend for any that followed. All I wanted was to protect myself, to protect my comrades.

A four-year-old child committed suicide after being subjected to torture and abuse.

I was lost for months like a broken doll, unaware of who I was until I held my younger brother, Ototo, for the first time.

After a year, at five, when I carried him, he was fragile as if he were made of branches, easily destroyed with the slightest move.

He was weak and utterly helpless, possessing only tears and hope that someone would care for him.

Fragile and weak, unable to protect himself, I swore without knowing when to protect him, to shield this small, frail being who shared my blood from becoming another Jiro.

I swore by the names of my fallen comrades and those who would fall not to share Jiro's fate.

Perhaps peace has arrived, but I have never left that day, and those words echo in my mind repeatedly: "Don't forget, Itachi, this is your future. Don't forget, this is the battlefield."

The blood has not left my eyes, and I have not healed. I am still scarred, and perhaps I will never heal. But maybe I am not the only one; a mother stares into the void for hours, recalling the day a woman with red hair died, her name always on her lips.

A father needs to rest his muscles every time the lightning strikes to remind himself he is home and not on the day of executing his younger brother for breaking the laws.

Kakashi-senpai forgets himself before the memorial stone for the dead for hours, visiting graves and speaking to the deceased from dawn till morning, drowning himself in suicide missions using an eye gifted to him by a dead person to protect another who died at his hands—perhaps ironically, both were his teammates.

Tenzo-senpai sometimes drifts away, fear showing in his eyes for minutes when he sees things like needles and oxygen tubes and the white coats of doctors in the hospital.

Anko-san wears revealing clothes and tries to make others focus on her body to forget a teacher who advised her to dress modestly.

Perhaps I never truly left the battlefield, and perhaps I will never leave it. Maybe I am scarred, but that is the state of everyone—every shinobi. None of us lives in the present; we are all in the past.

Some end things quickly... and some prolong it, walking like living corpses, taking up hobbies that don't concern them, attempting to fill the void.

And this is something that all shinobi engage in, as it is a failure of the system itself.

Even the man who welcomed him upon his second coming to the shinobi world, the one called "the professor," the Third Hokage, smokes from his pipe as a hobby.

You don't go to the academy to learn philosophy, literature, and social norms.

You go to learn how to kill, to steal, to erase your relative empathy, for right and wrong are what are determined by the orders of Hokage-sama and the village's interests.

You do not learn how to love or how to care for someone; you learn how to cover their backs, how to keep them alive.

For what you learn is that the meaning of caring is to keep someone alive.

So is it strange that I end up trying to hurt Sasuke to protect him?

Because that is all I know.

Is it wrong to distort him to be broken like me in the name of care, in the name of protection?

Perhaps, But I didn't know anything else at all.

Maybe we are all broken, starting with the genin who fear advancing in rank, all the way to the old Hokage who burns his throat with smoke from his pipe.

But that's fine; this is Konoha, a military dictatorship where it's not required to be rational but rather to be loyal. Broken weapons do not ask why, nor do they complain.

And Itachi will protect his younger brother in the only way he knows how. Is it a coincidence that it's the same way his father did?

(Or... maybe the shinobi world has made them broken so they keep repeating their own traumas and reflecting them onto others because that's the only way they have ever known.)

Current Time

Leaves swirl around me as the sun sets, casting the sky in vibrant shades of orange, yellow, and red, blending into each other.

Leaning on the academy's roof, the gentle spring breeze caresses my body, while students rush to leave—some heading to their families, others holding hands with friends.

Today feels like a manifestation of peace. Shisui used to say that our perception of the day reflects our emotions, but I don't believe that's true anymore.

Not anymore.

Shisui is gone, taking his words, feelings, and memories with him. Perhaps no one will remember him but me. He always said I was like his little brother, and today marks the first anniversary of Shisui's departure, and also... his birthday.

He has left now, and I am alone to solve the dilemma of the village versus the clan...

What should I choose? The clan's attempt to move forward with a coup is a form of suicide. While the Uchiha clan possesses the Sharingan, powerful members, and a few Anbu, the village has the second-in-command welcomed by the God of Shinobi, Sarutobi Hiruzen.

The darkness of the shinobi world, the war hawk Shimura Danzo, the Copy Ninja Hatake Kakashi, the jounin leader Nara Shikaku, clan heads, the head of the TI torture and interrogation tower, and the Ino-Shika-Cho alliance, along with noble clans like the Hyuga, Nara, Inuzuka, Aburame, Yamanaka, and Akimichi.

Not to mention, there are many smaller clans like Kurama, Sarutobi, and Shimura Atokata.

And let's not forget Jiraiya, the Sannin, who will certainly return if the coup occurs, and Tsunade, the potential return of the Sannin, weak but present, along with hundreds of civilian clans like Nohara, Haruno, and Maito.

Additionally, there's the lack of strategic planning; while the Uchiha clan has numerous weapon caches throughout the Land of Fire and a good base in Sora-Ku, the place of the Uchiha's summoning—known only to the clan—there hasn't been proper planning for essentials like food and medicine. While the Uchiha clan is self-sufficient, I'm sure it won't be enough when we literally wage war against all these forces.

On the other hand, the village has plenty of resources due to its control over thousands of shops and administrations throughout the Land of Fire, not to mention the Land of Grass and rivers.

Then politically, assuming the Uchiha clan wins after all this with the blessing of Amaterasu-sama and/or any other god, simply taking the Hokage position without the daimyo's blessing isn't possible.

And, of course, we could ignore that and appoint the Hokage, and let him bang his head against the wall; he's just a civilian, and that's the clan's perspective. But they've forgotten that this civilian holds power over wealth, nobility, and governance in the Land of Fire.

The noble court is under his authority; the nobles obey his command. Imagine what the economy of Konoha relies on. Yes, it's true—30% of the missions are appointed by the daimyo, 20% by the nobles, and 10% by civilians throughout the Land of Fire.

Therefore, 60% of the economy comes from the goodwill of that civilian.

And guess what? The Senju clan has had an excellent relationship with the daimyo and nobility for many years, long before Konoha was built, while the Uchiha have, at best, remained neutral. The current Hokage was appointed by Senju Tobirama.

Not to mention the enemy nations that will seize the opportunity for revenge, like Iwa, the Hidden Stone Village, which killed the Yellow Flash, or Kumo, the Hidden Cloud Village, which killed Konoha's Third Raikage. Hell, when Konoha was strong, Kumo dared to kidnap a Hyuga heir and even demanded reparations when they failed, not to mention what happens when the village is in such chaos.

So while the coup will never serve the Uchiha clan, it will be a sufficient blow for the greedy nations to attack.

And then my worst nightmare will occur... Sasuke will die at seven, alone after hours of torture, or he will be used like a mule for breeding to harvest our lineage, or perhaps he will be captured by shinobi or some particularly cruel Oinin.

Just like...

Just like I saw happen to my third cousin in the war.

And that is unforgivable. My innocent seven-year-old brother—the pure image of peace—will not be defiled this way while I am alive. If that means selling my soul to the devil, so be it. Tomorrow is the day of the coup, and tonight is the time to end it, just as the Third indirectly commanded. Traitors must be executed, and no matter how painful that is for me, it's irrelevant; they must die to prevent the innocent, like Sasuke, from getting involved.

Let death come to me first before a hair on my little brother's head is touched. This will never happen, no matter the cost, no matter the means, no matter the enemy. My little brother will not share the same fate as Jiro. He will not cry in my arms, his body filled with the marks of torture, while he rests, not to be saved—he knows it's impossible to save him—but at peace, knowing he won't die alone.

He will not die from a poison pill he swallowed himself to avoid leaking any information.

It is the duty of the older brother to protect the younger brother, and no matter how extreme the method, Sasuke will remain alive, even if it means he will be disfigured and even if I have to break every bone in his body.

Tonight, Sasuke will be irreparably scarred. Perhaps he will heal, perhaps he will grow, but sometimes broken bones heal incorrectly. He will recover, but he will never be the same again. He will grow, but he will never move past this. He will always be tied to this night.

Just as I am tied to the war. Just as I remain scarred from the war, just as it still influences my decisions, just as it haunts me.

Every night I cry, and I still vomit every night, and I will be forever.

He will grow, but he will never move past it. He will live in a different place and time, but he will always be in this night and will never leave it; a part of his soul will remain there forever.

Just as I have never left the battlefield, he will never leave this night.

He will be disfigured and broken and live in the past; he will not live in the present or future... but he will be alive, and that is all I can ask for...

I once swore by the name of my fallen comrades, and those who will fall, that Sasuke will not share the same fate as Jiro, no matter what. He will be alive and safe, perhaps scared and not well, living in his imagination with the dead, never moving past it, but safe and alive.

-

--

--

--

Title: Numb

By: Linkin Park

Lyrics:

(Verse 1)

I wake up every day, feeling the same way.

I walk through the doors as if I'm not here.

I stare at the mirror, and I don't recognize myself.

I feel numb, as if I'm not alive.

(Chorus)

I'm numb, numb, I don't feel anything.

I'm running in place, I can't escape.

I want to scream, but my voice disappears.

I feel lonely, even when I'm surrounded by people.

(Verse 2)

I try to smile, but I can't.

I try to scream, but no sound comes out.

I feel like I'm drowning, and no one is saving me.

I want to disappear, to vanish.

(Chorus)

I'm numb, numb, I don't feel anything.

I'm running in place, I can't escape.

I want to scream, but my voice disappears.

I feel lonely, even when I'm surrounded by people.

(Bridge)

I feel like I'm in a dream, I can't wake up.

I want to be free, but I'm shackled.

I'm searching for meaning, but I find nothing.

I feel lost, I feel scared.

(Chorus)

I'm numb, numb, I don't feel anything.

I'm running in place, I can't escape.

I want to scream, but my voice disappears.

I feel lonely, even when I'm surrounded by people.

(Note: The translation is not literal, but it has been translated into Arabic using artificial intelligence to convey the overall feeling and rhythm of the song.)

--

Explanation of Symbolism in This Chapter:

(Remember, just because something is symbolic doesn't mean it's not present in the story or intangible. It simply has a dual meaning, meaning a character used as a symbol is indeed real and true.)

Flying Squirrel: Symbolizes Naruto's desire for freedom.

Jiro's Character: Represents Itachi's fears and the corruption of the system.

Barrier: Isolation, fear, and loneliness.

Seagull-san: Manipulation and corruption of power.

Konohagakure Headband Around Naruto's Neck: Slavery as a dog collar.

Bat-san: Supremacy, authority, and simple manipulation.

Shisui: Hope, lifeline, love, and happiness.

Itachi: Deformity, brainwashing, system failure, childhood soldier, harm for protection, harsh love, and the cycle repeated by the system.

Naruto: Consequences of system failure, child abuse, psychological and physical manipulation, emotional dependency, numbness, shattered innocence, and child soldiers.

.

"Author's Notes: I."

"Please forgive me for any grammatical and spelling mistakes, as English is not my native language. I have already published this chapter on Wattpad, and for your information, I took a month to write this chapter, but I have already written the second chapter and will only translate it into English. This is my first story published on this site, so if there are any mistakes, please let me know. I'll see you soon."