Author Note:
My birthday was yesterday, I can't throw a party, but hey, what better way to celebrate than with a new story?
I published a new story: Thousands Of Spells Away. It's a crossover between 'Naruto' and 'Frieren: Beyond Journey's End'. Go and check it out!
My one year anniversary on this site is coming soon: 29th December.
After 350 days on this platform, I've written 22 stories (yes, all ongoing—none abandoned) with over 900K words in total and nearly half a million views. I proofread everything myself—no editors or betas here—and somehow manage to write over 35K words every week while updating at least 8 stories weekly.
A huge thanks to:
…impashadows, SentinalSlice, Traitor of All Traitors, Samuel Santillan, ArashiNokitsune, Redone1977, Shisui No Akatsuki, EnoshimaYuno29, GodlyVortexofPain, Pinkypi, Joanne Frances Tiano Cajilig, FangofFire…
…for your unwavering support, help, and motivation. Apologies to everyone I couldn't mention, but know that I appreciate all of you.
And for those people who annoy me with copy-n-paste business offers in the review sections and PM… I have nothing to say.
I would like to remind you something: anybody writing here writes not for money and readers certainly aren't paying, so if you want to yell or waste your strength, do it somewhere else. Unless you have anything productive to say, go away. Don't like my story or MC? Think you can do better or can spend more time than me? Then be my guest, write one story yourself and let others be the humble judges.
Lastly, here are some highlights from my works:
Best Story: The Crystal Sage
Most Popular: Eyes That Hold The Heavens
Most Loved: A Greedy Witch in a Fantasy World
My admission test is on January so there will be irregular updates.
Thank you for sticking by my side. Here's to more stories and better writing ahead!
~Phoenix
Replying to the question of: the nothing1 You asked when the flashbacks would end.
Probably nine more chapters.
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16 Years Before The Fourth Great Shinobi War
Naruto stamped another paper with mechanical precision, the crisp sound of the seal meeting parchment echoing through the quiet office. The pile of finished work on his desk had grown tall, but it hardly made a dent in the endless stream of documents that seemed to multiply like weeds. One year had passed since the tragedy, since the night that had changed everything, and the village was trying—desperately, painfully—to move on.
Konoha's streets were alive again, not with joy, but with determination. The villagers were rebuilding, both their homes and their spirits, while the shinobi ranks worked tirelessly. Mission requests flooded in from every corner of the continent. Other major villages were struggling to regain their footing, but Konoha stood strong, anchored by its improbable leader—a nine-year-old redhead who had already rewritten the rules of power.
Naruto Uzumaki, the Fifth Hokage, had become a name that carried weight far beyond his years. His reputation wasn't just of a boy prodigy—it was that of a legend in the making. He was the child who had annihilated an entire army in moments, with power so overwhelming that it left allies in awe and enemies trembling. With him at the helm, Konoha had no need for heavy defences. Who would dare challenge them when he was here?
Yet, for Naruto, life as Hokage wasn't hard. It was dull. Monotonous.
Day after day, it was the same routine: paperwork, mission approvals, budget allocations, more paperwork. Sparring? Forget it. Nobody dared face him, not out of respect, but out of raw fear. And so, the young Hokage spent his days trapped in this endless cycle of administrative tedium, his office his prison.
At least he had a Hokage haori now. A white cloak embroidered with the kanji for Crystal in bold red on the back. It wasn't flashy, but it was elegant, durable, and enchanted with seals to grow with his body. Mami-chan had insisted on it.
Mami.
Naruto paused mid-stamp, his hand hovering over the next paper as his mind drifted.
Mami was the young woman responsible for looking after Menma at the orphanage. She was sweet, gentle, and, most importantly, she didn't ask too many questions. She never pried into why the Hokage—a boy barely older than the children she cared for—visited so often to check on a single baby.
Menma Uzumaki. Naruto's brother.
Nobody knew the truth. Nobody could. Not because Naruto feared enemies discovering his brother's lineage, but because he didn't trust himself.
Naruto's hand trembled slightly, and he clenched his fist to steady it. He had blood on his hands—more than he could ever wash away. Before the resets, before he'd rewritten time and fate, he had killed without hesitation. Blind revenge had driven him to slaughter, to strike down even infants in their mothers' arms.
What if he hurt Menma? What if he lost control, just once?
No. Keeping Menma at arm's length wasn't cowardice; it was caution. The baby deserved a life free of the darkness that clung to Naruto like a shadow. And under Mami's care, Menma was thriving. A happy, giggling ball of energy, she'd told him.
She'd smiled when she said it.
Naruto's lips twitched, almost forming a smile of his own. Mami's smile was... nice.
He shook his head, slamming the stamp down harder than necessary. He couldn't afford such thoughts. A monster like him didn't deserve warmth, didn't deserve love. Not after what he'd done. Weddings reduced to bloodbaths. Families annihilated. Love was for people who hadn't watched the light leave someone's eyes by their own hand.
Still, Mami blushed whenever he spoke to her.
Naruto gritted his teeth and forced his attention back to the papers. No distractions. He couldn't let himself hope for something he didn't deserve. Menma was safe. That was all that mattered.
Another paper stamped.
Another reminder of the life he could never have.
Ô~Ô
The market buzzed with the hum of chatter, the occasional bark of a vendor, and the shuffle of feet on cobblestones. A sixteen-year-old Kakashi Hatake, clad in his dark ANBU uniform and Inu mask, stood quietly in line at the dango stall. He had come for a rare indulgence, a brief reprieve from his duties.
As he paid for his skewer, movement caught his eye. A small figure in a bright dress scurried past, her hands gripping a large loaf of bread almost as big as her torso.
Mami.
The nine-year-old was a familiar sight to anyone in the village, but to the shinobi who worked closely with Naruto, she was practically a legend. "The Hokage's girlfriend," they whispered with amused smiles, though it was half in jest.
Kakashi watched her as she chatted animatedly with the bread vendor. Her wide grin lit up her young face as she thanked the man and turned to leave, cradling the oversized loaf like a precious treasure.
He stepped forward.
"Good afternoon," he said, his voice calm and professional through the mask.
Mami turned, startled for a moment before relaxing. "Oh, hello, ANBU-san!"
Kakashi nodded politely. "How are you doing?"
"I'm great!" she beamed. "Just finished my shift at the orphanage and came to pick this up."
"For the Hokage?"
"Yep!" she chirped. "He gets so busy with his work, poor thing. I always try to make sure he has something to eat!"
Kakashi tilted his head slightly. "Why always bread? Doesn't he like vegetables? Or meat?"
Mami shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. "That's what he always asks for. Says 'bread keeps a shinobi healthy.'" She puffed up her chest in a mock-impression of authority, her attempt at mimicking Naruto drawing a small chuckle from Kakashi.
"I see," Kakashi replied, though his tone had lost some of its levity.
"Anyway, I better get going! Hokage-sama's waiting." With that, Mami gave a quick bow and skipped off, the bread wobbling in her arms as she disappeared into the crowd.
Kakashi remained rooted to the spot, his grip tightening around the dango skewer.
Bread. Only bread.
The horrifying realisation sank into his mind like a stone in water. Naruto had been living on bread for a year. No variety, no proper meals—just bread.
Kakashi's stomach churned. This wasn't a matter of preference or convenience. It was punishment. Self-inflicted.
He remembered the boy's blank eyes, the heavy weight he carried, the distant way he interacted with others. Naruto wasn't mourning his parents—he was atoning. For something beyond his control.
Kakashi exhaled shakily, the skewer in his hand nearly snapping under the force of his grip.
The Hokage's brother, Menma, was growing up without the love of his parents. Without his brother's affection, either. Most might think Naruto was cold or indifferent toward the child. But Kakashi understood the truth.
Naruto wasn't indifferent. He was terrified.
Terrified of getting close, of losing someone else, of failing again.
Kakashi's hand relaxed, and he let the skewer drop into a nearby bin.
The boy he'd sworn to protect was quietly drowning, and no one had noticed. Not the villagers, not the shinobi. And certainly not Mami, who idolised Naruto too much to see the cracks in his armour.
Kakashi's eyes hardened beneath his mask. He couldn't let this continue. Naruto might carry the title of Hokage, but he was still just a child. And Kakashi had already failed too many people in his life.
He wouldn't fail Naruto. Not this time.
Ô~Ô
The Academy courtyard buzzed with youthful chatter and laughter as first-year students practiced their kunai throws and jutsu forms. It was a lively scene of innocence and boundless enthusiasm—a sharp contrast to the world that awaited them beyond these gates.
Naruto Uzumaki, the Fifth Hokage, stood quietly by the door, his crimson hair catching the sunlight and his pristine Hokage haori fluttering lightly in the breeze. To the untrained eye, he could have been mistaken for another student. He was, after all, just nine years old.
And that was precisely the problem.
"Hey, isn't he our age?" a boy whispered loudly.
"He's so short!" a girl added with a giggle.
"That's the Hokage? No way! My dad's taller than him!"
Naruto blinked, tilting his head slightly as the giggles and snickers grew louder. One particularly bold boy—clearly the class clown—stepped forward. "Oi, Hokage-sama, shouldn't you be in class with us? Or did they make you Hokage because you're bad at math?"
The children burst into laughter.
Naruto remained silent, his blank expression unchanged. Slowly, he stepped forward, his sandals barely making a sound against the stone floor. The laughter began to falter, the atmosphere shifting as a suffocating pressure filled the air.
Naruto's hollow, emotionless eyes scanned the room, freezing each child in place. When he spoke, his voice was soft—too soft for comfort.
"You think being Hokage is a joke?" he asked, his tone as cold as winter frost.
The children fidgeted, their earlier bravado crumbling.
Naruto crouched slightly, bringing himself to their eye level, his expression never wavering. "Do you know what it means to be a shinobi? To carry this title?" He gestured to the haori on his shoulders.
The class was silent now, every pair of eyes locked on him.
"It means death," he continued. "It means burying your parents, your friends, your teammates. It means watching the light fade from someone's eyes and knowing it was your hand that took it away."
A girl in the back shivered, her hand trembling as she clutched a kunai.
Naruto's gaze sharpened, like a blade slicing through the room. "You think I'm here to inspire you? No. I'm here to warn you. Being a shinobi is not about jutsu or glory or recognition. It's about sacrifice. Endless sacrifice."
He straightened, his voice growing firmer. "The battlefield doesn't care how old you are, how skilled you are, or what your dreams are. It will take everything from you. And when you're left with nothing but blood on your hands, you'll realise the truth: being a shinobi is a curse."
The silence was deafening. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Naruto let his words linger for a moment before turning toward the door. But just before leaving, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken tragedies.
"If any of you want to walk away, do it now. Choose a life of peace. Be a farmer, a merchant, anything but this. Because if you don't, the only thing waiting for you is pain."
With that, he walked out, his haori trailing behind him like the ghost of every shinobi who'd fallen before him.
The children didn't laugh after that. Most didn't even move, the weight of his words anchoring them in place.
For some, it was the push they needed to quit.
For others, it was the first step toward understanding the cruel reality of the path they had chosen.
As the other children sat frozen, their young faces pale and trembling, one boy stood apart from the rest. Itachi Uchiha, barely four years old, watched the Hokage with an intensity far beyond his years.
His small hands rested on his lap, clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He hadn't laughed or mocked the Hokage earlier, not because of politeness, but because he understood.
He had seen it.
He remembered the battlefield—his father's stern face as he dragged him through the chaos, telling him to "watch and learn." He remembered the screams, the scent of blood, and the way the air grew heavy with death.
And he remembered the man.
The wounded shinobi, clutching his stomach, gasping for air. Itachi had hesitated, the kunai trembling in his hand. But then the man had lunged, his bloodied face twisted in desperation, and Itachi had plunged the blade into his throat.
The life had drained from the man's eyes, and Itachi had stared, unable to look away.
His father had patted him on the shoulder afterward, calling it "a necessary lesson." But Itachi hadn't felt pride. Only a hollow ache in his chest.
Then came the Kyuubi attack. He'd watched the beast rampage through the village, its tails swiping through buildings like they were made of paper. He'd seen people crushed, burned, and torn apart.
It was chaos. It was darkness.
And now, as he listened to Naruto Uzumaki's words, he felt a strange sense of kinship.
The Hokage wasn't like the others. He wasn't naive, nor did he sugarcoat the truth. Naruto spoke of pain and sacrifice with the weight of someone who had lived it. Someone who understood.
Itachi's small shoulders straightened, his dark eyes gleaming with a newfound resolve.
Naruto was right. The shinobi world was cruel, filled with suffering and loss. But someone had to bear it. Someone had to carry the burden so that others wouldn't have to.
As the other children sat trembling, Itachi remained calm, his gaze fixed on the Hokage's retreating form.
In that moment, Itachi Uchiha decided he would follow the Fifth Hokage's example. He would shoulder the darkness, no matter the cost. For the sake of the village. For the sake of peace.
And for the first time since he'd held that bloody kunai, he felt like he wasn't alone.
Ô~Ô
Naruto sat in the council room, the air thick with tension. The long table was filled with the usual suspects—the clan leaders, the civilian representatives, and the ever-irritating elders. They looked at him with a mix of doubt, fear, and barely concealed disdain.
The boy Hokage. A child.
But they dared not voice their objections too loudly. After all, this "child" had done what entire battalions couldn't. He had obliterated an Iwa army in mere moments, quelled the Kyuubi's rampage, and rebuilt the village walls with a flick of his chakra. He was a living legend—and a living reminder of how far beneath him they were.
"Fifth Hokage," one of the elders finally began, his voice carefully measured. "While your strength is undeniable, we must question whether your... experience is sufficient to handle the delicate intricacies of leadership."
Naruto leaned back in his chair, his crimson hair catching the light as he regarded the elder with hollow, unreadable eyes. His silence stretched, the oppressive weight of his presence filling the room.
The elder shifted uncomfortably, his earlier boldness faltering under the oppressive quiet.
"Your concerns are noted," Naruto finally said, his voice calm, detached, and colder than winter frost. "But unless you have someone stronger, wiser, and more willing to sacrifice everything for this village, I suggest you focus on what truly matters—Konoha's survival."
The elder paled, sinking back into his seat.
The meeting continued, each topic dragging on like an eternity. The civilian council members tried to assert their opinions on policies they barely understood, the clan leaders subtly maneuvered for more power, and the elders tried to reinstate old traditions.
It was exhausting.
Naruto maintained his impassive demeanor, though every second in that room felt like a lifetime. These people didn't trust him. They didn't want him as their leader. But they couldn't argue with him either. He was too strong, too untouchable.
Finally, the meeting adjourned. Naruto stood, nodding curtly before walking out without a word.
In the Hokage's office, things weren't much better. Shinobi lined up for their missions, but none could hold his gaze. When Naruto handed them their scrolls, they bowed quickly, their eyes fixed on the ground.
He kept his aura hidden, his chakra so suppressed it was as if he didn't exist. But that only made him more terrifying. Because every shinobi in the room knew—no, felt—that his strength was immeasurable.
The rumours had spread far and wide. Naruto Uzumaki was stronger than the Kyuubi itself, a force of nature that could annihilate armies singlehandedly.
And yet, no one knew the full extent of his power.
Naruto watched as the last shinobi left, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped in front of him, staring at the ceiling.
It was suffocating.
To be feared by the very people he was supposed to protect. To see their wariness, their terror, their reluctance to even be in the same room as him.
He didn't want their fear. He wanted their trust. Their faith.
But the shinobi world didn't allow for such luxuries. Strength was feared. Power was a curse.
And Naruto Uzumaki, the Fifth Hokage, bore it all in silence.
Naruto sat at his desk, his hands clasped in front of him as Tsunade stood before him, the resignation paper signed and stamped. Her expression was unreadable, a complex mixture of sorrow, guilt, and resignation. Shizune stood silently beside her, clutching TonTon tightly as if the little pig could somehow offer solace.
Tsunade was leaving.
She had lost too much—Dan, Nawaki, her family, her sense of belonging. And now, Konoha itself felt like a graveyard of memories she could no longer bear to visit.
Naruto, ever perceptive despite his youthful appearance, knew this wasn't just a request for leave. It was an escape.
He glanced at the form on his desk, the ink drying quickly under his chakra-enhanced stamp. "It's approved," he said softly, the words carrying no judgment, only understanding.
Tsunade hesitated. For the first time, she looked at him—not as the Hokage, not as the child she had once coddled, but as a boy who had endured far more than anyone should. "You should look after him," she said quietly, her voice thick with unspoken meaning.
Naruto's crimson hair shifted slightly as he turned his head. "I have people who do that," he replied, his tone steady but distant.
Her golden-brown eyes bore into him, searching for something behind the hollow mask he wore so well. She found nothing. Just the void of a boy who had lost too much, too soon.
"You don't want to get attached," she murmured, more to herself than him.
Naruto closed his eyes briefly, the words stinging more than he let on. "Have a safe journey, Granny," he said firmly, dismissing her with the same finality as the stamped paper.
Tsunade stood there for a moment longer, her hand tightening into a fist before relaxing. "Take care of yourself, brat," she muttered, her voice softer now, almost tender.
She turned and walked out, Shizune following close behind with TonTon squealing softly.
Naruto sat in silence after the door closed. He stared at the empty doorway, his face betraying nothing.
But deep inside, he felt the loss of her presence like a knife twisting in his chest. Another person gone. Another bond severed.
He didn't cry. He didn't sigh. He simply picked up the next stack of papers and resumed his work. Because that's what the Hokage does. They endure. Even when they're breaking inside.
Ô~Ô
Author Note:
Naruto left Menma alone because—
"What if I accidentally kil… hurt him like those babies in Kiri?"
"I cannot let him idolise the Shinobi, he cannot be a Shinobi."
Naruto is completely broken, so, he makes weird decisions.
Thanks for reading this chapter. The next chapter will be released depending on your responses.
Drop your thoughts in the review section. Your words motivate me to write better, larger and with more depth.
Till next time!