11 Years Before The Fourth Great Shinobi War

Menma Uzumaki

Naruto stood amidst the dim glow of the Hyuuga compound, his expression hard as he inspected the lifeless body of the Kumo shinobi sprawled before him. Blood stained the ground, a grim testament to the greed that had driven the man to such folly. His gaze shifted to the trembling little girl in Hiashi's arms, Hinata. Her cries were soft but unrelenting, her tiny hands clutching at her father's robes.

Naruto sighed deeply, running a hand through his wild, sunlit hair. "Always power-hungry," he muttered under his breath, the words carrying a trace of both anger and disappointment.

Turning his attention to Hiashi, he asked, "Was there no other way?"

Hiashi's jaw tightened. "No," he said firmly. "If I hadn't acted, the consequences for the Hyuuga clan—and the village—would have been catastrophic. I had no choice."

Naruto nodded slowly, understanding yet disapproving of the inevitability. His eyes lingered on the crying Hinata, then hardened as he addressed the ANBU stationed nearby. "Send a message to the Raikage. Include his man's eyes."

The room froze.

"Uh…what?" one of the ANBU stammered, breaking the silence.

Naruto's gaze turned icy, piercing through the hesitation. "He wanted special eyeballs, didn't he? Send him the ones he died for."

The ANBU exchanged uneasy glances. "But…Lord Hokage…"

Naruto's voice rose, steady and cold. "He sent his man to kidnap a child from my village—for her eyes. I think I'm being generous enough by not declaring war on his entire country. Do as I say."

The tension in the room was palpable. Even Hiashi, a man known for his stoicism, looked taken aback. Before anyone could protest further, a sharp cry pierced the air. A messenger bird swooped into the room, dropping a scroll at Naruto's feet before flapping away.

Naruto bent down, picked up the scroll, and unfurled it. His eyes scanned the message, his expression darkening with every word. Without hesitation, he tore the scroll in half and let the pieces fall to the floor.

"What does it say?" Hiruzen Sarutobi asked, his tone cautious.

Naruto's lips curled into a bitter smirk. "He wants retribution for his dead man," he said, his voice laced with disdain.

Hiashi frowned. "Retribution? How shameless… It was his own failed kidnapping attempt."

Naruto continued, "He demands your head, Hyuuga-san."

Hiashi froze, his usually calm demeanour faltering. His hand instinctively tightened around Hinata's shoulder, pulling her closer.

Naruto waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry. Nobody is dying today. Not from my village, at least."

Hiashi hesitated. "Hokage-sama, if Ay is truly enraged, this could lead to war…"

Naruto's sharp laugh cut him off. "War? Let him come, then." His voice turned steely, each word a dagger. "To me, the Raikage is nothing more than a madman. If he wants war, he'll face a worse fate than Iwa ever did."

Hiruzen stepped forward, his tone measured. "Naruto, isn't that unwise? We don't want unnecessary bloodshed."

"Unwise?" Naruto's blue eyes blazed as he turned to the elderly shinobi. "Maybe. Illogical? Perhaps. But I couldn't care less about foreign fools who think they can trample on my village. If Ay brings his army here, he'll regret it. I hate killing innocents, Hiruzen. But I hate watching idiots kill innocents even more."

The weight of his words silenced the room. Even the ANBU, seasoned warriors who had seen the worst of humanity, shifted uneasily under the intensity of their Hokage's conviction.

Naruto turned on his heel, his cape billowing behind him as he strode toward the door. "Prepare for anything," he called over his shoulder. "But make sure the village sleeps soundly tonight. If Ay makes the mistake of underestimating me, he'll find out why the world fears Naruto Uzumaki."

With that, he left the room, leaving behind a silence thick with both dread and admiration.

Ô~Ô

Menma Uzumaki had heard many stories in his short five years of life, most of them from the Old Man Third—Hiruzen Sarutobi himself. Sitting cross-legged on the steps of the orphanage or under the large oak tree in the village square, Menma had listened with wide eyes as the old man regaled him with tales of the Hokages who had come before.

The Shodaime, the great Hashirama Senju, whose wood release had built the village.

The Nidaime, Tobirama Senju, a genius who had created techniques that shaped the very foundation of the shinobi world.

Hiruzen himself, the wise Third Hokage who had protected the village through times of war.

And the Yondaime—Minato Namikaze—the hero who had defeated the Nine-Tails and saved everyone.

But there was one story that stood out. A story about the current Hokage.

The Fifth Hokage.

The Godaime Hokage was said to have taken on the title at just eight years old. Menma didn't believe it at first. How could someone only three years older than him become the leader of the entire village? It sounded ridiculous. But Hiruzen insisted it was true.

"He was chosen for his strength, his courage, and his resolve," Hiruzen had said, his voice tinged with pride and something Menma didn't quite understand.

That only made Menma more curious. What kind of person could be so incredible that they were chosen as Hokage at eight? Surely, they had to be the strongest, most amazing ninja ever!

The more he thought about it, the more determined he became. He had to meet this Godaime Hokage.

So, one sunny afternoon, Menma decided to sneak into the Hokage Tower.

The plan wasn't exactly foolproof, but Menma was nothing if not stubborn. He waited until the guards at the entrance were distracted by a noisy merchant arguing about taxes. Sliding past them, he crouched low and darted into the building, his small frame making him nearly invisible.

Inside, the halls were quiet, save for the occasional footsteps of passing shinobi. Menma's heart pounded as he pressed himself against the wall, peeking around corners and carefully avoiding the ANBU stationed throughout the building. He had to admit, the masks were a little scary, but he didn't let that stop him.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the door to the Hokage's office. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open just a crack and peeked inside.

The room was large and filled with bookshelves, maps, and scrolls. A grand desk stood in the centre, flanked by towering windows that let in streams of golden sunlight.

Hiruzen was there, standing near the desk, along with several masked ANBU. But Menma's eyes were drawn to the figure seated behind the desk.

The Godaime Hokage.

He was smaller than Menma had expected, not much taller than himself. His red hair spilled over his shoulders, a stark contrast to the pristine white haori he wore. The kanji for "Hokage" was stitched neatly on the back. Despite his youthful appearance, there was something undeniably commanding about him, a presence that filled the room.

Menma hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself. But then, the Hokage turned his head, his eyes meeting Menma's.

They were unlike anything Menma had ever seen—deep and hollow, filled with emotions he couldn't name. They weren't angry or scolding, but they weren't warm either.

"What do you want?" the Godaime asked, his voice calm but distant.

Menma swallowed hard, his nerves suddenly getting the better of him. "I... I wanted to meet the Hokage!" he blurted. "You're supposed to be the strongest! I wanna be strong like you! How can I become a ninja like you?"

For a moment, there was silence. Menma felt his cheeks flush as the ANBU turned their masked faces toward him, and even Old Man Third seemed surprised by his outburst.

Then, to Menma's shock, the Godaime let out a soft laugh.

"Strong like me?" he said, leaning back in his chair. "Don't make me laugh."

Menma's eyes widened. "Huh?"

"You?" the Godaime continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "You're just a talentless child. A worthless life in this village."

Menma's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You're not even fit to be a shinobi," the Hokage added, his gaze piercing.

Hiruzen stepped forward, a frown creasing his face. "Naruto, that's enough. He's just a child—"

"He should know the truth," the Godaime interrupted, his eyes never leaving Menma's. "He's utterly useless."

Menma felt his fists clench at his sides. His chest tightened, and tears stung the corners of his eyes. But he refused to cry. Not here. Not in front of them.

"I... I may be weak now," he stammered, his voice trembling but determined.

"You always will be," the Hokage said flatly.

Menma's fists shook as he fought to keep his composure. "But I promise you—on that Hokage hat you're wearing—I'll become greater than any of you!" he said, his voice rising. "Me, Menma, the next Hokage—a ninja like never before! I'll surpass everyone, believe it!"

The room fell silent. Menma's words hung in the air, echoing in the vast office.

For a moment, the Godaime said nothing. His expression didn't change, but his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Big words for a loser," he said quietly.

Menma glared at him, his tears finally spilling over. "One day, I'll make you eat those words!" he shouted.

And with that, he turned and stormed out of the office, his heart pounding with a mix of anger, hurt, and determination.

As he disappeared down the hallway, the Hokage leaned back in his chair, his gaze lingering on the door.

Hiruzen sighed, his expression weary. "That was cruel, Naruto."

The Godaime didn't respond, his fingers brushing against the Hokage hat on his desk. His eyes, hollow and distant, seemed to look at something far beyond the walls of the office.

Ô~Ô

Itachi stood silently in the dimly lit Hokage's office, his newly donned ANBU mask hanging loosely by his side. The faint scent of ink and aged wood filled the air, mingling with the soft rustle of papers on the desk. Across from him, Naruto Uzumaki, the Fifth Hokage, leaned back in his chair, his fiery red hair illuminated by the flickering light of a nearby lantern.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Itachi's dark eyes searched the Hokage's hollow gaze, seeking an answer to the question that burned within him.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Why would you say that to your own brother?" His voice was calm, measured, but there was a faint edge to it, an undertone of disbelief.

Naruto's expression didn't change, his face as unreadable as ever. He didn't even glance up from the scroll he was reading. "You know his lineage, don't you?" he asked quietly.

Itachi tilted his head slightly. "I do," he replied. "But that's irrelevant to my question."

Naruto sighed, setting the scroll aside and resting his elbows on the desk. He laced his fingers together, his eyes fixed on the wooden surface as if lost in thought. "I've always known who he is, Itachi. Who he really is. From the moment he was born."

Itachi's brows furrowed, but he remained silent, waiting for the Hokage to continue.

"I see," Itachi said after a moment, his voice neutral. "But that still doesn't explain why you treated him that way. You insulted him, belittled him, called him a loser. How does that protect him?"

Naruto closed his eyes, exhaling a deep, weary breath. "He is not talentless," he said softly. "Nor useless. Nor a loser. Menma is anything but a giftless child."

Itachi's frown deepened. "Then why?"

Naruto opened his eyes, and for the first time, there was a flicker of emotion in his gaze—something between pain and fear. "Because he's too gifted," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And that's what scares me."

Itachi blinked, taken aback by the admission. "Too gifted?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"

Naruto leaned forward, resting his chin on his clasped hands. "Menma has the potential to surpass everyone," he said. "Me, you, Hiruzen... even the legends of this village. If he keeps this up, he'll become something extraordinary. A force to be reckoned with."

Itachi's confusion only deepened. "Isn't that a good thing? Shouldn't the village nurture that potential?"

Naruto's gaze darkened. "Do you know what happens to people like us, Itachi? People born with too much power? Too much potential?" His voice was bitter, laced with a quiet anguish. "We lose ourselves. We give everything we have—our bodies, our minds, our souls—for the sake of the village. And in the end, we're left with nothing but ashes."

The words hung heavy in the air, their weight pressing down on the room like a suffocating fog.

"I'd rather Menma never set foot on that path," Naruto continued, his tone resolute. "I'd rather he live as a civilian, free from the burdens of power and responsibility. Let him have a normal life. A happy life. Not one like ours."

Itachi's expression softened, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. He thought of Sasuke, his little brother, and the dreams he held for him. Dreams of a peaceful, carefree life, far removed from the darkness of the shinobi world.

"I see," he said quietly.

Naruto leaned back in his chair, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of his own words had drained him. "Itachi," he said after a moment, his voice softer now.

"Yes, Hokage-sama?"

"You have a little brother, don't you? Sasuke."

"That is correct."

Naruto's gaze sharpened, locking onto Itachi's with a rare intensity. "Protect him," he said firmly. "No matter what. Whether he loves you, respects you, hates you, or despises you—always put your family above all else. Protect the children. Let Sasuke have the life we were never given."

Itachi's jaw tightened, his grip on his mask tightening. "I understand," he said, though his voice wavered slightly.

Naruto shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No, you don't," he said. "Not yet. But one day, you will. And when that day comes... I hope it's not too late."

Itachi stared at him, the weight of the Hokage's words settling heavily in his chest. He didn't fully understand, not yet, but he felt the gravity of the moment, the unspoken truths hidden beneath Naruto's cryptic words.

"Thank you for your guidance, Hokage-sama," he said, bowing his head.

Naruto waved a hand dismissively, his gaze already drifting back to the scrolls on his desk. "Go," he said. "And remember what I said. Family comes first."

As Itachi turned to leave, he cast one last glance at the Hokage. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of vulnerability in Naruto's hollow eyes, a fleeting glimpse of the pain he carried within. But then it was gone, replaced by the stoic mask of a leader burdened by the weight of his responsibilities.

Stepping out of the office, Itachi couldn't help but think of Sasuke, of the life he wanted for him. And for the first time, he truly began to understand the lengths he would go to protect his little brother.

Ô~Ô

The midday sun hung high over Konoha, casting soft light across the bustling streets. Mikoto Uchiha stood at the Hokage's office door, balancing a tray of neatly packed lunch boxes in her arms. She straightened her posture and knocked lightly. A quiet "Enter" came from inside, and she pushed the door open, stepping into the stark yet cluttered room.

Naruto sat at his desk, papers sprawled in every direction, his expression a mix of focus and weariness. At the sight of her, his blue eyes softened, though his stoic demeanour remained intact. "Mikoto-san," he greeted, standing out of respect. "What brings you here?"

She offered him a warm smile. "I heard from Mami that you've been surviving on bread again. She still believes you're secretly eating ninja junk food, but we both know better."

Naruto's lips twitched upward briefly in a faint smile. "Mami needs to stop making up wild theories. But thank you for your concern."

Placing the lunch boxes on his desk, Mikoto studied him for a moment, noting the slight bags under his eyes and the stiff set of his shoulders. "Naruto, Itachi is doing well in the ANBU," she began. "He might even become a captain soon."

Naruto's expression brightened just a fraction. "That doesn't surprise me. He's brilliant. And Sasuke?"

"Excelling in the Academy," Mikoto said, pride evident in her voice. "His instructors say he's among the most promising in his class."

Naruto nodded approvingly. "You have excellent sons, Mikoto-san."

Her gaze turned softer. "And your brother, Menma Uzumaki?"

Naruto's jaw tightened, the faint warmth draining from his face. "Despite my best efforts to dissuade him, he enrolled in the Academy. He's a prodigy."

"Like Itachi?"

"No." Naruto's voice dropped, a mix of pride and unease. "Like me."

Mikoto's eyes widened slightly. Naruto had been hailed as the Ultimate Genius of his generation—a title that carried immense weight. She couldn't imagine how difficult it must be for Menma to navigate that legacy.

Naruto shifted the topic. "Why are you here today, Mikoto-san?"

She gestured to the lunch boxes. "I tried to replicate Kushina's cooking for you. I thought it might remind you of simpler times."

Naruto's breath hitched. His lips pressed into a thin line as he accepted the offering, his voice strained. "Thank you, Mikoto-san. That means... a lot."

"Naruto," she said gently, "it's been six years. You've built yourself into a pillar for the village, but you've turned into a machine in the process. Don't shut yourself down completely. Enjoy life, even just a little."

His gaze dropped to the lunch boxes, fingers tightening around them slightly. "I always enjoy your food," he said after a pause. "Next time, bring something unique. I'd like to try something different."

Her smile returned, soft and maternal. "I will," she promised. "Take care of yourself, Naruto."

With that, she left the office, her heart heavy with both pride and worry.

Naruto lingered for a moment, staring at the lunch boxes in his hands. Then, with a flicker of chakra, he disappeared.

He reappeared in front of a worn-down apartment building at the edge of the village. The structure was dilapidated, its walls cracked and its paint peeling. Naruto knocked lightly on the door before vanishing again into the shadows.

Inside, a small blonde boy stirred from his nap, his blue eyes still heavy with sleep. He shuffled to the door, rubbing his face, and opened it cautiously. His gaze fell on the neatly stacked lunch boxes sitting on the ground.

His brows furrowed in suspicion as he crouched down, his small hands lifting one of the lids. The aroma of home-cooked food hit him like a wave, and his eyes widened in disbelief. His stomach growled audibly as he quickly grabbed the boxes and dashed inside.

"Thank you, angel!" the boy shouted into the air, his voice filled with joy as he set the boxes on his small, wobbly table. His hands trembled slightly as he picked up a pair of chopsticks and dug into the meal. "You're the best!"

Naruto watched from a nearby rooftop, his face expressionless but his eyes carrying a deep, unspoken emotion. He stayed until the boy's laughter echoed softly into the evening before vanishing into the twilight.

Two figures crouched on a rooftop, their ANBU masks resting on their hips as they observed the scene below. Eleven-year-old Itachi Uchiha and twenty-year-old Kakashi Hatake were clad in their ANBU gear, blending into the shadows with practiced ease. They watched silently as the Hokage moved stealthily through the streets, a small bundle in hand.

The man moved with precision, his steps deliberate but light. He approached a run-down apartment complex and knocked gently on the door before vanishing in a blur of movement. Moments later, the door creaked open, and a young blonde boy peeked out.

Menma Uzumaki.

The boy looked around cautiously before his gaze landed on the bundle left on the doorstep. He crouched, inspecting it as though it might explode. But as soon as he opened it, the aroma of food hit him, and his face lit up with a mixture of shock and delight.

"Thank you, Angel!" the boy exclaimed, scooping up the food and retreating inside with the kind of joy only a child could muster.

Itachi's sharp eyes followed every movement, his mind already piecing together what had just happened. Beside him, Kakashi chuckled softly, breaking the silence.

"Every time," Kakashi murmured. "Naruto always gives his food to his little brother. Even the gifts he gets meant for himself, he secretly passes them to Menma."

Itachi frowned slightly, processing the words. "A few weeks ago," he said, "Naruto-sama gave Menma a wallet for his sixth birthday. It was toad-themed." His tone shifted, quieter, almost contemplative. "He called himself Menma's Angel."

Kakashi leaned back slightly, resting his weight on his arms as he sighed. "Naruto has been doing this for years. He eats nothing but bread, pretends to have more, and gives everything else to Menma. He's a great elder brother."

Itachi's gaze didn't waver from the apartment. "I wonder," he said softly, "if Menma would ever know that. He hates Naruto-sama. Just yesterday, he painted on Naruto's face on the Hokage Mountain."

Kakashi let out a laugh, the sound tinged with nostalgia. "He has quite the pranking talent. Reminds me of the time when Naruto was a Genin. He was... spirited."

"Pranking talent doesn't feel like the right term," Itachi remarked, his voice serious. "It feels more like... resentment."

Kakashi's gaze flicked to the young Uchiha. Itachi was far more perceptive than most boys his age, but his tone carried something more than mere observation.

"Itachi," Kakashi said after a moment, "what are you thinking?"

Itachi hesitated, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he thought. "Kakashi-senpai," he began, "do you think I should be like him?"

Kakashi tilted his head, his single visible eye regarding Itachi thoughtfully. "If you follow his ideals," Kakashi said slowly, "you'll be a great shinobi. There's no doubt about that."

"And as a brother?" Itachi pressed, his voice quieter now.

Kakashi was silent for a moment, his gaze drifting back to the apartment below. Inside, he imagined Menma eating the food Naruto had left, blissfully unaware of the sacrifices his older brother made for him.

"As a brother," Kakashi finally said, his voice soft but firm, "you'd be a great one. Perhaps one of the greatest."

Itachi nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. His gaze lingered on the apartment for a moment longer before he pulled his mask back on.

"Let's go," he said.

Kakashi stood, slipping on his own mask. "Lead the way."

As they leapt into the night, the village's rooftops passing in a blur, Itachi's mind was alive with thought. He couldn't help but wonder: was it possible to protect his brother as fiercely as Naruto protected Menma? And if so, what sacrifices would he have to make to do so?

The answers didn't come easily, but one thing was clear: Naruto Uzumaki, for all his burdens, had set an example that even a prodigy like Itachi couldn't ignore.

Ô~Ô

Author Note: Hope you liked it.