The Sage of Reasons
The next day, 13th October, dawned with an air of forced optimism—or was it dread disguised as hospitality? The Fire Lord had survived the horrors of the previous day, though his nerves were frayed and his thoughts jumbled. He entered the Village Hidden in the Leaves through its patched-up gates, accompanied by an entourage that was visibly more subdued after witnessing the spectacle of Lord Fifth.
Awaiting him was a small welcoming party, led by none other than the former Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi. Beside him stood Danzo Shimura, his face a mask of grim indifference, flanked by several masked ANBU and a handful of Jounin. They bowed politely, murmuring their greetings, though it was clear that the usual pomp of such occasions had been exchanged for a quiet efficiency.
"Fire Lord," Hiruzen began with a warm smile, gesturing for him to step forward. "Welcome to Konoha. We are honoured by your presence, though the circumstances are regrettable."
The Fire Lord nodded stiffly, his gaze flickering between the weathered face of the Third Hokage and the ever-suspicious Danzo. "Where," he asked, clearing his throat, "is the new Hokage? I would have thought the boy would be here to greet me."
There was a pause, a beat too long for comfort.
And then the ground trembled.
It wasn't a subtle quake, either. It was a deep, resounding tremor that rattled the very stones beneath their feet. The Fire Lord instinctively reached out to steady himself, his eyes darting toward the source.
Off in the distance, the broken walls of Konoha—still battered from the chaos of the Nine-Tails' rampage—were shifting. No, not just shifting. They were growing. Towering slabs of earth and stone were rising from the ground, thick and imposing, weaving themselves seamlessly into the ruined sections of the wall. It was as though the very earth had decided to rebuild the village, layer by layer, stronger and larger than ever before.
"Huh?" The Fire Lord blinked, utterly dumbfounded. "That's... new."
Danzo, who had been watching the scene with an air of mild amusement, stepped forward. "The Hokage," he said, his voice as steady and clipped as ever, "is a master of all nature transformations. Earth Release, in particular, is trivial for someone of his calibre."
"Trivial," the Fire Lord echoed, though his tone made it clear that he found nothing trivial about the display. His gaze lingered on the newly formed walls, their sheer size and thickness an undeniable testament to their creator's skill—and power.
His mind briefly flashed back to the events of the previous day. The massive crystal slabs. The screams. The dust. He quickly pushed the memory aside. "I see," he said finally, choosing not to question it further. After all, this was the same boy who had reduced an entire army to powder. Best not to pry.
Hiruzen, sensing the Fire Lord's unease, stepped in with a disarming chuckle. "Naruto is... unconventional, to say the least," he admitted. "But his methods have proven effective. For now, I suggest you rest. The guest house has been prepared for your stay. It is modest, but I hope it will suffice."
"Modest," the Fire Lord repeated under his breath. Of course, the former Hokage would call it that. He wasn't expecting palace-level luxury in a village that had been half-destroyed, but still, the word gave him pause.
The Fire Lord allowed himself to be led away, though his thoughts remained tangled. The boy Hokage, the terrifying display of power, and the looming presence of Danzo Shimura all swirled in his mind, refusing to settle.
"Modest guest house, huh?" he muttered as they approached a humble yet sturdy-looking building nestled in the heart of the village. He couldn't help but glance back at the towering walls in the distance, wondering how much more this village—and its child leader—were capable of.
And, perhaps more importantly, whether he'd survive to find out.
Ô~Ô
The hospital ward smelled faintly of antiseptic, the sterile air mingling with the soft murmur of voices and the occasional cry of a newborn. Mikoto Uchiha hobbled slightly as she walked, her freshly bandaged ankle still tender. Baby Sasuke squirmed in her arms, his little face scrunching up in protest before settling down as she gently rocked him. Her other hand clasped Itachi's, his small fingers tightening around hers as his dark eyes scanned their surroundings, ever-curious.
The visit to the hospital was supposed to be routine. A quick treatment, a chance to stretch her legs, and then back to the Uchiha compound. But as they passed the infant room, Mikoto's steps faltered.
Behind the glass, rows of tiny bundles lay nestled in their cribs, their soft coos and cries barely audible. These were the children left behind in the wake of the Kyuubi's attack—some orphaned, others with families who could no longer care for them in the aftermath of tragedy. Mikoto's heart clenched at the sight.
Her gaze lingered on one crib in particular. A mop of blonde hair peeked out from beneath the blanket, the faintest suggestion of whisker-like marks etched on chubby cheeks. Her breath hitched.
It was painfully obvious whose child this was.
"Minato... Kushina..." she whispered, the names escaping her lips like a prayer. Her fingers tightened slightly around Itachi's hand, drawing his attention.
"Mother?" Itachi's voice was quiet, his head tilting as he studied her face. "Is something wrong?"
Mikoto forced a smile, though her heart felt heavy. "No, Itachi. Everything's fine," she assured him, though her feet carried her closer to the infant room. She had to know.
Sasuke let out a soft whimper as she adjusted him in her arms, her free hand pushing open the door to the nursery. The scent of baby powder greeted her as she approached the nearest nurse, a woman who looked harried but kind, her hands full with a clipboard and a squirming baby.
"Excuse me," Mikoto began, her voice soft but firm. "The blonde child with the whisker marks—whose baby is that?"
The nurse barely glanced up at first, shuffling papers and murmuring absentmindedly, "Parents unknown." She flipped a page, her tone casual, as if discussing the weather. "The Hokage was oddly kind enough to give the child his family name. Menma Uzumaki, it says here. Random orphan, I suppose. Poor kid."
Mikoto froze, her heart skipping a beat. What?
"That's not—" she began, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her racing thoughts. "That's Minato's son," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "Why is he here? Why is he alone?"
The nurse shrugged, finally meeting her gaze. "The Hokage is found him somewhere and was kind enough to leave him here, isn't he really great? Leading a village at his age... Maybe this arrangement is for the best."
"No," Mikoto said, her voice sharp now. "This isn't right. He shouldn't be here. I want to take him. I'll care for him."
The nurse's eyes widened, and she shook her head vehemently. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but that's not allowed. The child isn't up for adoption. Orders from above."
"Orders?" Mikoto's voice wavered between disbelief and anger. "You can't just leave him here like—"
"Mikoto."
The deep, steady voice of Fugaku cut through her protests. She turned to see her husband standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"Let it go," he said quietly but firmly. "You're causing a scene."
"But Fugaku—"
"No." His tone left no room for argument. He stepped closer, his hand resting on her uninjured shoulder. "The Hokage must have his reasons. We can't afford to interfere, not now. The Uchiha need to maintain a good relationship with him."
Mikoto's lips parted, words of protest forming, but she found herself unable to voice them. The weight of Fugaku's gaze and the unspoken warning it carried silenced her.
"But he's just a baby," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Fugaku's grip on her shoulder tightened slightly, his expression softening just enough for her to notice. "I know," he said quietly. "But this isn't our decision to make."
Itachi, who had been watching the exchange in silence, glanced between his parents and the crib where Menma lay. His young but sharp mind was already piecing things together, though he said nothing.
As Fugaku gently guided Mikoto toward the door, she cast one last glance at the blonde infant. Menma's tiny hand twitched in his sleep, his whiskered cheeks peaceful and serene.
Itachi lingered for a moment longer, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he memorised the boy's face. Then, without a word, he turned and followed his family out of the ward.
Ô~Ô
The ruins of Konoha were eerily silent except for the rhythmic hum of earth shifting and stone grinding back into place. Dust lingered in the air, illuminated by the pale light of a setting sun. Kakashi Hatake, just fifteen and already wearing the Inu ANBU mask with a weight that felt far too heavy for his years, stood atop a crumbled rooftop, his single uncovered eye fixed on the figure below.
Naruto Uzumaki—no, Hokage Uzumaki now—moved tirelessly through the destruction. His red hair, glowing like embers against the grey devastation, caught the faint breeze as he directed his chakra. Stone by stone, beam by beam, the structures reformed as if time itself were being reversed.
The boy was like a force of nature. Villagers trailed after him, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and guilt, whispering among themselves. Kakashi didn't need to listen to know what they were saying. How is he doing this? That's the Hokage? He's just a kid...
Kakashi sighed beneath his mask, his gaze softening as he observed the boy. Naruto's hollow eyes were fixed forward, his face a blank canvas masking the storm within. The truth was clear to Kakashi, sharper than any kunai: this wasn't duty. This wasn't pride. It was distraction.
Two days. That was all it had been since the boy's parents—the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze, and Kushina Uzumaki—had died defending the village. Two days since the weight of the Hokage's hat had been thrust upon an eight-year-old who had barely begun to grieve. And yet, here he was, working himself to the bone, pouring his seemingly bottomless chakra into fixing the village.
Kakashi's fingers twitched at his sides. He knew what it was like to run from grief.
Eventually, he jumped down from his perch, landing lightly on the debris-strewn ground. As he approached, the whispers of the villagers quieted, their attention shifting to him. He walked with purpose, stopping a few feet behind Naruto, who didn't even glance back.
"Lord Hokage," Kakashi said, his voice calm but carrying a note of concern. "You've done more than enough for today. Please, allow yourself to rest."
Naruto paused, finally turning to face him. His pale, almost luminous blue eyes met Kakashi's through the ANBU mask. There was no anger, no gratitude, no emotion at all. Just a blank stare that seemed far too old for a child.
"No need," Naruto said simply, his voice as hollow as his gaze.
And with that, he turned back to the crumbling wall in front of him, clapping his hands together. Earth release chakra rippled outward, reshaping the damaged structure with precision.
Kakashi watched him for a long moment, a quiet frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He wanted to argue, to insist, but he knew it wouldn't work. So he stayed where he was, silently keeping watch.
Hours passed like this. The sun sank lower, and the villagers began to disperse, retreating to whatever shelter they could find. Naruto, however, remained steadfast, his chakra flowing as steadily as a river.
It wasn't until another ANBU operative arrived that the rhythm of the work was interrupted. The operative, dressed in standard black and grey, approached with measured steps and bowed slightly before speaking.
"Lord Hokage," the ANBU said respectfully, "the Fire Lord is waiting for you."
Naruto stopped mid-jutsu, exhaling sharply. He stood still for a moment, his small shoulders tense as if weighing his options. Finally, with a tired sigh, he raised a hand and created a shadow clone. The clone immediately resumed the work, seamlessly continuing the repairs as the original Naruto turned to face the ANBU.
"Fine," he said quietly, brushing the dust off his tattered cloak. Without another word, he walked past Kakashi and the ANBU, his steps steady but weary.
Kakashi watched him go, his chest tightening. That boy carried the weight of the village on his small frame, and yet he walked with a composure that even seasoned shinobi struggled to maintain.
Still, Kakashi couldn't shake the thought that somewhere, deep inside, the boy was cracking. And when those cracks finally showed, he wondered if there'd be anyone left who could help put him back together.
Ô~Ô
The Fire Lord entered the dimly lit room where Naruto Uzumaki awaited him. The redheaded boy, barely eight years old, sat behind a large, wooden desk, his legs dangling off the side, his small hands folded neatly in front of him. Despite his tender age, the room seemed to shrink under the sheer weight of his presence. His eyes—pale blue, almost translucent—gazed unwaveringly at the Fire Lord, his expression as vacant as the void itself.
The Fire Lord, a man well into his forties, felt a disquiet in his chest as he approached the child. Despite his many years of experience, despite leading entire armies, he could not help but feel small in front of this boy. The very air around Naruto radiated an aura of authority that was impossible to ignore. It made the Fire Lord uncomfortable, like a ripple in a calm lake that he couldn't quite explain.
"I... I extend my deepest condolences for the loss of your parents," the Fire Lord began, his voice betraying the slightest tremor. "The destruction of Konoha, the loss of so many lives—it's a tragedy unlike any other. I can only imagine the weight of responsibility that has been placed upon you."
Naruto didn't flinch. His gaze remained steady, and for a moment, the Fire Lord thought the boy hadn't even heard him. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Naruto nodded. It was as if the words had passed through him without making any impact. He said nothing in return, his expression unreadable.
A heavy silence hung between them. The Fire Lord felt the weight of it pressing down on him. There was no sign of the innocent child he had expected. Instead, he was met with a quiet resolve that unnerved him.
Finally, after a long pause, the Fire Lord spoke again, trying to regain control of the conversation. "Tell me, Naruto," he said, his tone now more commanding, "do you have any experience in leadership?"
Naruto shifted slightly in his chair, his eyes flickering for a moment. "Yes," he replied simply. "I've led missions."
The Fire Lord's brow furrowed. "But leading missions isn't the same as running a military village. The Hokage's role isn't just about strength—it's about diplomacy, strategy, and maintaining stability. You're... you're only eight. The other nations will mock us. They will question the legitimacy of this leadership. Can you truly handle such responsibility?"
Naruto's gaze did not waver. "Other nations are in worse states than this," he said calmly. "Iwa has no military anymore—nothing but crumbling remnants of what they once were. Kumo is weak, barely able to defend itself. Suna is on the brink of starvation, its resources drained by war and internal strife. Kiri is too far removed, uncoordinated, and divided. Konoha is the strongest by far. The rest are scrambling to hold their ground."
The Fire Lord's eyes narrowed as he processed Naruto's words. There was no hesitation in the boy's voice, no uncertainty. He spoke with the assuredness of someone who had seen the world through a much older lens.
"But strength alone isn't enough," the Fire Lord countered, his voice firm. "You'll need more than just raw power to guide this village. You'll need wisdom, foresight, and the ability to make difficult decisions. You'll need to understand leadership in a way that surpasses simply commanding warriors. I have four questions for you, Naruto. Answer them, and I will understand whether you truly have what it takes to lead Konoha."
Naruto's eyes flickered briefly as he considered the challenge. He nodded, silently signaling for the Fire Lord to continue.
"First," the Fire Lord began, leaning forward, "What will you do when your people are divided, when the village is in chaos? How will you unite them?"
Naruto answered without a moment's hesitation. "I'll remind them of what we've fought for—of the blood shed to protect this place. Konoha isn't just a village; it's a family. It's about more than just individuals. It's about belonging to something greater than yourself. When people feel connected to that, they'll unite without question."
The Fire Lord blinked. The answer was far too mature, too grounded in wisdom for a child to comprehend. Yet Naruto spoke as if he had been carrying this knowledge for years. It gave the Fire Lord pause.
"Second," the Fire Lord pressed, "How will you balance the needs of the village with the pressures from the other nations? What will you do when diplomacy is tested?"
Naruto's answer came swiftly, his voice unwavering. "I'll always put Konoha first. Diplomacy isn't about making everyone happy; it's about securing the safety of the village. But it doesn't mean you turn a blind eye to others. Sometimes you have to be ruthless to protect those who depend on you. I'll forge alliances where I must, but I won't sell out my people for the sake of peace."
The Fire Lord nodded slowly, absorbing the conviction in Naruto's words. "Third," he asked, "When faced with difficult decisions that may cost lives, how will you choose who lives and who dies?"
Naruto's gaze darkened, but his voice remained steady. "I'll do what's necessary to protect the greater good. If one life is sacrificed for the survival of many, I'll make that choice. But I'll carry the burden of it always. No leader can escape that. They must live with their decisions, no matter how hard they are."
The Fire Lord felt a shiver run down his spine. It was the answer of someone who understood the harsh realities of leadership. And yet, Naruto's words were not cold or heartless—they were practical, grounded in a reality that many leaders, including the Fire Lord, often avoided confronting.
"Finally," the Fire Lord said, his voice softer now, "What kind of Hokage do you wish to be, Naruto Uzumaki?"
Naruto's eyes softened slightly, and for the first time, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I want to be the kind of Hokage who protects his people. The one who doesn't just wield power but uses it to build a better future for everyone. I want to be the one who doesn't let the village fall again. Not while I'm alive."
The Fire Lord sat back, his mind whirling. The boy's answers had been swift, confident, and precise—too precise for someone his age. There was no doubt in the Fire Lord's mind that Naruto was more than capable of handling the weight of the Hokage's title. But was he truly ready? Was he truly prepared to shoulder that burden at such a young age?
The Fire Lord glanced at the hourglass on the desk, noting the time. It was nearing dinner, and the conversation had lasted longer than expected. "It's getting late," the Fire Lord said, his tone shifting. "We'll continue this discussion another time. For now, rest."
Naruto nodded silently, rising to his feet with a fluid grace that seemed almost too mature for his years. He bowed slightly before walking toward the door, leaving the Fire Lord deep in thought.
The door closed softly behind him, and the Fire Lord remained at his desk, staring into the shadows that had settled over Konoha's ruins.
Perhaps, he thought, this boy might just be the leader they need... but can he hold it all together?
Ô~Ô
The room was quiet save for the faint gurgles of the baby, his tiny hand wrapped tightly around Naruto's finger. Kakashi, standing by the doorway, watched silently, his ANBU mask pushed up just enough to expose his face. He had never seen Naruto like this—calm yet distant, his pale blue eyes softening for a moment as he looked at the child cradled in his arms.
"Menma," Naruto said softly, almost to himself. "His name is Menma Uzumaki."
Kakashi glanced at the infant. His heart ached. The whisker marks on Menma's chubby cheeks and the tuft of blonde hair were enough to identify him as Minato-sensei and Kushina's son. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the emotion welling up inside him. "Minato-sensei and Kushina," Kakashi said quietly, "they would've been so proud to see him. Such a cute kid."
Naruto's expression darkened slightly, and his grip on Menma tightened for a moment. "No," he said, his voice low but firm.
Kakashi blinked, tilting his head. "No?"
Naruto glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "He won't be a shinobi."
That caught Kakashi off guard. He straightened, his brow furrowing under his mask. "Why not? He's Minato-sensei's son. Kushina's too. He's bound to grow up to be strong, like them."
Naruto's lips pressed into a thin line. "Ask yourself, Kakashi-nii-san," he began, his voice cold and distant. "Your father, Sakumo Hatake—how did he die?"
Kakashi froze. The words hit harder than he wanted to admit. "That's... different," he muttered, averting his gaze.
Naruto didn't stop. "Obito? Rin? My mom and dad? All of them, Kakashi. They were shinobi. Brave, strong, and all of them... gone."
Kakashi opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss. He knew Naruto was right. The shinobi world didn't allow for long lives. Heroes were celebrated in death, not in life.
"Shinobi lead miserable lives," Naruto continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I won't allow that for Menma."
Kakashi stared at him, his single eye searching Naruto's face. "So what will he be, then? A civilian?"
"Precisely," Naruto replied without hesitation. "The Kyūbi is sealed in him. I can't allow him to roam unsafe. He'll grow up away from the battlefield. Away from the life that killed our parents."
Kakashi hesitated, his voice soft. "I still don't understand why you left him with the... orphans." He gestured vaguely toward the other side of the room. "You could've found someone to look after him. Someone trustworthy."
Naruto stood up slowly, carefully placing Menma back in his crib. The baby let out a soft whine, his tiny hand reaching for Naruto's retreating figure. Naruto didn't look back. "Nobody can learn his lineage," he said simply.
"Huh?!" Kakashi's voice rose slightly, startled. "What are you saying?"
Naruto turned to face him fully, his gaze icy and unyielding. "I have too many enemies. So did our parents. If anyone finds out who he really is, he'll never have a moment's peace. He'll be hunted, used, manipulated. I won't let that happen."
Kakashi's fists clenched. "But Naruto," he protested, "you're his brother! You can't just... pretend he doesn't exist. You can't let him grow up thinking he has no family."
Naruto's face remained impassive. "He'll be Menma Uzumaki," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "An orphan with no family. It's the only way to keep him safe."
"You'll actually do that to your own brother?" Kakashi asked, his voice low and pained.
"Yes." The response was immediate, unflinching.
The silence that followed was suffocating. The weight of Naruto's words hung in the air like a storm cloud, oppressive and heavy.
Naruto's gaze softened slightly as he looked at Kakashi. "Kakashi-nii-san," he said, his tone quieter now, almost pleading, "look after him. All the time. That's your task from now on."
Kakashi blinked, startled by the request. He looked at the crib, at the small bundle of life nestled inside, then back at Naruto. "You're serious," he said finally, though it wasn't a question.
Naruto nodded. "More than I've ever been."
For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Then Kakashi sighed, running a hand through his silver hair. "Fine," he said at last, his voice resigned. "I'll do it. But only because I owe Minato-sensei and Kushina... and because I believe you have your reasons."
Naruto gave him a faint nod, the closest thing to gratitude Kakashi would receive. Without another word, Naruto turned and walked out of the room, leaving Kakashi alone with Menma. The baby cooed softly, his tiny hand reaching up toward Kakashi as if sensing the shift in guardianship.
Kakashi leaned down, gently picking up the baby. "Well, Menma," he murmured, his voice soft and almost sad, "looks like it's you and me now."
Ô~Ô
Naruto sat alone in his dimly lit office, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him like an invisible shroud. Stacks of reports lay scattered on the desk, untouched. His small hands, too calloused for an eight-year-old, rested heavily on the surface as he stared blankly at the papers in front of him. The silence in the room was deafening until it was shattered by the sound of the door slamming open.
Mikoto Uchiha stormed in, her usual gentle demeanour replaced with anger. Her dark eyes burned with intensity as she marched up to Naruto, her heels clicking loudly against the wooden floor.
"Why?" she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of outrage and disbelief. "Why is Menma, your baby brother, lying in the hospital with orphans?!"
Naruto didn't even flinch. He didn't look up from the reports. "It's none of your business, Auntie Mikoto," he said flatly, his tone devoid of warmth.
Mikoto froze, stunned by the coldness in his voice. "What?" she whispered, barely believing her ears. "Naruto, what happened to you? You've changed so much. You were such a sweet, caring boy not so long ago. Did their deaths…" She trailed off, her voice breaking. "Did Minato and Kushina's deaths break you?"
"No," Naruto said, finally meeting her gaze. His eyes were hollow, void of the spark she once knew. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine!" she snapped, slamming her hands onto his desk. The impact caused the papers to flutter. "I know the Kyūbi is sealed inside Menma. Do you... do you perhaps blame him for what happened?"
Naruto's expression didn't waver. "I have my reasons," he said simply, his voice steady. "And it's not your concern. Don't tell anyone about his lineage. It's an S-rank secret."
Mikoto's hands clenched into fists. "But he'll grow up alone!" she cried. "Doesn't he have a right to know who his parents are? Doesn't he deserve that much?"
Naruto leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "If he knows who they were, he'll idolize them," he said quietly. "He'll look up to them and want to follow in their footsteps. And where will that lead him?" He paused, his voice hardening. "To the same end. Like Mom and Dad. Like countless others. Or worse… like me."
Mikoto's voice softened, tinged with desperation. "At least let me adopt him. Nobody will know the truth. I'll protect him as if he were my own."
"No."
"Why?!"
Naruto hesitated, his fingers twitching slightly before he folded his hands in his lap. "It's not that I don't trust you," he said slowly. "But Fugaku… You know what I mean."
Her eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed as she realised what he was implying. She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but deep down, she knew he wasn't entirely. The Uchiha clan's ambitions, their growing discontent—it was too dangerous.
The room fell silent, save for the faint crackle of the oil lamp on Naruto's desk.
"Worry not," Naruto finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, almost a whisper. "Menma will live a peaceful life—a long, happy life, far from the chaos of this world. He'll die of old age, surrounded by the bonds he'll make. That's my promise to him."
Mikoto's frustration boiled over. "Stop pretending you don't care!" she shouted, her voice cracking with emotion. "You're not a master pretender, Naruto. Look at your eyes—they're teary, for God's sake! You love him, don't you? You're just too scared to let yourself care!"
Naruto's jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. He stood abruptly, gathering a handful of reports from his desk. "I have work to do," he said, his voice cold and final. "If you'll excuse me, Auntie."
Mikoto's shoulders slumped as she stared at him, searching his face for any trace of the boy she used to know. But Naruto had already turned away, his small frame seemingly swallowed by the towering stacks of paperwork and the heavy silence of the room.
Without another word, Mikoto left, her heart heavy with sorrow and frustration. She didn't look back as the door clicked shut behind her, leaving Naruto alone once more. But as she walked down the hallway, she couldn't shake the image of his hollow eyes and trembling hands, the weight of his burdens far too heavy for a child.
Ô~Ô
Author Note: Wrote this in an hour, I was excited, so pardon any mistakes present here.
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!