Prologue: The Boy's Life Filled with Neglect
Minato Namikaze, the Fourth Hokage, stood beside his exhausted wife, Kushina Uzumaki, a proud yet weary smile on his face as he held their firstborn son. The infant had a tuft of wild blond hair, his tiny body wrapped snugly in a warm blanket. His name had already been decided, Naruto Uzumaki-Namikaze, the child who would carry their legacy forward.
But the moment of peace was fleeting.
Another cry pierced the air, then another.
Two more newborns lay in their cribs beside Naruto. His younger siblings, a boy and a girl, their tiny bodies already pulsing with an unusual energy. While Naruto lay silent, his siblings glowed with raw power, the seal on their stomachs marking them as something greater than ordinary children.
Minato's gaze lingered on the two infants, his expression shifting from warmth to something deeper, determination. Kushina, despite her exhaustion, reached for them with a trembling hand, her instincts as a mother honing in on the energy she could feel within them. The burden of the Nine-Tails had passed to them. They were jinchūriki, and that made them vital to the future of Konoha.
Naruto, however, was different.
No chakra surged within him. No trace of the beast's power clung to his being. Compared to his siblings, he was... normal.
And in that moment, normal became forgettable.
--
At first, the changes were subtle.
In the early days, Minato and Kushina still cared for Naruto, feeding and holding him as any parents would. But their attention was divided, their focus constantly pulled toward their younger children. They spent countless hours with them.
Naruto, meanwhile, remained in the background.
When he cried, it was his caretakers, random village nannies, servants of the Hokage household, who attended to him. When he needed comfort, he found only an empty crib or the cold presence of strangers. His parents were always too busy, too preoccupied with his siblings to notice the longing in his bright blue eyes.
As the months turned into years, the divide between them grew wider.
His siblings were given the best trainers, their early development monitored closely by the likes of Jiraiya and even Hiruzen Sarutobi. They were showered with praise, called prodigies, blessed by fate itself. They received gifts from the villagers, words of encouragement from shinobi who saw them as the village's future protectors.
Naruto, on the other hand, was simply there.
--
By the time Naruto was five, he had already learned one painful truth, he was invisible.
At home, his siblings were the center of attention. Their laughter filled the halls, their chakra flares causing excitement, their every achievement met with proud smiles from Minato and Kushina. Naruto sat in the corner, watching, waiting, hoping for a moment to be noticed.
"Look, Mom! I made the leaf move!" His younger brother cheered, his small hands sparking with raw energy as he attempted a basic chakra exercise.
Kushina beamed, ruffling his hair. "That's amazing! You're already so strong!"
Naruto, sitting nearby, hesitantly held up a book. "Mom, I..."
"Not now, Naruto," she said absentmindedly, already turning back to his siblings.
It was always not now.
Always later.
But later never came.
The village followed the same pattern. When the children of the Fourth Hokage walked the streets, people stopped to praise the jinchūriki. They were symbols of hope, the ones who carried the burden of the beast and would one day surpass even their father.
Naruto was an afterthought.
When he spoke, people barely listened. When he played, he played alone. When he fell, no one came running to help him back up.
By the time he entered the Academy, he understood something even crueler, people didn't just ignore him. They expected nothing from him.
While his siblings were heralded as future legends, Naruto was seen as the weakest link. The Hokage's son who had no chakra, no special talent, nothing to offer. Even the Academy instructors overlooked him, their training tailored toward molding future shinobi, not a child who couldn't mold chakra at all.
At first, Naruto tried to compensate. He studied hard, read more books than anyone in his class, memorized battle tactics, history, and even sealing theory. But none of it mattered. Without chakra, he couldn't perform even the most basic techniques.
He was mocked by his classmates. The teachers sighed whenever he failed. His own siblings, though not cruel, barely acknowledged his efforts.
What was the point of trying when no one believed in him?
--
Neglect bred resentment.
Resentment turned into anger.
Anger, left to fester, became something sharper.
By the time Naruto was eight, he realized that being quiet and obedient got him nowhere. No matter how much he tried to impress them, no matter how much effort he put in, his parents and the village would never see him the way they saw his siblings.
So, he changed tactics.
If they wouldn't acknowledge him for his strength, he would make sure they acknowledged him another way.
At first, it was simple pranks, misplacing scrolls, rearranging the Hokage's paperwork, filling the Academy's chalkboard with nonsense. But soon, his tricks became more elaborate. He learned how to manipulate people's perceptions, how to plant false rumors, how to turn expectations against his targets. He delighted in watching instructors chase after false leads, in seeing village elders argue over missing documents that he had secretly returned the next day.
And for the first time in his life, he felt something close to control.
People noticed him. They spoke his name, even if it was in frustration. They looked at him, even if it was with exasperation.
It wasn't the love he had once wanted. But it was something.
And something was better than nothing.
Little did Naruto know, deep within him, something ancient stirred. His mischief, his cunning, his very nature was no mere coincidence. It was who he had always been.
A trickster. A deceiver. A god of mischief, reborn.
Even if he didn't know it yet.
--
Would his family ever see him?
Would the village ever acknowledge him for who he truly was?
Or would he have to force them to look his way, no matter what it took?