Author's Note: This is my first attempt at a Naruto fanfiction, and I'm just a novice writer pouring my heart into this story. I hope you feel the weight of Naruto's grief and the spark of his awakening as much as I did writing it. Please let me know if you liked it or not—your feedback means the world to me and will help me grow as a writer. Hope you like it.
Chapter 1 - Prologue
Naruto, just Naruto, stood in his small house, his eight-year-old heart pounding so hard it hurt. His blond hair was a sweaty mess, sticking to his face, and his amethyst eyes, bright like purple gems, stared at the danger. His pale face was tight with fear, lips shaking. His red jacket, too big, flapped around him, and his patched shorts hung loose on his skinny legs. He gripped the kunai his mom gave him, its handle rough, blade chipped from practice. The one-room house, in a quiet village 20 kilometers from the Daimyo's capital in the Land of Fire, was his world—creaky floors, a scratched table, the smell of dust and old ramen.
This Naruto was his mom's hope, a kid with distant Uzumaki blood, raised to avoid the trouble that hunted their clan. His eight years were full of laughs, like chasing bugs in the yard, and pain, like nights with no food. He didn't know his dad, but his mom, Tamayo, was everything. When he was little, she told him, "Naruto, if you're in trouble, find Uzumaki Kushina, wife of the Fourth Hokage."
Why her? Kushina was famous, a red-haired Uzumaki who married the Yellow Flash. Everyone knew her, even in this far-off village. Tamayo had Uzumaki blood too, but hid it, her brown hair no clue to the clan's red. She chose this village to keep Naruto safe from the Uzumaki name, a target for enemies.
He'd never seen Konoha. Something, a feeling in his gut, kept him here, in this house. News came anyway. When Naruto was a baby, the Nine-Tails attacked Konoha, nearly killing Kushina and her daughter. It scared Tamayo, proving that the Uzumaki were in danger. She held him close, but hearing Kushina lived gave her hope she could protect him.
Raising Naruto was tough. A toddler alone, Tamayo worked hard—doing odd jobs here and there, skipping meals so he could eat. After years, they got this house, which was small but theirs. To Naruto, it was home, warm with his mom's voice, safe with her there. Tamayo was loved in the village, not for money—she had none—but for her strength, kindness, beauty, and a good judgment of character. Her brown hair, tied with a floral pin, and her kind heart made her voice matter, sometimes more than the chief's.
She couldn't read, but she read people. "Eyes are the doorway to the heart," she'd say.
She taught Naruto to see good from bad, so he was able to look past the chief's fake smiles, his jealousy when people listened to Tamayo. It got bad when she stopped his mill plan, a greedy idea to tax the village. Her words turned the crowd, shaming him. Naruto didn't think he'd go this far, not till now.
Three mercenaries stood in front of him, swords close to his throat. The room smelled of sweat and steel, the floor creaking under their boots. They laughed, saying the chief paid them to kill him and his mom. "She's too popular," the tall one said, his scarred face mean. "Chief wants her gone." Naruto's heart raced, but he remembered his mom, their home, and the spark she said was in him. These men, their swords, their greed—he'd fight. His amethyst eyes burned, scared but ready, kunai tight in his hand.
The third mercenary, a short guy with a cocky grin, swung his sword, mocking, "What's a kid like you got?" Naruto's fear turned to fire, and his mom's lessons were clear—hit fast. He lunged, stabbing the man's thigh. Blood sprayed, the mercenary screamed, his leg useless, sword falling as he hit the floor, cursing.
The tall mercenary laughed, but the quiet one, a skinny guy in a hood, eyes cold, didn't. A chunin, a veteran of bloody fights, he moved fast, like a shadow. His blade flashed, aiming for Naruto's head, death close.
But he stopped, looking at the door.
His mom was there.
Tamayo, Uzumaki, but afraid to say it, fearing it'd bring danger, carried grocery sacks down the path, her small body tired. Her brown hair was in a bun, a floral pin shining in the moonlight. Her lavender eyes, fading to purple, glowed faintly, wide with fear. Her red lips stood out on her pale face, her curvy figure under a purple kimono, red flowers on it, moving as she walked. The kimono was tight, a cream belt tied, her socks and sandals dusty. Sweat dripped, and her breath was short.
Beauty didn't matter now.
A cold fear hit her, like a knife in her gut. Something bad was at her house, a dark feeling aimed at Naruto. He was probably tossing his kunai, grinning. But danger screamed in her mind. She'd seen the chief's angry eyes when she stopped his mill, but was too tired to worry. Now, her instincts burned—her son was in trouble. Her heart pounded, love fierce.
The sacks fell, rice spilling. Tamayo ran, sandals loud, kimono flapping. She wasn't a shinobi, knew no tricks, but her legs moved, her blood pumping with adrenaline pushing her to her limits. Her hairpin fell, her breath hurt, and the cold air was sharp.
The village passed—old houses, dim lanterns, far from the capital. She picked this place to hide from the Uzumaki name, from enemies who hunted them. Their house, small and creaky, was her everything—nights sewing, going hungry for Naruto, his laugh making it home.
She'd paid rough men to teach Naruto to fight, enough to stop a thug. He was eight, not great, but stubborn. Against shinobi? He was a kid against a monster, and that fear cut her deep.
She reached the alley, smelling dirt and blood. Her heart stopped. Naruto was cornered, three mercenaries with swords, their armor stinking, grins cruel. Naruto held his kunai, face pale, hair wet, but his amethyst eyes were fierce. The short mercenary clutched his bleeding thigh, leg useless, cursing.
Tamayo stopped, eyes burning. "Let my son go. Now." Her voice was hard, shaking with anger. Her kimono's red flowers stood out, like she was ready to fight. Her heart screamed—she'd protect him.
The mercenaries laughed, and the tall one, face scarred, stared at her, eyes crawling over her sweaty kimono, her curves clear. He muttered vile things, thinking of ripping her clothes, hurting her after killing Naruto, her screams his fun. His yellow teeth showed, not caring about her rage or Naruto's fear. Some men were evil, wanting only to break.
They talked, swords loose, saying the chief hired them. Tamayo was trouble, her voice too strong, shaming him at the mill meeting. "Can't stand a woman better than him," the tall one sneered, breath bad. "Wants you dead."
Tamayo's anger grew. She just wanted a normal life, hearing his laugh. She didn't want power, but the village loved her, and the chief's fear brought this. The mercenaries wanted to drag it out, hurt Naruto, and break her. The tall one's eyes stayed on her, his sick thoughts clear to readers.
Naruto's kunai shook, his breath fast, eyes on his mom, scared but brave. Tamayo's heart roared—she wouldn't let them touch him. A fire grew inside, like her Uzumaki blood was alive, love and anger mixing. She grabbed a broken plank, splinters cutting her hand, and yelled, "Naruto, hold on!" Her voice was loud, eyes glowing, body shaking with strength, love her weapon.
The quiet mercenary, the chunin, didn't laugh. Skinny, in a hood, his eyes were cold. A veteran, he'd seen rage like hers turn deadly. He saw her glowing eyes, her tight grip, and knew she was dangerous. He wouldn't wait.
He moved, gone like a shadow. A cold breeze hit Tamayo's neck, a flash of metal. Naruto screamed, "Mom!" his voice breaking, his kunai swinging, eyes desperate.
Then—nothing.
Her head slowly slid from her body, severing her life in an instant.
It fell with a thump, rolling for several meters before coming to a stop.
Tamayo was gone. Her head lay severed, eyes staring blankly, her body crumpled in the dirt with a heavy thud. The plank she'd clutched fell, her fire snuffed out, like a flame doused in an instant. No fight, just a cold, brutal end. Her lavender eyes were lifeless, her kimono's flowers drenched in blood, the hairpin in her scattered hair glinting faintly under the moonlight.
Naruto stood paralyzed, his kunai slipping from his grasp, clattering to the ground. His amethyst eyes widened, tears spilling as grief sank into his chest, thick and choking, like tar swallowing his heart. His mother, his light, his everything, was gone. Her laugh, her gentle hands in his hair, her promises of love, all torn away. His body shook, pain ripping him apart, her severed head a cruel image burned into the moonlight.
His eyes ignited, a sharp, searing pain tearing through them, like fire blazing in his skull. He gasped, clutching his face, the world sharpening unnaturally—every detail vivid, as if he were the center of existence. His amethyst eyes turned crimson, a single black tomoe spinning in each, the Sharingan awakening, sparked by his anguish. He didn't know its name, didn't know the Uchiha blood in his veins, a secret Tamayo had guarded to protect him, perhaps from a father she'd hidden to keep him safe.
A raw, animalistic scream erupted from him, grief and rage shattering his mind. Only pain remained. He grabbed the kunai, blood slick on his hands, and charged, his body driven by instinct and hurt. The tall mercenary, his scarred face twisted in a sick grin, stood with his sword loose, savoring Tamayo's death, her broken form. Naruto's Sharingan saw it all—the man's stance, his vile glee, every twitch of muscle.
With a feral cry, Naruto plunged the kunai into the mercenary's chest, the blade biting deep. Blood sprayed, hot and red, splattering Naruto's face and tattered jacket. The man's grin faded, eyes wide, gasping as he clawed the air, blood foaming from his mouth, yellow teeth stained crimson. He collapsed, dead, his twisted thoughts extinguished. Naruto stumbled, breath heaving, his red eyes blazing, seeing too much—the short mercenary's corpse, the chunin's coiled stance, his mother's severed head and body.
The grief didn't relent, strangling him, her face everywhere. He fell to his knees, tears mixing with blood, the kunai dropping again. Crawling to Tamayo's head, his hands trembled as he touched her cold cheek. "Mom," he whispered, voice shattered, "please…" Her lavender eyes were empty, her hairpin glinting amid her bloodied hair, the flowers on her distant kimono dark with blood. He pressed his face to hers, sobbing, grief crushing his soul.
The chunin watched, eyes sharp, blade in hand. He recognized those red eyes—Sharingan. Uchiha blood, a rare treasure. Killing the boy would be foolish; the black market would pay a fortune for him. Greed flickered in his gaze, cold and calculating. He stepped closer, his shadow looming over Naruto, already plotting to capture him. The boy was broken, defenseless, but those eyes made him a prize.
Naruto didn't see, lost in his mother's face, her words echoing—hold on, you're strong. But how could he? Memories flooded: her sewing by lamplight, her warm laugh, her fierce love. He'd killed for her, but it wasn't enough. His kunai lay in the dirt, his hands on her lifeless head, his amethyst eyes dull with tears, the Sharingan fading for now. The chunin smirked, sheathing his blade, envisioning the wealth this boy would bring. The night was still, stars cold above, the fight paused—but Naruto, shattered yet carrying his mother's fire, was a spark, his hidden Uchiha blood a dangerous ember waiting to flare.