The closer they drew to the Academy, the more families they passed—parents leading their children by the hand, faces filled with hope.
But the moment those parents caught sight of Naruto, their expressions shifted ever so slightly. None dared make a scene, not with Iruka walking beside him. None openly sneered or pointed fingers. Yet in their eyes—just for an instant—there flickered a trace of disgust and fear.
The glances were subtle, nearly imperceptible.
But Naruto noticed them all.
If a curious child so much as looked his way, a parent would immediately tug the little one aside, whispering sternly that they mustn't talk to that blond boy—mustn't even meet his gaze.
Malice, all around him.
For a fleeting second, something stirred within Naruto. His grip on Iruka's hand tightened, ever so slightly.
Iruka felt it. That faint tremor.
As a mere chunin, he didn't know Naruto's true identity as the Fourth Hokage's son. But as a shinobi, he understood what a Jinchuriki was. He knew of tailed beasts. And he knew—Naruto was not the Nine-Tails. He was just its vessel.
A pitiful child.
A boy who, like himself, had lost his parents on the night of the Nine-Tails' rampage. Yet unlike Iruka, Naruto was treated as if he were the monster itself.
Despised. Feared. Shunned.
Iruka's gaze softened.
Of course, he could never know the truth—that the emotion behind Naruto's sudden grip wasn't fear or sadness at all. For the briefest heartbeat, it had been killing intent.
My mentality still isn't steady enough, Naruto scolded himself silently, lowering his head with a faint, bitter smile.
The villagers?
He didn't exactly hate them. They weren't the ones who had orchestrated his suffering. They were ignorant, misled, blinded by fear. They mistook the vessel for the beast sealed within. It was almost natural, in its way.
But lack of hatred didn't mean affection. If the chance arose, Naruto wouldn't hesitate to let these fools taste despair. His true enemies, however, were the ones sitting high above, speaking of "peace" and "sacrifice"—the Konoha elders.
Above all, Shimura Danzo.
That man was marked for death.
And not just for his own sake. For his parents' sake as well.
Obito bore the direct blame for that night. But Danzo's hands were just as filthy.
In his past life, the "original Naruto" had been too naïve—trying to protect Konoha at all costs, even attempting to redeem Obito in the end. Pathetic.
This time, things would be different.
No matter his sob story, no matter his excuses—Uchiha Obito was on the kill list.
The Uchiha clan was complicated. Some, like Shisui, Kagami, even Itachi, carried contradictions worth respecting. But Obito? He was simply unforgivable.
Compared to the rest, even Madara was almost… endearing.
"We're here, Naruto."
Iruka's voice broke his thoughts.
The Academy's gates loomed ahead, surrounded by crowds of families and children.
Guiding Naruto to a quieter corner, Iruka crouched slightly, ruffling his hair with a reassuring smile.
"Wait here for a bit. I'll handle your registration, then come back for you, alright?"
"Yes, Teacher Iruka."
Naruto looked up at him, face bright with a sunny grin, nodding firmly.
"Don't wander off. I'll be right back," Iruka added, still unable to hide his worry.
He was overprotective, perhaps—but Naruto didn't mind.
In this world, children grew up fast. By six or seven, many were already shinobi. Kakashi Hatake had graduated at five and become a jonin by twelve. True, geniuses like him were rare—but still, most saw the battlefield before adulthood.
But Konoha?
Konoha had grown… soft.
Enrollment at six, graduation at twelve. Six years of sheltered training, never once tasting blood. That wasn't how shinobi were forged.
The "Will of Fire" wasn't wrong. But under Hiruzen Sarutobi's reign, it had rotted. Too much gentleness, too much compromise. To the outside world, endless concessions. To the inside, endless tolerance—even for men like Danzo.
He had even let Orochimaru escape, though he'd had the chance to end him. And later, the village would pay dearly for that mercy.
To Naruto, it was foolishness. Proof of decline.
But in the end, Konoha's fate wasn't his concern. He bore no sentimental ties to this village—even if his father had once been its Hokage.
It wasn't long before Iruka returned, visibly relieved to find Naruto exactly where he'd left him. He needn't have worried.
This was Konoha's Academy. For all their hatred, the villagers wouldn't dare touch the Hokage's charge.
"Alright, Naruto," Iruka said, smiling again. "Let's head to your classroom."
"Yes, sir!"
Naruto nodded, gripping Iruka's hand once more as the two of them stepped together into the Academy.