Six years had reshaped Konohagakure in ways both visible and invisible. The scars of the Nine-Tails attack had been mended—buildings reconstructed, streets repaved, walls fortified. But more than the physical restoration, something else had changed in the hearts of the villagers. The boy who had once been a source of fear and controversy now walked through those same streets as a symbol of something different entirely.
Naruto Sarutobi, Six years old with sun-bright hair and eyes that sparkled with endless energy, bounded through the village market district on a crisp autumn morning. His laughter rang out like bells, drawing smiles from shopkeepers and pedestrians alike. He wore a simple orange jacket that somehow seemed to capture the essence of his personality—bright, impossible to ignore, and utterly genuine.
"Good morning, Naruto!" called out Mrs. Tanaka, the elderly woman who ran the vegetable stand. Her weathered hands paused in arranging daikon radishes to wave at him. "How is your grandfather today?"
Naruto skidded to a stop, his small sandals kicking up tiny clouds of dust. "Grandpa is great! He's doing Hokage stuff again today. Lots of meetings." He wrinkled his nose in a way that suggested he found the concept of meetings both boring and mysterious. "He says I can't come because I ask too many questions."
Mrs. Tanaka laughed, the sound warm and indulgent. "That sounds like you, little one. Here, take these tomatoes for your grandfather. Tell him they're from my garden."
Naruto accepted the small basket with both hands, bowing as he'd been taught. "Thank you, Mrs. Tanaka! Grandpa loves tomatoes!" He darted off before she could say more, already spotting his next destination.
The years had been kind to Naruto in ways that might have seemed impossible on that terrible night six years ago. Hiruzen had kept his word with a devotion that went beyond duty. The boy had been raised in the Sarutobi household, surrounded by love and protection. Asuma, Hiruzen's son, treated Naruto like a nephew, teaching him small things—how to skip stones, how to identify clouds, how to make shadow puppets with his hands. The clan, initially wary, had gradually accepted him as one of their own.
More importantly, the village had followed Hiruzen's lead. Not everyone, perhaps—there were still those who watched the boy with guarded eyes, who remembered what slept sealed within him. But they were quiet in their reservations, kept silent by the Hokage's decree and their own sense of obligation to the Fourth's sacrifice. For most villagers, Naruto had simply become the Hokage's grandson—precocious, energetic, and impossible not to like.
Naruto stopped abruptly in front of a clothing shop, his attention caught by something in the window display. Among the various shinobi gear and civilian clothes hung a small hat—not quite the formal Hokage's hat, but similar in style with its white and red coloring. It was clearly meant as a child's toy, a miniature replica for youngsters who dreamed of one day leading the village.
His eyes went wide with wonder. "Wow," he breathed, pressing his face against the glass.
The shop owner, Mr. Hiroshi, noticed immediately. He stepped outside, wiping his hands on his apron. "Ah, Naruto! I see you've spotted the hat. Would you like to try it on?"
"Can I? Really?" Naruto's enthusiasm was infectious.
"Of course! Come in, come in."
Inside the shop, Mr. Hiroshi carefully placed the hat on Naruto's head. It was slightly too large, sitting at an angle that made the boy look even younger than his six years. But Naruto beamed at his reflection in the mirror, adjusting it with small, careful hands.
"It's just like Grandpa's," he said in awe.
"It suits you," Mr. Hiroshi said kindly. "A future Hokage should have a proper hat."
Naruto's chest puffed with pride at those words. He dug into his small pocket, pulling out a handful of coins that Hiruzen had given him for his weekly allowance. "How much?"
"Let's see... for you, fifty ryō."
Naruto counted carefully, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration—a habit that appeared whenever he was focused on something important. He counted twice to make sure, then handed over the exact amount with both hands, bowing again. "Thank you, Mr. Hiroshi!"
"Wear it well, young master."
Naruto practically floated out of the shop, the hat perched proudly on his head despite its tendency to slip forward over his eyes. He adjusted it every few steps, grinning to himself. Today was perfect. The sun was shining, he had his new hat, and the whole village seemed to be in a good mood.
"Naruto-kun!" A woman carrying a baby waved from across the street. "That's a fine hat!"
"Thank you, Miss Ayame!"
"Naruto, my boy!" An elderly man sitting outside a tea shop called out. "Give my regards to Lord Hokage!"
"I will, Mr. Watanabe!"
Every few steps brought new greetings, new smiles, new acknowledgments of who he was. The grandson of the Hokage. The bright spot in many of their days. A reminder that despite tragedy, life continued, and children could still laugh.
Naruto waved to everyone, his natural friendliness making the exchanges feel genuine rather than obligatory. He chattered about his new hat, about how he'd seen a really cool butterfly earlier, about how Asuma-ojisan had promised to teach him a new game. The villagers listened with patience and affection, asking after Hiruzen's health, commenting on how much Naruto had grown, telling him to be good for his grandfather.
He was passing through a quieter section of the market, near the training grounds, when he heard it—the sound that made something in his chest tighten uncomfortably. Crying. Not the loud wailing of a hurt child, but the quiet, hiccupping sobs of someone trying very hard not to make noise.
Naruto stopped, his head tilting as he listened. There, down a small side street between two buildings, he could hear voices. Young voices, mocking and cruel in the way only children could be.
"Weak Hyūga! Can't even stand up for yourself!"
"Your eyes are weird! Like you're sick or something!"
"Bet you can't even use your clan jutsu yet!"
Naruto's feet moved before his brain fully processed what he was doing. He rounded the corner to find three boys, probably a year or two older than him, standing in a semicircle around a smaller figure. The girl—he could tell it was a girl from her posture—had short dark hair cut in a neat style that framed her pale face. She was hunched over, her hands clutched in front of her, trembling.
The three boys were typical bullies. The leader was tall and lanky with a mean smile. Beside him stood a chubby boy with flushed cheeks, and the third was average in build but wore an expression of cruel enjoyment.
"Hey!" Naruto's voice cracked through the air like a whip. "What do you think you're doing?"
All three boys turned, and the girl's head snapped up, revealing pale lavender eyes that were brimming with tears. Hyūga eyes. Naruto had seen them before on the formal clan members who occasionally visited his grandfather.
"Mind your business," the tall boy sneered, though there was already a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
Naruto marched forward, positioning himself directly between the bullies and the girl. He crossed his arms, trying to make himself look as intimidating as possible despite being the smallest person present. His new hat slipped forward, and he shoved it back impatiently.
"Stop picking on her!" he demanded. "That's not cool!"
The chubby boy stepped forward, fists clenched. "Who do you think you—"
"Wait!" The average boy grabbed the chubby one's arm, his eyes widening. "That's... that's the Lord Hokage's grandson!"
The effect was immediate and almost comical. The chubby boy's face went from red to pale in an instant. The tall leader took a step back. Even the third boy looked nervous.
But Naruto wasn't finished. Something about seeing the girl's tears, about hearing their mocking words, had ignited something fierce in his chest. He pointed an accusing finger at them, his young face set in the most serious expression he could manage.
"If I ever catch you picking on anyone again," he declared, his voice dropping to what he clearly thought was a threatening tone, "I'll tell my grandfather about you. And you know what he'll do?"
The three boys shook their heads, mesmerized and terrified.
"He'll send you to the ANBU!" Naruto continued, warming to his theme. He was remembering every scary story Asuma had ever told him, every exaggerated threat his uncle had used to make him behave. "They'll make you train from sunrise to sunset without any breaks! No lunch! No dinner! No ramen!" His voice rose with each proclamation. "Only water! Plain water! And they'll make you run around the village a hundred times! No, a thousand times! And if you complain, they'll make you do push-ups on one finger! And then—"
He was on a roll now, his imagination running wild. The three boys' faces had transformed from pale to absolutely terrified, their eyes growing wider with each punishment Naruto described. Behind him, he could hear a small gasp from the girl, and if he'd turned around, he would have seen her own face crumbling into fresh tears at the horrifying images his words were painting.
"—and they don't let you sleep! You have to train even in your sleep! And there are tests! Really hard tests! And if you fail, they make you write lines! A million lines! About why bullying is bad! And your hand gets all crampy and—"
"W-we're sorry!" the tall boy stammered.
"We won't do it again!" the chubby one added, already backing away.
"We promise!" the third boy squeaked.
They didn't wait for Naruto's response. As one, they turned and ran, stumbling over each other in their haste to escape. Their panicked footsteps echoed off the buildings, gradually fading into the distance.
Naruto watched them go with satisfaction, his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out. He'd done it! He'd saved someone! Just like a hero! Just like—
A small sniffle behind him made him remember the girl. He spun around, and his triumphant expression faltered. The girl was still standing there, but now her eyes were absolutely swimming with tears, her lower lip trembling. She looked terrified—of him.
"Oh no, no, no!" Naruto said quickly, waving his hands. "I won't do any of that to you! I was just scaring them! None of that's real! Well, mostly not real. I don't think? Asuma-ojisan tells me stuff but I'm not really sure if it's true or—"
He was rambling, he knew, but the girl was still crying and he didn't know how to fix it. So he did the only thing he could think of—he smiled. His biggest, brightest smile, the one that usually made Mrs. Tanaka laugh and Mr. Hiroshi shake his head fondly.
"I'm Naruto!" he announced, straightening up and adjusting his hat again. "Naruto Sarutobi!"
The girl blinked, her tears pausing as confusion replaced fear.
"You... you are?, " , he inquired.
She had the softest voice Naruto had ever heard, barely above a whisper. He had to lean forward to catch all her words. Slowly, she stood up straighter, her hands still clutched nervously in front of her.
"H-Hinata," she managed, so quietly he almost missed it. "My name is Hinata."
"Hinata," Naruto repeated, testing the name. It felt nice. "Cool name! Hey, listen, if those guys bother you again, you just tell me, okay?" He pointed to himself with his thumb, grinning with absolute confidence. "I'll save you from trouble! Because I'm going to be the next Hokage!"
"H-Hokage?" Hinata's eyes widened, and Naruto noticed they were actually kind of pretty, even if they were still watery from crying.
"Yeah!" He pumped his fist in the air, his hat slipping again. "Just like my grandfather! I'm going to be the best Hokage ever! I'll protect everyone in the village! Believe it!" He gave her a big thumbs up, the gesture seeming to carry all the weight of a sacred promise.
For a moment, Hinata just stared at him—this boy with his too-big hat, his bright orange jacket, his blinding smile, and his absolute, unshakeable certainty. Something shifted in her chest, something she was too young to name but would carry with her for years to come.
"Okay then!" Naruto said, apparently satisfied that she was no longer crying. "I gotta get these tomatoes home before they get warm. Grandpa's waiting! See ya, Hinata!"
He turned and walked away, putting his hands behind his head , and interlocking his fingers in a casual pose he'd seen Asuma do a hundred times, holding the cover which contains all gifts given to him by the villagers against his back. His hat bobbed with each step, and he hummed a tuneless song as he went, already thinking about lunch and whether Grandpa would have time to play shogi with him later.
Hinata stood there in the alley, watching him disappear around the corner. Her tears had dried, her heart was beating strangely fast, and her cheeks felt warm. Slowly, shyly, she raised her hand to her chest.
"Naruto-kun," she whispered to herself, the honorific feeling right somehow. Her voice was soft, almost dreamlike. "Naruto-kun..."
The name echoed in the quiet space, carrying with it the seed of something that would grow over the years—admiration, respect, and the first stirrings of a devotion that would shape the girl she would become.