Chapter 275: Similar Childhoods
The one being roughly shoved to the ground and bearing vicious abuse showed no sign of being a "monster" at all. That figure looked exceptionally small, probably only three years old.
Little Naruto with brilliant golden hair and azure eyes was driven from the shop by the owner like expelling a plague god.
"I know, I know! If you won't sell then don't... why so fierce?"
Little Naruto picked himself up, muttering softly while patting dust from his pants. He tried hard to make his voice sound indifferent, but that slightly trembling tail note still leaked a trace of barely concealed grievance.
This was clearly a scene of an adult bullying a young child, yet the villagers gradually gathering around—not one person stepped forward to stop it.
They merely exchanged glances and whispered, the looks they directed at little Naruto not only lacking sympathy but filled with undisguised disgust and cold hatred, as if viewing something unclean.
"It's that child again... just looking at him gives me the creeps..."
"Stay away from him, absolutely don't get involved with him in any way."
"He's clearly the one who killed the Fourth Hokage... why does the Third still allow this monster to remain in the village?"
"I heard he's that... the one who destroyed the village several years ago..."
"Really, why can this disaster star still swagger around the streets?"
Malicious whispers like cold needles densely stabbed toward that helpless small figure isolated in the center.
"Wait! Aren't you all being a bit too much?"
A passing man wearing a ninja vest seemed unable to watch anymore, couldn't help stepping forward wanting to speak up.
But before he finished speaking, his shoulder was firmly gripped by his companion behind him. The companion heavily shook his head at him, eyes full of helplessness and warning. Ultimately, that chunin still swallowed his words and silently withdrew from the crowd.
"This is... that person?"
Gaara stared blankly at that tiny figure, recognizing him—wasn't this Naruto Uzumaki who'd shown him inexplicable kindness repeatedly at the exam venue and in battle? This... was his childhood? The "monster" they spoke of?
"He's... the same as me..."
An indescribable tremor swept through Gaara's heart. He'd always thought he was this world's unique aberration, destined for solitude with no one able to understand his cursed existence.
Therefore, he could only comprehend through countless despairing assassination attempts by blood relatives the cruel philosophy of "only loving himself."
However, this scene before him—how similar it was to his childhood experience of being feared and shunned by villagers, viewed as a monster by everyone! That pain and coldness of being rejected by the entire world, treated as inhuman—he knew it all too well.
The scene before him began transforming like flowing water.
He saw tiny Naruto sitting alone on a park swing, watching other children not far away being tightly held by their parents' hands, gradually walking away with laughter until disappearing around the street corner.
He saw Naruto gathering courage to help several children chased by stray dogs and crying in fear, driving off the vicious dogs, yet accidentally getting a cut on his own arm. Just as he wanted to comfort those still-shaken children, he discovered they looked at him with even more terrified eyes than when avoiding the vicious dogs, screaming "Don't come near!" before running away without looking back.
He saw Naruto carefully placing his coins on a grocery store counter, wanting to buy a cheap bread. The shopkeeper used two fingers to pinch up the coin as if afraid of touching something dirty, tossing it into the cash box, then impatiently waving his hand, too lazy to even say "take it."
Human hearts were flesh and blood—repeated cold treatment and invisible harm wore away like water dripping on stone. Gradually, in little Naruto's clear blue eyes, besides disappointment, a kind of weariness and confusion began emerging.
He thought bewilderedly inside—I don't even want much interaction with you all... I just want to buy something to fill my stomach, just want to help out casually... why even for this, must you look at me with those eyes?
An invisible barrier began building between him and this village. His gaze gradually changed. The way he looked at surrounding villagers lost some of a child's dependence and closeness, gaining instead an observer-like calm and detachment.
This place where he was born no longer seemed like "hometown" in his eyes, but more like... a temporary shelter.
He began consciously avoiding those streets full of malice, choosing sparsely traveled paths, actively marginalizing himself, only seeking out of sight, out of mind.
In this gray memory footage, occasionally a figure would bring some warmth. It was a very old man wearing white divine robes somewhat similar to what his father the Kazekage wore.
The old man was almost the only one who'd stop and look at Naruto with calm or even slightly gentle eyes.
Once, Naruto couldn't help complaining to the old man that no one in the village would sell things to him. The old man listened quietly, his wrinkled face showing a thoughtful expression. He didn't say much, but afterward, Naruto's crude home would occasionally have food and snacks quietly appearing, enough to last several days.
...Then the scene flowed again, switching to imagery with completely different tone from the previous grayness.
One shop actually opened its warm door to little Naruto—it was a ramen shop. The owner whose eyes always smiled warmly was different from everyone else. He'd call out heartily to Naruto, and after he finished eating would ask with concern, "How was it, Naruto? Want to add another serving of char siu?"
Gaara saw for the first time on little Naruto's face such an unclouded, sun-like brilliant smile. But little Naruto also noticed that whenever he sat in the shop, customers who might have entered often hesitated or turned to leave.
Therefore, though reluctant in his heart, he could only forcibly suppress his longing, only daring to come occasionally, afraid of bringing trouble to this rare warmth.
Later, some turning point occurred—unclear what specifically happened. Originally almost all shops had closed their doors to Naruto, but from a certain day onward, though villagers' eyes remained cold, they began mechanically selling goods to Naruto as if completing a task.
As if an invisible order had been issued. Was it that old man... was he like Father, a powerful figure? Gaara couldn't help speculating.
Though surface rejection decreased, that omnipresent coldness and isolation didn't disappear. However, little Naruto seemed to no longer care so much about this.
He devoted more energy to ninja training secretly observed, using sweat and exhaustion to fill those long lonely hours, thereby spending years without companionship.
Gaara watched these fragments from an observer's perspective this way. His heart filled with tremendous incomprehension and confusion.
Why? Why exactly? This person clearly had such similar experiences to him, rejected by the entire world, viewed as a monster... why could he still treat others with such enthusiasm and unreserved attitude? Did his heart truly not harbor even a trace of resentment?
After all, that ramen shop owner and that old man only occasionally gave him brief warmth. Wait... companionship?
Gaara suddenly froze. When the bloody desires temporarily receded, two figures subconsciously surfaced in his mind... What about me? Do I truly... have absolutely no one accompanying me?
He must also be full of dissatisfaction with this place, right? If so, how did he become his current appearance?
Memory's scroll continued rapidly flashing before Gaara's eyes, recording how that blonde youth alone spent lonely times day after day. Until one day, the scene turned toward a training ground on the village's outskirts.
Right there, Gaara saw a black-haired little girl encounter Naruto who was training.