The sun had already dipped below the Hokage Mountain, casting long, stretching shadows across the village streets.
Nine-year-old Naruto Uzumaki kicked a pebble down the road, his hands behind his head. He was humming a tune he'd made up about ramen toppings, trying to ignore the way the shopkeepers rushed to pull down their shutters as he passed.
The heavy clang-rattle of metal shutters slamming down echoed through the street like prison bars closing.
He turned the corner toward the orphanage.
The streetlamp above him flickered. Zzzzt. It buzzed like an angry hornet, then died.
The darkness rushed in instantly, heavy and suffocating, smelling of damp garbage and old stone.
Naruto froze. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
He felt eyes. Not the usual angry eyes of the villagers. These were... cold. Empty.
He slowly turned his head.
Standing at the end of the alleyway was a figure.
It was small. Smaller than him. It wore a dark kimono that seemed to swallow the light.
A cold breeze swept down the alley—whoooosh—carrying no scent, just a dry, dusty chill that prickled his skin.
It had long, straight black hair that hung motionless around its face.
But the eyes.
They were pure white. No pupils. No iris. Just two milky voids staring straight into his soul.
Naruto blinked.
The streetlight buzzed back on.
The alley was empty.
"G-Ghosts don't exist," Naruto whispered to himself, his voice cracking. "Right? Ghosts are stupid."
He turned and sprinted the rest of the way home, not looking back.
Two days later, the fear had faded. Hunger was a stronger emotion than terror.
Naruto sat at the counter of Ichiraku Ramen, swinging his legs. The shop was warm, filled with the comforting scent of pork bones and soy sauce.
Steam swirled around the hanging lanterns, softening the light into a hazy, dreamlike glow.
"Here you go, Naruto!" Teuchi boomed, placing a steaming bowl of Miso Ramen in front of him. "Eat up! You're a growing boy!"
"Thanks, Old Man!" Naruto cheered, snapping his chopsticks apart.
He buried his face in the bowl. For a moment, everything was perfect. The noodles were chewy, the broth was salty, and nobody was looking at him with hate.
Ayame, walked over to refill his water glass. She smiled kindly, then looked past him toward the entrance.
"Oh," Ayame asked, tilting her head. "Is that girl with you?"
Naruto froze. A noodle slipped from his lips and splashed back into the broth.
Plop.
The sound was tiny but deafening in his own ears, like a pebble dropped in a well.
Girl?
He turned slowly on his stool.
The noren curtains—the red fabric flaps that hung at the entrance—were swaying gently in the wind.
Creak... creak.
The bamboo rod holding the curtains groaned rhythmically, a slow metronome of suspense.
Underneath the fabric, he saw sandals. Tiny, expensive-looking sandals.
And through the split in the curtain, at eye level for a four-year-old...
A single, white eye.
It was staring right at him. Unblinking. Void-like.
"AGH!" Naruto screamed.
He scrambled backward, falling off his stool. He pointed a trembling finger at the entrance.
"THE GHOST! IT FOUND ME!"
Teuchi leaned over the counter, holding a ladle like a weapon. "Ghost? Where?"
He looked at the entrance.
A cart rumbled past outside. The wind blew the curtains open.
There was no one there.
"Naruto?" Ayame asked, concerned. "Are you okay? You look pale."
Naruto grabbed his bowl, chugged the rest of the soup in one go, and slammed it down.
"I gotta go!" he yelled. "The spirits are after me!"
He bolted out of the shop, leaving a confused Teuchi holding the bill.
Safety was an illusion.
Naruto was at the Academy. It was a sanctuary. Ghosts couldn't get into the Academy, right? There were seals or something.
He walked toward the boys' bathroom, whistling to keep his courage up.
The door swung open, and Kiba walked out, looking smug. Akamaru—still a puppy—was perched on his head, yipping happily.
Akamaru smelled like wet dog and milk, a warm, living scent in the sterile hallway.
"Watch it, loser," Kiba grunted, shoulder-checking Naruto as he passed.
"Watch it yourself, dog-breath!" Naruto shouted back, grateful for the normal, human interaction.
He walked into the bathroom. The air smelled of harsh soap and boys who didn't know how to aim.
The fluorescent light overhead hummed loudly—zzzzzzzt—flickering slightly and casting jittery shadows on the tiles.
Naruto walked to the sink to wash his hands.
He looked in the mirror.
Behind him, the door to the janitor's closet was cracked open just an inch.
A drip from a leaky faucet echoed in the silence—plink... plink... plink—counting down the seconds.
In the darkness of the crack...
The white eye.
It was lower this time. Crouched. Watching.
"GYAAAAH!"
Naruto screamed so loud the glass in the mirror rattled. He slipped on a wet spot on the floor, flailed wildly, and scrambled out of the bathroom on all fours.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" he shrieked, sprinting down the hallway. "I DIDN'T DO IT! WHATEVER IT IS, I DIDN'T DO IT!"
"It's a yōkai!" Naruto insisted, clutching my sleeve. "A demon! A ghost child! She wants my soul, Sylvie! She wants to eat it like a dumpling!"
I sighed, adjusting my glasses. We were standing by the Academy swing set—Naruto's favorite spot for brooding.
"Naruto," I said reasonably. "Ghosts aren't real. And if they were, they'd probably have better things to do than watch you pee."
"She's everywhere!" Naruto whispered, looking around frantically. "She has white eyes! Like... like dead fish eyes! And black hair! And she never blinks!"
In the background, Ebisu-sensei walked by, lecturing a very young Konohamaru about the proper way to hold a shuriken.
Ebisu's voice was a nasally drone, drifting on the wind like an annoying insect.
Neither of them noticed us.
"Look," I said. "You're stressed. You're imagining things. It's just pareidolia. Your brain is finding patterns in the—"
"THERE!"
Naruto grabbed my face and physically turned my head toward the Academy building.
"WINDOW! SECOND FLOOR! LOOK!"
I looked.
Classroom 2-B. The lights were off.
But pressed against the glass, barely tall enough to see over the sill
Her breath fogged the glass in a small, expanding and contracting circle—huff... huff—proving she was alive.
... was a face.
Pale skin. Straight black hair cut in a hime style. Blank, lavender-white eyes.
It wasn't a ghost.
I squinted. My civilian brain recognized the features instantly. The aristocratic bearing. The specific shade of the dōjutsu.
That's a Hyūga, I realized. And a tiny one.
"Stay here," I ordered Naruto.
"Don't go!" Naruto wailed. "She'll curse you!"
I marched over to the building. I walked to the wall under the window. I looked up.
The face looked down. She didn't flinch. She just stared at me with the terrifying intensity of a toddler who knows things.
A bird chirped loudly nearby—tweet-tweet—shattering the spooky atmosphere instantly.
"Hey," I called up. "You're not a ghost, are you?"
The girl stared.
Then, she blinked. Once.
"Hanabi-sama!"
A frantic voice echoed from around the corner of the building.
A woman burst into view. She wore the traditional robes of the Hyūga branch family servants, her apron askew. She looked like she was about to have a heart attack.
Natsu Hyūga. Hanabi's caretaker.
"Hanabi-sama!" Natsu cried, spotting the face in the window. "Oh, thank the ancestors! I turned my back for one second to dust the vases!"
The face in the window disappeared.
A moment later, a tiny girl walked out of the side door of the Academy.
Her sandals tapped lightly on the pavement—pat-pat-pat—a sound too solid for a ghost.
Hanabi Hyūga, age four.
She walked with a solemn dignity that was hilarious on someone who was barely three feet tall. She stopped in front of Natsu.
"I was exploring," Hanabi stated. Her voice was small but firm.
"You were hiding!" Natsu wept, checking the girl for scratches. "Why do you keep running away during nap time?"
Hanabi pointed a tiny finger at the swing set where Naruto was currently hyperventilating behind a tree.
"Orange," Hanabi said. "Bright."
Natsu looked at Naruto. She looked at Hanabi.
"You were... watching the orange boy?"
Hanabi nodded. "He is loud. Nobody looks at him. Good for hiding."
I stifled a laugh.
It's tactical, I realized. She figured out that Naruto is a social blind spot.
I could smell the faint scent of expensive incense clinging to her robes, the smell of the Hyūga compound.
If she stands near him, adults instinctively look away. She's using the protagonist as a stealth cloak.
"Please, Hanabi-sama," Natsu pleaded, taking the girl's hand. "Let's go home. Hiashi-sama will have my head."
Hanabi looked at me. Then she looked at Naruto.
She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
"Bye, ghost," she whispered.
Then she let Natsu drag her away.
I walked back to Naruto. He was holding a stick like a weapon.
"Is it gone?" Naruto whispered. "Did you banish the spirit?"
I patted him on the shoulder.
"Yeah, Naruto," I smiled. "I banished her. But you might want to stop wearing so much orange. It attracts... spirits."
"No way!" Naruto zipped his jacket up higher. "Orange protects me from evil! It's scientifically proven!"
He zipped the jacket so fast it made a sharp zzzzip sound, sealing himself in his fortress of denial.
"Sure," I said. "Let's go get ramen. My treat."