The morning sun had barely crested the Hokage Monument when Naruto made his decision.
He had spent the hours since Satsuki's departure in contemplation—not emotional processing, for he was incapable of that, but logical analysis. The revelation about his parentage raised numerous questions, and those questions required answers.
Why had he never been told?
Who else knew?
What other secrets were being kept from him?
These were not questions born from hurt or betrayal—he couldn't feel those things. They were simply gaps in his understanding of his own situation, and gaps should be filled.
He dispelled his remaining shadow clones, absorbing their night's worth of training memories, and prepared to leave. The team meeting wasn't until seven, but his destination was elsewhere.
The Hokage Tower.
The building was already bustling with activity despite the early hour. Administrative ninja hurried through hallways, carrying documents and reports. Guards stood at attention, their eyes tracking Naruto as he walked past without acknowledging them.
He had been to the Hokage's office before—several times, in fact, during his younger years when the old man had summoned him for what now seemed like hollow check-ins. Conversations where Hiruzen asked if he was doing well and Naruto lied and said yes, because even then he had understood that the truth would change nothing.
The secretary outside the office looked up as he approached, her expression shifting to barely concealed distaste before she masked it with professional neutrality.
"The Hokage is busy," she said flatly. "You'll need to make an appointment."
"No."
Naruto walked past her without slowing, ignoring her sputtered protests as he pushed open the heavy doors to the Hokage's office.
Hiruzen Sarutobi looked up from his paperwork, surprise flickering across his weathered features. Two ANBU guards materialized from the shadows, their hands moving toward weapons, but the Hokage waved them down with a slight gesture.
"Naruto," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "This is unexpected. Is something wrong?"
Naruto walked forward until he stood directly in front of the Hokage's desk. His empty blue eyes met the old man's dark ones without flinching.
"Minato Namikaze was my father."
The words fell into the silence like a hammer striking stone.
Hiruzen's face went through several expressions in rapid succession—shock, recognition, resignation, and finally settling on something that looked like weary acceptance.
"How did you find out?"
"The Scroll of Seals. He left notes addressed to me specifically."
The Hokage closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them again, there was pain visible in their depths. "I see. I had hoped... I had hoped to tell you myself, someday. When you were ready."
"When I was ready." Naruto's voice carried no inflection, but the repetition itself seemed to convey something. "I am twelve years old. I have lived my entire life not knowing who my parents were. At what point would I have been 'ready'?"
"Naruto—"
"The village has hated me since birth. They have beaten me, starved me, isolated me, and broken me so thoroughly that I can no longer feel emotions. And through all of that, you kept secret the fact that my father was their greatest hero."
Hiruzen flinched as if struck.
"Do you understand what that information might have meant?" Naruto continued, his tone still flat but his words cutting. "Not now—I am beyond caring now. But before. When I was five years old and wondering why everyone hated me. When I was eight and being chased through the streets by mobs. When I was eleven and lying in an alley after being beaten so badly that something inside me simply... stopped."
The Hokage's face had gone pale. "I didn't know it was that bad. I didn't—"
"You didn't know because you didn't look. You assigned ANBU to watch me, but you never read their reports. Or if you did, you chose not to act on them." Naruto tilted his head slightly. "I found the observation records in the administrative files. I know exactly how much you knew and when you knew it."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and damning.
"Why?" Naruto asked. "Not why didn't you help me—I understand political constraints and the limits of intervention. But why hide my parentage? What purpose did that serve?"
Hiruzen seemed to age another decade in the span of seconds. He set down his pipe with trembling hands and spoke in a voice that had lost all its authority.
"Minato had enemies. Many enemies. Iwa, in particular, would have sent assassins after his child without hesitation. I thought... I thought that by keeping your parentage secret, I was protecting you."
"Protecting me."
"Yes."
"From foreign assassins."
"Yes."
"While domestic mobs beat me in the streets."
The Hokage had no response to that.
"You prioritized protecting me from theoretical external threats while ignoring the actual internal ones," Naruto summarized, his analytical mind cutting through the excuses to the core failure. "You made a strategic calculation and I suffered the consequences of your error."
"I made a mistake. Many mistakes." Hiruzen's voice was barely above a whisper. "I thought I was doing what was best. I was wrong."
"Yes. You were."
Naruto felt nothing about this admission—no satisfaction at the old man's guilt, no vindication at having his suffering acknowledged. Just observation. Just data.
"Who else knows?"
"Very few. Jiraiya, Minato's teacher. Kakashi, his student. A handful of council members who were present at your birth." Hiruzen paused. "Danzo, almost certainly, though I never confirmed it with him directly."
"Kakashi knew."
"Yes."
Something shifted in Naruto's expression—not emotion, exactly, but a recalculation. Kakashi had known. Kakashi, who had been assigned as his sensei. Kakashi, who had spent three weeks neglecting his duties before being confronted. Kakashi, who had claimed to fear attachment because everyone he cared about died.
Kakashi, who had known Naruto was the son of his own sensei and had still treated him as an inconvenience to be avoided.
"I see," Naruto said.
He turned and walked toward the door.
"Naruto, wait—"
"We are finished here."
"Please. Let me explain—"
"You have explained. Your explanations are inadequate, but I don't require adequate explanations. I require information, and you have provided it." He paused at the door, not turning around. "I don't hate you, Hokage-sama. I don't feel anything about you at all. You are simply another person who failed me when I needed help. The village is full of such people."
He opened the door.
"You asked me once if I was alright. I told you I was fine. We both knew it was a lie. The difference is that you accepted the lie because it was easier than confronting the truth."
And then he was gone, leaving the Hokage alone with his guilt and his regrets.
Naruto arrived at Training Ground Three precisely at seven.
Sakura was already there, seated on one of the wooden posts, reviewing a scroll on medical techniques. She looked up at his approach, her face brightening with that familiar adoring expression.
"Naruto-kun! Good morning!" Her eyes flickered over him, checking for any signs of distress or injury. "Did you sleep at all last night?"
"No."
"You really should try to rest more. Even if you can't sleep, lying down and closing your eyes helps the body recover." She hopped down from the post, moving to stand beside him. "Satsuki said she was coming to pick you up this morning. Did you walk here together?"
"No. I left before she arrived."
Sakura's expression flickered with concern, but she didn't press the issue. "Oh. Well, I'm sure she'll be here soon."
As if summoned by the words, Satsuki burst into the training ground at a full sprint, her dark hair streaming behind her and her impressive figure bouncing with each stride. She skidded to a halt in front of Naruto, slightly out of breath.
"Naruto-kun! I went to your apartment and you were already gone! I was worried something happened!" She grasped his arm, pressing it against her chest in what had become a habitual gesture. "Where did you go?"
"The Hokage's office."
Both girls stiffened, their expressions shifting to concern.
"The Hokage?" Sakura asked carefully. "Is everything okay?"
"I confronted him about my parentage."
Satsuki's grip on his arm tightened. She knew—she was the only one of the four girls who knew about the letter, about Minato. Her dark eyes searched his face for any sign of how the conversation had gone.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
"He confirmed that Minato Namikaze was my father. He explained that the secret was kept to protect me from foreign assassins. He acknowledged that this protection was inadequate given the domestic threats I faced."
"That's..." Sakura trailed off, confusion evident. "Wait. Minato Namikaze? The Fourth Hokage?"
"Yes."
Sakura's eyes went very wide. "The Fourth Hokage is your father?"
"Was. He died sealing the Nine-Tailed Fox inside me on the day of my birth."
The words were delivered with the same flat affect Naruto applied to everything, but their impact was profound. Sakura staggered slightly, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Oh," she whispered. "Oh, Naruto..."
"The Hokage also informed me that Kakashi knew about my parentage," Naruto continued, ignoring her reaction. "Kakashi was my father's student. He has known since before I was born."
Both girls fell silent, processing this information. The implications were clear—their sensei had known who Naruto was, had known his connection to the Fourth Hokage, and had still spent three weeks neglecting and avoiding him.
"That..." Satsuki's voice had gone cold, her earlier concern transforming into something darker. "That son of a—"
"Good morning, everyone!"
Kakashi appeared in a swirl of leaves, his usual lazy posture and curved-eye smile firmly in place. He held his orange book in one hand, apparently having been reading during his approach.
"Sorry I'm late. There was this old lady who needed help carrying her groceries, and then her cat got stuck in a tree, and—"
"You knew."
Kakashi's visible eye blinked at Naruto's interruption. "Knew what?"
"That Minato Namikaze was my father. You knew from the beginning."
The training ground went completely silent. Even the birds seemed to stop singing.
Kakashi's book lowered slowly, his casual demeanor cracking for the first time since Naruto had known him. "How did you—"
"The Scroll of Seals. My father left notes addressed to me. The Hokage confirmed the rest this morning."
The silver-haired jonin stood frozen, his visible eye fixed on Naruto with an expression that was impossible to read. Seconds stretched into a long, uncomfortable silence.
"I see," Kakashi said finally, his voice carrying none of its usual lightness. "So you know."
"I know that the Fourth Hokage was my father. I know that he was your sensei. I know that you were aware of this relationship when you were assigned to Team Seven." Naruto's empty blue eyes met Kakashi's mismatched ones. "What I don't know is why you treated me the way you did, given that knowledge."
Kakashi was silent.
"For three weeks, you arrived hours late to every meeting. You provided no meaningful training or instruction. You treated me—treated all of us—as inconveniences rather than students." Naruto's voice remained flat, but his words cut like knives. "You did this while knowing that I was the son of the man who taught you. The man whose techniques you use. The man whose legacy you claim to honor."
"Naruto—"
"Explain."
The single word hung in the air, a demand that could not be deflected or dismissed.
Kakashi's shoulders slumped. He put away his book with slow, deliberate movements, as if buying time to gather his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough.
"I was afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Of you. Of what you represent." Kakashi's hand moved to his covered eye, pressing against the hitai-ate that concealed his Sharingan. "Every time I look at you, I see him. Minato-sensei. You have his face, his coloring, even some of his mannerisms. And every time I see him in you, I remember how I failed him."
"How did you fail him?"
"I wasn't there. When the Nine-Tails attacked, when he was fighting to protect the village, when he sealed the beast and died—I wasn't there. I was on a mission. By the time I returned, he was already dead."
Kakashi's voice had gone hollow, dredging up pain that he had clearly buried for years.
"I should have been there. I should have fought beside him. Maybe I could have made a difference. Maybe he wouldn't have had to sacrifice himself. But I wasn't there, and he died, and I've spent twelve years carrying that guilt."
"And your response to that guilt was to neglect his son."
The accusation was not delivered with anger—Naruto was incapable of anger. But its simple, factual nature made it hit even harder.
"It wasn't... I didn't mean to..." Kakashi trailed off, unable to form a coherent defense. "I thought if I kept my distance, if I didn't get attached, it wouldn't hurt so much when..."
"When I died."
"Yes."
Naruto considered this for a moment. "You expected me to die."
"I expected everyone to die. Everyone I care about dies. My father. My teammates. My sensei. Everyone." Kakashi's voice cracked slightly. "I thought if I didn't let myself care about you, I could avoid that pain. I thought I was protecting myself."
"By abandoning me."
"I didn't abandon—"
"You were assigned responsibility for my development. You failed to fulfill that responsibility. The distinction between active abandonment and passive neglect is irrelevant to the outcome."
Sakura and Satsuki stood on either side of Naruto, their expressions hard. Whatever sympathy they might have felt for Kakashi's pain was overwhelmed by their protectiveness toward Naruto.
"You knew who he was," Satsuki said, her voice cold enough to freeze water. "You knew he was your sensei's son. And you still treated him like garbage."
"I—"
"He's been alone his entire life," Sakura added, her usual gentleness replaced by steel. "Hated by the village, ignored by everyone who should have protected him. And when he finally got placed on a team, with a sensei who should have had every reason to look out for him, that sensei spent three weeks pretending he didn't exist."
"You claim to have loved the Fourth Hokage," Satsuki continued. "You claim to carry guilt over not being there when he died. But when his son was right in front of you, suffering, needing guidance and support, you did nothing. You did worse than nothing—you actively avoided helping him."
"That's not love," Sakura said. "That's cowardice."
Kakashi stood motionless under their accusations, his visible eye fixed on the ground. He looked, in that moment, like a man who had just had every defense stripped away, every excuse dismantled, every justification exposed as the hollow rationalization it was.
"You're right," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're all right. I was a coward. I am a coward."
He looked up, meeting Naruto's empty gaze.
"I'm sorry. I know that word is inadequate—I know it doesn't fix anything or undo the damage I've done. But I am sorry. For failing you. For failing Minato-sensei. For letting my own fear hurt the person I should have been protecting."
Naruto observed his sensei's remorse without any emotional response. The apology was noted, filed away as data alongside all the other information he had gathered.
"Your guilt is your own concern," he said. "I don't require apologies. I require competence. If you are incapable of providing that, I will seek training elsewhere."
"I can do better. I will do better." Kakashi's voice carried a note of desperate determination. "I know I've failed you—failed all of you—but I can change. Starting now. Starting today. Just give me a chance to prove it."
"You've already had chances. You've already made promises of improvement. After the incident with Sakura and Satsuki three weeks ago, you claimed you would change. Your changes have been marginal at best."
"I know. But this is different. Before, I was going through the motions, trying to be a better sensei without actually addressing why I was failing. Now I understand. Now I know what I have to confront."
He took a deep breath, visibly steadying himself.
"I loved Minato-sensei. He was more than a teacher to me—he was like a father. When he died, I lost something I've never been able to replace. And when I saw you, his son, I was terrified. Terrified of caring about you and losing you too. Terrified of failing you the way I thought I failed him."
"So you chose to fail me preemptively."
"Yes. And it was wrong. It was cowardly and selfish and wrong." Kakashi's mismatched eyes—he had uncovered his Sharingan at some point during the conversation—met Naruto's. "But I can be better. For you. For your father's memory. For the team he trusted me to protect."
Silence stretched across the training ground.
Finally, Naruto spoke.
"Prove it."
"What?"
"Prove that you can be better. Not with words—words are meaningless. With actions. Demonstrate that you are capable of being the sensei my father would have wanted you to be."
Kakashi nodded slowly. "How?"
"Train us. Actually train us. Not the half-hearted instruction you've been providing. Real training. The techniques you've mastered, the skills you've developed, the knowledge you've accumulated over your career—share them. All of them."
"That would take—"
"Years. I'm aware. But we have years, assuming we survive long enough to use them." Naruto tilted his head slightly. "You also have a debt to repay. To me, specifically. You failed to protect my father. You failed to protect me. Those failures cannot be undone, but they can be balanced against future contributions."
"What kind of contributions?"
"Teach me everything you know. Not eventually—now. Use your Sharingan to copy techniques and pass them on. Share your tactical experience, your mission knowledge, your understanding of the ninja world. Make me strong enough that no one can fail to protect me ever again."
The demand was stark, almost brutal in its clarity. Naruto wasn't asking for emotional reconciliation or relationship repair. He was demanding compensation for years of neglect.
And somehow, that made it easier for Kakashi to accept.
"Alright," the jonin said quietly. "I'll teach you everything. All of you." He looked at Sakura and Satsuki, who were still standing protectively beside Naruto. "Starting today. Starting now."
"Good."
Naruto turned to face the training ground, his body settling into a ready stance.
"Then let's begin."
What followed was the most intensive training session Team Seven had ever experienced.
Kakashi demonstrated techniques he had copied with his Sharingan over the years—fire jutsu, water jutsu, earth jutsu, dozens of variations and combinations. He corrected their forms with precise, exacting feedback. He explained tactical concepts and mission protocols. He sparred with each of them in turn, pushing them to their limits and then pushing harder.
For the first time, he was actually teaching.
Sakura's water manipulation improved dramatically under his guidance, her control refining as he pointed out inefficiencies she hadn't even known existed. Satsuki's fire techniques gained power and precision as he showed her tricks the Uchiha clan had developed generations ago. And Naruto—
Naruto absorbed everything.
His shadow clones trained alongside them, multiplying the instruction he received. When Kakashi demonstrated a technique, five Narutos observed from different angles. When he explained a concept, five Narutos asked clarifying questions. When he corrected a mistake, five Narutos integrated the correction simultaneously.
By the end of the day, Naruto's growth was visible even to casual observation.
His taijutsu had sharpened, incorporating elements of Kakashi's style. His ninjutsu repertoire had expanded by half a dozen techniques. His tactical understanding had deepened, benefiting from Kakashi's years of mission experience.
As the sun set, casting long shadows across the training ground, Team Seven stood together in exhausted silence.
"Same time tomorrow," Kakashi said, his voice rough but lacking its usual lazy affect. "Don't be late."
It was a strange thing to say, given his own history of tardiness. But the words carried weight, a promise of changed behavior that had been absent from his earlier pledges.
Sakura and Satsuki exchanged glances, their expressions cautiously hopeful. This had been different. This had felt like real progress.
Naruto simply nodded and turned to leave.
"Naruto." Kakashi's voice stopped him. "I know you said you don't require apologies. But I need you to know—I will spend the rest of my career trying to make up for what I failed to do. For you, and for your father."
Naruto considered this statement.
"Actions will determine the sincerity of that claim," he said. "Words are insufficient."
"I know. But I wanted to say it anyway." Kakashi paused. "Your father would be proud of you. I know I have no right to say that, given how I've behaved. But it's true. The way you've grown, the way you've survived, the way you've become strong despite everything working against you—he would be proud."
Naruto felt nothing about this claim. Pride required emotional investment that he was incapable of providing.
But he filed the words away nonetheless.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, and walked away into the gathering darkness.
That night, Naruto sat on the roof of his apartment, staring up at the stars.
The day had been productive. He had gained valuable training, extracted commitment from Kakashi, and made progress toward his ongoing goal of becoming stronger. By any objective measure, it had been a successful day.
And yet.
The revelations about his parentage lingered in his mind, demanding attention he couldn't provide. The Fourth Hokage—the greatest hero of Konoha—was his father. The man whose face was carved into the mountain, whose legacy defined the village, whose sacrifice had saved countless lives.
His father.
He should feel something about that. Pride, perhaps, at his heritage. Grief, at the loss of parents he never knew. Anger, at the village that had hidden this from him while simultaneously punishing him for his father's final act.
But there was nothing.
Just emptiness, as always.
A soft sound behind him announced Satsuki's arrival. She had taken to visiting him at night, climbing up to his roof to sit beside him in silence. He didn't discourage her presence—it made no difference to him whether she was there or not.
She settled beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched, and looked up at the same stars.
"How are you feeling?" she asked softly.
"I don't feel."
"I know. I just... I wish I knew how to help you." Her voice was pained. "You found out the Fourth Hokage was your father today. That should be... I don't know. Life-changing. Earth-shattering. Something."
"It is something. It's information. Significant information that changes my understanding of my own history."
"But you don't feel anything about it."
"No."
Satsuki was quiet for a long moment.
"Do you remember what feeling things was like?" she asked finally. "Before... before whatever happened that made you this way?"
Naruto considered the question. It was something he had contemplated before, in his endless sleepless hours.
"Vaguely," he said. "I remember wanting things. Wanting acknowledgment, wanting friends, wanting people to see me as something other than a monster. I remember the pain of rejection, the brief moments of joy when someone was kind to me, the burning determination to prove everyone wrong."
"But you don't feel those things anymore."
"No. They're memories. Information about a past state that no longer exists."
Satsuki reached out and took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.
"We'll bring them back," she said, her voice carrying fierce determination. "Me and Sakura and Ino and Hinata. We'll find a way to make you feel again. I promise."
Naruto looked at their joined hands, noting the warmth of her touch without feeling the comfort it was meant to provide.
"Perhaps," he said. "Or perhaps not. Either way, your efforts are noted."
It wasn't the response she wanted. He could tell that much from the slight slump of her shoulders. But she didn't release his hand.
"I'll keep trying," she whispered. "As long as it takes. Forever, if I have to."
Naruto returned his gaze to the stars.
He couldn't feel gratitude for her devotion.
But some part of him—some tiny, distant part that still remembered what feeling was like—recognized that she was offering something precious.
And that recognition, faint as it was, was perhaps the closest thing to emotion he had experienced in a very long time.