Chapter 22: Wait for Me a Moment
Naruto deliberately let his face crumple, a perfect mask of wounded shock. He lowered his head, his voice dropping to a fragile whisper. "How… how could that be? Everyone in the village… they all call me the demon fox. A monster. They all hate me. How could someone like me have… parents…?"
He let the sentence hang, heavy with implication. "How could I possibly have parents?"
The words were a carefully aimed dagger, and they found their mark. Minato flinched as if physically struck. 'How could I have parents?' The sheer, crushing loneliness in that simple question was a testament to eight years of unspoken agony.
My son, Minato thought, his spectral heart clenching, what have they done to you?
His brilliant mind, used to dissecting enemy formations and predicting moves three steps ahead, now raced through a different battlefield. The Jinchuriki's identity must be controlled, kept from enemies. Yes, Hiruzen would keep it a village secret, as was done with Kushina. But to not even tell Naruto himself? To let him be consumed by this lie, to be the receptacle of the village's fear and hatred?
He tried to rationalize it, to find the strategy in the cruelty. "Naruto," he began, forcing his voice to stay calm, soothing. "It seems the Third Hokage… didn't tell you certain things. The truth about the Nine-Tails… if others knew you were my son, you would face unimaginable danger from Konoha's enemies. He was… he must have been thinking of your safety."
It was the only logical defense. Yellow Flash wasn't just a title; it was a legend forged in blood. Minato had been the nightmare of Iwa, the bane of Kumo. Enemies would pay any price to eliminate his bloodline. Secrecy was a shield. A terribly cruel, isolating shield.
Hearing this, Naruto's small body gave a violent shudder. The reaction was too visceral, too raw to be feigned. The dam holding back eight years of swallowed bitterness, performed smiles, and internalized hatred cracked in the presence of the one person who was supposed to have protected him.
Minato saw it and instinctively stepped closer, his hands coming up to rest gently on Naruto's shoulders. "Naruto? What's wrong? Did I… did I say something to upset you?"
And then Naruto laughed. It was a short, sharp, humorless sound. "Haha… haha… as I thought. I really can't keep up the act in front of you. The pretense… it's useless. Yondaime."
The switch was jarring. The wounded child vanished, replaced by a voice laced with a bitterness so deep it rivaled the Kyuubi's own. It was the sound of a pressure cooker valve finally blowing.
"Uh… Naruto? What's going on?" Minato's gentle expression froze, his paternal concern colliding with this sudden, icy cynicism.
Naruto took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. He seemed to be pulling the pieces of himself back together. When he looked up again, the mask was back, but it was cracked, thin. "No. It's nothing. Father. I'm… I'm doing fine."
The word 'father' landed like a lead weight. It was acknowledgment, but it carried no warmth, only a vast, weary distance. It confirmed Minato's worst fear. This wasn't just a child confused by secrecy. This was a child who had been broken and remade into something… fractured. Schizophrenia was too clinical a term, but the emotional whiplash was undeniable.
"I just don't understand," Naruto continued, his voice now flat, analytical. "Why seal the Nine-Tails inside me? Do you have any idea how I've lived these eight years?"
He didn't wait for an answer. The words began to spill out, a cold, factual inventory of neglect. "Thanks to you, I've been treated so well. From the moment I could eat solid food. Sand in the rice. Dirt. Cockroaches. You name it, I've probably eaten it. And the people… more than ninety percent of the village looks at me like I'm garbage. Their hatred… it's a physical thing. A weight. Every single day."
He stared directly into Minato's eyes, delivering each point like a prosecutor laying out evidence. Even with a transmigrator's perspective, these weren't borrowed memories; they were his memories. The loneliness of his other life felt like a faded dream compared to the visceral, daily reality of Konoha's contempt. He hadn't let it go. He'd just compressed it, weaponized it.
"How… how could this be…?" Minato murmured, his brows trembling. The distress on his face was profound. This wasn't strategic secrecy; this was systemic abuse. How could Hiruzen allow this? The trust he'd placed in his mentor shattered. No parent could hear this and maintain any goodwill toward the perpetrators.
Seeing Minato's pained expression, a tiny, vindictive part of Naruto unclenched. It was like a wronged child finally getting to shout his grievances at an adult who should have known. There was a bitter, fleeting sense of relief.
"Why?" Naruto pressed, his voice gaining an edge. "Do you think I'm lying?"
"No! Naruto, I believe you!" Minato's reply was instant, fierce. "But—"
But. The word was a spark on tinder.
Naruto's simmering anger flared. But? There was no 'but'! The facts were the facts!
Then, a memory from the merged knowledge surfaced—a flash from the Fourth Great War. The Nine-Tails' chakra mode. Its ability to connect consciousness, to share experiences and emotions directly, mind-to-mind.
A cold, grim smile touched Naruto's lips. The tender, painful scene dissolved. With a thought, they were back in the damp, oppressive sewer of the main seal, the chained and furious Kyuubi glowering in the background.
Naruto turned his gaze from his father to the giant fox, his expression shifting to one of intense focus. He cut off Minato's attempted explanation. "Enough. Talking is pointless. You won't truly understand with words alone. Let me show you. A more direct way."
Minato's eyes widened in alarm. "Naruto, what are you planning? Don't do anything rash!"
"I won't," Naruto said, his voice eerily calm.
Then, he stopped holding back.
Every muscle in his eight-year-old frame tensed. The carefully controlled aura he kept leashed for daily life—the one that let him pass as merely a talented kid—exploded outward. It wasn't chakra, not purely. It was the palpable weight of his combat power, the simmering, predatory energy of the Saiyan bloodline, and eight years of condensed, human malice.
WHOOSH!
An invisible shockwave erupted from him. The stagnant yellow water on the floor of the seal space boiled and rippled violently, sloshing against the stone walls. The very air grew thick, heavy with intent.
Namikaze Minato, the man who had faced down armies and Bijuu, took an involuntary step back, his spectral form flickering with shock. "This aura… it's impossible! How can a child… possess such dense, overwhelming pressure?!"
Even the Kyuubi, suspended in its diamond chains, stopped its furious struggling. Its enormous, blood-red eyes blinked slowly, narrowing in reassessment. "So much… hatred," it rumbled, a note of grim curiosity entering its voice. "This brat… he's changed. This isn't the same naive whelp from before."
Naruto stood at the epicenter of the storm he'd unleashed, his bright blue eyes now holding a light that was anything but childlike. He looked from the stunned ghost of his father to the imprisoned demon fox.
The performance was over. Now, it was time for a demonstration.
(End of Chapter)
✨Enjoying the story? You can support me on Patreon —
Patreon.com/MizuSan
✨ Patreon members get early chapter access, bonus content! 🥰
🎉 Plus, I'll release 1 extra chapter for every 5 reviews!💎 Or grab 1 bonus chapter for every 50 Power Stones you send my way! 🥳
🌊 Let's reach 20 Patreon members to unlock 5 extra chapters together!