Konoha, Year 50
A tiny figure darted through the bustling streets of the Hidden Leaf Village. Wherever he passed, the lively crowds seemed to freeze, then scatter—men, women, even children avoided him like he carried the plague.
Whispers followed behind him, soft but sharp:
> "There it is again…"
> "So unlucky. Every time I see it, I fall sick for days.
> "Probably stealing our life force or something."
> "Why isn't it dead yet? Freak."
> "The Fourth died… because of it."
> "Die, die, just die already."
> "…"
Venomous words. Cold stares. Hatred so thick it felt like it could spill into the streets.
It had been three years since the Nine-Tails attacked Konoha.
That night had taken so much.
Countless shinobi perished. Parents lost children, and children lost their families. The village's beloved hero, Fourth Hokage Minato Namikaze, had died sealing the beast.
Very few knew that his wife, Kushina Uzumaki, died alongside him. Even fewer knew the Fourth had a child.
Well… maybe many people knew.
But for various reasons, no one said a word.
It had become a taboo.
A well-known secret no one dared to speak aloud.
The tiny figure disappeared into a wooded path, vanishing from sight. And with that, the street returned to its usual, carefree bustle.
---
> "Let's see what I got today…" the boy muttered, stopping at a small stream in the woods.
He crouched by the water, fishing something out. Reflected in the stream: bright blond hair, a young but stubborn face, and eyes far older than his years.
He lifted a worn net cage—clearly handmade and patch-repaired, the kind often used by coastal folk to catch fish or shrimp.
> My name is Naruto Uzumaki. I'm a transmigrator… and an orphan.
> I watched my parents die the day I was born.
> He was a handsome man with a smile like sunshine. She was a red-haired woman with the gentlest eyes.
> It's been three years since I came to this world.
> The villagers hate me. So half a year ago, I left the little apartment I was given… and moved here.
> With time, more memories from my past life are returning.
Little Naruto stood up and looked back toward the village.
> I don't like that place. And it definitely doesn't like me.
> I like it here—it's quiet, peaceful. Sure, life's tougher, but at least the food's edible.
> No mold, no rot, no mystery smells. No weird crap in the rice.
He examined his catch: three palm-sized fish and a tiny crab. Enough for lunch.
> "Grilled fish and crab it is." He smiled faintly—rare for him.
He poured the rest of the catch into a rough stone-and-mud pool he'd built to store food. Nearby, a tiny patch of garden—wild vegetables transplanted from the forest. Next to it stood a small wooden shack, barely five square meters. Inside: a bed, a few clothes.
Everything he owned.
Naruto quickly gutted the fish, scaled them, skewered them, and roasted them over the fire. After finishing two fish and the crab, he was about to eat the last one—when he felt it.
A faint, bitter trace of malice—drifting in from nearby.
It was subtle, tangled with other strange emotional threads. But Naruto felt it clearly.
He always could.
> Malice sense.
Some kind of innate ability. This life gave me insane physical strength and hypersensitive senses. I can literally feel people's intent—especially if they hate me.
That's why, even at three years old, he chose to leave the village center. It was unbearable.
The hatred from the villagers on the main street? It was like trying to breathe underwater.
A figure in a red-and-white robe, wearing a conical hat and puffing on a pipe, appeared in the distance.
The Third Hokage.
> "Hi, Gramps Hiruzen." Naruto greeted him with a sweet, childish smile—though it felt more like muscle memory than genuine warmth.
> "Naruto, my boy," Hiruzen chuckled, taking a puff from his pipe. "I came to visit."
The smile on his face looked grandfatherly, but Naruto could tell—it was even more fake than his own.
> "How's life out here in the woods?"
Naruto felt the old man's malice spike slightly. It wasn't strong, but it was there.
He didn't like that Naruto had moved out.
> "Want some grilled fish?" Naruto offered the last one with a tilt of his head. "A little bitter, but it's still good."
Hiruzen blinked, slightly moved. The trace of malice on him softened.
> "Why did you move out here?" he asked casually, nibbling on the fish.
> "Well… nobody likes me anyway. So I figured I'd just live on my own."
Naruto kept his head down, eyes slightly downcast, voice soft and hurt.
It was exactly the tone to stir sympathy.
> Feel guilty, old man. That guilt is the only thing that keeps me safe.
Sure enough, Hiruzen patted his head with a touch of guilt. The malice on him faded even further.
Just as he was about to speak again, a black-cloaked ninja wearing an animal mask appeared silently beside him. He whispered something in Hiruzen's ear.
The old man's face shifted slightly.
He stood up to leave.
Naruto's superhuman hearing only caught scattered syllables—nothing clear.
---
Elsewhere, in a candlelit office...
> "Hiruzen, we cannot let the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki out of our sight," said an elderly, one-eyed man wrapped in bandages, leaning on a cane. "He is the village's greatest weapon."
> "He must be controlled."
Shimura Danzo—Konoha's elder and the true power behind the village's black-ops.
> "If you can't do it, give him to me. My ROOT will train him into a proper tool."
> "The Jinchūriki will not be handed over to you, Danzo!" Hiruzen snapped. "He is not your weapon!"
Danzo sneered.
> "Hiruzen! Are you trying to hoard power—"
> "That's enough." Hiruzen cut him off again, voice sharp. "Don't forget—I'm still the Hokage."
Danzo's lone eye narrowed.
> "You'll regret this, Hiruzen," he growled, before turning on his heel and storming out.
No one—not even once—mentioned the boy's name.
The boy they spoke of like a tool.
The boy who was, in fact, called Naruto Uzumaki.