"Women care about age, but men can't?"
Naruto tilted his head in confusion, eyes wide as he stared at Yan. "It's obviously my elder brother's age, but when you say that, I'm ten years older in an instant!"
Yan couldn't help but burst into laughter. After a moment, he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and leaned forward, reminding Naruto gently, "Naruto, Yan is not an uncle, he's only fifteen years old."
"But… fifteen?" Naruto repeated, his brow furrowed.
Fifteen might not sound old, but to Naruto, it was already a significant gap. He was conflicted. For someone like him, calling a fifteen-year-old "uncle" didn't seem too strange—he was used to strange social rules. Still, it didn't sit right.
"Anyway, don't call me uncle. Just sit down quickly—I'll cook you some noodles."
"Oh~~"
Naruto collapsed on the table with a dramatic sigh, eagerly anticipating the arrival of ramen, completely unaware that the ANBU agent stationed outside was moments away from an aneurysm.
Yan slurped his ramen slowly, but Naruto had entered so loudly, even calling him "uncle" without hesitation.
Yan was aware the ANBU was lurking nearby. Still, he didn't want to reprimand Naruto too much—it wasn't his fault. Yet, if Naruto kept calling him "uncle," he might have no choice but to knock some sense into him.
After all, this little blond menace had recently hurled a live beehive into the breakfast shop across the street. If it were anyone else, he'd be locked in a holding cell at the Konoha Police Department right now.
"Great, I'm gonna start!"
Naruto clasped his hands together, chopsticks ready, shouting the traditional phrase before eating. Then, he shot a triumphant look around the shop, as if to say: "See that? That's how you do it!"
"Give me a bowl too."
A tipsy Jiraiya wandered in, reeking of alcohol and swaying as he walked. He plopped down next to Naruto, only to be greeted with an annoyed glare.
"This white-haired uncle—can you sit farther away?"
There it was again. "Uncle."
This shop had officially become a hotspot for misunderstandings.
Yan had already finished eating and now saw an opportunity to disappear.
Because Xiaosha had forgotten the time and arrived late, Jiraiya was left feeling awkward. Naruto, meanwhile, had no patience for his presence, creating an uncomfortable triangle of awkwardness.
Disliked and reeking, Jiraiya moved over beside Yan with a forced smile. "Hey there, little ghost of the Uchiha clan. You kind of embarrassed me today."
If anyone else had used "ghost of the Uchiha clan," it would have dripped with sarcasm. But Jiraiya said it without malice—just a nickname.
"It was just duty," Yan replied coolly. "If your lordship isn't satisfied, I can promote the embarrassment free of charge."
Jiraiya laughed awkwardly. "Forget it! I'm not that into humiliation."
His smile became sheepish—pleading, even. Please don't escalate this. I surrender. Consider me thoroughly humbled.
Naruto, oblivious, slurped the last of his ramen, glancing at both of them suspiciously. After finishing down to the last drop of soup, he patted his belly and departed, completely content.
With Naruto gone, Jiraiya's jovial demeanor cracked. He collapsed in his seat, heavy with emotion and the stink of alcohol.
He looked devastated.
He tried to mask his concern with lighthearted antics, but deep down, he truly cared for Naruto—Minato's only son. But what he had discovered recently haunted him.
The Third Hokage had failed to uphold his promise.
Naruto's life wasn't just lonely—it was cruel.
He had little more than other orphans in the village. Worse, many shopkeepers refused to sell him goods. Only the bare minimum, under village mandates, kept him afloat.
Jiraiya clenched his fists under the table.
"Can we talk?"
Yan could tell—Jiraiya's red eyes weren't just from the alcohol. Naruto was the cause.
Yan had intended to go home and rest, but seeing Jiraiya's somber state, he agreed to stay and listen.
The shop owner, sensing the gravity of the situation, placed a bowl of noodles before Jiraiya, nodded silently, and quietly closed the shop to give them space.
"I'm gonna start now."
Jiraiya clapped his hands and started eating, his forced smile more pitiful than comforting.
"I never imagined Naruto's life would turn out like this," he muttered. "Before Minato died, the old man swore to protect Naruto."
"I was a terrible teacher. I left the village and didn't come back, not even once."
Yan remained silent.
"The old man kept telling me Naruto was fine—that he was safe, growing up healthy, a bit mischievous…"
Yan scoffed internally. What a joke. How gullible was this man?
Did Jiraiya really expect the Third Hokage to confess the truth?
If he'd known Naruto was barely scraping by, he would've returned immediately. But the Third fed him a steady diet of comforting lies for years.
Yan, for all his sarcasm, respected the Third's ability to mislead even a Sannin.
"I've been asking myself… what have I even been doing all these years?"
Jiraiya dropped his chopsticks, no longer hungry.
"At least Naruto is healthy," he said faintly. "Even if he's a little mischievous—"
Yan interrupted, unable to restrain himself any longer.
"If 'healthy' means drinking expired milk, sneaking into stores to steal food just to survive, and getting chased away even when he leaves money behind… then sure. He's growing up great."
Jiraiya froze.
He had only gathered surface-level information during his inquiry. Nothing that deep.
But Yan's words hit hard—harder than any punch.
"If Naruto ever ate a proper roasted meal," Yan added coldly, "he might just faint from shock."
Yan stood abruptly, face filled with disgust. "Lies and deception are everywhere—you just didn't want to see them. Stop pretending it's all fine. It's disgusting."
"Sorry," he added, voice laced with venom, "I let my true feelings slip."
Without another word, Yan shoved open the door and vanished into the night, leaving Jiraiya alone—immobile, shattered.
Yes, the Third Hokage was a great man.
Yes, he made promises.
No, he didn't keep them.
When someone wears a mask long enough, they forget they're even wearing it.
That night, Jiraiya found his way to Naruto's apartment. He slipped in through the window, quietly exploring the tiny space.
It was an unkempt dump. The sight made his chest ache.
Naruto, exhausted from another chaotic day, slept soundly—unaware that Jiraiya was sitting at his bedside, eyes flooded with guilt.
He stayed there the entire night.
When morning came, Jiraiya's eyes were bloodshot. He marched into the Hokage's office, voice sharp:
"I'll go find Tsunade. I'll do my best to bring her back. But I'm taking Naruto with me. From now on, I'm living with him."
"NO!!"
The Third Hokage shot up from his seat.
He was thrilled about Tsunade—but letting Naruto leave? That was out of the question.
He was too vital to the village.
Too dangerous to be left unmonitored.
But the shock froze him.
Jiraiya had already made up his mind.
With a tired smile, he said, "Sensei, I'm disappointed in you. Did you really not know how Naruto's been living?"
"But Naruto is the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki. He must not leave the village."
Hiruzen tried to soften the blow. He needed to convince Jiraiya.
It was safer this way—for everyone.
But Jiraiya just shook his head and sighed.
"Fine," he said. "Then I'll stay in the village. I'll stay and raise Naruto myself."
"But forget Tsunade. Send someone else."
"I'm sorry, but Naruto means more to me than anything else."
And with that, the line was drawn.
He didn't threaten or raise his voice.
He just… stepped back.
If this couldn't be resolved through negotiation, then passive resistance was the only option.
For Naruto's sake—for the boy he failed—he would stay.
No more missions.
No more lies.
Just him and Naruto.