Naruto POV
Rain slammed against the village, soaking everything in its path. But Naruto hardly felt it. He stood there—still, hollow—his small body numb, not from the cold, but from the weight in his chest. The black memorial stone in front of him reflected a faint outline of his face, distorted in the glossy surface. He barely blinked as his eyes drifted again and again over the three names carved into it.
The ceremony hadn't lasted long. Just enough for people to pay their respects, say a few words, and leave. Now it was just him.
He didn't notice how much time had passed until a hand settled gently on his shoulder.
"You'll catch cold if you stay out much longer," came Hiruzen's voice—soft, worn with age. Naruto didn't respond. Didn't even flinch.
The old Hokage sighed, his grip steady on the boy's shoulder. He understood. There were no words that could truly help—not now. Just time.
"You should go home, Naruto. The academy starts tomorrow. Your parents would've wanted you to be there."
Naruto gave a slow, mechanical nod, then turned and walked away, water streaming from his hair and clothes as if he were just another part of the storm. He didn't look back. Couldn't.
The names were still echoing in his head.
He wandered through the village on autopilot, barely noticing the world around him. He skirted a massive crater without really seeing it. His limbs moved, but his mind was adrift.
He was wearing one of his dad's old tracksuits. It was too big for him, but it felt right—familiar. The faint scent of his father still lingered in the fabric, and that was enough. His untamable red hair stuck out in every direction. He ran a hand through it absently, recalling how his mom used to try and flatten it, always to no avail.
When he stepped through the academy gates, he moved like a ghost—drifting through the hallways, slipping around people without them noticing. No greetings. No one acknowledged him. He didn't care. He just headed for his classroom and took the furthest seat in the back.
Others filtered in, slowly and silently. Most of them still looked shell-shocked. Some kids were crying. Others whispered to each other in low, broken voices. One boy with raven-black hair slid into a seat on the other side of the room. Quiet. Withdrawn. Naruto noticed him, briefly, but didn't dwell on it.
He sat, hunched forward. His eyes fell to his stomach—he knew what was sealed inside. The same monster that took his parents from him. His fingers clenched the desk unconsciously, nails scraping sharp lines into the wood until a few nearby students cast wary glances his way. He ignored them.
No one sat beside him. He wasn't sure if it was because they knew who he was—or what he was. Or maybe he just looked as cold and hollow as he felt. Either way, he preferred the space.
Eventually the sensei cleared his throat and began a dry speech about unity, resilience, and the Will of Fire. Naruto tuned out most of it. He had heard these kinds of words before—at the funeral, during the ceremony. Words were easy. They didn't bring people back.
He rested his chin on his arms and closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to focus. Meditate. It was something his father had taught him—a way to calm the mind and listen beyond the noise. Not even a day into the academy and he was already falling back on old habits to stay grounded.
That focus shattered when the classroom door burst open and a purple-haired girl came crashing through, landing face-first on the floor. She sprang up with a sheepish grin, brushing off her baggy shirt and trying to look like nothing had happened.
Naruto glanced at her once. Took in the oversized clothes, the messy hair, the slightly wild energy she carried like a storm in a bottle. Then he dropped his head back to the desk.
Only when she sat down beside him did he realize it was the last available seat. She looked at him curiously for a moment, then faced the front.
Within minutes she was sprawled in her chair, tongue out, eyes rolling back with theatric boredom. Naruto peeked at her out of the corner of his eye, faintly amused despite himself.
She kept snoring. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Every time he looked at her, she cracked one eye open, smirked, then fake-snored louder.
It ended when the sensei hurled an eraser across the room, smacking her right in the forehead with a loud thud.
"Ow! What was that for?!" she yelped, rubbing the spot.
The teacher raised his clipboard with a twitching eye. "Anko Mitarashi."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here…" she muttered, still scowling.
The teacher sighed, already looking exhausted by her presence. Then he read the next name.
"Naruto Namikaze."
Whispers swept the room. Naruto stood up slowly, nodded, and sat right back down. He didn't flinch at the whispers or the stares. He just hoped this sensei wasn't like the others—he didn't want the undeserved praise just from being his father's son. He only want to learn
Anko turned toward him, curious. "What's their problem?" she asked, gesturing at the murmuring students.
Naruto shrugged. "It's my name."
She frowned. "Naruto? Like... fishcake?"
His eye twitched.
"No," he said flatly. "My surname. Namikaze. It means maelstrom."
Anko giggled, eyes bright. "Whatever you say, Fishcake."
Naruto inhaled slowly and decided to simply ignore her.
"Still," she pressed, "what's the big deal with Namikaze?"
He didn't answer. Just stared ahead. She huffed and leaned back in her chair.
When the lunch bell rang, a gust of wind swept through the classroom. Naruto was gone—vanished in a flash of red.
Anko blinked at the now-empty seat beside her. "What the hell?"
She wandered outside but didn't see him. Instead, she plopped down on a patch of grass, tilted her head to the sky—and froze.
There he was. Walking up the side of the academy building like it was nothing.
She stared. That wasn't normal, right?
Bolting upright, she dashed inside and took the stairs three at a time, bursting through the door to the roof.
Naruto sat with his legs dangling off the edge, eating a quiet lunch alone.
She crept toward him, trying not to make a sound.
"If you're trying to sneak up on me," he said without turning, "you're doing a terrible job."
Anko winced. "Wasn't trying to."
Naruto turned, glanced at her.
"Then what were you trying to do?"
She hesitated, words catching in her throat. She didn't really have a reason. She just... wanted to be here.
Instead she asked, "How did you walk up the building?"
He looked away again. "With chakra."
Like it was obvious.
"Can you teach me?"
Naruto looked at her then, truly looked at her—like he was trying to figure out if she was serious.
"Why? One of the teachers'll probably show us eventually."
Anko grinned, plopping down beside him.
"Yeah, but if I can learn now, why wait?"
He tilted his head. That sounded... like something his mom would've said. Impatient, stubborn, but playful.
"I guess," he said after a moment. "Why not."
Anko beamed, her grin wide and unapologetic.
And for the first time in days, Naruto felt a flicker of warmth. His lips twitched—just barely—into the beginning of a smile.