Chapter Text
1. “The Foreigner and Misfortune”
Kushina Uzumaki was a traveler from a distant land.
Minato Namikaze was a noble of great renown in the Hidden Leaf Village.
Their marriage was not blessed by anyone.
The villagers said, “Misfortune always coming without knocking. Outsiders shouldn't stay ,they only gonna corrupt this peaceful land.”
As the Fourth Hokage of the Konoha, his wedding was attended by many of the village’s influential figures, as well as curious onlookers.
Yet apart from his teacher Jiraiya and a few close friends, no one offered their blessings. The silent, unfamiliar atmosphere made their rejection of the outsider all too clear.
Six months after the grand ceremony, Kushina gave birth to a blond-haired boy with six whisker marks on his cheeks. He was named after the protagonist of Jiraiya’s novel and bore the Uzumaki surname—Naruto, son of the Fourth Hokage.
They lived a happy life.
Even though villagers continued to whisper and point fingers… even though they were never truly accepted…
They were a family content in their joy, untouched by the scorn of others.
Until one journey back to Kushina’s homeland changed everything.
That day, as the Namikaze family returned from a distant Hidden Village and crossed the only bridge into the Leaf, the ropes suddenly snapped. The family plummeted into the ravine.
The Fourth Hokage had taken a seven-day leave.
By the ninth day, there was still no word.
The Third Hokage, temporarily stepping in, sensed something was wrong.
When he sent a team to investigate, they found only tragedy: the corpses of the Namikaze couple, and a severely injured, feverish Naruto.
The bodies were intact, their faces calm—no signs of panic or pain. Their fatal injuries were holes clean through their chests.
They had fallen by the riverbed below the bridge.
There were no trees nearby, only fragments of the rope bridge. No visible weapons or objects could have caused the wounds.
It was as if—just as the couple survived the fall and embraced in relief—something invisible pierced their bodies, killing them quietly and inexplicably.
Though reluctant to bring back the child marked by “misfortune,” Kakashi—Minato’s student—took Naruto back out of basic humanity.
Back in the village, even as Naruto burned with fever, the villagers wasted no time.
They declared all of the Fourth Hokage’s assets would be seized by the village.
The reason? Naruto bore the Uzumaki name—not Namikaze—so nothing belonging to the Namikaze family was “his” to begin with.
Assigned by the Third Hokage to handle the aftermath, Kakashi buried his beloved teacher and teacher’s wife in haste, his heart full of silent fury.
He took what little he could—some coins and a photo of the family of three—and placed Naruto in a small cottage on the outskirts of the village, once home to a recently deceased elder.
From the time of the Namikaze family’s mysterious deaths to the conclusion of all estate matters, only three days had passed.
In those three days, Naruto was forced out of the grand Namikaze estate where he had lived for six years.
He now lay in a cramped four-mat room, in a shared apartment complex with communal bathrooms.
Still in a burning fever, Naruto’s entire body flushed red from the heat, he lay limp beneath a thin blanket, his sweat soaking the sheets.
Kakashi looked at the boy, whose life seemed ready to flicker out at any moment.
Though Naruto desperately needed care, Kakashi’s resentment toward the “child of misfortune” won out.
He turned away—
Leaving Naruto to battle the pain alone.
→
In the haze of his broken fevered consciousness, Naruto heard countless voices—
The everyday scorn against outsiders that filled every street and alleyway.
Mocking tones from once-kind adults who used to smile politely at the Fourth Hokage.
Familiar aunts and uncles whose worry now felt distant and cold.
And laughter—cruel, celebratory laughter—that treated the tragedy as divine retribution.
And one voice—
A sound Naruto had never heard before.
A quiet, buzzing hum, low yet thunderous, mixed with a thick, sticky squelch like something soft dragging through sludge.
He didn’t know how to describe it—only that, amidst the fevered chaos, it was the kindest sound he had ever heard.
Then—
Sssht.
The window slid open.
Naruto’s fevered blue eyes snapped open.
There, against the perfect circle of the full moon, glowing with white light, a figure climbed silently into the room.
Uchiha Sasuke.
“You okay?”
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[Easter Egg Scene]
Sasuke crept quietly, step by step, to the bedside.
He pulled a damp cloth filled with ice from his pouch and gently laid it on Naruto’s blazing forehead.
“I brought medicine, but you probably haven’t eaten yet. I’ll make some plain porridge first.”
“S–Sasuke?”
“I’m here. Don’t be scared.”
“You… why… ngh—!”
A jolt of pain erupted in Naruto’s brain.
The cloth instantly dried, the melting ice evaporated in seconds—this wasn’t just a fever.
“I’m here.”
Sasuke didn’t answer Naruto’s question.
He knew what Naruto wanted to ask.
But at that moment, he simply held Naruto’s weak right hand, gently prying apart his fingers, sliding his own left hand into the burning palm.
“I’ll stay by your side. I won’t leave.”
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