The sun hung low over Konoha, casting long shadows across the training grounds. Most children Naruto's age were playing games, laughing, carefree. But not him.
At five years old, he stood alone in an empty field, a wooden practice sword gripped tightly in his small hands. His blue eyes, sharp beyond their years, focused on a single leaf drifting lazily in the breeze.
"Again."
He swung.
The stick whistled through the air—once, twice, three times—but the leaf fluttered past unharmed. Naruto didn't frown, didn't pout. He simply adjusted his stance, exhaled, and swung again.
This time, the leaf split cleanly down the middle.
A slow smirk tugged at his lips.
---
Later That Evening
Naruto sat on the roof of his small apartment, staring at the Hokage Monument. The faces of the village leaders loomed over him, silent and judging. He didn't know why, but something about them… irritated him.
"Weakness is not an option."
The thought came unbidden, foreign yet familiar. It wasn't his own—at least, not entirely. It was as if another mind whispered in the back of his own, guiding him, shaping him.
He glanced down at his hands. Small, soft, untested.
*"These hands will hold a real blade one day."*
A voice in the alley below snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Hey, it's the demon brat!"
Three older boys, Academy students by the look of their uniforms, sneered up at him. The tallest one, a dark-haired kid with a cruel grin, pointed.
"Think you're special, sitting up there all alone? Freak."
Naruto didn't react. He simply watched them, his gaze steady.
The boy's grin faltered for a second before he scoffed. "What, cat got your tongue? Or are you too stupid to even talk?"
One of his friends laughed. "Maybe the fox ate his brain!"
Naruto stood.
There was no anger in his movements, no childish frustration. Just… purpose.
He jumped down, landing lightly in front of them. The boys blinked, surprised by how effortlessly he moved.
The leader recovered first, puffing out his chest. "What, you gonna cry? Or are you finally gonna fight back, demon?"
Naruto didn't answer. Instead, he reached down and picked up a long, sturdy stick from the ground.
The boys burst into laughter. "Oh no! He's got a stick! What're you gonna do, poke us?"
Naruto adjusted his grip.
And then—
He moved.
A single step, faster than a five-year-old had any right to be. The stick lashed out in a perfect horizontal arc, striking the leader's wrist with pinpoint precision.
CRACK.
The boy screamed, clutching his broken wrist. His friends froze, eyes wide in shock.
Naruto didn't stop.
A reverse swing—another crack, this time against the second boy's knee. He collapsed with a howl. The third kid turned to run, but Naruto was already behind him, the stick resting against the back of his neck like the edge of a blade.
"Pathetic."
The word slipped out, cold, disdainful. Not the voice of a child.
The boy whimpered, trembling.
Naruto lowered the stick.
"Don't bother me again."
And with that, he walked away, leaving the bullies broken and bewildered in the dirt.
---
Elsewhere, in the Shadows
A pair of crimson eyes gleamed from the darkness.
Itachi Uchiha watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable.
"A natural… no, more than that."
He had seen many prodigies in his time. But this? This was something else entirely.
A crow cawed in the distance as Itachi melted back into the night.
The village had no idea what was growing in its midst.
---
To Be Continued…