"Boss, how much is this mask?"
It was a snowy afternoon. Flakes of pristine white drifted down from the sky, blanketing the street in a soft white layer. A young boy in a pitch-black coat stood before a mask vendor's stall. Bending down, he casually picked up a mask from the stand and asked.
"You brat! Who told you to touch that?!"
The store owner suddenly screamed like his pants were on fire. He snatched the mask from the boy's hands and, pulling out a cloth from his pocket, vigorously wiped the spot the boy had touched, as if trying to scrub off some disgusting stain. All the while, he glared at the child with loathing.
Under the man's stare, the boy slowly stood upright and lifted his head slightly. His piercing blue eyes calmly met the owner's, then he turned to leave without saying a word.
Smack!
"Hmph! Who'd want something touched by a damn demon fox like you? Count me unlucky!"
The vendor hurled the mask at the boy's back, where it struck before falling into the snow.
Pedestrians nearby began to notice the commotion. A moment of surprise flashed across their faces before they gathered around, whispering among themselves.
"Be careful! Don't go near that blonde brat! He's cursed! He's the reason the Fourth Hokage died!"
"Yeah, I heard he's the Nine-Tails' incarnation! A real monster!"
"Totally! I almost got eaten by him a few years back. I saw it with my own eyes—he devoured people whole! Even the village's strongest ninja were killed by that fox!"
"Why does the Hokage still let him stay in the village…?"
The boy paid no attention to the noise around him, unfazed as always. But as he turned to pick up the mask from the snow, he paused—just for a second.
On the mask was a smiling fox face.
But in his eyes, that smile was full of mockery.
"Even a mask is looking down on me?"
"No, no... it's just me not staying calm enough. I still let these people get to me a little."
After reflecting on his emotions, the boy picked up the mask, now dusted with snow, and put it over his face. The icy snowwater clinging to the mask melted slightly from his body heat. Just then, two masked figures suddenly appeared before him.
"Ah! They're ANBU!"
Someone in the crowd recognized the newcomers. In an instant, the gathering dispersed. Fearful glances and murmurs faded as people backed away and left in twos and threes.
After all, they were just curious bystanders. But these newcomers weren't ordinary ninja—they were ANBU, the Hokage's personal agents. Their presence alone commanded awe and fear.
"Uzumaki Naruto. It's time to go home. The Hokage is waiting."
"Yeah, I'm Uzumaki Naruto. No need to remind me so deliberately."
The wind picked up.
Looking up through the mask, Naruto watched as snowflakes swirled like willows in the breeze, falling heavier and faster by the second.
In truth, he—Uzumaki Naruto—wasn't from this world.
In his original world, he'd been an abandoned child, born paralyzed from the waist down. Thanks to the support of a local community, he barely learned a trade and managed to survive in a society of towering skyscrapers.
Then, fate played a cruel trick.
During a sudden earthquake, trapped alone at home in his wheelchair, he died—bitter and unwilling—while watching anime.
As life slipped away, he had only one wish in his heart:
"If only I could live a healthy life… just once."
When he next awoke, he found himself reborn as an infant. His cries of excitement had barely left his mouth when he realized—he was once again destined to be alone.
He had become Uzumaki Naruto.
His parents, after whispering a few final words to him, were about to leave him forever. He never even got to open his eyes to see their faces before an immense power surged into his frail body.
Then he blacked out.
It had been four years since he arrived in this world.
And yet, the snow here was no different from the one he remembered. The winters were just as cold.
Crunch… crunch...
Naruto, still wearing the mask, walked home over the soft, snowy ground. Behind him trailed the two ANBU.
As the group turned a corner, a delicate-looking boy with black hair could be seen up ahead. Holding the hand of a ponytailed young man, he suddenly tugged excitedly and pointed at Naruto.
"Big brother! I want a mask too!"
"Sasuke, what kind of design do you like?"
The young man's voice was gentle, and his handsome face carried soft laugh lines near the nose. After Naruto and the others disappeared into the distance, he stepped forward and crouched down with his back to the boy. On the back of his clothes was a distinct fan-shaped crest.
Little Sasuke's face turned red with excitement. The next second, he gleefully climbed onto the young man's back—his clothes bearing the same fan-shaped symbol.
"Heh, Naruto. I never imagined that at only four years old, you've already learned all the basic kanji—and your comprehension is outstanding too. You're a bright, gifted child!"
In a run-down little building, an elderly voice chuckled kindly. His praise carried genuine warmth.
"Reading isn't that impressive. Besides, Hokage-sama, you've been teaching me for a while now. I've seen plenty of kids my age already practicing ninjutsu. They're the real geniuses."
Naruto's reply came in a young but steady voice.
After he finished speaking, silence fell.
Inside a room on the second floor, an elderly man looked on with a complicated expression as the boy methodically organized his books with precision.
He was Hiruzen Sarutobi—Konoha's Third Hokage.
"Naruto… do you want to become a ninja?"
"Yes, Hokage-sama. I want to become a ninja. May I?"
Naruto turned around, looking at him with a natural, composed expression.
"Why do you want to be a ninja?"
"I heard people say that ninjas can use jutsu to turn into someone else."
Hiruzen fell silent.
In his view, this wasn't a compelling enough reason to risk teaching Naruto ninjutsu just yet.
After all, the boy carried another identity—the Jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails.
In his mind, the Third Hokage replayed Naruto's upbringing.
Apart from the night he was born, the child never cried again.
As he grew older and learned to walk and talk, he never showed the curiosity or mischief typical of children his age. He had never even once asked about his own origins.
Especially at age three, when Naruto had personally requested reading lessons during one of Hiruzen's visits.
Each time he looked at this boy, Hiruzen felt an inexplicable anxiety. The village could not afford another night like the one four years ago. Allowing Naruto to train in ninjutsu now might be far too dangerous.
Just as he was about to refuse, Naruto spoke again.
"Hokage-sama, you're really powerful, right? I heard people in the village say you're the strongest ninja!"
"Does little Naruto want to be the strongest ninja too?" the old man asked, eyes full of meaning.
"Being strong or not doesn't matter that much," Naruto replied after a moment's thought.
"Eh? Then why do you—?"
"Hokage-sama, I want to learn ninjutsu because… if I can really turn into someone else, maybe people won't hate me when I go outside. Maybe I won't have to be stuck alone at home all the time."
Naruto said this while walking over to the window.
Hiruzen's mind flashed with the image of the gentle, kind-hearted man who once brought peace to the ninja world—the Fourth Hokage.
Finally, he was moved.
"Alright, Naruto! Since there's still time today, I'll teach you how to extract chakra—and while we're at it, I'll show you the Transformation Jutsu you mentioned. But you have to take it seriously!"
"Thank you, Hokage-sama! I'll do my best!"
(End of Chapter)