After carefully and repeatedly confirming Uzumaki Naruto’s physical condition and sensing that the dark Red Nine-Tailed Chakra had truly and completely subsided, the stone that had been hanging in Hiruzen Sarutobi’s throat finally settled steadily.
This old politician, standing at the pinnacle of power in Konoha, allowed a trace of imperceptible complacency to curl the corners of his mouth for a fleeting moment while his back was turned to the crowd.
Fortunately, he was sufficiently calculating in his daily affairs.
If it weren’t for his unwavering, year-round “care” for Naruto, and his constant use of the “will of fire” to indoctrinate and cage this little brat, the Village’s strongest nuclear weapon would likely have already spiraled out of control at this most critical juncture of the Nine-Tailed’s temptation.
This was sufficient proof that his appeasement strategy was entirely correct.
“Grandpa Sandaime, are you busy today?”
Uzumaki Naruto, having finally recovered from his fear, stared intently at Hiruzen Sarutobi with his blue eyes, like a stray dog desperately craving its master’s companionship.
He reached out with his small hand, nervously clutching the hem of Hiruzen Sarutobi’s Hokage cloak, his eyes filled with pleading as he muttered incessantly.
“Can you find some time to spend with me today? Even if it’s just for a little while, I can share the milk I just bought with you…”
However, faced with Naruto’s outpouring of attachment, Hiruzen Sarutobi merely reined in that trace of complacency and once again donned his impeccable mask of kindness.
He reached out with his withered hand and, in a routine manner, patted Naruto’s messy blond hair a few times.
His tone was incredibly gentle, but the words he uttered were practiced and cold, carrying an indisputable, formulaic dismissal.
“Naruto, Grandpa is really too busy with work today. There are a pile of major matters regarding the Village’s development waiting for Grandpa to handle in the Hokage Office.”
The old man sighed deeply, his eyes filled with a righteous sense of helplessness.
“You are already a student at the Ninja Academy now, a real man who stands tall. You must learn to be independent, do you understand? Grandpa will surely come to see you another day.”
These high-sounding reasons came crashing down, lightly and effortlessly brushing aside all of Naruto’s expectations.
Hiruzen Sarutobi unobtrusively pulled back his cloak, not sparing another glance at the young face that had instantly collapsed, filled with desolation.
As the Jinchuriki of the Nine-Tailed, Naruto lowered his head, a habitual gloom flashing deep within his eyes.
The villagers all called him a demon fox, but no one knew that he was born with an instinct as keen as a wild beast—he could clearly perceive the negative emotions that the humans around him held toward him.
It was precisely because of this beast-like intuition that Naruto’s mental “social circle” was pitifully small.
Before today, he had always been certain that there were only three people in all of Konoha who held no malice toward him.
The Hokage-sama before him, Iruka Umino at the academy, and that Uchiha Sasuke who always had a smug face and never looked at him straight in the eye at school.
This was also the fundamental reason why, even though he clearly locked horns with Sasuke at every turn and did his utmost to Taunt him on the surface, he couldn’t help but want to get closer to Sasuke in his heart.
Because in Sasuke’s cold eyes, he, Uzumaki Naruto, was just an annoying “dead last,” and not the “evil demon fox” that had killed countless people and caused the death of the Fourth Hokage.
“Uchiha Akahiro!”
Just as Naruto was lost in his wild thoughts, Hiruzen Sarutobi, having appeased the Jinchuriki, suddenly turned around.
The kindness and warmth he had shown toward Naruto vanished in an instant, replaced by a supreme majesty so gloomy it was as if it could drip water.
The old man’s gaze was as sharp as a hawk, staring fixedly at the young man with his arms crossed in front of him, while his body suddenly emitted the terrifying Chakra pressure unique to those in power.
In front of the villagers who were currently lying on the ground wailing, and the alert Anbu, he questioned loudly, his voice like a booming bell.
“What on earth are you doing?! Why arrest so many Konoha villagers in public on the street? And even allow your subordinates to beat defenseless civilians in the street?!”
Hiruzen Sarutobi struck his pipe heavily against his palm, his tone filled with intense heartache and moral condemnation.
“The Konoha Military Police Force is meant to protect the Village, not to trample upon comrades! Is this the way your Uchiha Clan practices the will of fire?!”
This series of politically devastating accusations instantly placed all the pressure of public opinion and moral shackles firmly upon the Uchiha.
Seeing this, the vegetable vendor Oshima Kenta, lying not far away, struggled to cry out, attempting to further confirm the “brutality” of the Uchiha.
Hearing the Hokage-sama’s enraged questioning, Uzumaki Naruto, whose emotions were already at a low point, instinctively followed the gazes of the crowd and cast his eyes toward Uchiha Akahiro, who was at the center of the storm.
However, in that brief moment when Naruto’s instinct for sensing malice touched Uchiha Akahiro—
Boom!
The young Uzumaki Naruto was struck as if by lightning; he stood frozen on the spot, his eyes bulging, his small body trembling violently due to extreme shock.
His heart was completely overturned by a monstrous wave at this moment.
How could this be?!
In Naruto’s world of mental perception, which was different from ordinary people’s, the scene at this moment was bizarre to the extreme.
Hiruzen Sarutobi seemed to be standing by his side protecting him, but within that aged shell, the Chakra emitted was full of formulaic indifference, scrutiny, and a kind of aloof, superior cage-keeping and wariness.
The surrounding villagers seemed to be victims, but in the sidelong glances they cast at Naruto, there was nothing but thick, inseparable Curse and disgust.
Yet, only Uchiha Akahiro, who was right in front of him, was different.
This “Uchiha Great Demon King”—who had just ordered the villagers to be beaten until their teeth flew and blood flowed, who was treated by the entire Konoha Anbu as if facing a great enemy, and who had even been repeatedly demonized by the Village’s upper echelons—
The deep and vast Chakra on his body, while extremely violent and terrifying, even carrying a dark, despairing pressure from an unknown world that belonged to the evil-type “Tyranitar.”
Yet, in this vast ocean of energy, there was not a single trace of negative emotion directed at him, Uzumaki Naruto.
No disgust, no fear, no greed, not even a shred of the covetousness that the upper echelons believed the Sharingan should have toward the Nine-Tailed.
It was a body purely devoid of malice.
Naruto was at a loss for a moment.
Those so-called “kind companions” were full of malice, wishing he would die, whenever they looked at him.
This Uchiha, defined as an “evil rebel,” didn’t even spare him the most basic of disgust.
Naruto stared blankly at Akahiro’s half-smiling, languid expression, which seemed to see through everything, and his young heart received the most violent shock of his life.
He did not know that Uchiha Akahiro had no malice toward him, not because of some sudden outbreak of saintly compassion.
It was simply because, in the eyes of Akahiro, a transmigrator who possessed the trump card of a god, the current Uzumaki Naruto was nothing more than a pitiful tool being played in the palm of Konoha’s hand.
In the eyes of an absolute powerhouse, the weak do not even qualify to cause them emotional fluctuations.
Yet, this cold, emotionless gaze of a powerhouse looking down on ants became, unknowingly, the gentlest and fairest feedback this orphan, bullied by the entire Village, had received to this day.
The bright sunlight on the street pierced through the mist, making the Red and white fan crest of the youth gleam.
Facing the Sandaime Hokage’s thunderous questioning, Uchiha Akahiro was not in the least bit panicked; instead, he slowly unfolded his crossed arms.