After the Third Hokage gave some simple instructions, he left, leaving Naruto with the living expenses for the month.
Naruto subconsciously touched his stomach.
The pain was gone, replaced by a strange sense of warmth.
“Dad?” he called out softly, and an impatient snort immediately echoed in his mind.
“Don’t be noisy so early in the morning.”
Naruto grinned, revealing a gap where a front tooth was missing.
He scrambled off the bed and dragged out a rusty tin can from under it.
Then, Naruto carefully placed the living expenses left by the Third Hokage inside, keeping a few bills in his hand.
“Today, I’m going to buy milk!”
Naruto declared excitedly, “Brother Iruka said drinking more milk will help me grow taller!”
Madara looked through Naruto’s eyes at the dilapidated room—peeling wallpaper, moldy tatami mats, and a dead potted plant on the windowsill.
Even the most down-and-out Uchiha in the Warring States period wouldn’t live in such a place.
“Hmph, has Konoha become this poor?”
Naruto was in the process of putting on his last orange jacket.
Hearing this, he tilted his head.
“Because I’m a monster, that’s what everyone says.”
Hearing Naruto’s words, which were devoid of any malice, Madara felt a surge of anger for some reason.
The owner of the general store immediately grabbed a broom upon seeing Naruto.
“Get out!” She swung the broom, hitting Naruto on the back.
“I haven’t settled the score with you for stealing soy sauce last time!”
Naruto shielded his head, coins clinking as they fell from his fingers onto the ground.
“I didn’t steal it! That was Grandpa Third…”
“Liar!” The broom hit Naruto’s knee heavily, and he stumbled out the door.
Passing villagers sneered, and someone deliberately spat at his feet.
Seeing all this through Naruto’s eyes, Madara, despite maintaining his icy expression, clenched his fists involuntarily.
He had seen clan members die by the hands of the Senju.
He had seen children torn to shreds by ninjas from enemy nations.
But he had never witnessed such a slow, torturous malice.
Especially directed at an unarmed child.
“Kill them,” Madara’s voice was as cold as ice.
“A single Fire Style jutsu could make…”
“It’s okay!”
Naruto suddenly said loudly, unsure if he was comforting Madara or himself.
He got up, dusted off his pants, and bowed to the shop owner.
“Sorry for the disturbance!”
Madara watched in shock as the blond kid picked up the scattered coins, even retrieving one that had fallen into the gutter.
What shocked him even more was that Naruto still had a smile on his face as he turned away.
“The old man in the next block will sell me milk!” Naruto explained in a small voice.
“Even though it’s a bit expensive…”
At this moment, Madara couldn’t help but recall why he and Hashirama had founded the Konoha Ninja Village.
Wasn’t it so that children wouldn’t suffer and could live happily under the sun?
But this child before him, living in a time of peace, was enduring hardships no less than children of the Warring States period.
At dusk, Naruto sat on a swing, sipping his hard-earned milk in small sips.
He had a large bruise on his knee from falling down the stairs earlier that afternoon after being pushed by some older kids.
“They didn’t mean to,” Naruto said, swinging his legs.
“I just lost my balance…”
“Foolish,” Madara interrupted him.
“That was clearly an intentional shove. In the Warring States period, you would have fought back.”
Naruto blinked, his clear eyes completely devoid of malice.
“Why? Isn’t it good for everyone to be happy?”
Madara did not answer.
He was re-evaluating this vessel—no, this child.
Everything that had happened during the day made him realize that being a Nine-Tails Jinchūriki brought Naruto not just loneliness.
It was a slow death, and this brat could still smile foolishly at the sunset.
“Listen, kid,” Madara suddenly said.
“Starting tonight, I’m going to teach you some things.”
Naruto’s eyes lit up.
“Really? Dad’s going to teach me ninjutsu? Like the ones on the Hokage Rock…”
“Shut up and listen carefully,” Madara’s voice carried an undeniable authority.
“I’m not going to teach you child’s play ninjutsu, but how to survive amidst malice—the survival methods of a true ninja from the Warring States period.”
As the moonlight fell on the abandoned training ground, Madara appeared as a phantom visible only to Naruto.
His body was semi-transparent and ghostly blue, his long hair gently swaying in the night breeze.
“First, remember three iron rules,” Madara held up three fingers.
“First, always assume everyone is an enemy; second, all food must be tested for poison; third, maintain a third of your alertness while sleeping.”
Naruto nodded as if he understood, then suddenly sneezed.
The night dew dampened his worn-out jacket, but his eyes shone remarkably bright.
Madara frowned, looking at the thin frame of the little boy, and suddenly changed his mind.
“Tonight, I’ll first teach you the basics—how to fall.”
“Huh?” Naruto looked bewildered.
“I already know how to do that! Today I even…”
“That’s called falling, not a tactical descent,” Madara sneered.
“Watch closely.”
The next second, Naruto felt his body taken over by an unfamiliar chakra.
His right hand automatically protected the back of his neck, and his left leg bent to absorb the impact.
He fell backward in a strangely fluid motion, rolled twice on the ground, and immediately assumed a crouching position.
“Wh-what is this?” Naruto looked at his hands in surprise.
“Uchiha Style Body Replacement Technique,” Madara’s voice held a hint of pride.
“It can allow you to fall from a ten-meter-high tree without getting injured.”
For the next two hours, Naruto repeatedly practiced falling, rolling, and getting up.
His clothes were covered in dirt, and his knees had new injuries, but his smile grew brighter.
“Dad is amazing!” Naruto cheered for the umpteenth time as he got up.
“This way, I won’t get hurt if someone pushes me down anymore!”
Madara’s expression froze.
He had originally intended to teach him how to minimize damage when encountering enemy ninjas, but this brat was thinking of…
“Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to identify poisons,” Madara suddenly said.
“Now, go back to sleep.”
On the way back to the orphanage, Naruto limped but was ecstatic.
As he passed a brightly lit shop, he suddenly stopped.
The shop window reflected two figures, one large and one small—a blond boy and a ghostly blue phantom floating behind him.
Naruto secretly reached out, wanting to tug Madara’s robe, but his hand passed through the semi-transparent chakra.
“Are you cold too, Dad?” Naruto asked out of the blue.
Madara looked at the bruised and battered child who was concerned about an enemy and suddenly understood Hashirama’s thoughts.
Perhaps that naive idealist had seen through something long ago: in endless wars, the first thing to be lost was always the smiles of children.
“Idiot,” Madara said softly, but gently pressed Naruto’s shoulder with his chakra.
“Hurry up, it’s going to rain.”
Indeed, a light rain began to fall from the night sky.
Watching Naruto’s skipping figure, Madara felt a strange emotion for the first time regarding this absurd “father-son” relationship.
And deep within the seal, the Nine-Tails opened one eye, watching it all thoughtfully.