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Chapter Text

The night sky burned red. Smoke rose in great pillars above Konoha, and the ground shook with every furious step of the Nine-Tailed Fox. Its roar split the air, rattling the bones of even the bravest shinobi as walls crumbled and fire spread through the streets.

On the village outskirts, away from the worst of the chaos, a small clearing glowed with sealing marks etched across the earth. Minato Namikaze, the Fourth Hokage, stood with his cloak whipping violently in the night wind, the kanji for “Hokage” scorched by embers flying through the air. His face was pale, jaw set tight—not from the threat looming behind him, but from the cries of the woman lying before him.

“Kushina, just a little longer,” Minato whispered, kneeling at her side.

Kushina’s fiery red hair was plastered to her sweat-soaked face. She clenched her teeth, arms wrapped around her swollen belly as the final stages of labor gripped her. The chains of her chakra, golden and glowing faintly against the darkness, lashed outward, struggling to keep the monstrous fox bound. But Kurama strained against them, its snarling form visible in the distance like a living nightmare.

“I… I can’t hold him much longer,” Kushina gasped, her voice ragged but fierce. Her eyes blazed despite her exhaustion. “We don’t have time, Minato—bring them out.”

Minato’s hands trembled only for a heartbeat before he steadied them. He formed the hand seals, pressing his palms gently over her belly. In a swirl of chakra, the cries of newborn life broke through the night. Not one, but two tiny voices.

The first child, with tufts of blond hair, wailed loudly, kicking with vigor. The second, hair shock-white under the moonlight, cried softer but sharper, eyes flashing crimson for a fleeting instant before closing again.

Kushina’s breath caught. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at them—so fragile, so small, yet already carrying the burden of a monster’s power.

“Naruto…” she whispered, stroking the blond boy’s cheek with trembling fingers. “And Haruto…” Her touch lingered on the white-haired infant. “Our sons… our little suns and moons.”

Minato’s throat tightened. He wanted to hold them both, to keep them safe, but the ground shuddered again—Kurama roared, breaking through another chain. The fox’s killing intent pressed against them like a tidal wave.

“We don’t have time,” Minato said softly, though his voice carried the weight of finality. His gaze flicked from Kushina to the twins. “We’ll have to split Kurama’s chakra between them. It’s the only way.”

Kushina’s hand shot up, gripping his wrist weakly but firmly. “Then promise me… promise me they’ll never have to carry this alone.”

Minato’s eyes softened. “They won’t. Not as long as they have each other.”

He began the seals, chakra pouring from his fingertips. The Shinigami’s looming presence stirred in the air, shadows twisting like smoke. Kushina, despite the pain coursing through her, forced her chains tighter, dragging Kurama’s thrashing body closer.

“Come on, you damn fox…” she hissed through clenched teeth, her voice as fierce as any kunoichi’s battle cry.

The fox bellowed, hatred burning in its eyes as it lunged. The sealing circle lit up beneath Minato, and the cries of the twins grew louder, piercing through the night as if to answer the monster’s rage.

The sealing marks blazed with blinding light, lines of chakra etching themselves into the earth like molten veins. The Shinigami’s silhouette loomed at Minato’s back, its faceless head bowed, blade glinting with an otherworldly gleam.

Kushina’s chains dragged the Nine-Tails down, wrapping around its limbs like iron serpents. Kurama roared in defiance, its tails lashing wildly, leveling trees and shattering boulders.

“Minato!” Kushina’s voice cracked with strain, but her eyes never wavered. “Do it—split his chakra!”

Minato formed the last seal, his fingers trembling only for an instant before his expression hardened into steel. The Shinigami’s blade pierced through his chest, the pain searing, but he did not falter. He pressed his palm over Naruto first.

Glowing kanji spread across the blond infant’s belly, a spiral blooming into the Eight Trigrams Seal. Kurama’s chakra howled, torn from the fox’s colossal body, and funneled into the boy. The chakra flared golden, warm and burning with vitality—the yang half.

Naruto’s cries grew louder, sharper, as though his tiny lungs could carry the weight of the world.

Then Minato turned to the second child. Haruto’s pale hair clung to his damp forehead, his small fists clenched tight as though he already sensed what was coming. Minato’s voice broke for the first time.

“Forgive me, my son.”

The kanji spread across Haruto’s stomach, the seal glowing a cold, eerie blue. The rest of Kurama’s chakra—darker, heavier, a shadow of hatred—was forced into him. The yin half. Haruto’s cry was quieter than his brother’s, but filled with a piercing edge that cut through the storm. His eyes flickered open for an instant—deep crimson, reflecting the fox’s wrath—before slipping closed again.

The Nine-Tails thrashed, roaring in disbelief, its power ripped apart.

Kushina collapsed to her knees, sweat pouring down her face. Yet when she looked at her sons, her lips curved into a trembling smile. “Naruto… Haruto… you’re both so strong already.” Her voice softened into a whisper. “My precious boys…”

Kurama’s massive form strained against the last of her chakra chains. Its fanged maw split into a snarl, voice booming like thunder:

“FOOLS! Do you think splitting me in half will change anything? I will consume them both! They will be hated, shunned, treated as monsters—”

“Then they’ll prove you wrong,” Minato cut in sharply, his gaze like fire. He lifted his hand and pressed it to Naruto’s seal, then to Haruto’s. “They’ll grow strong—not because of you, but in spite of you. And they’ll carry on our will.”

The Shinigami’s grip tightened, dragging Kurama’s essence deeper into the infants’ bodies. Kushina’s chains flared, binding the last remnants of its chakra into place. The fox’s roar shook the heavens—then faded into silence, leaving only the cries of the twins in the clearing.

The seals dimmed, the glow fading into the spiral marks etched on the boys’ stomachs. Both bore three whisker-like marks on each cheek now, the permanent brand of their burden.

Minato swayed on his knees. His breath grew shallow, but he forced a smile as he looked at them one last time. “Naruto… Haruto… live. Protect each other. That’s all I ask.”

Kushina crawled closer, her body failing but her spirit blazing. She cupped their tiny faces with trembling hands, tears dripping onto their skin. “Don’t… don’t ever forget… how much we love you.”

The wind carried the last of her chakra chains away like fireflies scattering into the night. The Shinigami’s blade pulled deeper into Minato’s chest.

And as the Fourth Hokage and his wife fell side by side, the twins’ cries carried on—one bright and fierce, the other sharp and chilling. Two voices against the silence of death.

The clearing had fallen silent save for the crackle of fire in the distance and the echo of infant cries. The chains, the glowing seals, the oppressive weight of the Shinigami—all had faded into the night. Only the twins remained, swaddled in torn cloth, their small bodies trembling with life.

A rustle of robes swept into the clearing. The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, appeared, his staff clutched tightly in hand. His old eyes—so weathered, so heavy with decades of war—widened at the sight before him.

Minato and Kushina lay side by side, lifeless. The Fourth Hokage’s cloak was scorched, Kushina’s hair spread like a crimson river across the dirt. Their hands rested inches apart, as though reaching for each other even in death.

For a moment, Hiruzen could not move. He simply stood, the cries of the children piercing through his chest like blades. Then, slowly, he forced himself forward.

“Minato… Kushina…” His voice broke on their names. Kneeling, he bowed his head, the brim of his hat shadowing his face. He had buried too many comrades, too many friends—but this loss cut deeper.

He looked to the twins. One blond, blue eyes glimmering faintly beneath tears. One pale-haired, eyes flickering crimson before squeezing shut again. Identical save for those colors. Both bore the whisker marks of their burden.

Hiruzen’s hand trembled as he lifted them. They were warm, fragile, impossibly small compared to the weight already placed upon them. “Naruto… Haruto…” he murmured, his voice thick. “The legacy of your parents… and the burden of this village.”

The ground behind him shook with the approach of shinobi. An ANBU knelt at his side, mask tilted toward the twins. “Lord Third… is it true? The Fourth—he sealed the beast?”

Hiruzen’s jaw clenched. “He did. The Nine-Tails’ chakra has been split between them.” His gaze sharpened. “This knowledge must remain hidden. To the world, these children are simply the orphans of the Fourth Hokage. Nothing more.”

But the words came too late. Whispers had already spread. Shinobi exchanged wary glances. The whisker marks, the strange chakra radiating from the boys—these were signs too obvious to ignore.

By dawn, the village was already murmuring: the demons survived, but the Hokage and his wife did not.

Hiruzen returned to the village gates carrying both infants. The fires still smoldered, the wounded still cried out, but the villagers’ eyes fixed on the bundles in his arms. Some looked with pity. Others with fear. Many with quiet, festering hatred.

Hiruzen held the children tighter. His heart ached with the weight of the choice Minato had forced upon them. But he knew one thing with certainty: from this night forward, Naruto and Haruto would carry a burden heavier than any child should bear.

And it would be his duty, as Hokage, to shield them—though even as he told himself that, he felt the village’s cold gaze pressing in, like a storm already forming around the twins.

The orphanage sat on the edge of the village, its wooden frame creaking with age, its garden overgrown, its halls filled with the restless noise of children. To most, it was a refuge. To two small boys, it was a cage.

Naruto and Haruto slept in the same cot the first years of their lives, huddled close for warmth against the drafty nights. Naruto often kicked in his sleep, murmuring nonsense, while Haruto lay awake longer, eyes glowing faintly in the dark, listening to every whisper that seeped through the walls.

They heard the caretakers’ voices most nights.

“Keep them apart from the others.”
“They’re dangerous.”
“One smile and you forget what they really are.”

Naruto never understood. He toddled after the other children, eager to play, eager to belong. But doors shut in his face. Toys were snatched away. When he laughed, the caretakers flinched. When he cried, they scowled.

“Why don’t they like us?” he asked once, his little hands clutching Haruto’s sleeve.

Haruto said nothing at first. His red eyes studied the shadows where the caretakers whispered, the way their lips tightened when they looked at the twins. He had already begun to piece it together: whatever monster the villagers feared, they saw it in them.

“They’re scared of us,” Haruto finally muttered, his voice quiet but sharp. “Scared people do stupid things.”

Naruto frowned, not quite understanding, but the words stuck.

By the time they were four, the pattern was clear. The other children avoided them. Naruto chased after them anyway, shouting, “I’ll be Hokage someday! You’ll all see!” He puffed his chest out like a little rooster, defiant and stubborn.

Haruto, standing behind him, rarely spoke. He watched. He remembered every insult, every shove, every glare. Where Naruto’s spirit burned, Haruto’s sharpened into ice.

At night, they whispered to each other under their thin blanket.

“I’ll make everyone like us,” Naruto said, fists clenched tight. “I’ll be the best Hokage ever.”

Haruto rolled onto his back, staring at the cracked ceiling. His lips curled into the faintest smirk. “You’re an idiot, Naruto.”

Naruto bristled. “Hey—”

“But…” Haruto turned his head, crimson eyes glinting in the dark. “If that’s what you want, I’ll make sure no one stops you. Even if I have to cut them down.”

Naruto blinked, surprised, then grinned. “Heh. You better keep up then, little brother.”

Haruto smirked back. “I’m not the one always tripping over my own feet.”

For all the cold stares, for all the whispers of “demon” that followed them like shadows, the bond between them deepened. Two voices in the dark. Two halves of a burden no one else could understand.

And though the village turned its back, the twins began to lean on each other more fiercely than ever.

The market square buzzed with the usual afternoon noise: merchants shouting prices, the smell of grilled fish and roasted chestnuts drifting through the air. Naruto, tugging on Haruto’s sleeve, pointed toward the food stalls.

“Come on! Let’s get some dumplings! I’m starving!”

Haruto frowned. “We don’t have money.”

“Then we’ll just—uh—ask really nicely!” Naruto grinned and darted forward before his brother could stop him.

The stall keeper’s smile froze the moment Naruto approached. The man’s eyes flicked to the whisker marks on the boy’s cheeks, then to the pale-haired twin trailing behind him.

“Dumplings, please!” Naruto beamed, bouncing on his toes.

The man’s hand tightened on his ladle. “Get out of here.”

Naruto blinked. “Huh? But—”

“Out!” The stall keeper slammed the ladle against the counter, making the boy flinch. “You think I’ll feed demons? Not in my shop. Get lost before I throw you out myself.”

Other villagers paused to watch. Some whispered, others glared openly. Naruto’s grin faltered, his face reddening with confusion and hurt.

Haruto stepped forward, placing himself between Naruto and the stall keeper. His crimson eyes narrowed like a blade’s edge. “We weren’t begging,” he said flatly. “Keep your rotten food.”

He grabbed Naruto’s wrist and pulled him away. Naruto stumbled, glancing back, his fists balled at his sides. He wanted to shout something, anything—but no words came.

By evening, they were back in the orphanage yard. The other children huddled together, laughing and playing tag, but not a single one looked at them.

Naruto kicked at the dirt, his face twisted. “Why do they hate us? We didn’t do anything wrong!”

Haruto sat against the fence, his gaze cool and unreadable. “Because they don’t care what we did. They’ve already decided what we are.”

Naruto spun on him. “Then I’ll make them see! I’ll show them I’m not some stupid demon! I’ll become Hokage—better than the old man, better than anybody. Then they’ll have to respect us!”

The words hung in the air. Naruto’s eyes blazed with stubborn fire, as if daring the world to smother it.

Haruto watched him for a long moment, then let out a quiet scoff. “You’re an idiot.”

Naruto bristled. “Tch! I knew you’d say that—”

“But…” Haruto’s gaze softened just slightly. “If that’s really what you want, then I’ll make sure nothing stops you. You can chase their approval. I’ll be the one who makes sure you live long enough to get it.”

Naruto blinked. His anger cracked, replaced by a grin. “Heh. Then you better keep up, little brother.”

Haruto smirked faintly. “Try not to trip over your own feet first.”

The laughter between them was quiet, almost fragile, but real. In that small moment, the shadows of the village seemed less heavy.

But the hatred outside the fence never faded. It lingered in whispers, in glares, in the cold air that followed them everywhere. Two brothers against the village. Two burdens bound by blood and fate.

And two vows—one of fire, one of steel—beginning to take shape.

Chapter Text

The park was alive with laughter, the kind of laughter that never reached the Uzumaki twins. Children ran in circles, climbing trees, chasing each other across the grass. Parents watched from benches, chatting idly, their eyes drifting now and then—always narrowing when they landed on Naruto and Haruto.

Naruto didn’t notice, or pretended not to. His face split into a grin as he tugged Haruto along by the wrist. “Come on! We’re gonna play, too!”

Haruto’s red eyes flicked around, measuring the stares, the whispers. “They don’t want us here.”

Naruto shot him a stubborn look. “So what? I don’t care. If they won’t play with us, then we’ll just make ‘em.”

Before Haruto could argue, Naruto froze. Across the playground, four older boys had cornered two much younger girls near the slide. One girl had dark blue hair cut in a neat frame around her face, her pale eyes wide and trembling. The other—shorter, with twin buns and a sharper gaze—stood in front of her sister, fists balled, but her lip quivered.

The older boys sneered.
“Hey, Byakugan freaks—what’s the point of having fancy eyes if you can’t even fight?”
“Bet you two are useless like the rumors say.”

Naruto’s fists clenched. He didn’t think—he never thought. He just moved.

“HEY!” he shouted, charging forward. “Leave them alone!”

The bullies turned just as Naruto barreled into the biggest one, knocking him flat on his back.

“You little—!” another snarled, raising a fist—only for Haruto to step in, seizing the boy’s wrist. His voice was low, cutting, his crimson eyes boring into the older child.

“Try it,” Haruto said evenly. “See what happens.”

The bully’s bravado cracked. He yanked his arm free and stumbled back.

Meanwhile, Naruto scrambled to his feet, blood pumping with reckless energy. He swung wildly, missing half his punches but throwing himself into each one with raw stubbornness. Haruto was different—precise, controlled. Where Naruto was chaos, Haruto was calculation. Together, they overwhelmed the bullies in seconds.

Soon the older boys fled, muttering curses as they ran.

Naruto wiped his nose on his sleeve, puffing out his chest. “Hah! That’s what you get for picking on girls!”

Behind him, the pale-eyed sisters peeked out. The older one—Hinata—bowed her head quickly, voice small. “Th-thank you…”

Naruto turned to her, his grin wide and unguarded. “Don’t worry about it! I’m Naruto! I’ll always protect you—’cause I’m gonna be Hokage someday!”

Hinata’s cheeks warmed pink. She ducked her head further, fingers fidgeting together.

The younger one, Hanabi, tilted her head at Haruto. Unlike her timid sister, her stare was steady, curious. “You didn’t even look scared. Were you?”

Haruto brushed dust from his sleeve, not bothering to meet her eyes. “They weren’t worth being scared of.”

Hanabi smirked slightly. “Hn. You’re weird.”

Naruto blinked between them, then laughed loudly, throwing an arm around Haruto’s shoulder. “He’s not weird—he’s my brother! We’re the Uzumaki twins! Nobody messes with us!”

Haruto gave him a sidelong glare but didn’t shake him off.

The Hyūga sisters exchanged a glance—one shy, one intrigued—as the Uzumaki twins stood side by side, sunlight catching in their mismatched eyes.

For the first time, Naruto and Haruto hadn’t been shunned. They’d been… noticed.

Naruto bounced on his heels, dust still clinging to his orange shirt. “So! What’re your names?”

Hinata hesitated, fingers twisting the hem of her sleeve. Her pale eyes flicked toward Naruto, then dropped quickly to the ground. “…H-Hinata.”

Naruto grinned wider. “Hinata, huh? Nice name! Fits you!”

Hinata’s cheeks burned. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and mumbled something too soft to catch.

Next to her, Hanabi stood straighter, chin tilted in something almost like defiance. “I’m Hanabi. And you two… you’re from the orphanage, right?”

Naruto scratched the back of his head, still smiling. “Yeah. So what?”

Hanabi didn’t answer him. Her gaze fixed on Haruto instead, sharp and unblinking. “You fought like you knew exactly what you were doing. Do you train?”

Haruto met her stare without flinching, his crimson eyes cool. “I don’t waste time swinging like an idiot.”

Naruto gawked at him. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Hanabi’s lips curled into a sly smirk. “He’s right though. You were flailing all over the place.”

Naruto sputtered, pointing at her, then at Haruto, then back again. “Tch—you two are the same!”

For a moment, Haruto almost smiled. Almost.

Hinata, meanwhile, peeked up again, her voice softer but firmer than before. “You… you really protected us. Th-thank you, Naruto-kun.”

The words hit him harder than any punch. Naruto blinked, his grin faltering just slightly—then returning, brighter than ever. “Heh. Don’t worry about it! I’ll protect you anytime!”

Hinata’s face went scarlet. She quickly looked away, pressing her hands together to hide her shaking fingers.

Behind her, Hanabi huffed. “We didn’t need saving. But… thanks, I guess.”

Haruto crossed his arms. “Next time, don’t let them corner you in the first place.”

Hanabi raised an eyebrow. “Hn. You talk like an old man.”

Naruto burst out laughing at that, doubling over. Haruto’s eye twitched, but he didn’t argue.

The tension in the air shifted—lighter now, warmer. For the first time, the Uzumaki twins weren’t surrounded by cold stares or muttered slurs. Instead, they stood across from two girls who looked at them differently: one with shy admiration, the other with curious challenge.

It was a small moment, but one that would linger.

The Hyūga sisters left soon after, guided away by a caretaker from their clan. Yet as they glanced back, both pairs of pale eyes stayed on the twins—one flustered, one intrigued.

And Naruto, still grinning, whispered under his breath, “Told you we’d make friends.”

Haruto didn’t answer, but for once, he didn’t deny it.

The night was cold. Too cold for two four-year-olds barefoot in the grass, their only blankets the ragged shirts on their backs. The orphanage door had slammed shut hours ago, and no matter how hard Naruto pounded on it, no one came.

“They’re not letting us back in,” Haruto muttered finally, his voice flat, but his red eyes shimmered in the moonlight.

Naruto stood stiff, fists balled, his whiskered cheeks wet. “Tch… who needs them anyway? We’ll… we’ll find someplace better! You’ll see!”

He dragged Haruto with him, into the trees beyond the village edge. The forest was quiet, save for the chorus of cicadas and the occasional owl’s hoot. The deeper they went, the darker it grew, the moonlight barely piercing the canopy.

And then—movement.

Both boys froze.

Through the underbrush, a tall, dark-skinned man trudged slowly along a narrow trail, two heavy sacks slung over his shoulders. The sacks shifted unnaturally, twitching, wriggling.

Naruto’s breath caught. His small fists tightened. “Haruto—there’s kids in there.”

Haruto’s stomach twisted. He wanted to dismiss it, to come up with another explanation—firewood, food, anything. But then, one of the sacks jolted hard, and a muffled whimper leaked out.

It was enough.

“HEY!” Naruto shouted, his voice cracking in the night. He broke into a sprint, crashing through branches and roots without hesitation. “Put them down, right now!”

“Idiot!” Haruto hissed, but he ran too, his heart pounding against his ribs.

The man stopped. Slowly, he turned, his face half-shadowed by the moonlight. His eyes glinted darkly as his lips curled into a grin that made Haruto’s skin crawl.

“What do we have here?” he said, his voice oily, low. “Two little rats wandering the woods at night?”

Naruto planted his feet, legs trembling but his glare fierce. “Let. Them. Go!”

The man’s grin widened. The sacks shifted again, a weak cry spilling out this time. He adjusted his grip casually, as if the lives inside weighed no more than firewood.

Haruto’s fingers twitched. His instincts screamed at him to pull Naruto back, to hide, to wait. But his brother’s voice cut sharp through the night:

“You’re not taking anyone else!”

And then Naruto lunged—reckless, furious, a flash of orange and whisker-marked determination.

Haruto clenched his jaw and followed, because no matter how dangerous this man was, there was one thing Haruto knew with certainty:

He’d never let Naruto face him alone.

The man didn’t move at first. He just watched them with that lazy grin, shifting the sacks on his shoulders. Moonlight gleamed off the beads of sweat trickling down Naruto’s temple, but he didn’t back down. Neither did Haruto.

“Tch,” the man finally said, voice heavy with mockery. “Little pests. Brave, but pests all the same.”

He stepped forward, slow, deliberate. “But noisy pests attract attention.” His eyes flicked toward the trees, scanning the shadows. “And I don’t have time for that.”

Naruto bared his teeth. “We’re not pests! Let them go!”

The jōnin chuckled, then in a blur, dropped one sack to the ground and flickered forward, moving faster than either boy’s eyes could follow. He reappeared in front of Naruto, kunai flashing down toward the boy’s small chest.

Naruto froze.

“No—!”

Haruto’s scream ripped through the night. His body moved before his mind did, hands thrust forward. Something inside him snapped, raw and wild. The air itself seemed to bend, the damp night thickening. And then—

A crashing wave of water surged out from nowhere, exploding against the jōnin’s side.

The man grunted, thrown off-balance, his kunai carving harmlessly into the dirt as Naruto tumbled backward.

Both boys stared, wide-eyed. Water dripped from Haruto’s trembling hands, pooling at his feet where there had been none before.

The man’s grin faltered for the first time. He straightened, water dripping from his arm, and his eyes gleamed with something colder now. “…Interesting. So the little rat has claws.”

He tossed aside the second sack, his body blurring again as he lunged—not for Naruto this time, but for Haruto.

Haruto’s body locked. His legs refused to move. The jōnin’s shadow swallowed him whole, kunai raised high, a killing stroke descending—

“NOOO!”

Naruto’s voice cracked, shrill and desperate. His tiny hands slapped together, not in any practiced seal but pure instinct. His feet rooted to the ground, and the earth itself seemed to shudder.

With a sickening crack, thick wooden spikes erupted upward, bursting through soil and stone. They speared the jōnin mid-leap, impaling him through chest and limbs, lifting his body into the air like a grotesque puppet.

The man’s eyes went wide, blood bubbling at his lips. His body twitched once—twice—before falling limp against the wooden spears.

Silence swallowed the clearing.

Naruto’s breath came in ragged gasps, tears streaking his whiskered cheeks. His small hands shook violently, still pressed together. Haruto stood frozen, staring at the water dripping from his fingers, at the corpse hanging grotesquely before them.

For a long moment, neither boy moved.

Then a weak, muffled sob came from one of the sacks.

The spell broke.

Naruto stumbled forward, ripping the sack open with trembling fingers. Pale eyes blinked up at him, wide with fear and tears—Hinata. She fell into his arms instantly, clutching his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.

Beside her, Haruto tore into the second sack. Hanabi tumbled free, coughing, her eyes darting wildly before locking on him. She didn’t cry—she scowled, though her lip trembled, and she grabbed onto Haruto’s wrist with a grip far too tight for a four-year-old.

The twins held them there, four small children huddled in the shadow of death, the wooden spears groaning in the night breeze.

And for the first time, Naruto and Haruto realized—they weren’t just outcasts anymore. They were dangerous.

The clearing was quiet except for the ragged breaths of four small children. Naruto clutched Hinata as though letting go would undo everything he’d just done, while Haruto crouched beside him, Hanabi gripping his wrist so tightly her nails dug into his skin.

The impaled body of the Kumo jōnin creaked against the wooden spikes, the coppery scent of blood heavy in the night air.

“B-Brother…” Haruto’s voice cracked, crimson eyes locked on the grotesque silhouette. “What… what did you—”

Before Naruto could answer, a rush of chakra flared nearby.

Leaves rustled. The ground trembled faintly under a fast, deliberate stride.

And then a stern voice cut through the clearing:

“HINATA! HANABI!”

Both girls’ heads snapped up. In the next heartbeat, Hyūga Hiashi burst into the clearing, pale eyes blazing with Byakugan. His gaze swept the scene with frightening speed—the corpse skewered on unnatural wooden spires, his daughters clutched protectively in the arms of the village’s twin jinchūriki, and the raw chakra still radiating faintly from the boys.

Hinata whimpered softly against Naruto’s chest. Hanabi stiffened at Haruto’s side, her grip loosening.

“Father!” they cried in unison.

Hiashi’s jaw clenched. He had no prejudice against the Uzumaki twins—Hyuuga dignity did not allow for such blind hatred—but seeing his daughters nestled so close in the arms of strange boys, jinchūriki or not, roused an unfamiliar fire in his chest.

Still, he didn’t hesitate. His voice sharpened. “Come here. Now.”

Hinata and Hanabi broke free, dashing toward him with unsteady steps. For once, Hiashi didn’t scold, didn’t lecture, didn’t remind them of proper Hyūga composure. When his arms closed around them, the mask of the clan head cracked. He dropped to one knee, clutching both girls tightly to his chest.

For a moment, the cold, formal Hyūga patriarch was gone. There was only a father, trembling, whispering their names like a prayer.

Naruto and Haruto stared, wide-eyed, a pang of something unfamiliar twisting in their chests.

The moment didn’t last. Another surge of chakra rolled through the clearing—heavier, older, commanding.

Hiashi’s head snapped up as Hiruzen Sarutobi stepped into the moonlight, flanked by masked ANBU. The Hokage’s eyes swept the scene once, twice, and then lingered on the impossible sight before him: the wooden spikes still jutting from the ground, glistening red, and the lifeless body of a Cloud shinobi skewered upon them.

For the first time in years, Hiruzen’s composure wavered.

Behind him, even the ANBU shifted uncomfortably, their blank masks betraying nothing but their silence speaking volumes.

Naruto swallowed hard, his small hands still trembling. Haruto’s crimson eyes darted from the Hokage to the corpse, then back to Naruto, guilt and pride warring in his chest.

Hiashi rose smoothly, both daughters still pressed close to his sides. His face was once more the mask of a clan head, though his hands lingered protectively on his daughters’ shoulders.

“Hokage-sama,” Hiashi said, his voice cool but steady.

Hiruzen inhaled slowly, drawing the pipe from his sleeve though he didn’t light it. His mind raced—Cloud shinobi, dead on Konoha soil, at the hands of children… not just any children, but the jinchūriki. If word of this spread…

His decision was swift.

“Hiashi,” Hiruzen said firmly, his tone leaving no room for debate, “take your daughters home. Now. Once they are safe, come to the Hokage Tower. We will speak at length.”

Hiashi’s pale eyes narrowed slightly. For a moment, he looked as though he might argue. Then he gave a short nod. “As you command.”

He turned, gently ushering his daughters toward the shadows of the forest path. Hinata glanced back once, her small hand reaching weakly toward Naruto. Hanabi twisted in her father’s grip too, her red-rimmed eyes lingering on Haruto, lips parting as if to speak. But then Hiashi’s arms tightened, and both girls disappeared into the night with him.

The silence that followed was crushing.

Hiruzen finally turned, his old eyes hard. “Take the twins to the Tower,” he ordered, his voice clipped. Two ANBU stepped forward instantly, their presence a cold weight as they flanked Naruto and Haruto.

The boys stiffened. Naruto opened his mouth, fear and defiance flashing in his eyes. But Haruto’s small hand shot out, gripping his brother’s sleeve, shaking his head ever so slightly.

The Hokage’s gaze softened—just for a heartbeat—as he looked at them. “No harm will come to you,” he said quietly, words meant only for their ears. “But this must be handled carefully.”

Then, louder, to the remaining ANBU: “Erase this scene. Not a trace. No word of this leaves this forest.”

The masked shinobi bowed silently before moving to obey, their chakra flickering as they began their grim work.

Naruto and Haruto were guided forward, the forest swallowing the wooden spikes, the blood, and the corpse behind them.

But neither boy looked away.

Not until the clearing—and the secrets buried within it—vanished into the darkness.

Chapter Text

The Hokage’s office smelled of ink and old smoke. Stacks of scrolls lined the walls, casting long shadows in the dim lamplight. Outside, the village slept, but here—behind paper screens and silent ANBU stationed in the rafters—the air was taut with unease.

On the far side of the desk, two small figures sat stiffly in high-backed chairs far too large for them. Naruto swung his legs restlessly, kicking the wood with faint thuds. Haruto sat still, arms folded tightly, his red eyes fixed on the desk as though staring into it might erase the memory of blood and splintered wood.

Hiruzen leaned forward, fingers steepled beneath his chin. His gaze softened despite the grim circumstances. “Tell me, boys,” he said, his voice calm but weighted, “what happened tonight in the forest?”

Naruto shot upright as though the words had been a starting gun. “Okay, so! So there was this creepy guy, right? He was huge—like taller than three Hokage Monuments stacked on top of each other!” He flung his arms wide, nearly knocking over the inkstone. “And he was carrying these bags that were going all ‘wiggle wiggle wiggle!’—” He wriggled his whole body in his chair, making squeaky noises. “And then I jumped in front of him like—‘HEY! PUT THEM DOWN, JERK!’”

Naruto leapt up onto his chair, pantomiming punches in the air. “And then he was like—‘GRR, I’M GONNA EAT YOU!’—and I was like—‘HAH, TAKE THIS!’” He made a swooshing noise with his mouth, flailing his arms like a whirlwind.

Haruto pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning audibly. “You sound like an idiot.”

“I do not! That’s how it happened!”

“No, it’s not. He didn’t say anything about eating you.” Haruto’s tone was flat, but a faint flush of irritation colored his cheeks. “And he wasn’t taller than three Hokage Monuments. He was barely taller than the orphanage matron.”

Naruto spun on him, pointing dramatically. “You were too busy being scared to notice!”

Haruto’s red eyes flared. “I wasn’t scared. I was thinking. Which is what you’re supposed to do before charging at someone with sacks full of hostages.”

“Thinking doesn’t save people! Punching does!” Naruto declared, jabbing his fist in the air.

“It does if you don’t get stabbed in the process, moron.”

The room filled with their bickering—“blockhead!” “ice cube!” “stupid whisker-face!” "How is that an insult? we both have whisker-face"—until the Hokage chuckled, the sound low and warm.

Both boys froze mid-insult, blinking at him.

Hiruzen leaned back, eyes half-closed, though his mind was far away. The scene before him blurred into memory: Hashirama bumbling with reckless enthusiasm, Tobirama’s cool scowl beside him, their arguments loud enough to shake the training grounds.

And now here they were again, reborn in smaller frames.

The pipe in his hand remained unlit, forgotten. His eyes narrowed slightly, studying the younger twin. Haruto’s posture, his sharp tongue, his measured disdain for Naruto’s recklessness—it was almost too familiar.

He made a decision. A gamble.

“Haruto,” Hiruzen said gently, as though coaxing the boy’s attention. “Why don’t you tell me what happened? From the beginning.”

Naruto whipped around to him, jaw dropping. “Wha—?! Why him?!”

“Because,” the Hokage replied smoothly, “he seems to have paid closer attention.”

Naruto slumped back into his chair with a huff, arms crossed tightly. “Tch. Whatever. Let boring-face do it.”

Haruto shot him a sidelong glare but didn’t rise to the bait. His lips pressed thin before he turned back to the Hokage, voice steady.

“We were kicked out of the orphanage,” Haruto began, his tone flat but precise, like he was piecing together a puzzle. “So we walked into the forest. That’s when we saw the man—he had sacks, and something inside them was moving. Naruto rushed him without thinking.” His fists clenched faintly in his lap. “When the man tried to kill him, I… I don’t know what I did. I just thought I didn’t want him to die. Then there was water everywhere. It hit the man and knocked him back.”

Haruto’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Then the man came for me. Naruto clapped his hands and the ground… broke. Wooden spikes came out and… killed him.”

The boy’s voice faltered slightly at the end, but he didn’t look away.

The room went still.

Naruto fidgeted, half-proud, half-nervous under the weight of Haruto’s words. Haruto stared down at his knees, his red eyes dark with something like shame—or perhaps fear of what they’d done.

And Hiruzen… sat very still. His chest rose and fell slowly, but inside his heart pounded. Water manipulation, without hand seals… and Wood Release, instinctive and deadly.

He saw Hashirama’s laughter. Tobirama’s calculating gaze. Two shadows of the past seated before him, tangled together in destiny.

The Hokage’s silence stretched long after Haruto finished. The lamplight flickered in the stillness, shadows dancing across his weathered face.

Naruto leaned forward on the desk, restless. “So… are we in trouble?”

Haruto didn’t move, didn’t blink. His small fists were clenched so tightly in his lap that his knuckles blanched. He hadn’t dared to look at the wooden spikes, or the man impaled on them, since the moment it happened.

Hiruzen finally exhaled, the sound heavy with age. He leaned back in his chair, eyes hooded but sharp. “No,” he said softly, “you are not in trouble.”

Naruto let out a loud sigh of relief and flopped back into his chair with a grin. “See? Told you we were awesome!”

“Idiot,” Haruto muttered.

But the Hokage wasn’t smiling. Inside, his mind churned. Wood Release. The words rang in his skull like temple bells. Not a mimicry, not a weak imitation, but true Wood Release—born without training, without knowledge, in the heat of desperation.

That power belonged to one man in history. Hashirama Senju.

And now… to a boy who carried the blood of Uzumaki and Namikaze.

Hiruzen’s fingers curled around his pipe, though he didn’t light it. His gaze flicked between the twins. Haruto—already showing affinity for water manipulation, his sharp mind and colder temperament an echo of Tobirama. And Naruto—reckless, hot-blooded, awakening the impossible.

“Interesting,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Haruto’s eyes narrowed faintly. “What’s interesting?”

Hiruzen gave a small smile, the kind that revealed nothing. “You’ve both shown… unusual abilities. Talents that set you apart.”

Naruto puffed his chest. “Yeah, ‘cause we’re awesome!”

But Haruto’s frown deepened. “What kind of talents?”

The Hokage’s gaze lingered on him, weighing honesty against secrecy. They were only four. Too young to understand what their powers meant. And if word of this spread—if the other villages learned Konoha had two living weapons growing inside its walls—then tonight’s skirmish would look like child’s play compared to the storm that would come.

His tone hardened. “For now, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you both survived. And that no one else can know of what happened tonight. Not the details.”

Naruto tilted his head. “So… like a secret?”

Hiruzen’s eyes sharpened, his authority settling over the room like a mantle. “Yes. A secret you must guard with your lives. Do you understand?”

The boys exchanged a glance. Naruto scratched his cheek. “I guess…? But why?”

“Because if others learn of what you can do,” Hiruzen said, voice grave, “they may try to take you away. To use you.”

That silenced them. Naruto’s bravado dimmed into unease. Haruto stiffened, his small shoulders tight as wire.

The Hokage softened his voice. “I will not allow that to happen. But you must trust me—and keep this between us.”

For once, neither twin argued.

Hiruzen nodded, satisfied for now. He turned slightly, his voice low but firm. “ANBU.”

Two masked shadows appeared at his side, kneeling silently.

“You will see to it the remains in the forest are cleansed. No trace must remain. As far as anyone knows, the intruder was intercepted and eliminated by my forces before he could harm anyone. Is that clear?”

“Hai, Hokage-sama.”

They vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

Hiruzen leaned back, rubbing at his temple. His bones ached, his spirit heavier than ever. I must confirm this through records. If Minato was truly who he appeared to be…

His eyes fell back on the boys. Naruto was already distracted, doodling with an ink brush on the corner of the desk. Haruto sat upright, eyes sharp, watching every flicker of Hiruzen’s expression.

So young. Too young. And yet, their shadows stretched back into history itself.

They were children. Barely four. Yet the weight of what had awakened in them tonight could tip the balance of nations.

“Enough for now,” Hiruzen said at last, his voice softer, though firm with finality. “You’ve done more than any child should have to. You need rest.”

Naruto perked up instantly. “So we can go?”

“You may,” Hiruzen said. “But not back to the orphanage.”

Both boys blinked.

“I will arrange temporary quarters for you, secure and private,” he continued. “Somewhere safe. Tomorrow, we will speak again.”

Naruto tilted his head. “Like a new home?”

“Something like that,” Hiruzen allowed, his gaze gentling.

Naruto broke into a grin. “Heh, bet it’s better than the stupid orphanage!”

Haruto gave him a sharp look. “Shut up, Naruto.”

Hiruzen almost smiled, a faint tug at the corner of his lips. For a heartbeat, it was as if Hashirama and Tobirama themselves sat before him again, bickering like the children they once were.

But the moment passed. He clapped his hands softly, summoning an ANBU from the shadows.

“Escort them to the prepared quarters,” he ordered. “No one is to know where they are housed. Keep a guard detail at a distance, unseen.”

“Hai, Hokage-sama.”

The ANBU moved to guide the boys. Naruto hopped to his feet eagerly, tugging on Haruto’s sleeve. Haruto followed more slowly, his gaze lingering on the Hokage’s face as though trying to pry free the secrets hiding behind his eyes.

When the door closed behind them, the silence that settled was heavier than before.

Hiruzen leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing, mind already moving ahead. I must confirm this. Minato… who were you really?

His gaze drifted to the portrait of the First Hokage hanging on the wall, Hashirama’s easy smile frozen in paint.

“And now his shadow lives on,” Hiruzen murmured to himself. “And Tobirama’s as well.”

The pipe in his hand felt cold.

This would change everything.

The Hokage’s office was silent after the boys had gone. Only the rustle of paper broke the stillness as Hiruzen spread open the archives on his desk.

Naruto’s trees. Haruto’s water. So raw, so instinctive. They were only four years old, yet they had manifested techniques most grown shinobi could never dream of.

Wood Release. Water Release. And their mannerisms… it’s almost as though Hashirama and Tobirama live again.

His pipe lay forgotten at his side as he combed through the orphanage and clan records. Minato Namikaze’s entry appeared as it always had: an orphan of unknown parentage, adopted into Konoha, graduated the Academy at a young age, rose to become Hokage. No names listed for parents. No clan affiliation. A void where a history should be.

That void had never troubled him before. But now…

Hiruzen frowned. “No ordinary orphan could pass such gifts on to his children.”

The Order

He rose and summoned an ANBU. “Fetch the medical division chief. I want a genealogy test run immediately.”

The masked shinobi bowed. “Of whom, Hokage-sama?”

“Of Minato Namikaze,” Hiruzen said grimly. “Use his archived DNA sample. Cross-reference it against every Senju record in storage. Old and new. Look for any viable parentage match.”

The ANBU inclined his head once and disappeared.

Hiruzen sank back into his chair, fingers steepled. If his suspicions were right, Minato was more than an orphan. Much more.

The Summons

He could not wait idly. Another ANBU appeared as if sensing his thoughts.

“Bring me the toad scroll,” Hiruzen commanded.

Moments later, the sealing scroll was unfurled on his desk. A small puff of smoke revealed one of Jiraiya’s toads—plump, squat, and blinking sleepily at the Hokage.

“Gamahiro at your service,” the little toad croaked. “What’s the emergency?”

Hiruzen leaned forward. “Deliver this message to Jiraiya at once.”

He penned it quickly:

Jiraiya. Return to the village immediately, or failing that, locate Tsunade and bring her back by any means necessary. The matter concerns family—hers, and Minato’s. Do not delay.

He rolled the parchment and tied it, sealing it with the Hokage’s mark. The toad swallowed it whole with a gulp.

“You can count on me, old man!” Gamahiro said before vanishing in another puff of smoke.

Hiruzen exhaled slowly. That part, at least, was in motion.

The Results

Hours later, just as dawn began to bleed pale light into the sky, the ANBU returned carrying a sealed folder. He bowed low, setting it on Hiruzen’s desk.

“The genealogy results, Hokage-sama.”

Hiruzen broke the seal with careful fingers and scanned the report.

The name that leapt out made his breath catch.

Nawaki Senju — 99% paternal match.

And below it, another.

Tsunade Senju — close genetic relation, percentage consistent with aunt, uncle, or grandparent.

Hiruzen closed the folder slowly, the weight of it pressing heavier than any blade.

So it was true. Minato was no nameless orphan. He was Nawaki’s son. And that made the twins direct descendants of both the Uzumaki and Senju lines—the perfect storm of power and legacy.

He turned once more to the portraits of the First and Second Hokage. Hashirama’s warm smile, Tobirama’s stern eyes.

And now their will resurfaces in these boys. If we are careless, the world will burn to claim them.

Hiruzen’s jaw tightened. “Tsunade… it must be you. Only you can guide them.”

He closed his eyes, listening to the distant stir of the waking village. The storm had begun.

The new quarters were small but clean—two futons laid out neatly side by side, a low table with fresh tatami beneath. To Naruto, it was a palace compared to the orphanage.

He flopped onto his futon, arms wide. “This is awesome! Way better than the dumb orphanage.”

Haruto sat neatly on his own futon, red eyes scanning the corners of the room with a sharpness that looked out of place on a child’s face. “Don’t be stupid. It’s temporary. Don’t get comfortable.”

Naruto shot him a grin. “Temporary can still be nice.”

Haruto sighed. “Idiot.”

A soft knock at the sliding door broke their bickering.

Naruto scrambled up immediately. “Who’s that?”

The door slid open, revealing a tall, graceful woman with pale lavender eyes, her long dark hair tied back with a ribbon. Two small girls peeked from behind her kimono—identical faces, one half-hidden shyly, the other glaring as though daring the room to challenge her.

“I am Hyūga Hitomi,” the woman said warmly, bowing slightly. “Might we come in?”

Naruto’s grin widened. “The girls!”

Hinata ducked behind her mother’s sleeve, face pink, while Hanabi stepped forward half a step, arms crossed, chin high.

Haruto rose more slowly, bowing politely. “Please… come in.”

Hitomi entered with her daughters, settling at the low table. She studied the boys for a long moment.

Her breath caught.

On Naruto’s face, she saw Kushina’s unyielding spirit, that same brightness that filled a room. And in Haruto, she saw Minato—quiet, calculating, his sharp eyes weighing everything before him. Together, the twins were a living reflection of her two old friends.

Oh, Kushina… I see you in him. And Minato, I see you in the other. How cruel, that neither of you lived to guide them.

Her daughters crept closer. Hinata sat hesitantly beside Naruto, hands twisting nervously in her lap. Hanabi dropped cross-legged beside Haruto, pointedly avoiding his gaze, though her cheeks were pink with the effort.

Naruto leaned toward Hinata. “Hey! You came to see us? That’s awesome!”

Hinata squeaked something unintelligible, her face redder than ever.

Naruto tilted his head. “Huh? What?”

Hanabi rolled her eyes, muttering, “Idiot.”

Haruto glanced at her sidelong. “…You and Naruto will get along.”

Hanabi puffed her cheeks. “Tch!”

Naruto laughed. “See, even Haruto thinks I’m great!”

Hinata giggled before quickly covering her mouth with her hands.

Hitomi watched quietly, her heart tightening. She remembered the day Kushina died, the chaos that followed. She had been heavy with her own pregnancy, bound by her clan and her failing strength, unable to take the twins in. That guilt had never left her.

Now, watching Hinata’s shy smile toward Naruto and Hanabi’s fierce energy beside Haruto, she understood. Her daughters’ hearts were already choosing.

So be it. If I could not give them a mother when they were babes, then through my daughters, I will give them family. Kushina, Minato… I will not let your sons be alone.

Outwardly, she only smiled gently. “You boys did something very brave. You protected my daughters when I could not. For that, I am grateful.”

Naruto scratched the back of his head, beaming. “Aw, it was nothing! We couldn’t just let them get hurt.”

Haruto’s voice was cool, steady. “It wasn’t nothing. It nearly killed us.”

Hanabi stole a glance at him, then looked away quickly.

Hitomi rose at last, smoothing her kimono. “We should let you rest. Come, girls.”

Hinata hesitated, glancing once more at Naruto before shuffling back to her mother’s side. Hanabi followed, though her gaze flicked at Haruto, sharp with something unspoken.

Hitomi bowed. “Sleep well, boys. Tomorrow… will change much.”

And then they were gone.

Naruto collapsed back onto his futon, arms wide. “They like us!”

Haruto lay back more slowly, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “And you like them.”

Naruto grinned. “So? Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Haruto didn’t answer. His thoughts lingered instead on a girl with sharp eyes and a scowl too big for her small face.

For the first time that night, the corner of his lips twitched upward.

The office was still, the silence pressing like a weight. The faint glow of a single lantern lit the desk where Hiruzen Sarutobi sat, the genealogy results lying open before him.

Nawaki Senju — 99% paternal match.
Tsunade Senju — close relative, aunt-level match.

Hiruzen’s jaw tightened. There was no denying it now—Minato Namikaze had been Nawaki’s son, hidden by chance and tragedy.

The old Hokage leaned back, eyes drifting toward the portraits that lined the wall. Hashirama’s smile, Tobirama’s stern gaze, Minato’s quiet resolve. For a moment, the candlelight seemed to blur their faces into something new, something alive.

He saw Naruto’s grin, reckless and full of warmth—Hashirama’s energy made flesh again. He saw Haruto’s cool eyes, sharp and watchful, Tobirama’s very presence echoing in the boy. And beneath them both, Minato’s composure and Kushina’s fire.

Hiruzen exhaled heavily. “They aren’t just children… they are the convergence of legacies.”

The old man turned to the window. The village outside was dark, rooftops glimmering faintly beneath the moonlight. Somewhere among them, two boys slept restlessly under ANBU watch, unaware of the storm of history gathering above their heads.

If the council discovers too soon… if the clans catch wind of what they carry… they’ll stop being children and start being weapons.

His fists clenched against the desk. “No. I won’t allow that.”

They needed protection, guidance—someone strong enough to raise them as more than vessels of power. Someone who understood both their heritage and their burdens. Someone who loved them.

His eyes softened, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips as he thought of one name.

“Tsunade… hurry back. Only you can do this.”

He closed the folder slowly, extinguished the lamp, and sat in darkness for a long moment. In his heart, he whispered to the dead:

“Minato… Kushina… I couldn’t save you. But I’ll protect your sons. That much, I promise.”

And with that vow, the Third Hokage rose, leaving the office in silence.

Chapter Text

The doors to the Hokage’s office swung open with a thud.

Tsunade Senju strode in, Shizune at her side, Tonton squealing softly from the younger woman’s arms. The faint smell of antiseptic and alcohol clung to Tsunade—remnants of sake and medicine, her armor against grief.

Her golden eyes swept the office, hard and guarded. “This had better be important, old man. Dragging me back here with Jiraiya’s nonsense—what, did you run out of healers?”

Behind the desk, Hiruzen Sarutobi exhaled, pipe forgotten at his side. “Tsunade,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of both authority and regret. “It’s about family.”

Her brow twitched. “Don’t,” she snapped, already bristling. “You know better than to—”

But he was already sliding a folder across the desk toward her. “Read.”

The paper was thick, the official stamp of the Hokage’s office pressed deep into its fibers. Shizune frowned but stayed silent as Tsunade flipped it open, eyes scanning the words with practiced detachment—until they froze.

Nawaki Senju — 99% paternal match.
Tsunade Senju — secondary genetic match, aunt-level relation.

Her throat constricted. “What is this?” she whispered.

“The results of a genealogy test,” Hiruzen said, voice low. “Conducted on Minato Namikaze’s DNA. He wasn’t a no-name orphan, Tsunade. He was Nawaki’s son. Your nephew.”

Her fingers trembled against the page, the composure she always wielded like steel cracking in an instant. “Nawaki…”

Hiruzen let the silence stretch before he continued, softer now. “And his children—Naruto and Haruto Uzumaki. Twins. Kushina’s sons. Your grandnephews.”

Tsunade’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “They’re alive?”

“Alive,” Hiruzen confirmed. “And far more than that. A few nights ago, they stumbled upon a Cloud shinobi attempting to kidnap the Hyūga heiresses. The man underestimated them—he paid for it with his life.”

Tsunade’s shock deepened. “Children? They’re barely out of the cradle. How could they—?”

“Because,” Hiruzen cut in, his tone grim, “Naruto awakened Wood Release. And Haruto, in his panic, instinctively drew water from the very air to repel the attacker. Together, they killed a jōnin of Kumogakure.”

The words landed heavy, echoing in the office.

Tsunade staggered back a step, the folder slipping from her hands onto the desk. Hashirama’s legacy… Tobirama’s bloodline… alive in two children abandoned to whispers and fear. And all this time, they were her family.

Hiruzen leaned forward, eyes kind but weary. “I thought you should hear it from me. The village doesn’t know yet. I’ll keep it that way for as long as I can. But Tsunade—these boys need more than a Hokage. They need family.”

Tsunade’s jaw clenched, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She had sworn never to let herself feel this way again—never to open that wound that Nawaki’s death left. And yet here it was, tearing wide open, flooding her chest with pain and something terrifyingly close to hope.

Shizune laid a hand gently on her arm. “Tsunade-sama…”

“You’re telling me…” Her voice was hoarse, like it had been dragged over gravel. She lifted her gaze, sharp and accusing. “You’re telling me those boys are Nawaki’s grandsons? That they’ve been in Konoha all this time—and you didn’t think I deserved to know?”

Hiruzen’s expression was unreadable, though his pipe remained untouched in its tray. “I did not know, Tsunade.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sensei!” she snapped, the word cutting like a kunai.

His eyes softened with regret. “I am not lying. I suspected nothing until the incident with the Hyūga twins. When Naruto awakened Wood Release—”

Tsunade’s breath hitched at the words.

“—I searched our records,” Hiruzen continued. “I had a genealogy test conducted, comparing Minato’s DNA against the Senju. The results revealed the truth. Nawaki was his father.”

The report crumpled slightly in her clenched fists. Tsunade staggered back a step as though struck, the fight draining from her shoulders. “All these years… all this time I thought I was the last. And they were here. Right here in Konoha.”

“Tsunade…”

She barked out a short, bitter laugh, though tears glimmered in her golden eyes. “Damn you, old man. Always keeping secrets, always thinking you know what’s best.”

He accepted the rebuke in silence.

Tsunade slammed the report down on the desk, her voice rising with sudden, fierce clarity. “Those boys are mine. Nawaki’s blood runs in their veins, and I won’t let them spend another day thinking they’re alone. I’ll take them, Sensei. I’ll raise them as Senju, as Uzumaki—as family. No council, no clan elder, no one is going to stop me.”

Her chest heaved, fists trembling at her sides. “I lost Dan. I lost Nawaki. But I will not lose them.”

For a long moment, Hiruzen studied her. Then, slowly, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I thought you might say that.”

Tsunade exhaled sharply, swiping the tears from her cheeks with the heel of her palm. “Then stop wasting my time, old man. Take me to them.”

The Hokage’s Anbu guard opened the creaking door to a modest, two-room apartment tucked away near the western edge of Konoha. It wasn’t much—bare tatami mats, a low table, thin futons folded against one wall—but it was warm, clean, and theirs.

Naruto was sprawled on the floor, humming loudly as he drew scribbles on scrap paper with a bit of charcoal. Haruto sat beside him, carefully arranging pebbles into deliberate patterns, his crimson eyes narrowed in concentration.

At the sound of the door, both boys turned.

Naruto jumped to his feet. “Old man Hokage! Did you bring snacks?”

Haruto frowned, immediately noticing Tsunade at Hiruzen’s side. “Who’s she?” His tone was guarded, his small shoulders stiff.

Tsunade’s breath caught. The moment her eyes landed on them, her heart lurched painfully. Two faces—so small, so familiar—staring at her with expressions that mirrored the past. Naruto’s grin echoed Hashirama’s warmth, while Haruto’s sharp gaze was Tobirama reborn. Yet beneath it all, they were Nawaki. Her baby brother. She was staring at him twice over, alive again in these boys.

Her vision blurred.

“Sensei…” she whispered hoarsely, clutching her chest.

Hiruzen gave her a small, solemn nod, stepping back to let her move forward.

Before she could think, Tsunade knelt on the tatami, reaching out with trembling hands. Her fingers brushed Naruto’s cheek, then Haruto’s. Both boys froze, bewildered.

“Nawaki…” Her voice cracked, tears spilling freely. “Kami, you look just like him…”

Naruto blinked, confused. “Uh—who’s Nawaki? And… why’re you crying?”

Haruto’s crimson eyes narrowed, suspicion hardening his features. “We don’t know you. Why are you here?”

Tsunade’s restraint crumbled. With a sob, she pulled them both into her arms, clutching their small frames against her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered desperately, over and over, her tears falling into their hair. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know I still had family. I should’ve been here. I should’ve been here for you…”

The boys stiffened. Naruto squirmed a little, caught between confusion and the strange comfort of her warmth. “Hey—lady—I don’t even know your name!”

Haruto’s voice was muffled against her shoulder, skeptical but less sharp now. “...You sound like you mean it.”

Tsunade leaned back just enough to meet their eyes. Her tears streaked her cheeks, but her gaze was fierce, burning with conviction. “My name is Tsunade Senju. I’m your family. Your grandmother. And I swear—I will never leave you again.”

The words crashed over them like a wave.

Naruto’s blue eyes went wide. “...For real? You mean you’re really our grandma?”

Haruto didn’t answer at once. His red eyes searched her face, looking for cracks, for deception—but all he saw was raw grief and love. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned into her hold.

Naruto broke into a small grin. “...Guess that makes you Baa-chan!”

Tsunade let out a tearful laugh, pulling them both tighter against her. “Brat,” she muttered, voice shaking. “Just like your father.”

And in that fragile, messy embrace, something inside Tsunade—something she thought long dead—stirred back to life.

The Senju compound hadn’t been lived in for years. Dust caked the floorboards, weeds crept through cracks in the stone walkways, and ivy strangled the once-proud gates. It would take time before it felt like home again, and Hiruzen had already dispatched carpenters and cleaners.

Until then, Tsunade found herself spending every spare moment in the small apartment where her boys stayed.

On the first day, she brought food. Hearty miso soup, warm rice, grilled fish—nothing fancy, but it filled the air with the smell of family. Naruto’s eyes had nearly popped from his head.

“Whoa! Real food? Not that thin gruel they give at the orphanage?!” he exclaimed, grabbing bowls with both hands.

Haruto crossed his arms. “Don’t be rude, Naruto. You haven’t even said thank you.”

Naruto stuffed his cheeks before mumbling, “Fank yew!”

Tsunade chuckled, shaking her head. “Spitting image of Hashirama,” she muttered under her breath.

Over the next days, she watched them more closely. Naruto was a whirlwind of energy—loud, messy, and always chasing attention. He was quick to laugh, quicker to fight, and quicker still to sulk when he thought he was being ignored.

Haruto, in contrast, was sharp. He liked order, neatness, rules. He scolded Naruto constantly, as though trying to corral a storm with his tiny hands. He asked pointed questions—about jutsu, about bloodlines, about why the villagers whispered when they walked past.

One evening, after Naruto had fallen asleep in a pile of blankets, Haruto stayed awake. He sat by the paper window, red eyes glowing faintly in the lantern light.

“Why do you care so much about us?” he asked quietly.

Tsunade froze, her cup of tea halfway to her lips.

“People usually don’t,” Haruto added, his small voice steady.

Tsunade put the cup down. She crossed the tatami, kneeling beside him, her hand brushing over his white hair. “Because you’re mine,” she whispered. “My brother’s blood runs in you. And because…” Her throat tightened. “Because I should’ve been there sooner. I’ll never make that mistake again.”

Haruto didn’t answer right away. But when she looked down, she saw his little fist clutching the hem of her sleeve, refusing to let go.

The days passed like that. Small moments, quiet bonds. Naruto demanded piggyback rides until Tsunade’s back ached; Haruto challenged her to explain water manipulation, watching her hands with unblinking focus. Shizune would sometimes visit too, offering sweets and laughing at how naturally Tsunade slid into the role of caretaker.

By the end of the week, the boys no longer called her “that lady.” To Naruto, she was Baa-chan—sometimes shouted, sometimes whined, sometimes teased, but always with warmth. To Haruto, she was “Tsunade-sama,” but his sharp tongue softened when he said it, the title carrying quiet respect.

And though they still lived in that cramped little apartment, for the first time in their lives, the boys began to feel what it meant to belong.

The afternoon sun filtered through the sliding doors, warm and golden. Tsunade had just finished showing Naruto and Haruto how to shuffle a deck of cards—though Naruto kept insisting he was winning despite not understanding the rules—when a polite knock echoed from the entryway.

Shizune opened the door, her smile widening as she ushered in their guests.

“Hyūga-sama,” Shizune greeted warmly.

Hitomi Hyūga stepped inside with the grace of her clan, her pale lavender eyes carrying both serenity and quiet kindness. At her sides clung two small girls—Hinata and Hanabi, identical as reflections in water. Their gazes darted nervously around the room, only brightening when they spotted the twins.

“Naruto-kun! Haruto-kun!” Hinata chirped, her usual shyness breaking under the joy of seeing them. She darted forward, tiny hands tugging Naruto’s sleeve.

Naruto grinned, puffing out his chest. “Oi, Hinata! Did ya miss me? Heh, course you did!”

Hanabi, less restrained, marched up to Haruto and declared, “I’m going to beat you at tag today!”

Haruto raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. “You said that last time. And the time before that. And you lost every single time.”

Hanabi pouted, cheeks puffing. “That doesn’t count! You cheat!”

“I don’t cheat,” Haruto said flatly. “I’m just smarter than you.”

The two glared at each other, tiny sparks of rivalry in their eyes, before breaking into laughter.

Tsunade watched the scene quietly, her golden eyes softening. Hitomi, meanwhile, knelt near her daughters, adjusting their hair and smoothing their little kimonos. Yet her gaze lingered on the twins—Naruto’s wide grin, Haruto’s sharp stare. She bit her lip faintly, a flicker of something unreadable passing over her expression.

“You visit often,” Tsunade observed, her tone casual but probing.

Hitomi’s smile wavered before she exhaled. “I owed it to Kushina. She was… my closest friend. When the boys were born, I wanted to take them in. I begged Hiashi, but with the politics of the time—two jinchūriki, and the clan under constant scrutiny—it was impossible. I’ve carried that guilt for years.” Her eyes softened as she watched her daughters with the boys. “But now, when I see them together… I feel like maybe I can help them, through my girls.”

Tsunade’s throat tightened. She turned back to the children, who were now noisily arguing about who ran faster—Naruto or Hinata.

It hit her then. The way Hinata clung to Naruto, cheeks faintly pink. The way Hanabi refused to give Haruto any peace, tugging him into competition at every chance. She remembered another time, another pair. Kushina, blushing furiously as Minato offered his hand after saving her from kidnappers. Minato, flustered yet steadfast, promising to protect her.

History had a cruel way of repeating itself. But maybe… maybe it also repeated in blessings.

Tsunade smiled faintly, folding her arms beneath her chest. Kushina… your boys are finding people who love them already. Just like you did with Minato.

For the first time in years, the thought of the future didn’t fill her with dread—it filled her with a fragile, stubborn hope.

Chapter Text

The gates creaked open with a low groan, revealing the sprawling compound beyond. The Senju crest—faded but still proud—was carved deep into the wood, catching the afternoon light.

Naruto darted past before the gate even finished opening, his sandals slapping the stone path. “Woooahhh! This place is HUGE!” His voice echoed across the courtyard. He spun in circles, arms stretched wide, his grin so big it nearly split his face.

Haruto followed at a slower pace, red eyes scanning every detail—the moss clinging to stone lanterns, the paper doors freshly replaced, the long halls stretching into the distance. “It’s… old,” he muttered, though the faint reverence in his tone betrayed him.

Tsunade walked between them, her hands tucked into her sleeves. For the first time in years, her steps were hesitant. This place had been silent for too long. Once it had echoed with laughter, with the shouts of sparring cousins, with her grandfather’s booming voice. Now, only the wind rustled through the garden.

“Not bad, huh?” she said, masking her unease with a small smirk.

Naruto raced toward the koi pond in the courtyard, nearly tripping over the stepping stones. “Are you kidding?! It’s like… five orphanages stuck together! Can we really live here, Granny?”

Haruto’s brow twitched. “She’s not your granny.”

“She acts like one!” Naruto shot back without missing a beat.

Tsunade rapped her knuckles lightly on Naruto’s head as she passed. “Don’t push your luck, brat. And yes—you’ll live here now. Both of you. This is your home.”

The word hung in the air like a fragile glass ornament.

Haruto tilted his head slightly, his voice quieter. “Home…?” He let the syllable linger as though testing its weight.

Naruto didn’t hesitate—he pumped his fists in the air and shouted, “Yesss! Our own house!” He turned to his brother, tugging his sleeve. “C’mon, Haru, don’t be all gloomy. We’ve got a real home now! No more cranky orphanage ladies, no more stupid curfews!”

Haruto allowed himself the faintest smile, though his eyes lingered on the carved crest above the main hall. “This place has history… important history. We shouldn’t just run around screaming like idiots.”

“Too late!” Naruto hollered, already chasing dragonflies by the pond.

Tsunade couldn’t help it—her lips curved into a laugh, soft and bittersweet. Nawaki had said something nearly identical the first time Tobirama showed him the clan archives. History… important history.

She guided them toward the main hall. As they slid open the door, the scent of tatami mats and sandalwood filled the air. The rooms had been cleaned, the dust swept away, though the emptiness lingered like a ghost.

“This was the Senju clan’s home,” Tsunade said quietly. “Your great-grandfather built it himself. Generations lived here—warriors, leaders… family. And now, it’s yours.”

Naruto plopped down on the tatami with a satisfied sigh, as though claiming the space instantly. Haruto remained standing, fingers brushing the wood of the doorframe. His red eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light.

Tsunade studied them both—the boundless energy of Naruto, the sharp, contemplative silence of Haruto. Hashirama and Tobirama, she thought. Not just in blood, but in spirit.

And for the first time in decades, she didn’t feel the emptiness of this house pressing in. Instead, it felt… alive again.

The night had fallen softly over the compound, the cicadas singing from the garden. Inside the main hall, a low fire burned in the hearth, throwing warm light across the room. Naruto sat cross-legged on a cushion, rocking back and forth impatiently. Haruto sat perfectly straight beside him, his hands folded in his lap, every bit the picture of composure.

Tsunade poured herself a cup of sake, then thought better of it and pushed the bottle aside. Tonight wasn’t about her vices—it was about them.

“So,” she began, her voice carrying the weight of memory, “you two should know what it means to carry the name Senju.”

Naruto’s head tilted. “Senju? But… we’re Uzumaki, right?”

“You’re both,” Tsunade said firmly. “Your father was Minato Namikaze, and your mother Kushina Uzumaki. But through Minato… you’re also Senju. My grandfather was the First Hokage—Senju Hashirama. His younger brother, my great-uncle, was the Second Hokage—Senju Tobirama.”

Naruto’s eyes went round as ramen bowls. “The First Hokage?! The one who built Konoha? That’s our great-great-grandpa?!” He bounced in place, fists pumping. “That’s so cool! Granny, tell us everything!”

Haruto gave a sharp tug on his brother’s sleeve. “Idiot. Don’t shout.” But his own gaze stayed locked on Tsunade, curiosity flickering in his crimson eyes.

Tsunade chuckled softly. “Hashirama… he was larger than life. Warm, foolish at times, but strong enough to bend the very world. He believed in peace, in family, in protecting others no matter what. He could wrestle tailed beasts into submission with a smile on his face.”

Naruto’s grin nearly split his face. “That’s it! I wanna be like him! I’ll be super strong and protect everyone too—just like Great-Grandpa Hashirama!”

Haruto muttered under his breath, “You’re already foolish like him…”

Tsunade hid her smile behind her hand. Then her expression softened, her gaze drifting toward Haruto. “And Tobirama… was different. He was sharp, disciplined. He didn’t smile much, but he cared deeply for his brother and the village. He was a genius with jutsu, always thinking ten steps ahead. Some feared him, but he kept the village alive more times than I can count.”

Haruto straightened slightly, his small shoulders squared. “…Sounds reasonable.” His voice was calm, but the faint pride in his tone betrayed him.

Naruto immediately leaned across and jabbed a finger at him. “Pfft! Figures you’d like the grumpy one. I’m way cooler ‘cause I’m like Hashirama!”

“Cooler?” Haruto scoffed. “You run headfirst into things without thinking. That’s not cool, that’s stupid.”

Naruto puffed his cheeks, ready to argue, but Tsunade tapped her knuckles lightly on the floor. “Enough, you two. Hashirama and Tobirama bickered the same way. But they were strongest together.” Her eyes softened, the firelight catching the moisture there. “Just like you will be.”

The twins fell quiet. Naruto fidgeted with the edge of his cushion, while Haruto studied the flickering fire.

For the first time, the boys weren’t just orphans scrambling for scraps of belonging. They had a name. A history. A legacy.

And sitting before them, Tsunade felt something stir in her chest that she hadn’t felt in years—hope.

The next morning, the compound’s training yard—overgrown after years of neglect—came alive again. The morning sun stretched long beams over cracked flagstones, where weeds had sprouted through. Tsunade had her sleeves rolled up, standing with arms folded, watching her new wards with a sharp, appraising eye.

Naruto was already bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Alright! Time for training! Granny, are you gonna teach us super cool secret jutsu?”

“First,” Tsunade said dryly, “you’re going to learn how to stand still.”

Naruto stopped bouncing. “Eh? That sounds lame.”

“Shut up and listen, idiot,” Haruto muttered. He was standing in perfect form, back straight, eyes locked on Tsunade, soaking in every word.

“Good,” Tsunade nodded to Haruto. “Chakra control is everything. You two have… unusual gifts. But power without control is as dangerous to you as it is to anyone else.”

Naruto pouted. “C’mon, Granny, I can handle it—watch!”

Before Tsunade could stop him, Naruto slammed his hands together. His chakra surged wildly, spilling out like an untamed tide. From the cracked ground, a spray of wooden spikes burst upward—crooked, uneven, but undeniably alive.

Naruto yelped, stumbling back, nearly impaling himself on one of his own creations.

“Idiot!” Haruto darted forward, pulling him by the collar. His free hand instinctively swept sideways, and a thin whip of water pulled from the morning air lashed across one of the jagged spikes, slicing it in half before it could topple.

Both boys froze.

The yard went silent save for the drip-drip of water evaporating on the stones.

Tsunade stared, her chest tight. In those few seconds, she had seen it—the flare of Hashirama’s legacy in Naruto, and Tobirama’s genius precision in Haruto. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Naruto broke the silence with a shaky laugh. “See? Told ya I could do it!” His knees were still trembling, though he tried to puff out his chest.

Haruto’s crimson eyes narrowed. “…You almost killed yourself.”

“Yeah, but it was awesome!”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Better than boring!”

“Brainless.”

“Stick-in-the-mud!”

“Enough.” Tsunade’s voice cracked through the yard, sharp as a kunai. The boys froze mid-glare. She exhaled slowly, calming herself before speaking again. “Naruto, your chakra is powerful, but it’s running wild. Haruto, your control is remarkable, but your reserves are still too small. If you two don’t learn to work together, you’ll only get in each other’s way.”

The twins glanced at one another, reluctant but begrudgingly silent.

Tsunade’s gaze softened, just slightly. “You’ll train here every day. I’ll teach you to use your gifts. But remember this—” Her tone dropped lower, more personal. “You aren’t just carrying my clan’s legacy. You’re carrying the future of this village. Don’t waste it.”

For once, neither boy had a retort.

Naruto swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. Haruto stared down at his own hands, droplets of water still glistening on his fingertips.

The training yard, silent for so many years, had finally awakened—and so had the next generation of Senju.

The Senju compound was quiet until a loud, booming laugh split the air.

“Ku ku ku! So it’s true—the great Tsunade has finally put down the dice and picked up motherhood!”

Naruto and Haruto, who had been sparring in the yard under Tsunade’s watchful eye, looked up in unison. A tall man in flamboyant robes strolled through the open gate like he owned the place, a massive scroll strapped to his back. His long white hair shimmered in the light, his grin irrepressible.

Naruto gawked. “Whoa! Granny, who’s that weird-looking old man?”

The man stopped dead, twitching. “Old—?!” He spun, pointing a dramatic finger. “Listen, brat! I am not old! I am Jiraiya the Gallant—Sannin, sage, and greatest shinobi of this age!” He struck a heroic pose. “And yes, author of the world-famous—”

“—pervy books,” Tsunade cut in, unimpressed, arms crossed.

Jiraiya staggered, deflating. “H-Hey! That’s not fair, they’re literature!”

Naruto snorted with laughter while Haruto muttered flatly, “He doesn’t look very gallant.”

Jiraiya’s eye twitched. He crouched, glaring at Haruto. “What was that, kid?”

“Nothing.” Haruto’s red eyes didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. The sharp, calculating stare reminded Jiraiya so much of Tobirama that he had to look away, unsettled.

Meanwhile, Naruto had already bounded up to him, practically bouncing. “So, you’re super strong, right? Can you teach us a cool jutsu? Pleeease?”

Jiraiya blinked at him—then grinned. “Heh. You’re exactly like your mom, kid. Same energy. Same nerve.” His grin softened just slightly as he took in Naruto’s whisker-marked grin and then Haruto’s crimson eyes, cool and steady. “And you,” he said, looking at Haruto. “Sharp. Too sharp for your age. Like your old man—and like someone else I knew.”

Naruto tilted his head. “You knew our parents too?”

Before Jiraiya could answer, Tsunade cut in smoothly, sparing him the weight of explanations the boys weren’t ready for. “He was their teacher.”

That seemed enough for the twins. Naruto beamed, awe sparking in his eyes, while Haruto gave a small, thoughtful nod.

“Teacher, huh?” Naruto piped. “Then you better show us something awesome!”

“Yeah,” Haruto added, though his tone was skeptical. “Otherwise I’ll assume you’re just full of hot air.”

Jiraiya nearly tripped over his own feet. “Wha—?! These kids—!” He shot a look at Tsunade, who smirked.

“Now you know what I’ve been dealing with,” she said dryly.

Despite the chaos, despite the mockery, something heavy and warm stirred in Jiraiya’s chest. These weren’t just brats—they were Minato and Kushina’s boys. The energy, the spark, the looks—it was all there. For the first time in years, standing here with Tsunade and these twins, he felt like he wasn’t just wandering anymore.

The Senju compound, long silent, echoed with laughter, bickering, and life once again.

The compound was quiet at last.

Naruto lay sprawled across his futon, one leg dangling off the side, his blanket twisted in a hopeless knot. His chest rose and fell with loud, unbothered snores. In the next room, Haruto rested neatly on his futon, hands tucked under the blanket, his breathing steady and quiet as though he had disciplined even his sleep.

Tsunade stood in the hallway between their doors, the lantern light casting long shadows down the empty corridor. For a long while she simply watched—listening to the sound of two children finally safe, finally at peace.

Her fingers tightened against the frame of Naruto’s door. “Nawaki…” her voice was barely a whisper, caught somewhere between sorrow and strength. “I couldn’t protect you. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t strong enough to keep you here.”

She shifted, glancing toward Haruto’s room. “Minato, Kushina… I failed you, too. I wasn’t here when you needed me most. And because of that… these boys were left alone in a world that should have cherished them.”

Her hand trembled. She curled it into a fist.

“But no more.” Her voice hardened, almost fierce in the silence. “These two… they won’t grow up alone. They won’t be cast aside. I swear to you—I’ll raise them as my own. I’ll give them the family you were denied. This time…” her throat tightened, eyes wet, “…this time, my family will survive.”

The words lingered in the corridor, steady and unyielding.

Tsunade slid the doors closed, leaving the boys to their dreams. Then, with a final look toward the darkened hallway, she turned away—not as a wandering sannin, not as the granddaughter of Hashirama, but as their guardian.

For the first time in decades, she felt anchored to Konoha again.

This was her new beginning.

Chapter Text

The morning sun spilled golden light across the Senju compound, breaking through the cracks of wooden shoji doors and filling the wide hallways with warmth. For the first time in years, the old home wasn’t silent.

“Woah! Haruto, come look at this!” Naruto’s voice echoed from one of the side gardens.

Tsunade, halfway through sipping her morning tea, winced as a crash rang out, followed by a triumphant laugh. She set the cup down with a sigh and stepped outside just in time to see Naruto attempting to scale the moss-covered wall that bordered the koi pond. His foot slipped, sending him tumbling headfirst into the water with a splash.

Haruto, standing on the edge of the pond with arms folded, shook his head. “You’re supposed to test the stones before you climb them, idiot. Now you’ve scared the fish.”

Naruto popped his head above the surface, spitting water and glaring. “Shut up, Haruto! I was testing it. With my face.”

“Clearly,” Haruto muttered, turning away.

Tsunade pressed her fingers to her temple, watching the scene unfold like some cruel repetition of history. Hashirama had once tried to dam a river in the middle of the Senju compound with his bare hands. Tobirama had stood nearby with that exact same expression on Haruto’s face now.

“Alright, you two,” she called, her voice sharp but not unkind. “Out of the pond. Naruto, dry off before you trail water through the halls. Haruto, stop pretending you weren’t about to jump in after him.”

Haruto stiffened, caught, while Naruto splashed dramatically to the bank. “See? Even Tsunade-baachan knows you care!”

“I do not—” Haruto started, only to be cut off as Naruto lunged forward and hugged him with soaking wet arms.

The younger twin froze, glaring murderously at his brother while water dripped down his pristine white hair. “Naruto,” he said, voice dangerously calm, “when I learn water jutsu properly, the first thing I’m doing is drowning you in a puddle.”

Naruto only grinned wider. “Then I’ll make a wooden boat and sail away!”

Tsunade couldn’t help it—she laughed. A real, unrestrained laugh she hadn’t felt in years. The sound startled both boys, who turned to look at her.

“You two…” she said, shaking her head. “You’re going to be the end of me.”

But her smile lingered even as she herded them back inside, towels in hand. The compound, once silent and heavy with ghosts, now rang with life. And though chaos followed the twins like a shadow, Tsunade found herself thinking, maybe that’s exactly what this place needed.

The compound gates creaked open just after noon, and Tsunade stepped out to greet the unexpected visitors.

“Lady Tsunade,” Hitomi Hyūga said with a polite bow. Her long dark hair framed her pale lavender eyes, eyes that softened as they fell on the children who peeked from behind Tsunade’s legs. Hinata clutched Hanabi’s hand tightly, both of them trying and failing to hide their excitement.

“Hitomi,” Tsunade said, her stern tone easing into something almost fond. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Hitomi replied softly. For a heartbeat, there was unspoken grief between them—memories of Kushina, of nights they’d shared laughter and secrets when they were still young women, before war and loss hardened their lives.

But then Naruto burst forward. “Hinata! Hanabi! You came!” His grin stretched ear to ear as he grabbed both girls by the hands and tugged them toward the courtyard. Haruto followed, slower, muttering something about “reckless idiots,” though his steps betrayed anticipation.

Tsunade gestured for Hitomi to sit with her beneath the shade of a sakura tree as the children scattered into the open courtyard. The air quickly filled with the sounds of childish chatter and laughter.

Naruto had found a wooden training post and declared it a “pirate ship.” Hinata stood beside him shyly, trying to smile whenever he addressed her as his “first mate.” Hanabi, bolder than her sister, demanded to be captain herself, and Haruto—deadpan—offered to sink the ship for them and end the argument. That only made the girls laugh harder.

Hitomi’s lips curved faintly as she watched. “My daughters haven’t smiled like that in weeks.”

“They seem comfortable with my boys,” Tsunade observed, eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.

“They are,” Hitomi admitted, her tone dipping low. “Hinata especially. I see it in her eyes… that small spark when she looks at Naruto. And Hanabi…” her gaze shifted to where Haruto stood with arms crossed while Hanabi teased him relentlessly, “…is no different.”

Tsunade chuckled under her breath. “History repeats itself. Kushina once told me she started falling for Minato after he rescued her from those Cloud shinobi. Seems your daughters may be following that same path.”

Hitomi’s hands folded in her lap, expression tinged with guilt. “I should have done more, Tsunade. I should have fought harder when the boys were placed in the orphanage. Kushina trusted me, and I failed her. Seeing them now—so strong already, so kind despite everything—they remind me of her. Of both of them.”

Her voice softened, and her eyes followed her daughters. “If their hearts choose these boys, I won’t stand in the way. Perhaps… through them, I can atone for what I couldn’t give Kushina’s sons when they were alone.”

For a moment, Tsunade said nothing. She only looked at Hitomi—her old friend, her comrade—and then at the four children tangled in laughter and arguments across the courtyard.

Finally, she exhaled. “Then let’s make sure this time they’re never alone again.”

Whispers carried through Konoha’s streets like smoke in the wind.

“They say the jinchūriki boys killed a man in the forest.”
“I heard it was a Cloud shinobi! Imagine—two children against a jōnin.”
“Or maybe they lost control of the Nine-Tails. Why else would there have been such chakra?”

Though Hiruzen’s ANBU worked tirelessly to erase traces of the event, secrecy had a way of drawing suspicion. Merchants exchanged uneasy glances, mothers pulled their children closer when Naruto and Haruto passed, and the old resentment toward jinchūriki stirred anew.

Tsunade noticed it immediately. She saw the way whispers followed her boys as they walked through the marketplace, how shopkeepers’ smiles faltered before forcing themselves to remain polite under her glare. Naruto was oblivious—still waving cheerfully at anyone who looked his way—but Haruto noticed. His crimson eyes narrowed whenever he caught the distrust in people’s faces.

By the time Tsunade stormed into the Hokage’s office, her patience had run thin.

Hiruzen looked up from his paperwork, weary but unsurprised. “Tsunade.”

“Don’t ‘Tsunade’ me, old man,” she snapped, slamming her hand on his desk hard enough to rattle the inkpot. “You told me you’d keep what happened in the forest quiet. But somehow, half the village is whispering about my boys like they’re monsters.”

Hiruzen sighed, setting aside his pipe. “Rumors are difficult to contain, even with ANBU. People saw the aftermath, felt the chakra. Fear fills the gaps where truth is absent.”

“Then fill it!” Tsunade shot back. “Don’t let their names be smeared. They’ve already carried more than any child should. I won’t stand by and watch this village break them like it did Nawaki, like it did Minato, like it did Kushina.”

The Hokage’s gaze softened, lines of regret etching deeper into his face. “You think I don’t remember, Tsunade? You think I haven’t lost sleep over those very failures?” He leaned forward, voice lowering. “I swear to you, I will not let the cycle repeat. But if the village learns Naruto possesses Wood Release…” He paused, as if weighing the enormity of it. “Then the whispers will only grow louder.”

Tsunade straightened, her tone sharp as a blade. “Then we make damn sure when they whisper his name, it’s with respect. The Senju name carries weight, and those boys carry it now. I’ll train them, I’ll protect them—but you’d better make sure this village remembers who they are. Not demons. Not weapons. Uzumaki. Senju. Family.”

For a long silence, only the faint scratch of the wind against the window filled the room. Then Hiruzen nodded. “You have my word, Tsunade. On my honor as Hokage.”

Her shoulders eased slightly, though her eyes still burned. She turned toward the door, tossing one last warning over her shoulder. “If this village tries to hurt them again, Sensei… it won’t be the Nine-Tails they’ll have to fear. It’ll be me.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving the office heavy with both threat and promise.

The training grounds behind the Senju compound had lain unused for decades, the grass tall and the wooden posts weathered. Tsunade stood in the center of the field, arms crossed, as her two new students squared off before her.

“Alright,” she said firmly. “No more reckless accidents. Today we see what you can actually do when you try.”

Naruto puffed out his chest. “I’m ready, Baachan! You’ll see, I’m gonna grow a forest bigger than—”

“You’ll trip over your own feet before that,” Haruto cut in flatly, adjusting his stance.

“Shut up, Haruto!” Naruto snapped, pointing dramatically at him. “When I grow the forest, you’ll get lost in it and cry!”

“I don’t cry,” Haruto replied, unamused. “Unlike someone who bawled when he fell in the pond yesterday.”

“That was cold water!”

“Enough,” Tsunade barked, silencing both. “Naruto, focus your chakra into the ground, just like I showed you. Haruto, draw on the air’s moisture. Don’t force it—guide it.”

The boys took their positions.

Naruto slapped his hands together, eyes scrunching as he pushed his chakra outward. At first nothing happened. Then, with a violent rumble, wooden spikes burst from the earth in random directions, one nearly grazing his own leg. He yelped and hopped back, arms flailing.

“See? Totally controlled!” Naruto declared, pretending it hadn’t nearly skewered him.

“Controlled?” Haruto deadpanned. He extended one hand, focusing. The air shimmered faintly, droplets condensing before swirling into a small stream that lashed outward, dousing Naruto in a sudden splash.

“Hey!” Naruto sputtered, dripping wet. “Why’d you do that?”

“Putting out the fire before it starts,” Haruto said simply.

Naruto lunged at him, and soon they were rolling in the grass, bickering as usual. Tsunade pinched the bridge of her nose, but her lips curved despite herself.

She remembered this scene before, decades ago: Hashirama flinging trees without control, Tobirama countering with water jutsu sharp enough to cut stone, the two of them fighting like children one moment and standing shoulder to shoulder the next.

“History really does repeat itself,” she muttered. Then, louder, “Enough roughhousing! Again!”

The boys scrambled back into place. And though their training field quickly turned into chaos—mud, splinters, and puddles everywhere—Tsunade felt something stir in her chest. Beneath the bickering and the mess, their potential was undeniable.

If she could shape it… if she could keep them alive… these boys could change the world.

By late afternoon, the compound gardens echoed with laughter again.

Hinata and Hanabi had returned with their mother for another visit, and the moment the girls spotted Naruto and Haruto, the quiet air erupted into chaos. Naruto had roped Hinata into being his “co-pilot” for a game involving climbing the branches of a cherry tree, while Hanabi demanded a race across the courtyard. Haruto, insisting he wasn’t playing, was nonetheless dragged into Hanabi’s competition and ended up reluctantly sprinting alongside her.

Tsunade leaned against one of the porch posts, arms folded, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she watched. Hitomi sat beside her, serene but with a glimmer of amusement in her pale eyes.

“Look at them,” Hitomi murmured. “It’s hard to imagine, with all that’s happened, that they can still laugh this way.”

Tsunade didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze lingered on Naruto as he beamed at Hinata’s shy smile, then on Haruto who scowled but didn’t push Hanabi’s hand away when she tugged him forward. Four children, tangled in sunshine and innocence, as if the world hadn’t already placed crushing burdens on their shoulders.

For a moment, Tsunade didn’t see children. She saw echoes.

Hashirama’s reckless grin in Naruto.
Tobirama’s sharp eyes in Haruto.
Mito’s warmth in Hinata.
Toki’s quiet strength in Hanabi.

Her throat tightened at the last thought. Toki Senju… her grandmother’s sister-in-law in all but name. Though history books never spoke of it, Tsunade remembered the hushed stories: how Toki had always stood at Tobirama’s side, never cowed by his sharp tongue, always willing to match him step for step, argument for argument. Some whispered she had loved him, though Tobirama had been too stubborn—or too proud—to ever admit it.

And now, as Tsunade watched Hanabi tug Haruto into a race he pretended not to care about, she felt that same old story repeating. Toki had once been the quiet storm at Tobirama’s side, tempering his edge with her own will. Hanabi seemed poised to become that for Haruto.

History, Tsunade realized with a pang, didn’t just echo. Sometimes it came back in full.

“They’ll be important someday,” Tsunade said finally, voice low but resolute. “Not just for Konoha, but for the world.”

Hitomi’s expression softened, understanding without needing to press.

As the children collapsed into a pile of laughter on the grass, Tsunade’s chest ached. They didn’t know yet the weight of what they carried. The Nine-Tails sealed inside the twins. The blood of Senju and Uzumaki. The Hyūga legacy waiting in the girls. The hatred of rival villages simmering just beyond Konoha’s walls.

But they would. One day, they would have to face it all.

And she would make damn sure they were ready.

Her hand tightened into a fist, nails digging into her palm as she silently vowed: Not this time. Not these ones. This family will survive. And I’ll make them strong enough to carry everything that comes.

The sun dipped low, painting the courtyard in amber light. The children’s laughter carried into the sky, unburdened, unbroken. For now, at least, they were just children.

And Tsunade, watching them with a rare gentleness in her eyes, let herself believe—just for tonight—that a brighter future might be possible.

Chapter Text

The quiet of the Hokage’s office was broken only by the scratch of Hiruzen’s brush as he signed another set of mission reports. Outside, the sun was dipping low, the light slanting across the floor in long shadows. For a brief moment, the old man allowed himself to believe it might be a quiet evening.

The illusion shattered when an ANBU appeared, kneeling before his desk.

“Hokage-sama,” the masked shinobi said, holding out a scroll sealed with the insignia of the Hidden Cloud.

Hiruzen’s eyes narrowed. He dismissed the ANBU with a wave of his hand and broke the seal. His gaze skimmed the first lines—then darkened as he read further. By the time he reached the end, his knuckles were white against the parchment.

To the Hokage of the Leaf,
It has come to our attention that your village has murdered a representative of Kumogakure, who was present in Fire Country on official business. This act is nothing short of an insult and will not be tolerated. Konoha must answer for this crime, or risk our enmity.
—The Raikage of Kumogakure

Hiruzen’s pipe slipped from his lips and clattered onto the desk. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding audibly.

“Murdered… representative?” His voice was low, trembling not with age but with fury. He slapped the scroll down on the desk, the crack of parchment echoing through the room. “That man was no envoy. He was a kidnapper—a traitor hiding behind his village’s name.”

He rose from his chair, the old robes of the Hokage falling around him like the mantle of a warlord. For a heartbeat, his chakra flared, thick and oppressive, rattling the inkpots and scrolls on his desk. The portrait of Hashirama above him seemed almost to watch in silence.

Hiruzen’s hands curled into fists. “They dare… they dare accuse Konoha of murder after sending one of their own to steal our children?”

No one else was present to hear him, but it didn’t matter. The God of Shinobi was speaking now, not the kindly grandfather the village often saw.

“They will learn,” Hiruzen muttered, eyes sharp as steel. “They will all learn.”

The scroll still lay on his desk, its accusatory words bleeding arrogance into the air. Hiruzen snatched a fresh parchment, unrolled it, and ground his brush into the ink with such force it nearly split the bristles. His hand moved quickly, the strokes sharp and decisive, each character carrying the weight of his fury.

To the Raikage of Kumogakure,

Your so-called “representative” was no envoy. He was a criminal, apprehended in the act of attempting to abduct children of Konohagakure. The punishment for such a crime is death. That your village would send such a man under the guise of diplomacy is disgraceful. That you dare call his execution “murder” is an insult to every shinobi of the Leaf.

Be thankful this matter was not brought to the Daimyō, for it would have been grounds for war. If Kumogakure wishes to press the issue further, then so be it. I will remind you why the name Sarutobi Hiruzen follows only that of Senju Hashirama in the title of “God of Shinobi.”

Choose wisely, Raikage. Your village’s survival depends on it.

—Sarutobi Hiruzen, Third Hokage of Konohagakure

The brush struck the last stroke with a flourish that splattered ink across the wood of his desk. He let it fall into the inkwell, then pressed his seal onto the parchment with deliberate force.

When the wax hardened, he handed the scroll to the waiting ANBU. His voice was flat, devoid of warmth.

“Deliver this to Kumogakure. Tonight.”

The masked shinobi vanished in a flicker of leaves.

For a long moment, Hiruzen stood staring at the portraits of the Hokage lining the wall. His eyes lingered on Hashirama’s kind smile, Tobirama’s cold gaze, Minato’s steady resolve. His grip tightened behind his back.

“You tried to take our children,” he murmured, voice carrying like steel in the empty office. “You thought us weak. You will learn that Konoha does not forgive.”

The ink of his letter had barely dried when another shadow stirred in the office. Unlike ANBU, this one did not kneel.

“Your temper hasn’t cooled with age, old friend.”

Danzō stepped out from the shadows, his cane tapping lightly against the wooden floor. The faint smirk on his scarred face was one Hiruzen had seen for decades—equal parts derision and respect.

Hiruzen did not bother with pleasantries. “Kumo has accused us of murder. They demand retribution for the death of a kidnapper. My reply will keep them quiet for now, but they will test us again.”

Danzō tilted his head. “And you want them reminded of their place.”

The Hokage’s eyes narrowed, his voice lowering until it was almost a growl. “If Root were still active…” He let the words hang, sharp and heavy. “I would have given the order to cripple Kumogakure from the shadows. To make sure they never again forget the power of Konoha.”

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken understanding.

Danzō’s single visible eye gleamed. Hiruzen had not commanded him—but he had made his will clear.

The Hokage turned his back, staring out the wide window of his office at the lanterns flickering to life across the village. His voice carried softly, but each word landed like stone.

“Do what must be done, Danzō. I will not ask again.”

Danzō inclined his head slightly. “Understood.”

The shadows swallowed him once more, leaving Hiruzen alone. The Third lowered himself into his chair, lit his pipe with steady hands, and exhaled a long stream of smoke. Outwardly, he was once again the patient old Hokage. Inwardly, the God of Shinobi had already moved the first piece in a silent war.

But Hiruzen did not relax. His hand trembled around his pipe, the ember flaring too hot. He set it down, staring at the smoke curling upward until it blurred his vision.

The Hyūga girls. Hinata and Hanabi. So small. So trusting. In another life, in another few minutes of delay, they might have been gone—spirited away to the Cloud, their futures warped, their innocence destroyed.

The thought alone made his jaw clench until his teeth ached. His chest tightened with something heavier than anger, darker than politics.

Kumo had dared to lay hands on Konoha’s children. His children.

The God of Shinobi’s chakra pulsed out of him, faint but sharp, rattling the window panes. His shadow stretched long against the wall, merging with those of the Hokage before him.

“There will not be a third attempt,” he whispered, each word etched with steel.

His gaze shifted to the village below, lanterns glowing like stars fallen to earth. Families, laughter, children’s voices carrying faintly through the night air.

“For every life in this village, I will bear the weight. But should another hand reach for our children…” His fist curled on the desk, wood groaning under the pressure. “I will sever it myself.”

The office quieted once more. From outside, Konoha looked peaceful. Inside, the Third Hokage seethed, a storm barely contained.

The village slept peacefully, its streets bathed in the silver glow of the moon. But beneath that stillness, shadows moved.

From a hidden chamber deep beneath Konoha, Danzō stood before his Root operatives—silent figures kneeling in perfect formation, their masks cold and featureless. His single visible eye swept over them, calculating.

“The Hokage has not given a formal order,” he began, his voice measured, deliberate. “But his meaning was clear. Kumogakure must be reminded of their place.”

Not a single operative moved or spoke, but the weight of his words sank into the silence like steel into flesh.

“Strike at their lines of supply. Cut off their merchants. Silence their messengers. When their shinobi walk in the night, let them vanish into nothing. Leave no evidence—let them wonder if it is their own weakness that unravels them.”

One by one, the shadows melted away, dispersing into the darkness beyond.

Danzō remained behind, leaning lightly on his cane. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Hiruzen, the ever-idealistic Hokage, had just ordered Konoha’s dirtiest work with no hesitation. Perhaps he wasn’t as soft as Danzō had once believed.

“Impressive, old friend,” he muttered to the empty chamber. “You cloak yourself in compassion, but tonight you’ve bared the fangs of the God of Shinobi.”

And in the weeks to come, Kumogakure would feel those fangs bite deep, never knowing whether the hand that struck them belonged to Root… or to fate itself.

Weeks passed. Reports filtered back to Danzō’s desk in neat, coded scripts. Each page detailed another quiet blow struck against Kumogakure:

A caravan of supplies to the Cloud vanished along the border, leaving no trace.

A messenger carrying sealed correspondence never arrived at his destination.

Two Kumo jōnin sent to “observe” Fire Country’s trade routes were found dead, their corpses posed as if killed by wild beasts.

One by one, small cracks began to spread through Kumogakure’s façade of strength. Their envoys grew silent. Their threats, unanswered.

Danzō sat alone in the Root command chamber, the dim light flickering across his scarred features as he read the last of the reports. He closed the scroll, tapping it lightly against his knee.

“So,” he murmured, “the God of Shinobi still breathes beneath the robes of the kindly old man.”

In truth, Danzō had always scorned Hiruzen’s softness—his insistence on compassion, his refusal to fully embrace the necessity of the shadows. But tonight, things had shifted.

For once, Hiruzen had not only tolerated Root’s existence… he had invoked it. Not directly, but with enough weight that Danzō knew the meaning behind his words.

“This is how a Hokage should act,” Danzō whispered, his voice low, almost reverent. “To shield the village with one hand… and to strike the enemy with the other.”

He leaned back, letting the thought settle. If Kumogakure pressed further, Root would be ready to deepen the wound. If not, the silent message had already been delivered: Konoha was not to be trifled with.

For the first time in years, Danzō allowed himself a flicker of respect for Hiruzen Sarutobi.

And perhaps… just perhaps… a sliver of pride.

Chapter Text

The days after the Hyūga kidnapping incident slipped into weeks, and then into years. What had begun in blood and fear slowly reshaped into a new rhythm of life, as the Uzumaki twins grew under Tsunade’s watchful eye.

By the time three years had passed, Naruto and Haruto had gone from scrawny four-year-olds clinging to one another for comfort, to spirited seven-year-olds who trained, fought, and laughed with a confidence that reminded Tsunade every day of the clan they had come from.

Naruto, with his boundless energy, never seemed to stay still. If he wasn’t racing ahead into training drills, he was dragging Hinata along with him, ignoring the way her face turned crimson whenever their hands brushed.

“C’mon, Hinata! You’ve got this!” he’d shout, grinning ear to ear as she struggled through a taijutsu form, her stance wobbling but steadying under his encouragement.

Hinata’s heart hammered whenever Naruto’s blue eyes turned to her with that unshakable faith. He didn’t seem to notice her blushes, didn’t realize how much it meant to her that he believed she could do it. For Hinata, whose own father often doubted her, Naruto’s voice was the light that pushed her forward.

Sometimes, after training, the two would collapse onto the grass, Hinata’s soft laughter bubbling out as Naruto made silly faces or imitated Tsunade’s scolding tone. In those quiet moments, their bond was innocent, but the way Hinata’s gaze lingered on him foreshadowed something that, one day, might be more.

If Naruto and Hinata’s bond was soft and supportive, Haruto and Hanabi’s was fire meeting steel.

“You’re too reckless,” Haruto said one afternoon, blocking Hanabi’s strike with calm precision. His red eyes narrowed as he adjusted her stance without hesitation.
“And you’re too stiff!” Hanabi snapped back, jerking her arm free with a grin.

Their sparring was fierce, neither willing to concede an inch. Hanabi loved testing herself against him, loved the challenge of breaking through his defenses. Haruto, for all his bluntness, respected her determination, though he rarely admitted it aloud.

They bickered constantly—about training, about strategy, about who was stronger—but beneath the sharp words was a quiet admiration neither of them had yet learned to name. When their matches ended, it was always Hanabi who offered her hand first, and always Haruto who took it, even if he grumbled about her form.

Their growth was not only in bonds, but in power.

One afternoon, during training, Haruto’s chakra surged wildly. Before anyone could react, glowing chains of pure chakra erupted from his body, snapping and writhing through the air like living things.

Tsunade froze, memories rushing back in a wave. Kongō Fūsa. She remembered Kushina’s chains, unbreakable and radiant, and her heart twisted.

“This ability… it’s Uzumaki,” Tsunade told him softly once the chains settled. “Your mother, Kushina, had these too.”

Haruto blinked, unsure of what to say, but Naruto’s reaction was instant. His blue eyes widened with wonder, and then burned with determination.
“If Mom had it, then I’ll have it too!”

It took Naruto weeks to coax even a flicker of a chain from his chakra, the glowing construct fading almost as soon as it appeared. But he never gave up, throwing himself at the challenge with all the stubbornness of an Uzumaki.

Haruto’s growth didn’t stop there. As his chakra control sharpened, his senses began to expand unnaturally, until one morning he awoke in a panic, clutching his head. He could feel everything—chakra signatures across the village, pulsing and moving like stars in a dark sky.

It overwhelmed him at first, but with Tsunade’s guidance he learned to steady the flood of sensations. It was the Mind’s Eye of the Kagura, a gift that made him both watchful and burdened, his red eyes sharper than ever.

Naruto, meanwhile, grew into his Mokuton. What had once been uncontrolled eruptions of wood became saplings, then sturdy pillars, then spikes he could summon at will. By seven, he could perform basic Mokuton jutsu alongside simple Suiton and Doton techniques. He often boasted about how “cool” it looked, much to Haruto’s annoyance.

Haruto, less flashy but more precise, honed his mastery of Suiton, progressing steadily to mid-tier jutsu, while building his foundation in Doton. Together, they were already formidable for their age—two prodigies molded by bloodline and circumstance.

Through it all, Tsunade and Shizune were their anchors. Tsunade guided their training with patience she hadn’t known she possessed, while Shizune tended to scraped knees and scolded them when they forgot to wash up before meals.

And always, the Hyūga sisters were near. Days of sparring bled into evenings spent under the cherry blossoms of the Senju compound, the four of them laughing, fighting, and growing together.

It was no longer the empty estate of a dying clan. With the laughter of children ringing through its halls, the Senju compound lived again.

Life in the village did not stand still, even as the Uzumaki twins carved out their place within the Senju compound. Seasons shifted, one into the next, and with them came changes in the Hyūga household.

When Naruto and Haruto were five, news spread quietly through the clan compound: Hitomi Hyūga had given birth to her third child. Unlike the formal announcements that usually accompanied Hyūga traditions, this birth was marked by warmth rather than ceremony.

The infant was named Haruka.

Naruto and Haruto first saw her when Hitomi, glowing with the exhaustion and joy of motherhood, carried her swaddled in pale silks to the Senju compound. Hinata and Hanabi trailed behind, their faces alight with pride as they introduced their baby sister.

“She’s tiny,” Naruto whispered in awe, leaning close until Haruto yanked him back by the collar.
“You’ll wake her, idiot,” Haruto muttered, but even he couldn’t hide the way his eyes softened at the sight.

Haruka’s eyes fluttered open—pale lavender like her sisters—and she fixed them on Naruto. A tiny hand reached out, grasping at the air until Naruto, startled but grinning, let her curl her fingers around his thumb.

From that moment, Haruka adored him.

As the months passed, the little girl grew into a toddling bundle of mischief. Whenever she visited the Senju compound, she would bypass everyone else and make a beeline for Naruto.

“Up!” she demanded, arms raised imperiously, and Naruto, laughing, always scooped her into his arms.

He spoiled her shamelessly, sneaking her extra sweets, spinning her around until she squealed with delight, and letting her tug at his whiskered cheeks.

“She likes me best,” Naruto bragged one afternoon as Haruka sat perched on his shoulders, patting his hair like a drum.
“That’s because you let her get away with everything,” Haruto shot back, crossing his arms.

If Naruto was indulgent, Haruto was the opposite.

“Don’t run with that, you’ll trip,” Haruto scolded as Haruka toddled across the compound with one of Shizune’s scrolls in hand.
“Don’t climb that tree, you’ll fall.”
“Don’t eat that, it’s not food.”

Haruka, of course, never listened. She would stick her tongue out at him, then scurry off to find Naruto, who only encouraged her antics.

“She listens to me,” Naruto said smugly one day as Haruto dragged Haruka away from the koi pond.
“No,” Haruto corrected with a sigh, “she doesn’t listen to anyone. You just encourage her chaos.”

Yet for all his complaints, Haruto never let her out of his sight when she was around. If Naruto was her playmate, Haruto was her reluctant protector.

By the time Naruto and Haruto turned seven, Haruka was two years old—a bundle of energy who adored her sisters and idolized Naruto most of all. To her, the world was simple: Hanabi belonged at Haruto’s side, Hinata belonged with Naruto, and she belonged wherever the fun was.

The Senju compound, once silent, now echoed with laughter—of boys, of sisters, and of a new little voice that tied them all together.

The Senju compound had changed. Once a lonely sprawl of empty halls and silent gardens, it now pulsed with energy. The laughter of children echoed through the courtyards, mingling with the sharp cracks of training strikes and the hum of chakra.

On one such morning, the sun filtered down through the cherry blossoms, scattering petals across the training field where the Uzumaki twins stood waiting.

“Alright, let’s do this!” Naruto shouted, fists raised, his grin stretching ear to ear.

Hinata stood across from him, her pale lavender eyes focused with quiet determination. Her stance was less shaky than it had been years before, her movements sharper. Still, her cheeks flushed whenever Naruto cheered her on.

“You can do it, Hinata!” he yelled, completely ignoring that she was supposed to be his opponent.

Hinata’s heart skipped. She darted forward, Byakugan flaring, and landed two quick strikes on his arm. Naruto yelped, exaggerated the pain, then laughed as he tried to counter with a Mokuton technique. A wooden branch shot up from the ground, but Hinata sidestepped neatly, her soft laugh following after.

“You’re getting better!” Naruto said, beaming at her. “Way better!”

Hinata ducked her head, her blush deepening, but her lips curved into a small smile.

On the far side of the field, Haruto and Hanabi clashed in a far less gentle display.

“Your stance is still open,” Haruto muttered, swiping her leg out from under her.

Hanabi hit the dirt, but she rolled quickly back to her feet, fire sparking in her lavender eyes. “And you’re still too bossy!” she shot back, charging at him again.

Their sparring was a storm—Hanabi pressing hard with her Hyūga precision, Haruto countering with sharp Suiton strikes and perfectly timed Doton barriers. He blocked her palm with one hand, twisted, and sent a burst of water spiraling past her ear. She growled but grinned.

“You’re not going to win this time!” she declared.

“You’ve said that every time,” Haruto replied dryly, red eyes gleaming.

When they finally broke apart, panting, Hanabi smirked. “Still… you’re getting better.”
“So are you,” Haruto admitted reluctantly, though his lips twitched in what might have been a smile.

Meanwhile, little Haruka toddled around the edges of the field, her two-year-old frame wobbling unsteadily as she clutched a stuffed rabbit. She plopped herself down under a tree and watched her sisters fight, then squealed when Naruto scooped her up mid-run.

“Haruka-chan!” Naruto said, spinning her in the air as she giggled uncontrollably. “You’re my good luck charm!”

“Again! Again!” she demanded, tugging at his hair.

“You spoil her too much,” Haruto said as he walked over, wiping sweat from his brow.

“She deserves it,” Naruto shot back, sticking out his tongue.

Haruka did the same at Haruto, mirroring Naruto perfectly. The older twin pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re both impossible.”

The day carried on like that—sparring, laughter, and the warmth of bonds that had grown strong over the years. At lunch, they sat in the compound’s garden, Hinata shyly offering food she had brought from home, Hanabi arguing with Naruto about strategy, Haruto correcting them both, and Haruka sneaking sweets into her mouth when no one was looking.

Tsunade watched from the veranda, arms crossed, her chest tight with something she hadn’t felt in years. This… this is family.

The Senju compound, once silent and hollow, was alive again.

The Senju compound had gone still, wrapped in the soft hush of night. Naruto snored loudly, sprawled across his futon with his blanket halfway to the floor. Haruto lay more neatly in his own bed, eyes shut but mind still restless, his senses humming faintly beneath the quiet.

Sleep came only in fragments for him. And tonight, it shattered entirely.

A sharp rush of awareness jolted him upright, his red eyes snapping open. His Mind’s Eye had surged awake, unbidden, its reach expanding out across the village. Chakra signatures blazed in the darkness like stars—thousands of them, steady and bright.

But then—chaos.

Whole clusters winked out, one after another, sudden and violent. The air in his lungs turned thin as the sensation rippled through him. Fear. Death. A storm of killing intent rolled at the edge of his perception, suffocating and cold.

Haruto clutched his chest, gasping, his hands trembling as though he could push the overwhelming tide back.

Something terrible was happening.

He slid off the futon and ran down the corridor barefoot, the wooden floorboards creaking under his steps. He shoved open a door at the far end of the hall.

Inside, Tsunade stirred instantly, her instincts sharp even in sleep. She sat up as Haruto stood framed in the doorway, pale-faced and shaking.

“Haruto?” her voice cut low and serious. “What is it?”

His breath came in shallow bursts. The red in his eyes glowed faintly, the weight of what he sensed almost too much for his young frame to carry.

“Something’s wrong,” he whispered hoarsely. “People are… disappearing.”

The last word hung in the air, chilling the room.

Tsunade’s frown deepened, but before she could question him further, Haruto’s gaze unfocused again, as if drawn back to the terrible scene unfolding somewhere in the village.

And in the silence between them, the night seemed suddenly too heavy, as though the walls of Konoha itself were holding its breath.

Chapter Text

Tsunade’s room was dim, lit only by the pale glow of the moon through the paper shutters. She sat upright on her futon, her golden hair loose around her shoulders, staring at the boy in the doorway.

Haruto’s chest heaved as though he had run miles, his small fists clenched tightly at his sides. His red eyes glowed faintly in the dark, wide and unblinking, as if he were seeing something far beyond the room itself.

“Haruto,” Tsunade said, her tone sharp but steady. “What is it?”

He shook his head once, twice, trying to force the words out. “They’re—” His voice broke, and he pressed a trembling hand against his chest as though it hurt to breathe. “A lot of people… they just vanished.”

Tsunade swung her legs from the bed and crossed the room in two strides. She crouched before him, resting her hands on his shoulders, grounding him with her presence. “Vanished?” she pressed. “Where?”

Haruto swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before forcing them open again. “In the Uchiha district.” His voice was hoarse, but clearer now, steadied by her touch. “I can feel them—whole groups of chakra… snuffed out all at once. They’re still vanishing. Right now.”

The last words left him in a whisper, his body trembling under the weight of the sensations flooding through him. His Mind’s Eye of the Kagura showed him horrors no child should have to feel—the violent extinguishing of life, one after another, a cascade of fading lights in the dark.

Tsunade’s heart lurched. She tightened her grip on his shoulders, her mind already racing. The Uchiha compound… an attack? At this hour?

“Listen to me, Haruto.” Her voice dropped low, controlled, but urgent. “You did the right thing coming to me. Stay here. Don’t follow me, don’t try to do anything reckless. I’ll take care of this.”

“But—”

“No,” she cut him off, her tone carrying the weight of command. “Protect Naruto. That’s your job tonight. Leave the rest to me.”

Haruto’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded reluctantly. His small hands unclenched, though his body still trembled.

Tsunade stood, eyes narrowing as she strode to the window. Already she was barking for ANBU, her chakra flaring like a beacon. Within moments, two masked figures materialized at her call.

“Summon the Hokage,” she ordered, her voice hard as iron. “Tell him the Uchiha are under attack.”

The ANBU vanished into the night.

Tsunade glanced back once more at Haruto. He looked so small standing in the doorway, pale and shaken, but there was steel in his red eyes. She softened just enough to give him a nod.

“You’ve done enough already,” she said. “Now let me do the rest.”

And with that, she was gone, vanishing into the night with the speed and power of the Senju’s last heir, leaving Haruto standing in the silence, his senses still drowning in the terror of the Uchiha clan.

The Hokage’s office was dim, lit only by the fading glow of a single candle. Hiruzen Sarutobi had just set aside his pipe, the night’s silence settling around him like a heavy cloak, when an ANBU materialized before his desk in a flicker of leaves.

“Hokage-sama,” the masked shinobi said urgently, bowing low. “A message from Lady Tsunade. The Uchiha district—there’s an ongoing attack.”

Hiruzen stilled. His fingers clenched the edge of the desk. “An attack?” he repeated, voice low and sharp.

“Yes. Lady Tsunade requests your immediate presence.”

For a moment, the room seemed to shrink around him. His mind didn’t leap to Kumo or Iwa. No, the threat was closer to home. He had seen the signs too clearly to dismiss them: the growing resentment among the Uchiha, their distrust festering like an untreated wound. He had relied too heavily on Shisui and Itachi to keep that resentment in check.

And then… Shisui.

The boy had gone missing just last week. No body, no farewell—just gone. Hiruzen had hoped, prayed, that Itachi hadn’t been left alone to shoulder the impossible burden of balancing clan and village. But now, hearing of an attack in the Uchiha district, his worst fears clawed at him.

Itachi… have you gone too far?

The old Hokage rose in one fluid motion, his staff in hand. Despite the lines of age etched into his face, chakra surged from him with a force that made the candle gutter and die.

“Summon every available ANBU to me,” he commanded. “We leave for the Uchiha compound immediately.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama!” The operative vanished.

Moments later, white masks gathered to his side as Hiruzen leapt from the office window onto the rooftops of Konoha. His robes snapped in the cold wind as he led the charge across the village. The closer they drew to the Uchiha district, the heavier his heart became.

He could already sense it—the flickering, vanishing flames of life, snuffed out one by one in the dark.

And all he could think was: If I had not placed so much on a boy’s shoulders, would this night have come?

The night air thickened with the copper scent of blood. The Uchiha district, usually so quiet after sundown, was shrouded in an oppressive stillness broken only by the faint crackle of fire from shattered lanterns. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls, hiding death within them.

Hiruzen and his ANBU swept into the compound with practiced precision, their sandals whispering across stone. He felt it immediately—the fading sparks of chakra all around them. Too many had already been extinguished. His stomach knotted.

“Fan out,” he ordered grimly. “Save whoever you can.”

But another chakra signature had already beaten them there. Tsunade.

The Senju princess burst into the carnage with her fists clenched, golden hair whipping behind her. She didn’t hesitate. Her hands glowed with emerald light as she dropped to her knees beside a wounded Uchiha man, his chest barely rising.

“Pressure here!” she barked at the nearest ANBU, shoving his hands onto the wound before her chakra surged into the dying man’s body. Bones realigned, bleeding slowed. She moved on before the first could even thank her, diving toward a girl slumped against the wall, barely breathing.

“Tsunade,” Hiruzen called, voice taut.

“I know,” she snapped, not looking up. Her chakra pulsed violently, refusing to let another spark go dark under her watch. “I’ll keep the ones still alive that way.”

The ANBU obeyed without question, ferrying injured survivors toward her. Tsunade’s hands blurred from one victim to the next, her teeth gritted as she forced her chakra to stretch further, faster. The courtyard began to fill with groans of the saved.

And then Hiruzen felt it—slipping away. A chakra signature unlike the others. Cold, honed, fading into the distance.

Itachi.

The boy’s presence lingered only a moment longer on the edge of Hiruzen’s perception, then vanished like mist in the dawn.

So it’s true, Hiruzen thought bitterly. Shisui gone. Itachi left to carry the clan’s burden alone. And now… this.

But even as the weight of failure pressed on him, he could see it: the mission had been accomplished. The police force—gone. The elders—snuffed out. Every Uchiha who had gathered in secret beneath the Naka Shrine to plot rebellion had been silenced.

The coup d’état was over before it could begin.

Yet it wasn’t a massacre of the clan. Not this time.

All around him, Uchiha still lived. Weeping, wounded, clinging to life under Tsunade’s frantic hands. Children pressed into their mothers’ sides, their wide Sharingan eyes glowing with fear instead of hate. The clan had been bloodied, but not erased.

And in the chaos, Hiruzen’s eyes found two among the survivors: Uchiha Izumi, pale and trembling, clutching the hand of a much younger girl with identical dark eyes—her sister, Shiori. Barely older than Naruto, Haruto, and Sasuke.

Hiruzen exhaled slowly, his heart heavier than his staff. Fate had twisted the knife tonight, but it had left just enough behind to rebuild.

Thanks to Haruto’s warning, he realized, the Uchiha still have a future.

By the time the last cries in the Uchiha compound quieted, the eastern horizon had already begun to pale with the first touch of dawn. The air still stank of smoke and iron, but Tsunade’s healing light had saved more than anyone had dared hope. Exhaustion hung on her shoulders like a lead cloak as she walked back through the village, every step heavy.

The Senju compound was silent when she entered. No guards, no stirrings—just the muffled calm of children asleep. But as she pushed open the door to the sitting room, her heart tightened.

Haruto was there.

The boy had curled himself on the sofa, his tiny frame tucked beneath a blanket. He must have waited all night, eyes swollen from fighting off sleep. His chakra was calmer now, no longer wild with panic, but still laced with unease.

Tsunade approached quietly, her breath catching in her throat. Gently, she slipped her arms beneath him, lifting him as though he weighed nothing at all. His head lolled against her shoulder, silver hair spilling across her sleeve.

But then his eyelids fluttered. “Tsunade…?” His voice was hoarse with drowsiness, but the question in it cut straight through her.

She froze, meeting those crimson eyes half-lidded with sleep.

“Is it… over?” he murmured. “The vanishing… the Uchiha?”

For a moment, Tsunade couldn’t find words. Her throat constricted, and all she could think of was the sight of bodies sprawled in the district, and the boy before her who had felt it all before anyone else. Slowly, she drew him closer.

“Yes,” she whispered into his hair. “Thanks to you, Haruto… the Uchiha still live.”

His eyes closed again, the tension in his small frame melting away at her words. She carried him upstairs, tucked him into his futon, and brushed stray strands of hair from his forehead.

“You deserve your sleep, little one,” she said softly, though he was already gone to dreams.

Standing there, Tsunade lingered a moment longer. Outside, the sun was climbing, ready to bathe the village in light, but she could still taste the night’s blood in the air. She had seen clans wiped away before, whole legacies ended in a single night.

Not this time.

And as she looked at Haruto, fast asleep, she promised herself—never again.

Chapter Text

The sunlight crept lazily into the Senju compound, slipping through the half-opened shoji doors and painting long golden lines across the tatami mats. The morning air smelled faintly of damp earth and the lingering sweetness of plum blossoms from the garden outside. For most of Konoha, today was just another day—but for the Uzumaki twins, this was the day everything began.

“Naruto! Haruto!” Tsunade’s voice boomed through the hallways like a hammer striking iron. “If you two don’t drag yourselves out of bed, you’ll be late for your first day at the Academy!”

Naruto groaned loudly, rolling over in his futon until he was a tangle of limbs and messy blond hair. He slapped at the sunlight as if he could push it away. “Ugh… why does the sun have to be so bright today?”

Across the room, Haruto was already sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his crimson eyes. His snowy white hair was stubbornly sticking out in every direction, making him look like a puffball. He shot his twin a flat look. “Maybe because it’s morning. Like every other day.”

Naruto cracked one eye open, pouting. “Tch. You sound like Tsunade-baa-chan.”

“Then maybe you should listen for once,” Haruto muttered, standing and stretching until his shoulders popped. He pulled on his blue t-shirt—the Uzumaki spiral bright against the fabric—and black shorts. Practical, simple, efficient. Haruto had chosen the outfit the night before, neatly folded by the futon.

Naruto, on the other hand, was scrambling around like a whirlwind, tossing clothes across the room. “Where’s my orange shirt?! Not the one with the ramen stain, the other one—ah! Found it!” He yanked it over his head, the fiery orange nearly glowing against his tan skin, the red Land of Fire crest blazing on his back. With blue shorts to match, he grinned at his reflection in the polished lacquer of a drawer.

“Perfect! First day of the Academy, and I look awesome!”

“You look loud,” Haruto said dryly, tying the drawstring of his shorts. “Clothes don’t make you better at taijutsu.”

“Maybe not, but looking cool makes people respect you,” Naruto shot back, striking a mock-heroic pose in the mirror. “I’ll be the most popular kid in class, just watch!”

Haruto snorted, grabbing Naruto’s forehead and pushing him away from the mirror. “You mean you’ll be the loudest kid in class. There’s a difference.”

Before Naruto could retaliate, Tsunade appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, her sharp amber eyes flicking between them. She had that rare look on her face—the one that mixed exasperation with something softer, something almost like pride.

“You two done arguing over fashion shows?” she said. “Or should I tell the Hokage you’ll be late to your own first day of training?”

Both boys froze.

“No way!” Naruto yelped, stumbling into his sandals. “We’re ready, baa-chan!”

Haruto sighed, already slipping on his own pair with neat precision. “We’re going.”

Tsunade’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. Almost. She adjusted Naruto’s collar, then smoothed Haruto’s hair despite his glare. For all her bluster, she lingered longer than necessary, her gaze softening as she looked at them side by side.

They were growing fast. Too fast.

“Remember,” she said finally, her voice lower, steadier. “The Academy isn’t just about learning jutsu. It’s about learning discipline. Respect your teachers. Don’t pick fights. And—” she fixed Naruto with a look sharp enough to cut steel—“no pranks.”

Naruto’s grin faltered. “…What if it’s a small prank?”

“Naruto.”

“Okay, okay!” he said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. “No pranks. Jeez.”

Satisfied, Tsunade stepped back, watching as the twins made their way to the door. “Go on, then. Make me proud.”

Naruto flashed her a wide, toothy grin. Haruto gave a small nod, more subdued but no less sincere. Then, together, they stepped out into the crisp morning air.

The Senju compound opened onto one of Konoha’s quieter streets, lined with cherry trees just beginning to shed their blossoms. Standing at the gate was Hitomi Hyuga, graceful as ever, with Hinata and Hanabi by her side. The twins were dressed neatly in simple yukata—Hinata’s lavender, Hanabi’s pale green—each marked with the Hyuga crest.

Hinata’s face lit up the moment she saw Naruto, her pale eyes darting shyly away just as quickly. Hanabi, more direct, waved briskly at Haruto. “Finally! You guys took forever.”

“Blame Naruto,” Haruto muttered.

“Oi!” Naruto scowled, then grinned at Hinata, scratching the back of his head. “Morning, Hinata-chan! You ready for the Academy?”

Hinata nodded quickly, cheeks pink. “Y-yes.”

Hanabi crossed her arms. “I’m more ready than she is,” she declared. “I’ll be top of the class.”

“We’ll see about that,” Haruto said evenly, already slipping into their usual rivalry without effort.

Hitomi watched the children with a soft smile before addressing Tsunade, who had come to the gate to see them off. “I’ll make sure they all arrive safely. You can rest easy, Tsunade-sama.”

Tsunade gave a curt nod. “Keep an eye on the loud one.”

Naruto gasped. “Hey!”

But Tsunade was already turning back into the house, her faint chuckle following them.

The four children walked side by side down the streets of Konoha, their chatter mixing with the morning bustle of villagers opening shops and shinobi leaping across rooftops. The Academy’s tall walls loomed in the distance, and with each step, the twins’ anticipation grew.

Naruto practically bounced with energy, his eyes darting everywhere. “I can’t believe it—we’re finally gonna be real shinobi! Do you think they’ll let us throw kunai on the first day? Or maybe learn cool jutsu? Oh! What if we get to spar? I’ll totally win!”

Haruto shook his head. “First day will be introductions. Rules. Maybe chakra basics if we’re lucky. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Naruto pouted. “You’re such a downer.”

“I’m realistic.”

Hinata glanced between them, smiling faintly at their bickering. “I-I think learning the basics will be fun,” she offered softly.

“See?” Haruto said. “At least someone understands.”

Hanabi rolled her eyes. “Basics are boring. I want to spar. Then we’ll see who’s stronger.” She pointed at Haruto. “Bet I’ll beat you.”

Haruto smirked faintly. “Unlikely.”

Naruto threw an arm around Hinata’s shoulders, puffing out his chest. “Don’t worry, Hinata-chan! If anyone tries to pick on you, I’ll beat them up!”

Hinata’s blush deepened, her fingers fidgeting. “T-thank you, Naruto-kun.”

Haruto raised an eyebrow at his brother. “You realize no one’s going to pick on her, right?”

“They might!” Naruto insisted. “Better safe than sorry.”

Hanabi snorted. “You sound like an idiot.”

“Better an idiot than a know-it-all!” Naruto shot back, sticking his tongue out.

The argument dissolved into laughter, even from Hinata, as the group approached the Academy gates.

The building loomed before them, a wide structure of wood and stone with the symbol of Konoha proudly displayed at the top. Dozens of children milled about, voices buzzing with excitement and nerves. Some wore clan symbols on their backs, others simple clothes. All of them carried the same anticipation.

Naruto’s eyes widened, his grin stretching ear to ear. “Whoa… this is it.”

Haruto’s expression was calmer, but his fingers flexed unconsciously, as if readying himself for what lay ahead. “Yeah,” he murmured. “This is where it all begins.”

And side by side, the Uzumaki twins stepped into the future.

The Academy yard was alive with noise. Children ran across the packed dirt courtyard, some laughing, others staring around wide-eyed, their parents lingering by the gates with last-minute advice and proud farewells. The low hum of chatter, the crunch of sandals on gravel, and the squeals of excitement mixed with the occasional shinobi leaping overhead to remind them all that this was no ordinary school—this was where future ninja of Konoha were made.

Naruto’s eyes darted everywhere, soaking it all in like a sponge. “Whoa, there’s so many kids! This is awesome!”

Haruto’s gaze swept across the yard more carefully, cataloguing faces, postures, the subtle way some already carried themselves with the confidence of clan heirs. His crimson eyes lingered briefly on a group gathered near the stone steps: a boy with dark hair pulled into a spiky ponytail yawning beside a chubby boy munching on a bag of chips, while a girl with platinum-blonde hair held herself like she already owned the Academy.

Hinata and Hanabi stayed close to the twins as they crossed into the courtyard. Both girls’ pale eyes flicked nervously over the crowd, though Hanabi’s chin was raised high in stubborn defiance while Hinata’s hands twisted together in front of her.

“Don’t worry,” Naruto whispered to Hinata, flashing her his most confident grin. “We’ll stick together. You’ll see—it’ll be fun!”

Hinata managed a shy smile in return. “O-okay…”

The moment they stepped closer to the gathering clusters of children, however, their small group caught the attention of others. Whispers rippled almost immediately.

“Those are the Senju kids, right?”
“No, I heard they’re Uzumaki… but they live with Tsunade-sama.”
“Look at their hair—never seen anyone with hair like that before…”
“Isn’t that the Hyuga heiress with them?”

Naruto scratched his cheek sheepishly under the stares, while Haruto’s face remained unreadable, his gaze flicking past them as if uninterested. He had grown used to the whispers—the awe, the suspicion, sometimes the envy—but today, they didn’t matter. Today was about proving himself.

“Hey!”

The sudden call came from the blonde-haired girl Haruto had noticed earlier. She strode confidently over, hands on her hips, blue-green eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You two! Are you really Tsunade-sama’s boys?”

Naruto blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

She grinned. “That’s so cool! I’m Yamanaka Ino.” She tossed her hair back with practiced flair, then turned her attention to Hinata and Hanabi. “And you two are Hyuga, right? I can tell from your eyes. I’m in the same class as you!”

Hanabi perked up immediately, her competitive nature shifting into curiosity. “Really? You’re in our class? Good! I need someone to spar with who isn’t my sister.”

Ino laughed, delighted. “You’re spunky! I like you already.”

The two girls fell into easy chatter, comparing their favorite foods and which streets in Konoha had the best festivals. Ino’s bubbly personality matched Hanabi’s fiery one, and within minutes, it was as if they had been friends for years.

Meanwhile, a quieter figure had followed Ino’s approach. A small girl with pale pink hair, cut bluntly at her chin, hung back a step. She fiddled with her fingers nervously, her wide green eyes peeking up at the group before darting away again.

Hinata noticed first. She hesitated, then offered a soft smile. “Um… h-hello.”

The pink-haired girl blinked, then nodded quickly. “H-hi. I’m Haruno Sakura.” Her voice was timid, barely above the buzz of chatter around them.

Hinata’s smile widened, relief flooding her expression at finding someone else as soft-spoken as herself. “I’m Hinata. It’s… n-nice to meet you.”

For the first time, Sakura’s lips curved upward. “Nice to meet you too.”

The two girls drifted into a halting conversation, exchanging shy words about their excitement and nerves. Where Hanabi and Ino’s laughter rang loud and easy, Hinata and Sakura’s voices were quiet, almost tentative—but no less genuine.

Watching all this unfold, Naruto scratched his head. “Huh. Guess they’re all making friends already.”

“Better than standing around gawking,” Haruto murmured.

Before Naruto could argue, another voice cut in.

“You two are Uzumaki, right?”

They turned to see the spiky-haired boy from earlier—Shikamaru, if Haruto recalled correctly—standing lazily beside them. He was scratching his neck, looking half-asleep. The chubby boy with him shoved another handful of chips into his mouth.

“Yeah, that’s us,” Naruto said cheerfully. “I’m Naruto, this is Haruto!”

“Troublesome,” Shikamaru muttered, though there was no malice in his tone. He nodded at them. “I’m Nara Shikamaru. This is Akimichi Choji.”

“Hey,” Choji said through a mouthful of chips, offering them the bag. “Want some?”

Naruto’s eyes lit up. “Heck yeah!” He grabbed a handful, munching happily.

Haruto took one as well, though his expression stayed thoughtful as he studied the pair. Shikamaru was sharp behind the lazy exterior—that much was obvious. Choji, while seemingly distracted by food, carried himself with quiet strength. Both would be allies worth keeping close.

Their mingling was interrupted by a sharp bark. “Akamaru! Not so rough!”

A boy with wild brown hair and red fang marks on his cheeks wrestled with a small white puppy bounding around his feet. The dog yipped excitedly, running in circles until the boy scooped him up. “Sorry about that! I’m Inuzuka Kiba. This little guy’s Akamaru. We’ll be top dog around here, just watch!”

Naruto’s eyes gleamed. “A puppy?! That’s awesome!” He crouched to scratch Akamaru’s ears, laughing when the pup licked his cheek.

The introductions tumbled on—Shino Aburame’s quiet nod from beneath his high collar, the cool glance of other children who had yet to approach.

But amidst the chaos, two presences stood apart.

Sasuke Uchiha leaned against a tree near the edge of the yard, his dark eyes scanning the crowd with disinterest. Children whispered his name too, but he ignored them, his jaw tight, his posture sharp. Since the massacre a year ago, the weight he carried had only deepened. He had no time for chatter. No time for friends. Strength—that was all that mattered.

And not far from him, Uchiha Shiori—his cousin, spared by fate—watched the scene unfold. Her dark eyes lingered not on Naruto, but on Haruto, curiosity flickering in her gaze. She had heard the whispers, the story that it was thanks to him the Uchiha had survived at all. Unlike Sasuke, whose pain had hardened into cold determination, Shiori’s interest was warmer, tinged with quiet admiration.

Haruto, sensing her eyes on him, glanced her way. Their gazes met for a brief second before Shiori turned away, cheeks coloring faintly.

The Academy bell rang, sharp and clear, cutting through the morning chatter.

“All students, line up!” a chunin instructor barked from the doorway.

Children scrambled into lines, chatter rising again as they sorted by class. Naruto tugged Hinata gently toward their line, Haruto following with Hanabi at his side. Ino waved excitedly from another line, mouthing see you at lunch! to Hanabi, who smirked back. Sakura gave Hinata a small, encouraging nod, which Hinata returned.

As the twins took their places, Naruto’s grin widened.

“Alright,” he whispered under his breath, excitement thrumming in every word. “This is it. The start of our ninja journey.”

Haruto’s crimson eyes narrowed, not in displeasure but in focus. His voice was quieter, steadier. “Yeah. From here on out… everything changes.”

And together, the Uzumaki twins faced forward, ready to step into the world that awaited them.

The morning lessons began with the usual introductions. A chunin instructor stood at the front of the classroom, reading names from a scroll while the children sat stiffly at their desks, some trying to look serious while others squirmed in their seats.

Naruto sat beside Hinata, fidgeting with excitement, tapping his pencil against the desk as if waiting for something explosive to happen. Haruto sat behind him, already composed, crimson eyes darting across the room as he catalogued faces and voices.

It didn’t take long for him to notice who wasn’t engaging like the rest.

At the far side of the room, framed by the light of the window, sat Sasuke Uchiha. His posture was straight, his face impassive, his dark eyes fixed not on the teacher but somewhere distant, as though he was above the mundane chatter of children introducing themselves.

When it came time for Sasuke to speak, the room fell quiet.

“Uchiha Sasuke,” he said simply. No elaboration, no boast, no nervous stammer. His tone was flat, sharp as a blade.

The weight of his name lingered in the air. Everyone knew. Everyone had heard the whispers over the past year—about the massacre, about the parents who never returned home, about the genius older brother who had vanished like a ghost in the night. Sasuke’s very presence was a reminder of tragedy and power intertwined.

Naruto leaned forward in his seat, squinting. “Man, he’s kinda gloomy, huh?” he whispered to Hinata, who quickly ducked her head in embarrassment at his bluntness.

Haruto’s gaze didn’t waver. He felt something shift in the air around Sasuke—not chakra exactly, but a sharpness, like a kunai honed to perfection. This boy carried a burden. One heavy enough that it bent even the arrogance of the Uchiha into silence.

Still, Sasuke’s eyes flicked—just once—toward the Uzumaki twins. A spark lit behind his gaze.

So it’s them.

He’d heard the stories from the hushed voices in the compound. That one of Tsunade’s wards—one of the Uzumaki twins—had sensed something the night the massacre began. That thanks to him, part of the clan had been spared. Sasuke hadn’t asked for details. He didn’t need them. The whispers were enough.

Now here they sat, two boys his age, with chakra that hummed like storms beneath their skin. Sasuke couldn’t ignore them, even if he wanted to.

The first lessons passed in a blur of basic history, chakra theory, and the instructor reminding students to pay attention. By the time the bell rang for recess, the courtyard once again filled with noise.

Naruto stretched his arms high, yawning. “Finally! Sitting still is torture. Let’s go outside, c’mon!”

He grabbed Hinata’s hand without thinking, tugging her toward the yard. Her cheeks flared pink, but she followed without resistance. Haruto trailed behind with Hanabi, his hands tucked behind his head, though his sharp gaze never stopped scanning.

Outside, the students began clustering again. Shikamaru and Choji sprawled in the shade of a tree, Kiba played tug-of-war with Akamaru, and Ino immediately latched onto Hanabi’s arm, declaring they were going to “explore every corner of the yard.”

Haruto found himself standing apart, arms crossed, observing.

That was when he noticed Shiori.

She stood at the edge of her own class’s group, separated from Sasuke but unmistakably Uchiha. Her dark hair framed her face, her eyes wide and curious as she stole glances his way. Each time their eyes met, she looked away quickly, cheeks coloring faintly.

Finally, she gathered her courage.

“Um… you’re Haruto, right?”

He turned to face her, expression neutral but not unkind. “Yes. And you are?”

“Uchiha Shiori.” She hesitated, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “I… I just wanted to say thank you. If it weren’t for you… for your warning that night… my sister and I wouldn’t be here.”

Haruto blinked, surprised at her openness. Most Uchiha kept their grief locked away behind cold glares or stony silence. This girl’s gratitude was raw, unfiltered.

“I only did what I could,” he replied quietly. “It wasn’t enough for everyone.”

Shiori shook her head firmly. “It was enough for us. That matters.” Her gaze softened, studying him. “You’re… different from the others. Stronger.”

Before Haruto could reply, a voice cut through the yard.

“Shiori.”

Sasuke approached, his expression unreadable. He didn’t spare Haruto more than a glance, but his presence was heavy, a quiet warning cloaked in indifference. “It’s time to get back.”

Shiori bowed her head quickly. “Yes, Sasuke.” She gave Haruto one last, fleeting look before following her cousin.

Haruto watched them go, his mind turning. Sasuke radiated focus, a steel will bent toward some invisible horizon. Shiori, however, was tethered not by revenge but by gratitude—and perhaps something else, something Haruto couldn’t yet name.

Naruto, oblivious to the heavier exchanges, had already thrown himself into a mock race with Kiba and Akamaru, with Choji cheering and Shikamaru muttering about “what a drag.” Hinata and Sakura sat on the sidelines, watching timidly, while Hanabi shouted encouragement loud enough for all to hear.

“Faster, Naruto! Don’t let the dog beat you!”

Naruto laughed, pushing harder, his orange shirt flashing as he sprinted. Akamaru yipped, ears flapping as Kiba urged him on. Dust kicked up behind them as the impromptu competition drew the attention of half the yard.

Haruto stood apart, leaning against the trunk of a tree, his gaze split between his brother’s carefree joy and the retreating figures of Sasuke and Shiori.

One twin raced forward recklessly, daring the world to keep up. The other stood still, sharp eyes measuring everything in silence.

Two paths. Two destinies. Both beginning here, on this ordinary-seeming day at the Academy.

And in the shadows of the yard, Sasuke Uchiha glanced back once. Just once. His eyes lingered on the twins, the faintest flicker of interest hidden in their depths.

If they’re strong… then I’ll have to surpass them too.

The bell rang again, pulling the children back inside. Naruto groaned, dragging his feet, while Hinata quietly encouraged him. Ino and Hanabi were still chattering animatedly about whose hair looked better tied up, and Sakura walked with her head bowed but a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Haruto followed last, his mind already replaying the encounter. Shiori’s gratitude. Sasuke’s silence.

There was something about the Uchiha cousins that felt like the tightening of a storm on the horizon. He didn’t know yet whether that storm would break upon them as enemies or allies.

But he would be ready.

Always.

The afternoon sun slanted through the wide windows of the classroom, washing the rows of wooden desks in pale light. By now, the morning’s nervous introductions had given way to restless energy. Most of the students were fidgeting—tapping feet, drumming fingers, whispering in excited tones—as if they were waiting for something more exciting than history scrolls and chakra diagrams.

Their wish was granted when Iruka-sensei clapped his hands at the front of the room. His voice carried authority, but there was a warmth to it too, one that settled even the rowdiest children.

“All right, class. We’ve done enough sitting. Time to see how you move. We’ll start with basic taijutsu stances and sparring drills. Don’t expect to be perfect today—this is just so I can get a sense of where everyone is. Line up and follow me to the yard.”

The room buzzed at once, chatter sparking like firecrackers. Naruto leapt from his seat with a grin that stretched ear to ear. “Finally! I was about to fall asleep in here!”

Haruto shook his head, rising with quieter efficiency. “You should’ve been listening instead of drooling on your desk.”

“I wasn’t drooling!” Naruto protested, though Hinata’s soft giggle betrayed otherwise.

Hanabi rolled her eyes, tugging at his sleeve. “Come on, idiot, before you get left behind.”

The training yard behind the Academy was a wide square of packed earth, marked with wooden dummies and sparring rings. Students filed out in uneven rows, their chatter mixing with the calls of birds perched on the surrounding fence posts.

Iruka motioned them into a half-circle. “First—stances. Every shinobi needs a foundation. Let’s see what you’ve picked up at home or on your own.”

One by one, the children demonstrated.

Kiba stomped forward proudly, Akamaru perched on his head. He dropped into the Inuzuka clan’s feral crouch, hands splayed like claws, a growl rumbling in his throat. “See? I’m gonna be the strongest Inuzuka ever!”

Choji shuffled next, a little hesitant, but squared his feet like his father had taught him, fists balled. Shikamaru dragged his feet, muttering about how troublesome this was, but when Iruka pressed, he slipped into a stance with surprising balance, lazy eyes hiding sharp precision.

Ino flourished dramatically, trying to look elegant even as she wobbled slightly, while Sakura followed more timidly, mimicking what she’d seen but without much confidence. Hinata’s stance, in contrast, was low and steady, her pale eyes focused, while Hanabi’s looked sharper, already betraying her competitiveness as she pressed her knuckles forward with too much force.

And then it was Sasuke’s turn.

The yard fell quiet as he stepped into the circle. He moved with a natural fluidity, his feet sliding into position as though the ground itself had been waiting for him. His hands rose, fingers curled in a perfect Uchiha guard, and for a heartbeat no one dared breathe.

There was no wasted motion, no hesitation. Just calm, sharpened intent.

Iruka gave a small nod. “Excellent form. You’ve clearly been taught well.”

Sasuke said nothing. He simply straightened and stepped back, his eyes flicking—just for an instant—toward the Uzumaki twins.

“Your turn, Naruto.”

Naruto bounded forward, all raw energy and enthusiasm. He planted his feet wide, fists up high, grin plastered across his face. “All right! Watch this!”

It wasn’t graceful. His stance leaned too far forward, his fists too close to his face, his weight uneven on his toes. But there was spirit in it, a defiant fire that dared anyone to laugh.

Kiba did anyway. “That’s not a stance, that’s just standing like a scarecrow!”

“Shut up, dog-breath!” Naruto snapped, nearly toppling out of his own pose. The class burst into laughter, though Hinata quickly shook her head, her small hands clenched at her sides.

“He’s… trying hard,” she whispered, almost too softly to be heard.

Iruka smiled faintly. “We’ll fix the details later. What matters is commitment—and you’ve got plenty of that, Naruto.”

Naruto beamed as if he’d just been told he was already Hokage.

Then Haruto stepped forward.

He didn’t announce himself. He didn’t grin. He simply moved, sliding into a low, grounded stance, one hand forward, the other ready by his side. His crimson eyes stayed locked on Iruka, his breathing steady, controlled.

Where Naruto had been fire, Haruto was water—flowing, sharp, contained.

The laughter faded. Even Kiba stopped mid-snicker, sensing something different in the air.

Iruka’s brows rose. “Interesting… your balance is excellent for your age. Where did you learn that?”

“Observation,” Haruto said simply. “And practice.”

Naruto cupped his hands around his mouth from the back. “Don’t let him fool you! He drills every morning like a grumpy old man!”

Haruto shot him a glare over his shoulder, but it only made the class snicker again.

After the stances, Iruka clapped once more. “Good. Now, pair sparring. Simple exchanges, nothing flashy. Just show me what you can do. Naruto—you’ll start with Kiba. Haruto, you’ll face Shino. The rest of you will follow in order.”

The matches began.

Naruto lunged at Kiba with all the subtlety of a charging bull. Kiba dodged easily, laughing as Akamaru barked encouragement. But Naruto’s stubborn persistence surprised even him; the blond refused to stay down, springing up after every tumble, charging again and again until Iruka had to call the match before someone got hurt.

Haruto, meanwhile, moved with patience. Against Shino’s calculated strikes, he flowed like a stream around stones, redirecting rather than resisting. He wasn’t faster or stronger, but every block was measured, every step precise. Shino adjusted quickly, pushing harder, but Haruto adapted in turn, until Iruka called a halt with a satisfied nod.

“Both good showings. Naruto, channel that energy into focus. Haruto, you’ve got control—don’t be afraid to press when you have the chance.”

The rest of the class took their turns. Hinata and Hanabi sparred briefly, their movements a mirror of one another, though Hanabi pressed harder, drawing quiet concern from her sister. Ino faced Sakura in a messy tangle that ended with them both laughing on the ground. Shikamaru barely tried, Choji bowled him over with a half-hearted push, and Sasuke, when his turn came, dismantled his partner with effortless precision.

Every eye followed him as he returned to his spot, and though his expression never changed, Haruto felt that weight again—that unspoken challenge aimed squarely at him and Naruto.

When the bell rang to signal the end of the day, the children spilled back into the yard, buzzing with the thrill of their first training. Naruto was already boasting loudly to Kiba about how close he’d been to winning, while Hinata trailed beside him, smiling softly at his antics.

Haruto lingered at the back, his thoughts quiet but sharp. He had seen enough in one afternoon to know: these weren’t just classmates. They were the generation who would rise with him, rivals and allies both.

And somewhere behind the crowd, Sasuke stood apart again, arms crossed, watching with that same unreadable expression.

Not dismissive. Not uninterested.

But waiting.

The afternoon sun was lower now, golden light spilling across the rooftops of Konoha. The bells marking the end of classes had long since faded, but the laughter of children lingered in the courtyard of the Academy as friends new and old said their goodbyes.

Naruto, his orange shirt already stained with dust from sparring, was practically bouncing in place. His arms waved wildly as he recounted his match with Kiba for what felt like the tenth time.

“I almost had him! If Iruka-sensei hadn’t called it, I would’ve landed the finishing blow, I swear!” he bragged, striking an exaggerated punch into the air.

Hinata, standing beside him with her hands folded neatly in front of her, gave him a small smile. “Y-you were… really spirited,” she said softly.

Hanabi rolled her eyes. “Spirited? He looked like he was just flailing around.”

“Hey!” Naruto shot back, but Hanabi only smirked, satisfied she’d gotten a rise out of him.

Haruto stood a step behind them, shaking his head at the exchange. His own blue shirt was still neat, though scuffed with faint dirt where he’d rolled in the spar with Shino. His crimson eyes flicked from Naruto to Hanabi, to Hinata’s small laugh, and finally toward the scattering of students filing away with their parents.

It struck him for the first time: they weren’t just the orphans who had grown up on the fringes of the orphanage anymore. They belonged here—amidst the heirs of clans, amidst children who would one day be the pillars of Konoha.

Eventually, the crowd thinned. The four of them—Naruto, Haruto, Hinata, and Hanabi—found themselves standing together by the gates.

“I guess this is where we say goodbye,” Hanabi said, though her tone carried the faintest disappointment.

Naruto grinned, puffing out his chest. “Don’t worry, we’ll see each other tomorrow! Then I’ll show you how much better I am at taijutsu once I’ve had a good night’s sleep!”

Hanabi snorted. “You mean once you stop tripping over your own feet?”

Naruto growled, but before he could retort, Hinata tilted her head slightly, her pale lavender eyes studying him with quiet curiosity.

“N-Naruto-kun,” she began softly, “why… why didn’t you use the taijutsu you usually do? The one you use when… when we spar at home?”

Naruto blinked, caught off guard. He scratched the back of his head, suddenly looking sheepish. “Oh—that. Yeah, Granny said I shouldn’t.”

Hinata’s brow furrowed slightly. “Why not?”

Haruto answered before his brother could. His voice was calm, measured. “Because that’s the Senju clan’s style. She doesn’t want us to reveal it yet. At the Academy, we’re supposed to stick to the basics until we’re told otherwise.”

Naruto nodded vigorously. “Yeah! Granny said it’s kinda like… uh… keeping a trump card hidden until the right time.”

Hanabi crossed her arms, skeptical. “So you’re saying you were holding back? That’s why you looked so sloppy?”

“Hey!” Naruto shot back indignantly. “I still gave it my all! Don’t think I’m gonna go easy on you next time, Hanabi!”

Hanabi smirked, clearly enjoying the challenge. Hinata, however, looked thoughtful, her soft gaze lingering on Naruto a moment longer.

The four of them started down the main path that wound back into the village. The late afternoon air was warm, carrying the scent of blooming wisteria from the nearby gardens. Merchants were packing up stalls, mothers called to their children from doorways, and shinobi in flak jackets strode past, their presence a quiet reminder of the world beyond the children’s laughter.

For a while, the walk was filled with Naruto’s chatter about how he’d one day invent a new taijutsu style, one even stronger than the Senju’s. Haruto listened silently, the corner of his mouth twitching at his brother’s bravado. Hinata listened too, nodding occasionally, while Hanabi argued with every wild claim Naruto made.

It was the kind of ordinary, messy, joyful noise that Haruto realized he had missed. The weight of what he could sense with his Kagura mind’s eye—the hidden dangers in the village, the memories of nights filled with whispers of conspiracies and shadows—seemed far away here.

For this moment, they were just children.

As they rounded a corner near the market square, two familiar figures appeared ahead of them.

“Mother!” Hinata called, her face brightening.

Hitomi Hyūga turned at the sound, her graceful figure clad in a pale lavender kimono embroidered with white lotus blossoms. Her long dark hair was tied back neatly, and her soft eyes curved with relief at the sight of her daughters. Beside her was Tsunade, her blonde hair catching the fading light, her presence commanding as ever even without her Hokage’s robes.

“You girls had a good day, I hope?” Hitomi asked, kneeling slightly so Hinata and Hanabi could rush into her arms.

“Yes, Mother,” Hinata said, her voice quiet but warm. “We… we made friends.”

Hanabi chimed in more bluntly, “And Naruto almost lost to Kiba!”

“Hey!” Naruto shouted, throwing his arms up.

Hitomi’s smile softened. She reached out, brushing a hand gently over Naruto’s hair before turning to Haruto. Her gaze lingered on the two boys for a long moment, her expression unreadable—affection, perhaps, but also something heavier. A shadow of guilt that had never left her since the days she couldn’t take them in.

But she said nothing of that. Instead, she gave them both a nod. “I’m glad you’re looking after each other.”

Tsunade’s golden eyes shifted from the girls to the twins. “So—how was your first day?” she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes sharp as they always were when it came to them.

Naruto grinned instantly. “It was awesome! I sparred Kiba like ten times—”

“He got thrown on his face at least four of those,” Haruto interrupted dryly.

“—and I didn’t give up once!” Naruto finished proudly, ignoring him.

Tsunade’s lips quirked. “Sounds like you showed some grit, then.” She glanced at Haruto. “And you?”

Haruto gave a small shrug. “It was fine. I sparred Shino. He’s… methodical.”

“Made some new friends, though,” Naruto cut in, bouncing on his toes. “Kiba, Choji, Shino, Ino, Sakura—even Shikamaru, I think, but he mostly just slept.”

Tsunade chuckled low in her throat. “That’s good. The Academy isn’t just about training—it’s about building bonds. Those will matter more than you realize.”

Hitomi rose then, taking Hinata and Hanabi each by the hand. “We’ll be heading home now,” she said gently. The girls turned to wave, Hinata with a soft smile and Hanabi with a competitive gleam in her eye.

“See you tomorrow!” Naruto shouted, waving both arms until Hanabi rolled her eyes and dragged her sister away.

The street grew quieter as the Hyūga family disappeared around the bend, leaving Tsunade and the twins standing together in the warm light of the setting sun.

“Come on, boys,” Tsunade said at last, resting a hand lightly on each of their shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

As they walked, Naruto chattered on about the sparring matches, the friends he’d made, and how he was going to beat Sasuke someday. Haruto remained quieter, but when Tsunade glanced at him, she saw the thoughtful way his crimson eyes lingered on every detail—already analyzing, already preparing.

And Tsunade, for all her strength and all her experience, felt a pang of pride in her chest.

They had made it through their first day. They were no longer just orphans. They were Uzumaki, Senju, Konoha’s future.

She squeezed their shoulders gently, her voice softer than usual.

“I’m proud of you both.”

Naruto blinked up at her, wide-eyed, before breaking into a smile so bright it was almost blinding. Haruto said nothing, but the way his lips curved faintly at the corner was answer enough.

And together, the three of them walked toward the Senju compound, their shadows long and side by side against the setting sun.