Akai No Akuma (Patreon)

It was a serene afternoon in the Village Hidden in the Leaves. The streets were bustling, a mix of shinobi and civilians mulling about, gathered around stalls and venturing into the various shops that lined the thoroughfare.

The crowd suddenly parted—the civilians moving with even more haste than the shinobi—as a five-year-old boy made his way through the street.

He had bright blond hair shot through with distinct red streaks. Though his gaze was downcast, whenever he looked up, the violet hue within his cerulean eyes shone with a haunting clarity.

Hushed whispers and fearful looks followed in his wake. Civilians sneered, muttering under their breath. The boy tried to shrink into himself, but there was nowhere to hide.

Driven by a gnawing hunger, Naruto approached a grocery stall, eyeing the fresh vegetables with longing.

Tentatively, he reached the counter, his small hands fidgeting with the hem of his worn-out shirt. He could feel the glares burning into his back, but his stomach won out over his fear.

"Um, excuse me," he said softly. "Could I please buy some vegetables?"

The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with a thick mustache, looked up. His face immediately contorted into a scowl the moment he spotted Naruto.

"You? Buy from my shop?" The man barked a harsh, mocking laugh. "Get lost, brat. I don't sell to your kind."

Naruto flinched as if he had been struck. "But I have money," he insisted, pulling a few crumpled bills from his pocket. "I just want some food."

"Didn't you hear him?" a woman nearby chimed in, her voice dripping with venom. "Nobody wants you here. Those vegetables would probably rot the moment your hands touched them."

Several other customers nodded, their eyes cold and unforgiving.

"My sister's husband died because of that thing," someone whispered loud enough for Naruto to hear. "And now it thinks it can shop like a normal person?"

The shopkeeper snatched a broom from behind the counter. "I said beat it! Before I make you!"

Naruto backed away, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears. His small shoulders hunched forward as he turned and fled the street.

At the corner of the thoroughfare, a man with bright yellow hair watched the scene unfold, his jaw set in a hard, tense line.

Dressed in simple civilian clothes—a plain green shirt and brown pants—he gripped the strap of his bag until his knuckles turned white.

"Not again," he muttered under his breath.

He had only been in Konoha for two days, and this was already the third time he had witnessed such cruelty directed at the child. He took half a step forward, then forced himself to stop. Drawing attention now would be unwise.

Surely this is a rare occurrence, he tried to convince himself, though the practiced, systematic way the villagers shunned the boy told a different story.

No village would treat a child this way... especially not the son of—

He cut the thought short when he noticed a nearby shinobi nodding in approval at the shopkeeper's actions. The man's stomach twisted with disgust.

"Just business," he reminded himself, forcing his gaze away from the retreating boy. "I am only here for business."

But the image of those unusual eyes—cerulean stained with violet—remained burned into his mind as he melted back into the shadows of the crowd.

Naruto returned to his apartment, his head hanging low. Things always grew worse as his birthday approached; he didn't understand why, but the air in the village always felt heavier, the glares sharper.

He wouldn't have ventured out at all if he hadn't finished the last of the cup ramen he'd bought a week ago. But as a five-year-old with no one to teach him to cook, he was trapped in a cycle of packaged milk and instant noodles—and today, even those felt like a luxury he couldn't afford.

The moment Naruto departed his apartment once more in a desperate search for food, a shadow detached itself from the rooftop across the street.

The figure moved with practiced stealth, slipping through the window Naruto always forgot to lock properly.

Inside the sparse apartment, the shinobi's feet made no sound against the worn floorboards. The operative wore a plain, unmarked uniform with no identifying features—nothing to associate them with any village or faction.

Their face remained hidden behind a smooth, featureless mask with only narrow slits for eyes.

The shinobi moved methodically through the small space, pausing briefly at the unmade bed before heading straight for the kitchen.

Opening the cabinet doors, they surveyed the contents with growing alarm.

"This is unacceptable," the shinobi muttered, their voice a mere ghost of a sound.

The shelves were nearly empty—save for two expired cup ramen packets pushed into a dark corner and a carton of milk that, upon inspection, had soured three days ago.

The operative ran a gloved hand through the cabinet once more, as if hoping more sustenance might materialize.

"Uzumaki-sama deserves better than this," the figure whispered. "No child should live this way—especially not one of his lineage."

The masked figure checked the refrigerator; it was equally barren, holding nothing but a half-empty bottle of water. They searched the remaining storage areas with practiced efficiency, finding only dust and a few broken utensils.

"The village has truly failed you," the shinobi murmured, closing the final cabinet with a linger of hesitation. "This neglect cannot continue."

The operative tensed suddenly, their head tilting toward the door. Footsteps approached—small, dragging footsteps that could only belong to a dejected child. Without hesitation, the shinobi formed a single hand sign and vanished in a subtle swirl of air just as the apartment door creaked open.

Outside, perched invisibly on a neighboring rooftop, the operative watched as Naruto trudged back into his apartment.

Through the window, they saw the boy's shoulders slump as he opened the empty cabinets one by one, hope fading with each discovery.

"Soon, Uzumaki-sama," the shinobi promised quietly. "Things will change soon."

In a secure, shadowed location, two shinobi knelt before Tsumugi. She lifted a finger, signaling them to rise.

"What did you find?" she asked.

"Tsumugi-sama," the yellow-haired man—Haru—spoke first. "The boy's condition is worse than we anticipated."

The masked operative stood beside him, nodding in grim agreement. "The Uzumaki heir lives in squalor. His apartment is barely habitable, devoid of proper food or basic necessities."

"And the villagers?" Tsumugi asked, her fingers laced together as she leaned forward.

Haru's jaw tightened. "They treat him like refuse. I witnessed him being denied basic sustenance today while a shopkeeper threatened him with a broom. He is five years old, Tsumugi-sama."

"It's systematic," the masked shinobi added. "The civilians part for him like he carries a plague, and the shinobi do nothing. Some even appear to approve."

"And his appearance?" Tsumugi's voice remained calm, but her knuckles whitened.

"Just as the intelligence suggested," Haru replied. "Blond hair with distinct red streaks—the Uzumaki traits are manifesting. And his eyes... cerulean with violet undertones. No ordinary Konoha citizen carries such colors."

Tsumugi stood, walking to a small window. "And his seal?"

"Visible when he's distressed," the masked shinobi reported. "Which is often."

"Your orders, Tsumugi-sama?" Haru asked.

She turned, her expression resolute. "Prepare for extraction. We've observed long enough. The son of Kushina Uzumaki will not spend another week in that hellhole."

Haru shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. "What about... the daughter? Kushina-chan's daughter?"

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room. Tsumugi's composure vanished, her expression hardening into something unreadable.

"Haru," the masked operative cut him off sharply. "We've been through this. Her whereabouts remain classified—even to us."

"Is it wise to separate the siblings?" Haru pressed. "The boy might—"

"Enough!" Tsumugi slammed her palm on the table. "Have you forgotten Takeo already?"

Both operatives stiffened.

"Three days ago, he infiltrated the eastern compound searching for information on the girl. He never returned." Tsumugi's voice was grim. "We found pieces of him near the border. Just enough to identify... and to send a message. Konoha guards her secrets more fiercely than we anticipated."

"So she is alive," the masked operative whispered.

"Possibly," Tsumugi conceded, a flicker of pain crossing her features. "But finding her would cost lives we cannot spare. Our priority must be the boy. One heir of Uzushio is better than none. The girl... the girl will have to wait."

She turned back to the window, a cold smile touching her lips. "Let Konoha chase ghosts. By the time they realize what's happened, the heir of Uzushio will be home—where he belongs."

After dismissing her operatives, Tsumugi moved to the small shrine in the corner of her quarters. She knelt, lighting a stick of incense with practiced hands.

The soft glow illuminated a worn photograph of a woman with fiery red hair and a mischievous, sun-bright smile.

"Oh, Kushina," she whispered, "if you could see what they've done to your son."

She traced the frame with a fingertip.

The resemblance between herself and the woman in the photo was subtle but undeniable—the same determined set of the jaw, the same defiant curve of the eyes.

"First cousins once removed," she murmured with a sad smile. "Such formal terms for family."

Tsumugi closed her eyes, memories washing over her like a riptide: the destruction of Uzushiogakure, the scattering of their kin, and the desperate promises made in the bloody aftermath.

"Konoha swore to protect him," she said, her voice hardening into ice. "Your husband's village promised to honor your sacrifice. Instead, they let him starve while calling him 'demon'."

She rose and pulled a yellowed scroll from a hidden compartment—the ancient treaty between Uzushio and Konoha.

Her grandfather, the Third Uzukage's younger brother, had helped draft it. It was the very document that bound their villages together, promising mutual protection and respect.

"The First Sister's grandson, treated like vermin," she muttered, unrolling the parchment. "While I, granddaughter of the Third Sister, hide in shadows with the remnants of our people."

Tsumugi's fingers paused over the section detailing the protection of bloodlines. Konoha had not merely failed their duty—they had committed a sacred violation.

"Naruto should have been cherished," she said to the empty room. "The last living link to the Uzukage lineage. My aunt's legacy." Her decision hardened like forged steel. "No more waiting. The boy comes home. His mother's people will raise him as he deserves—as an Uzumaki. As the Heir of Uzushio."

She looked once more at the photograph. "I couldn't save you, cousin," she whispered. "But I will save your son."

Under the cover of night, Haru and the masked operative moved through Konoha like ghosts.

"The target is alone," the masked operative whispered through their communication seal. "Windows unlocked, as usual."

Haru nodded, circling to the back of the apartment building. "Any ANBU patrols?"

"One passed five minutes ago. Next rotation in seven."

"Plenty of time," Haru murmured.

Inside, Naruto tossed restlessly. Dreams of cold stares and harsh words plagued him, a nightly ritual of grief.

He didn't hear the gentle slide of the window. He didn't sense the two figures that slipped into his bedroom.

Haru approached the bed, his heart twisting at the sight of the small boy curled protectively around his pillow. Dried tear tracks stained his whiskered cheeks.

"Kushina's son," he breathed, almost reverently.

The masked operative began sealing Naruto's meager belongings into a scroll. "We need to move. Quickly."

Haru carefully placed a seal tag on Naruto's forehead. The boy's breathing immediately deepened as the sleep jutsu took hold.

"I'm sorry, little one," Haru whispered, lifting the child gently. "But where we're taking you, no one will ever call you a monster again."

With practiced efficiency, they left a genjutsu trap—a decoy that would show a sleeping child to any casual observer. It wouldn't fool an elite for long, but they only needed a head start.

"Let's move," Haru said, cradling Naruto against his chest.

They slipped out across the rooftops, moving toward the village wall. Three pre-positioned seals allowed them to bypass the sensors.

Within minutes, they were beyond the outer patrol lines, vanishing into the deep forest at top speed.

"Extraction complete," the masked operative reported. "Returning to base with the package."

Miles away, Tsumugi allowed herself a small smile of relief. "Bring our boy home."

At the hidden compound tucked between mountain and sea, dawn broke with unusual activity. Word had spread quickly through the small community—the Uzumaki heir was coming home.

In a room overlooking the training grounds, an elderly woman sat in a wooden chair, her gnarled hands resting on a cane carved with spiral patterns. Despite her advanced age, Shizuka's posture remained straight, her eyes sharp as they fixed on her granddaughter entering the room.

"So you actually did it," She said, her voice surprisingly strong. "You extracted Kushina's boy from under Konoha's nose."

Tsumugi bowed respectfully. "We couldn't wait any longer, Grandmother. His treatment was worsening."

"I'm not criticizing your decision," She clarified, tapping her cane once against the floor. "I'm merely surprised by your boldness. Your mother would be proud."

From the corner of the room, a deep, gravelly voice spoke up. "Bold, yes. But now we must prepare for consequences."

Toshi stepped forward, his weathered face a map of old battle scars.

Though well into his seventies, the former commander of Uzushio's storm troops carried himself with the same discipline that had made him legendary during the village's final stand.

"Konoha will not simply forget about their jinchūriki," Toshi continued, leaning against the wall. "We must strengthen our defenses immediately."

Tsumugi nodded. "I've already ordered increased patrols and reinforced the barrier seals. Our position remains secure."

"Secure against regular forces, perhaps," Toshi grunted. "But what about their elite? Their ANBU? Their Yellow Flash was known to slaughter entire battalions single-handedly during the war."

"The Yellow Flash is dead," Tsumugi reminded him. "He died sealing the Kyūbi into his own son."

Shizuka's eyes narrowed. "A son Konoha then proceeded to neglect and abuse, despite his father's sacrifice." She shook her head in disgust. "The Fourth Hokage would turn in his grave if he knew."

"When will they arrive with the boy?" Toshi asked, changing the subject.

"By midday," Tsumugi answered. "They're taking a circuitous route to avoid pursuit."

Shizuka nodded slowly, her eyes distant. "I was there, you know, when Kushina left for Konoha as a little girl. I remember how she cried, how she clung to her mother's hand." A sad smile crossed her weathered face. "She was so much like her son."

"The Uzumaki blood runs strong in him," Tsumugi agreed.

"As does its burden," Toshi rumbled. "Have you considered how we'll handle the seal? The Fourth's work was impressive, but it was designed with Konoha's resources in mind."

"I've been studying sealing techniques for this very purpose," Tsumugi replied. "The boy's seal is stable, but we can improve upon it using traditional Uzushio methods."

Shizuka's fingers tightened around her cane. "Remember, the seal is not just about containing the Kyūbi—it's about protecting the child." Her voice took on a hard edge. "Konoha saw him as a weapon first, a person second. We will not make the same mistake."

"Of course not, Grandmother," Tsumugi said softly. "He is family before anything else."

Toshi pushed himself away from the wall. "I'll inspect our training facilities. The boy will need a proper education in the Uzushio way. Combat, sealing, history—everything a future leader requires."

"Don't rush him, Toshi," Shizuka warned. "He's just a child who has known only hardship. Let him be a boy before you make him a shinobi."

"With respect, Shizuka-sama," Toshi countered, "the luxury of a normal childhood died with our village. The boy carries the hopes of our scattered people, not to mention a tailed beast in his belly."

Tsumugi stepped between them. "Both perspectives have merit. We'll balance his training with care for his emotional well-being." She looked from her grandmother to the old commander. "He will be both loved and prepared."

A young aide appeared at the doorway, bowing quickly. "Tsumugi-sama, we've received word. The extraction team has crossed our outer perimeter. They'll be here within the hour."

Shizuka rose slowly to her feet, waving away Tsumugi's offered hand. "I wish to greet my grand-nephew myself. Have my formal robes prepared."

"Grandmother, are you certain? Your health—"

"Is my concern, not yours," Shizuka cut her off firmly. "I am still the sister of the last Uzukage. The boy should understand from the moment he arrives that he is not just any refugee—he is the heir to a legacy."

She smiled, a hint of mischief in her aged eyes. "Besides, I've waited long enough to meet Kushina's child. I won't wait a moment longer than necessary."

As they prepared to depart, Toshi paused. "What will you tell him about his sister?"

The question hung in the air like a blade. Tsumugi's expression hardened. "Nothing. Not until we know more. He has enough to adjust to."

"Secrets have a way of revealing themselves at the worst moments," Toshi warned.

"Then we will deal with it then," Tsumugi replied. "For now, our priority is Naruto."

As they departed to make final preparations, Shizuka remained by the window, gazing toward the forest path where soon, the last child of her niece would emerge.

"Welcome home, little Uzumaki," she whispered to the wind. "Your true family awaits."

When Naruto's weary eyes fluttered open, the very first thing he noticed was the ceiling—not the cracked, water-stained one he had fallen asleep under in Konoha, but smooth, polished stone with intricate, flowing spiral patterns etched deeply into it.

He blinked several times, wondering silently if he was still trapped in a dream.

"He is awake," a gentle voice said softly.

Naruto bolted upright, instinctively backing himself against the wooden headboard.

His eyes darted around the unfamiliar, spacious room, taking in the comfortable bed, the large windows overlooking a sprawling ocean view, and the three total strangers watching him closely.

"W-who are you? Where am I?" His voice quivered significantly as he pulled the warm blanket up to his chin.

The woman closest to him smiled warmly. She had auburn hair streaked with strands of gray and kind eyes that reminded him of someone important, though he could not quite place who it was.

"My name is Tsumugi," she said, keeping her distance to avoid frightening him any further. "And you are safe, Naruto. You are with family."

"Family?" Naruto's eyes widened in disbelief. "I do not have any family. Everyone in the village says so."

An elderly woman stepped forward, leaning heavily on her cane. Despite her advanced age, she stood tall and proud, her white hair pulled back in a traditional, elegant style.

"Everyone in Konoha is wrong," she said firmly. "You are Naruto Uzumaki, son of Kushina Uzumaki, nephew of my own niece, which makes you my grand-nephew." Her eyes, still sharp despite her many years, softened as she looked at him. "I am Shizuka Uzumaki."

"Uzu...maki?" Naruto tested the name slowly on his tongue. "That is... my last name."

"It is the name of our great clan," Tsumugi explained. "A proud clan with a rich history and many legendary abilities. Your mother was an Uzumaki princess, in a way."

Naruto's eyes filled with sudden tears. "You knew my mom?"

"She was my cousin," Tsumugi said, sitting carefully on the very edge of the bed. "She had beautiful red hair, just like the bright streaks in yours, and a smile that could light up an entire room."

"I have her hair?" Naruto touched his blond locks with the red highlights, something he had always been teased and bullied about in Konoha.

"You do," Shizuka confirmed. "And her fiery spirit too, I would wager."

Naruto looked around again, this time with genuine curiosity rather than fear. "Where are we?"

"This is Uzushio," Tsumugi explained. "Or what remains of it. Once, it was a great hidden village, allied with Konoha. It was destroyed many long years ago, but some of us survived."

Naruto's brow furrowed in confusion. "But why am I here? Did the Old Man Hokage send me?"

The three adults exchanged meaningful glances.

"No, child," Shizuka said gently. "We brought you here ourselves."

"You... took me?" Naruto's eyes widened. "But won't I get in big trouble? Won't they come looking for me?"

Tsumugi's expression hardened slightly. "Let them try. You belong here, Naruto. With your real family. Not in a village that treated you like a common burden."

"But why now?" Naruto asked, his young mind trying to make sense of everything. "Why didn't you come get me before?"

"A fair question," the third person—an old man with battle scars across his face—finally spoke up. "The answer involves complex seals and very old promises, boy."

"What Toshi means," Tsumugi interjected with a pointed look at the old warrior, "is that Uzushio is protected by ancient, powerful seals. After its destruction, those of us who survived could not return permanently without the rightful heir."

"And that is... me?" Naruto asked incredulously.

Shizuka nodded. "You are the direct descendant of the First Sister of Uzushio, through your mother's line. The seals recognize your blood. With you here, we can finally rebuild what was lost."

Naruto stared at them, processing this overwhelming information. Then, slowly, a question formed in his mind—the most important one.

"Do you... hate me too? Like everyone in Konoha does?"

The question broke something deep in Tsumugi's heart. She moved closer, carefully, and when Naruto did not flinch away, she took his small hand in hers.

"Naruto, we have waited years to bring you home. You are our future, our only hope." Her voice was thick with heavy emotion. "No one here will ever hate you. No one will ever call you a monster or a demon. Here, you are simply Naruto Uzumaki, heir to Uzushio."

To her surprise, tears began streaming down Naruto's whiskered cheeks. They were not tears of fear or sadness, but something else—relief, perhaps. Or hope.

"Really?" he whispered. "No one will look at me like... like I am something gross?"

"Really," Shizuka confirmed, her own eyes misting over. "Here, you will be respected. Trained. Loved."

He launched himself at Tsumugi, wrapping his arms around her in a desperate, clinging hug. She held him tightly as he sobbed, years of loneliness finally pouring out.

"I want to stay," he managed between sobs. "Please let me stay."

"Wild horses could not drag you away," Tsumugi promised, stroking his hair gently.

Many long miles away, within the mist-shrouded and treacherous landscape of the Water Country, three shadowy figures moved silently through the dark night.

The brutal civil war that had torn through Kirigakure had left immense bloodshed in its wake, and nowhere was this destruction more evident than in the once-proud, now-ruined compound of the fierce Kaguya clan.

"This is significantly worse than the initial reports indicated," whispered Kazuki, crouching low behind a fallen stone wall. The pervasive smell of death hung heavy in the damp air. "The Mizukage's bloody purges have been absolutely ruthless."

Beside him, Mei adjusted her porcelain mask. "The Kaguya brought this fate on themselves. Their reckless raid was ill-planned and completely suicidal."

"Still," the third member of their elite team, Sora, murmured, "an entire clan, wiped out in a mere two weeks. It is a terrible waste."

"Focus on the primary mission, Sora," Kazuki reminded her sternly. "We are here solely to gather intelligence on Kiri's movements, not to mourn the Kaguya's many poor decisions."

They moved much deeper into the desolate compound, carefully documenting what they found for Tsumugi's growing intelligence network. The Kaguya had been widely known for their unparalleled ferocity and their unique kekkei genkai, the Shikotsumyaku—or Bone Release.

But according to their secret sources, the potent bloodline had begun failing several generations ago, with fewer and fewer children successfully manifesting the ability.

"The corpses show no signs of actual bone manipulation," Mei noted, examining a fallen warrior. "They fought with standard steel weapons. The rumors about their bloodline weakening must certainly be true."

A very faint sound caught Sora's attention—something that did not belong among the creaking of burned timbers and the rustling of dead leaves

. She raised her hand, signaling the others to a complete halt.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered.

They listened intently. There it was again—a soft, dry cough, coming from one of the structures that was still partially standing.

"Someone is alive," Kazuki breathed, exchanging surprised glances with his two teammates.

They approached the building cautiously, prepared for a possible trap. Inside what appeared to have been a small, secluded shrine, they found a young child—no more than five or six years old—huddled tightly in the corner.

His white hair was matted with thick dirt, and his pale green eyes were vacant with deep shock. Despite the filth covering him, his skin remained unnaturally pale.

"A survivor," Mei whispered softly. "A Kaguya child."

Sora approached him slowly, keeping her movements entirely non-threatening. "Hello there," she said softly. "Are you hurt at all?"

The young boy looked up at her with empty eyes. "They are all gone," he said, his voice raspy from long disuse. "They left me behind because I am weak."

"What is your name?" Kazuki asked, kneeling down beside Sora.

"Kimimaro," the boy answered quietly. "Kimimaro Kaguya."

Mei had been busy examining the interior of the small shrine and now turned back to her companions with a very significant look. "This is not living quarters," she said quietly. "It is a cell. Look at the specific restraint seal marks on the heavy door."

Understanding dawned on Kazuki as he noticed the clear restraint markings. "They imprisoned him. Their very own child."

Sora's expression hardened into one of anger. "The Kaguya were always cruel, even to their own blood. They probably saw him as defective if he could not manifest the bone release."

Kimimaro watched their whispered conference with a strange, detached interest. Then, as if to directly contradict their assumption, he slowly raised his palm.

A small, sharp bone suddenly protruded from his skin, growing outward before he retracted it smoothly back into his body.

The three scouts stared in absolute shock.

"That is... impossible," Mei breathed. "The bloodline was supposed to be completely dead."

"Not dead," Kimimaro said tonelessly. "Just me. I am the only one left who can do this. That is why they locked me away. They said I stole the clan's power."

The scouts exchanged very meaningful glances. A child with a supposedly extinct kekkei genkai, the last of his clan, abandoned and abused...

"We cannot leave him here," Sora said finally.

"The mission parameters do not include the extraction of Kiri citizens," Mei reminded her, though her tone lacked any real conviction.

Kazuki looked at the boy—starved, traumatized, yet somehow surviving. "Tsumugi-sama just brought Naruto home because he was mistreated and left alone. How is this situation any different?"

After a long moment of silence, Mei nodded. "Uzushio was always a sanctuary for those with special abilities. It is a fundamental part of our history."

Sora knelt before Kimimaro. "Would you like to come with us? To a place where no one will ever lock you away for being special?"

Kimimaro studied her face closely, searching for any deception.

Finding none, he gave a single, solemn nod.

"Then it is decided," Kazuki said, carefully lifting the small boy. "Let us move quickly. We need to be across the strait before the dawn."

As they slipped away from the ruined compound, Kimimaro looked back once at the only home he had ever known—a home that had never wanted him.

Then he turned his face toward the future, toward Uzushio, where another orphaned boy was just beginning to discover what having a real family truly meant.