Shimada's "accident" was like a stone dropped into a deep pond; the ripples faded, and the surface returned to dead silence.
Anbu's surveillance returned to normal, and the villagers' discussions were replaced by new gossip.
Only the persistent solemnity deep in Hiruzen Sarutobi's eyes, like a submerged reef, silently reminded him that the incident had not completely vanished.
But this brief "calm" was the soil Naruto needed.
The Foundation of survival lay in strength, and also in... connections.
**Consolidating Relationships: The Game with the Old Fox Escalates**
Hiruzen Sarutobi's routine visits transformed from "Grandpa's performance time" into Naruto's carefully designed "information extraction and blackmail session."
"Hokage Grandpa!"
As that aged figure just pushed open the door, I immediately poked my golden head out of the cradle (now able to stand up nimbly by holding onto the railing), plastered on my most "innocent" smile, drool happily flowing like a small stream, and spread my chubby little hands in a gesture for a hug.
Hiruzen's usual gentle mask appeared on his face, and he walked over with a hint of undetectable fatigue.
He didn't hug me; he just reached out and rubbed my hair with his rough fingers (the motion carried a professional detachment).
"Little Naruto, have you been good today?"
"Good!"
I nodded vigorously, my blue eyes wide and round, as if filled with all the sincerity in the world.
Then, my small face instantly crumpled, my mouth pouted, my eyes quickly welled up with moisture, and my voice trembled with a wronged tone: "But... but the people outside... they... why are they all afraid of Naruto? And they scold Naruto..."
I pointed out the window with my small hand, my body trembling slightly in cooperation, as if surrounded by an invisible fear.
Hiruzen's movement visibly paused.
The profound solemnity in his eyes instantly deepened, like a stone dropped into a deep pond.
He was silent for a few seconds, his smile somewhat forced, his voice carrying a deliberate soothing tone: "They... are not afraid of Naruto, they are afraid of that... disobedient, red big guy inside Naruto's body.
It's very fierce and did something wrong before."
*A red big guy?*
I sneered inwardly.
*Old fox, you're avoiding the main point! Throwing all the blame on the Nine-Tailed, not mentioning Konoha's high-level responsibility and the villagers' guided hatred!*
Yet, my face remained innocent and scared: "A red... fox? Like the big monster that eats people in picture books...?"
I tried hard to recall the words I'd heard a parent use to scare their child at the ramen shop.
Hiruzen's gaze flickered, seemingly assessing the source of my words and my level of understanding.
"...Something like that.
So Naruto needs to grow up healthy and become very, very strong to control it and prevent it from doing bad things again.
That way, everyone won't be afraid."
He dangled the "hero" bait, attempting to change the subject.
*Hero? A pie in the sky.*
But I didn't press; the time wasn't right.
My small mouth pouted, and the grievance instantly transformed into a stubborn demand for "benefits": "Then... then Naruto wants candy!
Sweet candy!
Only by eating candy will I have the strength to grow up and become strong!"
My small hand accurately pointed to the unopened package of exquisite candies he had brought last time, sitting on the low table.
Hiruzen seemed to let out a sigh of relief, his smile becoming a little more natural, with an understanding of "he's just a child after all."
He shook his head helplessly, picked up the candy, and handed it to me: "All right, all right, eat candy.
But don't eat too much; it's bad for your teeth."
Candy in hand!
But this was just an appetizer.
I clumsily tore open the wrapper, popped a round fruit hard candy into my mouth, smacking my lips loudly, looking utterly content.
Then, my gaze "accidentally" swept over the few documents Hiruzen had casually placed on the low table beside the cradle.
The edge of one unrolled scroll revealed a corner of an extremely complex pattern, composed of countless swirling lines and runes—though incomplete, the style... was very much like a Sealing Jutsu formula!
*Opportunity!*
I immediately extended my small hand, still sticky with syrup and drool, pointing directly at the document, mumbling indistinctly: "Picture!
Shiny!
Naruto wants to see!
Wants to see the shiny picture!"
My small body bounced excitedly in the cradle, looking utterly captivated by the "beautiful pattern."
Hiruzen's expression subtly changed, and almost instinctively, he quickly gathered and stacked the documents, his movements carrying a hint of undetectable tension.
His gaze towards me once again became sharp and scrutinizing: "These aren't pictures; they are important documents.
Children can't look at them."
His tone was gentle but carried an undeniable refusal.
"Waaah... I want to see them! Naruto wants to see the shiny ones!"
I immediately deployed the ultimate infant weapon—throwing a tantrum!
The candy in my mouth no longer tasted good; I spat it out onto the floor (landing precisely at "Kite's" feet), my small mouth twisted, and I started the prelude to an earth-shattering wail.
My small hand pointed at the documents, unrelenting.
A vein on Hiruzen's forehead seemed to twitch.
He clearly didn't want to handle these sensitive documents in front of this "demon fox vessel," nor did he want to be tormented by this ear-piercing crying.
He took a deep breath, suppressing his annoyance, his gaze sweeping the room, finally landing on a dusty children's picture book in the corner, illustrated with simple animals and plants (perhaps left behind by an Anbu or a nanny?).
"All right, all right, don't cry!"
He picked up the crude picture book and handed it to me: "Look at this!
These are the pictures for little Naruto to see!
Shiny ones!"
The crying stopped abruptly.
I hugged the simple picture book, tear stains still on my small face (squeezed out), but immediately "broke into a smile through tears," clumsily flipping through it, uttering single syllables like "wah," "doggy," "flower" from my small mouth, as if the earlier tantrum had never happened.
*Picture book in hand!*
Although it was the lowest-spec version, this was an important beginning!
It meant I could "blackmail" the "old fox" for things other than candy!
Books are carriers of knowledge and a stepping stone for future access to more complex information (like... basic Sealing Jutsu diagrams?).
Hiruzen looked at my "innocent and carefree" appearance, his eyes complex.
He seemed to be trying to convince himself that my "interest" in the Sealing documents was merely an infant's instinctive curiosity about bright colors.
But the persistent doubt and solemnity deep in his eyes, like dark clouds, never dissipated.
He didn't linger, leaving in a hurry with the stack of important documents, his retreating figure heavier than when he arrived.
**Deepening Bonds: Iruka, Anchor and Haven**
If interactions with Hiruzen were like walking a tightrope with every step fraught with danger, then spending time with young Iruka was like grasping a warm piece of driftwood in the cold deep sea.
In the park, on street corners, and even near the small grove where bullying once occurred, the frequency of "encountering" Iruka significantly increased under Naruto's conscious and unconscious "activity route planning."
Iruka's condition was slightly better than when I first saw him; the deep, unyielding sadness in his eyes remained, but it was no longer like stagnant water.
He was still taciturn, his brow often furrowed, but when he saw that wobbly, blond-haired, blue-eyed small figure, his tightly furrowed brow would unconsciously relax a tiny bit.
"Hey! Little dummy! Watch where you're going!"
Once, under Kite's cold gaze, I deliberately pretended to trip over a stone, stumbling towards Iruka who was passing by.
He instinctively squatted down, opened his arms, and steadily caught my small body as I fell into him.
A fresh scent, belonging to a young boy, carrying sunshine and sweat, instantly enveloped me.
It was distinctly different from the cold smell of gunpowder on Kite.
"Waaah..."
I took the opportunity to bury my small face in the faded front of his old uniform, rubbing against it (and incidentally getting some drool on it), letting out a wronged whimper.
My small hands clutched the fabric on his chest tightly, as if he were my only reliance.
Iruka's body noticeably stiffened for a moment.
He looked down at the fluffy golden head in his arms, feeling that unreserved dependence, smelling of milk and drool, his eyes as complex as an overturned palette.
The deep-seated hatred and the pain of losing his parents still tore at him, but the small, soft, defenseless body in his arms was like a faint yet stubborn light, trying to penetrate the ice in his heart.
"...Be careful next time."
He clumsily patted my back, his voice dry, but no longer filled with the cold distance of our first encounter.
He helped me stand steadily, hesitated for a moment, and then pulled out half a hard fruit candy, wrapped in oil paper and looking a bit hard, from his pocket—this seemed to have become his "habit" every time he saw me.
"Ah! Candy!"
I immediately let out a cry of surprise, my small hand quickly grabbing the half-piece of candy.
But I didn't immediately pop it into my mouth; instead, I lifted my small face, stained with grass and dirt, towards Iruka, flashed an incredibly bright, drool-bubble-filled smile, and then clumsily held the candy to his mouth: "Big brother... eat!"
Iruka was completely stunned.
He looked at the half-piece of candy held by my small hand, stained with a bit of drool and dirt, and then at my silly, smiling small face, which was full of "sharing" and "pleading."
His heart felt as if an invisible hand had gently squeezed it.
A feeling of sourness, warmth, and a heavy, inexpressible flutter instantly surged within him.
What he had lost were the parents who had given him boundless love.
And this child in front of him, hated by everyone, was trying to share his only, insignificant "sweetness" with him?
"I... I won't eat it, you eat it."
He turned his face away somewhat flustered, his voice carrying a hint of undetectable hoarseness, his earlobes quietly flushing red.
He reached out and roughly wiped the dust from my face with his fingertips, his movements still a bit awkward, but infinitely warmer than Kite's cold hand.
*Affection +10%!*
I calmly recorded the progress bar internally.
From then on, every time I saw Iruka, I would show extraordinary "excitement."
I would toddle towards him (within the limits allowed by Kite), my small face beaming with pure joy (the performance version), and even actively reach out my small hand to pull his fingers hanging at his side.
Iruka gradually became accustomed to it, moving from initial stiffness and awkwardness.
He would squat down, letting me grasp and shake his fingers, and occasionally, he would even try to amuse me in his unskillful, even clumsy way—like making an exaggerated funny face or folding a crooked little boat out of a leaf.
His gaze lingered on me for longer and longer periods.
Within it, the ice of hatred was slowly melting, replaced by a growing mixture of sympathy, responsibility, and a fledgling, protective instinct that he himself hadn't yet understood.
When leaving, he would subconsciously look back at me; when he heard malicious gossip about the "demon fox," his brow would furrow even tighter; and once, after standing for a long time in front of the Memorial Stone, he inexplicably took a detour through the dark alley outside my small house, standing there silently for a while before leaving.
Naruto keenly observed these subtle changes.
*Iruka...*
*Kindness not extinguished... strong sense of responsibility... deep desire for emotional connection...*
*My "dependence" and "closeness" are producing positive feedback...*
*Becoming one of his emotional anchors for stepping out of the shadows...*
*Bonds deepening... stability increasing... future utility... immense.*
The setting sun lengthened our shadows, Iruka's and mine.
He squatted on the ground, clumsily drawing simple patterns in the dirt with a twig, while I sat beside him, holding the crude picture book "blackmailed" from Hiruzen, babbling and pointing at the dogs and flowers on its pages.
Drool dripped onto the pages, spreading a small wet stain.
Kite stood nearby like a cold shadow, watching this "warm" scene expressionlessly.
Deep within Naruto's azure eyes, the simple sun pattern from the picture book was reflected, but the corners of his mouth held a cold, satisfied curve utterly unsuited to his age.
The old fox's vigilance must be maintained.
Iruka's bonds must be deepened.
Strength must be accumulated.
Threats must be eliminated.
In this game of survival, every chess piece, whether used for gambits, reliance, or... sacrifice, must be placed in the most precise position.