"Something important? What kind of important thing…?"
Naruto muttered under his breath. His instincts told him this was going to be… big.
"By the way," Tsunade said instead of answering directly, casually changing the subject,
"are you comfortable in the new house?"
At the mention of that, Naruto instantly forgot the earlier tension—and the bump on his head. His face lit up with a pure, radiant smile, like a child who'd finally received the toy he'd always dreamed of.
"Yeah! Super comfortable!" he said enthusiastically.
"It's huge, and the windows are big too! Sunlight comes right in! It's way better than that old apartment! Thank you, Granny Tsunade!"
Naruto looked at her with unreserved gratitude and joy shining in his eyes.
For a child who had spent years living alone in a small, cold apartment, a place that truly felt like a home was nothing short of a dream.
Watching Naruto grin so foolishly, Jiraiya couldn't help but smile as well.
Tsunade nodded. Her tone remained calm as she casually dropped a bombshell powerful enough to change Naruto's entire life.
"It's good that you like it. Because… that house originally belonged to your parents. Now, it's simply returned to its rightful owner."
"…Huh?"
The smile froze on Naruto's face.
He blinked his blue eyes, as if he hadn't heard clearly—or maybe didn't dare believe what he'd just heard.
Confusion turned to blankness… then to a tremor of disbelief.
"G-Granny Tsunade…?"
His voice shook as he asked cautiously, "W-what… what did you just say?"
Seeing his reaction, Tsunade's heart softened. She lowered her voice and repeated clearly:
"I said, the house you're living in now was once your father's and mother's home. And now, it belongs to you again."
Father…
Mother…
Words that had always felt as distant as the stars suddenly crashed into Naruto's heart with crushing force.
He had always believed he was an orphan.
That he was hated because he was the "demon fox."
He had never once imagined that he… had parents.
That they had even left something behind for him.
Shock, confusion, long-suppressed grievance—and a faint yet scorching hope—burst through his chest like a dam giving way.
Hot tears spilled from his eyes without warning, rolling down his cheeks no matter how hard he tried to wipe them away.
Naruto lowered his head. His shoulders trembled as he cried silently.
These tears carried the shock of his origins, the release of years of loneliness and injustice—and something else as well.
A painful sweetness, like finally touching a sense of belonging he had never known.
The Hokage's office fell completely silent, broken only by Naruto's suppressed sobbing.
After a long while, he barely managed to steady himself. He lifted his tear-streaked face and looked at Tsunade with eyes full of desperate pleading, his voice hoarse.
"C-can you… tell me… who my parents… were?"
Faced with a gaze that clung to her like a lifeline, Tsunade sighed deeply in her heart.
She bent down and pulled out a wooden box from beneath the spacious desk—one that clearly carried the weight of many years—and placed it solemnly in front of Naruto.
"These are your parents' belongings," she said softly.
"You can… take a look first."
She paused, glanced at Jiraiya—whose expression was just as complicated—and then added:
"As for everything about your parents… we'll explain it to you properly later."
With that, Tsunade exchanged a look with Jiraiya. The two of them turned in silence, gently left the Hokage's office, and thoughtfully closed the door behind them.
The vast room was left with only Naruto Uzumaki.
He stood there for a long time without moving, blue eyes brimming with tears as he stared at the box, as if trying to see through it.
His heart hammered wildly in his chest, tangled with an almost frightening anticipation.
He was afraid.
Afraid this was just another dream—one that would shatter the moment he touched it.
At last, as if steeling himself, Naruto wiped his tears hard with his sleeve, took a deep breath, and stepped forward.
His fingers trembled as they rested on the cool lid of the box—careful, reverent, almost prayerful.
Click.
The latch popped open.
Holding his breath, Naruto slowly lifted the lid.
The first thing he saw was a neatly folded scarf—its red still bright and warm.
The instant he laid eyes on it, a deep, inexplicable tremor surged from the depths of his bloodline and seized his heart.
He didn't need anyone to explain.
A crystal-clear thought surfaced naturally in his mind—
Mom… made this for me.
He imagined a red-haired woman with a gentle smile, sitting beneath warm lamplight, knitting stitch by stitch—hoping the scarf would one day protect her unborn child from the cold.
That love, delayed for so many years, washed over him like the warmest current and shattered every last defense he had.
"M-Mom…" Naruto choked, tears surging out once more, fiercer than before.
With shaking hands, he lifted the scarf as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.
He buried his face deep into it, savoring a warmth that was both imaginary and profoundly real—then carefully, clumsily, yet with utmost sincerity, wrapped it around his neck.
The red scarf rested against his skin, and Naruto felt as though he would never fear the cold again.
Even though it was summer.
Drawing courage from the scarf, he continued looking through the box.
Inside were photographs—preserved with special materials, slightly yellowed at the edges but still clear.
He picked up the top one.
In the photo, a handsome young man with sun-bright blond hair and a warm, confident smile held a red-haired woman close. Her long hair flowed freely, her smile gentle and beautiful.
The two leaned against each other, eyes filled with happiness and hope for the future.
Dad…
Mom…
Though he had never met them, the resonance in his blood and the love radiating from the photograph left no doubt in his heart.
These were his parents.
He stared at their smiles greedily as tears dripped onto the glass, blurring the image.
Sobbing, he carefully went through each item in the box—every belonging whispering proof that his parents had truly existed.
Naruto sank down onto the floor, leaning against the desk. He clutched the red scarf tightly to his chest, surrounded by photographs and mementos.
This time, he didn't hold back.
He cried out loud—
a cry filled with endless grievance, longing, and love that had waited far too long to be found.
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