That child. That monster. His joyful smile was an evil, tormentful reminder. He shakes his head and forces his legs to walk on, to ignore the playful boy who pranked a shop owner. His wife waits for him at home. She is confined to her bed, her vacant and distant stare as she sits in their children's room, the room the couple set up after the incident.
His children were too young to have died. Too young to have screamed and cried as they died alone amid the chaos. His children, who were two and six years old, died. He couldn't save them. He was forced onto the front lines fighting a chakra beast that took minimal damage from high-powered Jutsu. He couldn't help them. It was hard to remember that day, but that child was a constant, everyday reminder. The boy was a continual thorn in his side that he would never be able to remove due to orders from his Hokage.
It was difficult to remember that day. His hands had burned from Jutsu hand signs, and his legs hurt from the chakra-infused strength that allowed him another moment of fighting. He was one of the lucky ones. He survived the incident, the attack on their village, with mere scrapes and bruises, while others were lucky to be breathing.
However, his easy visit was cut short by his Captain, a woman with a fierce Yamanaka, who broke the news. She was blunt as she had zero time to waste. She pulled him aside, and a grim expression accompanied the action. They hovered by the exit of the medical tent, just out of the way of the medic-nin that fluttered in and out shouting to each other.
"Maka-san, your children.." she hesitated; the injured became a symphony during a decrescendo. "They died."
He didn't remember using Jutsu to return home in the blink of an eye, and he didn't remember looking at his home, demolished by the demon. He felt like a puppet as his motions became automatic. He dug through the debris. They had to be here—breathing but crushed by the house that fell on them.
He ignored the lingering memory that he and his wife left on a date night that evening and left his children with a civilian babysitter that his wife had befriended several years ago. He ignored that he and his wife laughed moments before the attack. His children home scared while he charged into battle. He told his wife to retrieve their kids quickly and go to the underground shelters.
His wife was digging as well. She saw him arrive, a fact he learned later. She saw his actions and helped him. She was desperate, too. Their children had to be here.
His Captain showed up moments later and pulled him away.
"Get a grip, Maka-san," she scolded, though not unkindly, "Your wife needs you. She needs you to be her rock. I need you to be her rock."
Like a puppet whose strings were cut, he felt limp. He knew the reality: His children were gone, and both chakra pathways, which he had memorized long ago, had vanished from the village proper.
He thanked his Captain and comforted his sobbing wife. The family of four was reduced to a family of two that dreadful night. He hated that there wasn't an enemy to act his vengeance on.
Months later, whispers surfed through the village. A child had become the new container of the nine-tales. A child who was at the right place at the wrong time. A child by the name of Naruto Uzumaki.
He didn't believe it at first. Who would believe a rumor that hasn't been investigated? It took two weeks for him to see the rumored child. He was grocery shopping when he saw the Hokage with a bundle of blankets in his arms. The man was jumping on a rooftop with his Anbu detail. As a chakra sensor, he memorized as many signatures as possible. The problem was that because of his talents, his attention always flickered when a ninja entered the civilian sector where he lived with his civilian wife. He wouldn't have noticed, but the Hokage never ventured this far from the village's center.
He never forgot the evil signature of the Kyuubi. How could he as the sentient being of chakra murdered his children? The chakra signature led to one conclusion: that the bundle of blankets held Naruto Uzumaki, the new container of the Nine Tails.
Years later, when the child was old enough to play like other children, he remembered the boy again. His wife saw the boy and concluded a fact similar to him. She became sick after that, nearly catatonic. He understood but felt more anger towards the innocent boy than his wife. Anger that kept his mind sharp and aware. An anger that was forced to be quelled due to the declaration made by the Hokage. A declaration that didn't allow for imagined retaliation toward the innocent boy and didn't allow future generations to be made aware of this secret.
Even now, he only felt anger towards Naruto. He didn't care that the boy proclaimed to be a genin for the village. He didn't care that Naruto was just a boy, not even ten years old. He just wished in his entire being that the child would die, taking the Kyuubi with him.