Naruto Uchiha
The woman was on a mission.
A very important mission, one that she had promised to a late friend of hers. One that she had put off while she took care of her baby, though it was one that she had absolutely every intention of completing.
Her long black hair was swept up into a well kept bun, each dark strand tucked into the mass at the back of her head. Gone was her usual apron and modest house dress; in their place, she wore a fitted navy-blue blazer over a crisp white blouse, paired with a dark pencil skirt that complemented her poised demeanor. Sensible yet elegant heels clicked against the polished floors as she made her way through the Hokage Tower, her every movement purposeful.
She passed multiple civil servants on her way, they were muttering discreetly about something she couldn’t care about in the very least. It wasn’t on her agenda, not today.
At last, she arrived in front of a large mahogany door which stretched from floor to ceiling, as she approached closer she could just faintly make out hushed whispers from the other side of the door. She raised her hand, her knuckles rapping firmly against the hardwood. The sound echoed slightly in the stillness that followed.
“Come in.”
The door knob turned painfully slowly, and the door squealed on its hinges as it opened. She stepped aside instinctively as three ninja emerged from the room, their faces obscured by masks. Their movements were brisk and deliberate, their silence suggesting that whatever they had discussed was of critical importance. Her eyes followed them for a moment before stepping into the room.
“Mikoto Uchiha, what a pleasure to see you. Come, sit.” The third Hokage’s voice was raspy at best, a hollow of the booming voice that it used to be. He sat behind his large desk, his hands were clasped together, fingers interlaced, as if he had been deep in thought just moments before her arrival.
The lady sat at a stool on the other side of the desk, its bright mahogany wood matched the door. Her legs were shaky, even as she sat. The matter she came to ask about was nothing to make light of.
“I fear I know what you have come for, Mikoto.” The Hokage said, his hands moved to rub at his temples. “And I’m afraid you won’t receive the answer that you yearn for.” He finished, his cold gaze meeting hers.
“Lord Third, you must understand; he can’t live by himself like that…” Mikoto said, her eyes boring into those of the other. “I see him, when I go to pick up the mail. He’s always alone, he has nobody to guide him.” She continued, her eyes welled with tears just thinking of the lonely child, though she was determined not to let a single fall.
The Hokage sighed deeply, the wrinkles etched in his skin seemed to deepen with concern at the matter. “Mikoto, I understand your concern,” he began, his tone measured. “But there are greater forces at play here—forces that neither of us can fully control. The boy is not just any orphan. He is…” He hesitated, his voice lowering as though the walls themselves could not be trusted. “...a symbol, and with that comes both protection and danger.”
Mikoto’s frown grew deeper, the hands gripping the edge of the stool grew whiter with every passing moment. “He’s a child, Lord Hokage. A child with no one to hold his hand, to teach him right from wrong. You’ve given him a roof over his head, but he’s still alone. You can’t expect anybody to thrive in isolation, let alone a child who bears a burden so much bigger than himself.”
The Third Hokage studied her for a long moment, as though weighing her words against an invisible scale. “It is precisely because of what he is that we must tread carefully. You know as well as I do that most in the village do not see him as a child at all. They see only what the Fourth Hokage sealed within him.”
Her chest tightened at the reminder, but she pressed on. “I know,” she said softly. “But he didn’t choose that fate. None of this is his fault. And yet, every time I see him, I see the toll it’s taking. The loneliness. The rejection. It’s suffocating him.”
Her voice cracked slightly, but she steadied herself, taking a deep breath. “I’m not asking for much, Lord Third. I only want to help. To teach him, to make sure he grows up knowing someone cares. He needs more than just survival—he needs guidance, a family. Even if it’s only one person.”
The Hokage shook his head slowly, beginning to speak as he stood up. “I understand your fears, Mikoto. But you must understand that a boy like him will not be allowed within the Uchiha compound, not by the Daimyo and certainly not by the council of elders.” He paused momentarily, watching as her face fell to despair. “However, do not be afraid for him. I am taking responsibility for his care, he is in good hands and I can assure you that much.”
As the Hokage tried to exit the room, Mikoto blocked him, standing just in front of the tall door. Mikoto stood firm, her eyes blazing with determination as she faced the Hokage, her slender frame seeming unshaken despite the authority she confronted. “With all due respect, Lord Third,” she began, her voice steady and unwavering, “your assurances are not enough. You may believe he is in good hands, but I see him, day after day, wandering the streets, shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world has already crushed him. A child needs more than oversight; he needs love, guidance, and someone who will stand beside him, no matter what.”
The Third Hokage’s brows furrowed, a mixture of frustration and sympathy flashing in his eyes. “Mikoto, do you truly think I am indifferent to his plight? Every decision regarding him carries the burden of the village’s future. If I were to grant your request, the political consequences would ripple far beyond what either of us can predict. You would become a target, your family scrutinized, and the boy even more of an outcast in some eyes.”
Mikoto stepped closer, her voice softening but losing none of its conviction. “Let them scrutinize me. Let them talk. I’ve already faced the whispers and glares as a member of the Uchiha clan. What more can they do that I haven’t endured before? But him… Lord Hokage, he’s just a boy, and if no one steps forward to be his advocate, what will become of him? Will he grow up hating the village he was supposed to protect? Will he fall into darkness because no one ever taught him how to walk in the light?”
The Hokage’s expression faltered, “Mikoto, if it is truly your wish; I can bring up the idea to the council. However, both you and I know that it will only deepen the consequences.”
The dark haired woman stepped closer, her eyes brimming with fear for the repercussions that neither she nor young Naruto had faced yet, but were surely to come. “I am sure, should there even be a chance for that boy to have a family, it is our duty to help him.” She explained, her stance was firmer then it had been previously; though she still seemed unsure of what she was expecting.
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The council was not nearly as fond of the idea that Mikoto Uchiha had proposed as the Third Hokage had been.
The yelling could be heard for what was likely miles outside of the small community building, even the cicadas couldn’t cover up the outrage present. The room was hot, and sweaty; though that was hardly what made each of the council members uncomfortable.
“You cannot certainly be considering this, Hiruzen?” Danzo spat out. His eyes were narrowed, his hatred focused solely on the Third Hokage.
Hiruzen Sarutobi sat at the head of the council chamber, his weathered face calm but weary as he bore the weight of the heated discussion. The room was filled with the voices of the village elders and key advisors, each one competing to have their opinions heard. It was a cacophony of dissent, but none more venomous than that of Danzo Shimura.
“I have already considered it, Danzo,” Hiruzen replied evenly, though his sharp tone carried an undeniable edge. “And while I am fully aware of the potential risks, I am also aware of the moral obligation we have to that boy, moreover the obligation we have to fulfill the Fourth Hokage's last wish.”
Danzo slammed a hand on the table, the sound echoing across the chamber. “That ‘boy’ is a weapon, Hiruzen. A tool of the village, not a child to be coddled! Placing him in the care of the Uchiha—of all clans—would be an insult to those who sacrificed their lives to protect us from what lies within him. Not to mention, it’s dangerous.” Danzo glanced to and from the other council members, as if rallying support for his argument. “The nine tailed fox is not a weapon that should ever be possessed by somebody of Uchiha descent; let alone the head family.” He finished his case.
The room went silent, aside from an anbu member in the corner who appeared to have a difficult time standing still.
Koharu Utatane, seated to Hiruzen’s right, folded her hands tightly together. “Danzo is correct, Hiruzen. This decision cannot be made lightly. The boy is a jinchūriki. His placement affects not just him, but the entire village. Giving him to the Uchiha—who already command suspicion—is inviting more dissent.”
Hiruzen exhaled through his nose, his hands clasped together on the table before him. “You assume the worst of the Uchiha without considering Mikoto’s intentions. She has offered her help out of compassion and her love for his late mother, not politics.”
Danzo leaned forward, his visible eye narrowing. “Compassion? Or manipulation? They would raise him to see the village through their lens, to feel the injustices they claim to suffer. The boy’s power could easily be turned against us if the Uchiha’s rebellion takes root.”
Homura Mitokado cleared his throat, his expression one of forced neutrality. “Even if Mikoto’s intentions are pure, Hiruzen, you cannot ignore the optics. If the boy is placed under Uchiha care, it will inflame tensions with other clans. They will see it as favoritism. This is not just a private matter—it’s political.”
Hiruzen closed his eyes briefly, gathering his thoughts. “And what of the boy’s wellbeing? What of his future? He is a child, not a weapon. We cannot afford to treat him solely as a jinchūriki. To do so will lead us down a path of regret.”
Danzo slammed a hand onto the table. “His well-being must be treated as secondary to the safety of the village. The Fourth Hokage understood this, which is why he chose to seal the Nine-Tails into Naruto. His power must be contained, controlled—not coddled.”
Danzo’s gaze swept across the room, it was silent with consensus. “Let us vote now, if you have argued your final point, Hiruzen.”
The Hokage nodded, despite the clear look of defeat present on his facial features.
“All in favor that Naruto Uzumaki, the Nine Tails Jinchuriki will stay under the supervision of Sarutobi Hiruzen?”
Nearly every hand in the room shot up, the decision was clear, Naruto was to be left to his own devices.
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Outside the council chamber, the ANBU operatives waited. Their role was one of observation and silent service, rarely stepping into the political fray, not unless they had to take violent measures for that matter. Among them, a young Kakashi Hatake stood, his eyes hidden beneath his mask, body unmoving in the shadows. His mission had been to listen and to observe; however, what he had just overheard would haunt him long after the decision was made.
Kakashi had been tasked with shadowing the council, ensuring that no unsanctioned intel left the room. It was a job that required silence, precision, and discretion. However, what he had heard was not merely about intelligence gathering. It was about a child—Naruto Uzumaki, the boy sealed with the Nine-Tails, a weapon that had gotten tangled up in the body of a little boy.
The voices had echoed through the walls, filled with fear, distrust, and a blatant refusal to see the humanity within the boy. "A tool of the village," Danzo had called him. Kakashi had clenched his fists, the bitterness of the sentiment crawling under his skin. To most, Naruto was a symbol of what had happened during the Fourth Hokage's reign—a constant reminder of a wound that the village had not yet healed. But Kakashi had seen another side to that story, he had seen how excited Kushina had been when she learned she was pregnant- or rather how happy his sensei had been when he learned he was to be a father. A boy with such wonderful parentage could never be, just a tool. He was sure of that much.
As the council disbanded, Kakashi silently followed the path of the departing council members, the weight of the conversation still lingering in his mind. His orders were clear—observe, report, do not interfere. But he had learned long ago that sometimes, the quietest of missions required stepping outside of one’s assigned role. Kakashi knew that the decisions made within those walls would leave scars on Naruto, ones that he, as a child, could never heal on his own.
He returned to the ANBU headquarters, his mind racing. Though still young, Kakashi had learned to see through the masks people wore. He understood the harsh realities that shaped them, the difficult decisions they had to make, but he also knew what it felt like to be discarded, to be left alone to figure out the world. As the ANBU took their positions and awaited orders, Kakashi sat in silence, pondering his next move.
No one had spoken in favor of Naruto, not within that council. No one had stood up for the boy who would grow up isolated, unloved. Kakashi had been trained to protect the village, but certainly it couldn’t be to much of a crime to tweak his priorities.
It was not in the ANBU’s nature to stand against the Hokage’s orders. But Kakashi, even as a young operative, had begun to realize that sometimes, there were things more important than missions—things that could not be measured by political outcomes. Sometimes the means had to justify the ends.
In the days that followed, Kakashi would find himself in places where few dared to tread. While the village slept, he watched over the boy who carried the weight of a village’s fear.