Chapter 1

The lively and bustling streets of Konoha are filled with people coming and going. The village, though young in the grand scheme of the shinobi world, has already endured its share of tragedies.

Four years ago, the Nine-Tails Rebellion brought heavy losses to the village. Countless ninjas lost their lives, and many families were left without parents or children. Even the Fourth Hokage, a legendary figure who had achieved great feats on the battlefield, perished while sealing the Nine-Tails. For the villagers of Konoha, that night was a night of disaster.

Four years have passed, and the village has regained its vigor and vitality. However, the pain of the past has not been forgotten. Instead, it lingers in everyone's hearts, like a ticking time bomb ready to explode at any moment. The villagers harbor deep hatred for the Nine-Tails demon fox, wishing they could tear it apart with their bare hands.

At this moment, Naruto Uzumaki—the very embodiment of the Nine-Tails in their eyes—walked into the street. Dressed in a neat white robe, he carried himself with elegance and confidence. A gentle smile graced his face, making him appear like a handsome young man. Such poise and appearance would normally be admired anywhere, but here, he was met with disdain.

Most of the villagers froze, their eyes flashing with disgust before they turned away. A few muttered under their breath:

"That damn Nine-Tails demon fox…"

"Why is that monster still alive?"

"My son died because of him. I don't understand why the Hokage didn't execute him."

"This pointless kindness is sickening."

"Shh! Do you dare question the Hokage's decisions? He must have had his reasons."

A handful of villagers nodded slightly in Naruto's direction. While their expressions lacked warmth, at least there was no malice.

Naruto approached a familiar vegetable stall and asked softly, "Excuse me, Aunt Tanaka, may I buy some vegetables?"

Unlike the villagers who had suffered during the Nine-Tails Rebellion, Aunt Tanaka had moved to Konoha only a year ago. She couldn't fully understand their pain, but she had grown fond of Naruto. Despite being only four years old, he carried himself with the maturity of an adult.

Aunt Tanaka vividly remembered the first time she saw Naruto. The villagers had hurled rotten eggs and vegetables at him. The thin boy didn't dodge. He let the filth splatter across his body, maintaining a gentle smile as he bowed and apologized repeatedly:

"I'm sorry. The Nine-Tails caused you so much pain. I'm sorry. But I am Uzumaki Naruto now, not the Nine-Tails demon fox."

Under the weight of endless malice, the little figure seemed so helpless, yet he remained polite. Life's cruelty had forced this child into a harsh reality, stripping him of his childhood. The villagers' vicious words had tempered his will, molding him into a "little adult."

Aunt Tanaka had heard that Konoha was the wealthiest and most humane of all the shinobi villages. But what she witnessed was far from it. A three-year-old boy, bowing and apologizing endlessly, was a painfully humbling sight. The villagers' ugly sneers and cruel words were etched into her memory. From that day on, she made it a point to quietly look out for Naruto.

"Take this and go," she said, handing him a bag of vegetables.

"Thank you. I'm sorry to trouble you," Naruto replied, accepting the bag with a polite nod. He crossed the street calmly, disappearing from view.

With Naruto gone, the street returned to its usual lively atmosphere.

Naruto returned to his small home. At the age of three, unable to tolerate his babysitter's petty actions, he had moved out after discussing it with the Third Hokage. His new home was modest—just a bed, a table, and a simple stove. But it met all his basic needs.

Opening the bag, he found not only fresh vegetables but also a few eggs. Aunt Tanaka must have prepared it in advance, waiting for him to arrive. In this cold and indifferent village, such kindness was rare and precious.

A gentle smile crossed Naruto's lips as he moved to the stove. With practiced ease, he chopped vegetables, heated oil in the pan, and cooked a simple meal. His movements were fluid and graceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of his life.

The biggest difference between a wise man and a barbarian is elegance and confidence. Unlike barbarians who only know how to bark, a wise man carries himself with dignity.

Soon, a plate of stir-fried vegetables and fried eggs was ready. Naruto sat at the table and quietly enjoyed his dinner. The villagers' disdain and rejection no longer affected him. He remained steadfast in his polite demeanor, determined to one day earn their acceptance.

As he ate, Naruto's thoughts drifted to the past. He remembered how the villagers would hurl vicious insults at him whenever he stepped outside. Back then, he had been helpless and fearful, his heart filled with confusion. He hadn't done anything wrong, so why did everyone hate him?

In his desperation, he had resorted to silly pranks, hoping to gain attention. But his actions only deepened their hatred. Even those who had once ignored him began to speak ill of him. During that time, Naruto had fallen into despair, each day feeling like an eternity.

Then, he met him—Mr. Aizen.

That gentle, refined man who always carried himself with grace. Aizen had told him, "Be a wise man who controls his own destiny. A strong man never begs for attention."

From that day on, Naruto began to emulate Aizen. He strived to be gentle and composed. He spent all his living expenses on a white robe similar to Aizen's, even if it meant eating instant noodles for months. He greeted everyone politely, smiling even when met with curses. He learned to hide his emotions.

Now, while the villagers' attitudes hadn't completely changed, some had begun to treat him better. Life's hardships had forced him to mature, and the villagers' malice had opened his eyes to reality. Konoha and its so-called "Will of Fire" were not meant for him. He was, and always would be, the Nine-Tails demon fox.

A mocking smile tugged at Naruto's lips as he finished the last bite of his meal. He stood up, his eyes briefly sharp and unkind. But the moment passed, and his usual gentleness returned. He practiced his smile in the mirror, muttering to himself:

"My smile is perfect now. I have to keep it up."