Chapter 12
"Wow, so lively!"
Three days later—mid-morning.
Blond Uzumaki Naruto stood in the middle of the street, looking back at the bustling thoroughfare behind him.
After three years, the war between the Land of Fire and the Land of Lightning had finally ended. Kumogakure sent a delegation to Konoha to sign the alliance treaty.
To welcome the Kumo envoys and celebrate the coming peace, the village had launched a grand winter festival.
Main streets were strung with colorful lanterns and paper streamers. Vendors' calls rose and fell in waves.
The air carried the mingled scents of takoyaki, candied apples, and grilled squid.
In blind spots above rooftops and between buildings, masked Anbu ninja perched at strategic points, scanning every corner with sharp vigilance.
On the ground, members of the Konoha Military Police Force—wearing dark blue or black uniforms with the Uchiha fan-and-shuriken emblem on their shoulders—moved sternly through the crowds, maintaining order.
"Wow! Fox Sage, look! That fox mask is so cool!"
Goggles on, Naruto wriggled through the throng like an eel.
With the festival atmosphere in full swing, most villagers were caught up in the joy.
Though some still frowned or turned away in disgust at the sight of the "demon fox kid," the celebratory mood kept most from openly driving him off.
This kind of "ignoring" felt like rare freedom to Naruto.
"Slow down."
Xuanming's lazy voice echoed in his mind. "There's killing intent ahead… oh, wait—no, just a poor sap about to get run over by you."
"Huh?"
Naruto turned—and promptly collided face-first into darkness.
Bang!
In front of a mask stall, he slammed straight into a black-haired boy also reaching for a mask.
Two three-year-old beans collided like marbles of fate.
Both let out an "Oof!" and landed hard on their bottoms.
"Eh—gomen nasai!"
Naruto scrambled up first, ready to apologize.
But the black-haired boy on the ground beat him to it.
"Hey! Watch where you're going, weirdo."
Still sitting, the boy wore a high-collared blue shirt, pale skin, and features so delicate they looked carved from jade.
Yet right now that handsome little face was twisted in clear annoyance.
"Hah? You're the one who stopped suddenly!"
Naruto fired back without hesitation. "And who're you calling weirdo?! I'm Uzumaki Naruto! The guy who's gonna become Hokage someday!"
"Idiot."
Sasuke snorted, stood up, and dusted off his clothes. "Only morons shout their dreams out loud."
"Who're you calling an idiot?!"
Two three-year-olds were seconds from starting a full-on street brawl.
"Sasuke—don't be like that."
A gentle voice like spring water cut through the tension.
A beautiful woman with long dark hair, dressed in casual home clothes, approached—Sasuke's mother, Uchiha Mikoto.
She first helped Sasuke up, then turned to the boy facing off with her son.
When she saw Naruto's signature blond hair and the six whisker marks on his cheeks, her eyes trembled slightly.
"You're… Naruto-kun, right?" Mikoto crouched to his level, voice soft as a breeze. "I'm Sasuke's mom. You can call me Aunt Mikoto."
Naruto froze.
He was rarely looked at with such gentle warmth by any adult in the village.
That gaze held no disgust, no fear—only a strange, comforting familiarity that made his chest feel funny.
"Ah… um… yeah… I'm…" Naruto stammered, all earlier bravado gone.
Mikoto watched the flustered child, a ripple stirring in her heart.
So this was Kushina's son… he looked so much like her. Those eyes were exactly like Minato's.
She remembered her husband's rare good mood a few nights ago.
Fugaku had mentioned the Third Hokage seemed inclined to ease tensions with the Uchiha—even hinting they could interact with the Nine-Tails jinchūriki.
If that was the case…
"I'm Sasuke's mother," Mikoto repeated gently, brushing dust from Naruto's clothes with a warm smile. "Sasuke doesn't leave home much and doesn't have many friends. Since you've met, would you like to play with him for a while, Naruto-kun?"
"Eh? Me?" Naruto looked stunned, almost honored.
"No way!"
Sasuke immediately bristled, cheeks puffing like a pufferfish. "Mom! We're going to find big brother! Why bring this idiot?!"
Alarm bells rang in Sasuke's head.
This loud blond kid was clearly noisy!
If he came along, big brother's attention would be stolen! And… why was Mom being so nice to him?
"Sasuke—" Mikoto patted his head gently, scolding with affection. "That's not polite. Itachi is still on patrol duty in the village. Even if we go, he can't stop to play with you."
"Hmph." Sasuke turned his head away. Though unwilling, hearing his brother was busy made him relent slightly.
And so, an odd trio appeared on the festival streets.
Uchiha Mikoto—wife of the Uchiha clan head—walked hand-in-hand with two small boys: a sulky black-haired one on her left, a cheerful blond idiot on her right.
"I want that!" Sasuke pointed at takoyaki.
Naruto didn't speak, but his eyes drifted the same way.
Mikoto smiled and bought one portion each.
"Wow, Aunt Mikoto, you're so nice!"
While eating, the two immediately began a strange rivalry.
Naruto stuffed two balls in his mouth at once, grinning triumphantly at Sasuke.
Sasuke normally ate neatly, but seeing this he sped up—trying to shove three in at once, cheeks bulging, glaring fiercely at Naruto.
"These two little guys are totally incompatible," Xuanming's projection commented lazily in the seal space. "Naruto, that Uchiha kid has a face destined for peach blossom luck. He'll be surrounded by admirers later. Stay away, or you might accidentally fall for him too."
"No way I'll lose to him!" Naruto shouted inwardly.
They passed a dart-throwing stall.
Using Xuanming's "calm mind" teaching, Naruto—without chakra—kept his hand perfectly steady and popped three balloons.
Sasuke went harder—Uchiha-style shuriken throwing technique—instantly bursting five.
"Hmph." Sasuke lifted his chin.
"Again!" Naruto rolled up his sleeves.
Mikoto watched the two competing with a soft, amused smile.
"Ah, there's a photo booth."
Spotting a street photographer, Mikoto suddenly had an idea. "Sasuke, Naruto-kun—since you're both having fun, how about a picture together?"
"No!" "I'm not taking one with him!"
Both boys refused in perfect unison, then glared at each other, snorted, and turned away.
"Come on, don't be like that."
Mikoto gently dragged the reluctant pair in front of the camera.
"Closer together."
Though pulled side by side, neither cooperated.
They stood back-to-back, arms crossed, one head tilted left, the other right—mouths pouting so hard you could hang oil bottles from them.
Their faces screamed "I'm too cool for this" and "Don't touch me."
The photographer—visiting from another town for the festival—looked troubled. "Um… ma'am, these young masters don't seem very willing…"
"It's fine. Just take it like this."
Mikoto smiled.
She crouched between them, arms wrapping gently but firmly around each boy, pulling their stubborn little heads slightly closer together.
"Ready! Three… two… one!"
Click!
The flash went off.
The photo captured the moment: festival bustle in the background, Mikoto smiling warmly in the center, a puffy-cheeked, grumpy black-haired Sasuke on the left, and a slightly startled, faintly blushing blond Naruto on the right.
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