Konoha. The Hidden Leaf Village.
For some, it was a place of peace and order, built on strong traditions and sacred legacies. For others… it was just an ordinary place, with markets, alleys, laughter, and noise.
But for him...
It was a cage.
A cold silence, punctuated by averted gazes. A gilded prison, where every smile would vanish the moment he entered a room. A place where the word "hello" felt like an offense, and the word "family" a cruel joke.
Naruto Uzumaki was four years old. And he already knew what it meant to be unloved.
Each morning, he woke up in a dusty little apartment, with a torn mattress, a box of expired milk, and a cracked ceiling that echoed the footsteps of others above.
There was no one to say, "Wake up, Naruto." No warm arms. No gentle voice.
Only the sound of his own breathing… and a presence in his mind.
[Primary System: Infinite Evolution – Activated]
[Every second alive slightly increases your power.]
[+0.1 chakra pool… +0.05 perception… +0.02 regeneration…]
He didn't know where the voice came from. It wasn't human. It had no tone, no warmth. Just a cold, absolute truth.
It had been with him since his earliest memories, like an invisible ghost no one else could hear.
Naruto never told anyone. No one wanted to listen anyway.
When he walked the streets of Konoha, it was like pushing through fog.
Adults looked away. Shopkeepers packed up their stalls. Children were pulled back by their parents with sharp gestures.
"Don't look at him."
"Get inside."
"He's not a child."
He didn't understand why. But he understood that.
He understood that something in him made them afraid.
And so, after receiving so many hateful looks… he stopped looking for any others.
He had never had friends. Not one. No games. No birthdays. No stories read by firelight.
So, he began to pretend.
He pulled pranks. Painted graffiti. Yelled through the Academy halls. Made others laugh, or scream—but made them see him.
Because even scorn was better than being forgotten.
If you see me as a monster… then I'll be a cheerful monster.
But inside? He was crumbling.
At night, when the village slept, Naruto would sit alone in the dark, at the edge of his window, staring at the stars. Counting the seconds.
[+0.1. +0.1. +0.1.]
He focused on the inner voice. That system which, silently, was making him stronger every second.
It was his only companion. His only support.
I don't know what you are… but at least you don't abandon me.
At five, he could already feel chakra flowing through his body like a disciplined river. He could sense the heartbeats of people in the street. Hear their footsteps through walls.
And he said nothing.
He had learned to breathe slower, to feign exhaustion, to deliberately miss his kunai throws. He learned to be mediocre in public, and brilliant in secret.
He recorded everything: – Sasuke's movements. – The teachers' whispers. – The training patterns.
He watched, learned, copied. Then surpassed.
One day… you'll see. But it will be too late.
At six, he understood that no one was coming.
No family. No mentor reaching out. No miraculous mission. No "voice of destiny".
Just him, and the cold hatred he fed every day like a flame he refused to extinguish.
You rejected me. I'll reject you too.
At the Academy, Naruto was an anomaly.
Always present. Never included. Always alive. Never invited.
He observed. Calculated. Acted.
But he trusted no one.
Not even Iruka, who seemed sincere. Naruto saw the hesitation, the poorly hidden fear in his movements. Iruka wasn't cruel. But he wasn't dependable.
You too… you look at me with memories in your eyes. Not with your heart.
Sometimes, he dreamed.
He dreamed of a hand reaching out. A voice saying, "Come, Naruto. You're not alone." A shared laugh. A warm meal.
Then he'd wake up, drenched in sweat, heart pounding, with only the stars as his witnesses.
Those kinds of dreams… I don't deserve them.
What he didn't know yet… was that the system he'd been feeding for so long, that silent strength…
…would soon take him beyond this world.
To a place where gods wear red armor. Where assassins have hair like fire. And where, for the first time, he might finally find… someone to reach out to.