That evening, Iruka returned home. It was not actually that late; the sky beyond the window had only just turned an inky blue, and only a few distant streetlights had flickered on. Yet, with nothing to do, he still lay down early.
In the darkness, his thoughts spread like vines breaking free of their restraints. Two images echoed repeatedly in his mind—the moment that childhood disaster had descended, and Kurama's pupils, branded deep into his memory.
And over the past year or so, there had been that blond boy in the classroom and on the training field: the curve at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, the stubborn pout when he was scolded...
Without realizing it, he recalled the Third Hokage's words. It was because of that order back then that he had become a teacher, and Naruto's teacher.
"Iruka, it's not that I can't understand how you feel... But in a sense, Naruto is actually someone like you. He does not know a parent's love, and because of that incident, the villagers avoid him."
"Besides, Naruto's mental state is far from ideal. Because of his loneliness, this child has matured far beyond his age. If an ordinary child were so shunned and rejected, he might do foolish things just to draw attention."
"But... this child has instead distanced himself from those who actively reject him, completely shutting the malice in his heart outside... Yet that does not mean he has already grown used to being alone..."
The Third Hokage had asked him to look after Naruto and become his teacher. Iruka remembered how deeply resistant he had been at the time. He knew the truth about Kurama—the vicious beast that had killed his parents was sealed inside the child before him.
Unlike the other villagers, Iruka understood