Konohagakure No Sato:
Uzumaki Apartnt
Standing in front of his bathroom mirror, Naruto adjusted the collar of his navy-blue Yukata. The fabric was crisp, slling of new cotton and the slight floral scent of the shop Ino had dragged him to.
While his hands moved with chanical precision to smooth out the wrinkles, his mind was operating on a completely different frequency.
(Inviting the Jinchuriki of all things...) Naruto thought, his eyes narrowing at his reflection.
(And it's the Nara of all people. Don't they understand how troubleso things will beco after today? Or rather... do they understand exactly how troubleso it will be, and they're doing it anyway?)
He looked at his blonde hair, which had grown considerably since his "awakening" four months ago. It now brushed against his shoulders.
He reached for a hair tie, pulling the back into a small, neat ponytail, but then he paused. With a deliberate movent, he brought the long, jagged bangs forward, framing his face in a way that felt hauntingly familiar.
(This should look like Mina—no, the Fourth Hokage, right?)
Blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a near-identical hairstyle born simply from the fact that "Naruto" had been too busy training to find a pair of scissors.
(It's been four months, and I haven't cut it. It's finally ti to shine on this occasion.)
Naruto wasn't a fool. Through his subtle probing and observations, he understood that this "party" was a smokescreen for sothing far more significant.
Shikamaru's lazy father was suddenly too busy for shogi. His mother was perpetually worried. Even Shikamaru, the king of apathy, couldn't find a mont to nap peacefully.
The air in the village was shifting, and the Nara were at the center of the storm.
(Let's see if there are any wise people left in this village,) Naruto thought, his expression hardening.
(Let's see if watching like this allows them to finally connect the dots.)
He didn't need to know the specifics of the Nara's plot. His goal was different: Status. Identity. Recognition , AND MOST Importantly
Freedom.
He refused to be defined solely as the "Demon Fox" or a village weapon. He would claim his place as the legacy of the Fourth Hokage—the Hero of the Third World War, the Yellow Flash, and the savior of the Kyuubi's Night.
(Canon Naruto was played and kept in the dark until the very end,) Naruto reflected bitterly.
(If not for Minato's chakra seal and Pain's attack... that sixteen-year-old fool would have stayed a tool even longer. I won't wait that long.)
The opportunity was at his doorstep. He didn't need to scream the truth or make a scene.
(I just need to show my face. Gather support from those who truly loved him—not from the "tools" of the administration, but from the hearts of the shinobi who still respect his mory.)
Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!
The doorbell rang incessantly. Naruto picked up the gift he had carefully prepared for Shikamaru and headed downstairs. He left his mask on the table. Today, he wanted them to see every inch of his face.
He opened the door to find Ino standing there, looking radiant in a white-thed Yukata.
"Naruto! That dress looks amazing on you," he greeted her smoothly.
Ino's eyes went wide, her breath hitching as she took him in—the new hair, the sharp clothes, and the absence of the mask. "Reallyyyyyyyyyyy!!? >
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