It was rare for Naruto to be alone.
The seven devoted women had developed an intricate rotation system that ensured at least one of them was always within protective distance. They traded shifts with military precision, coordinated through some silent communication network that Naruto had never fully understood.
But today, circumstances had aligned to create a brief gap.
Anko had been summoned for mandatory proctor duties—paperwork from the Chuunin Exams that could no longer be delayed. Sakura and Ino were attending a required medical training session that their jonin senseis had insisted upon. Satsuki had been called to a meeting regarding "Uchiha clan matters" that even her transformed devotion couldn't ignore entirely.
Hinata, Tenten, and Temari had drawn the short straws for actual mission assignments—D-ranks that their teams couldn't complete without them, no matter how much they protested.
For the first time in weeks, Naruto walked the village streets alone.
It felt... strange.
Not unpleasant. Not threatening. Just strange.
The absence of warmth pressing against him from multiple directions. The lack of adoring eyes tracking his every movement. The silence where seven voices usually competed to offer comfort and affection.
He had grown accustomed to their presence without realizing it.
Another observation to file away. Another sign that something inside him was changing.
The village itself had changed as well.
Naruto noticed it immediately—the way civilians averted their eyes as he passed, the hushed whispers that followed in his wake, the careful distance that everyone maintained.
It wasn't the old hatred. Wasn't the familiar contempt and fear that had characterized his childhood.
This was something different.
Respect, perhaps. Or terror. Or some combination of the two that he didn't have a name for.
People bowed slightly as he walked by. Merchants offered him goods without requesting payment. Ninja who passed him in the streets gave formal nods of acknowledgment rather than the sneers he remembered.
The village was afraid of him.
Or more accurately, afraid of what would happen to them if they weren't respectful.
Naruto observed this shift without feeling anything particular about it. Their fear was logical, given what they likely knew or suspected about recent events. Their respect was pragmatic—self-preservation dressed in courtesy.
It was, objectively speaking, an improvement over being beaten in alleys.
But it wasn't... real.
The girls' devotion was real. Their affection wasn't motivated by fear of consequences—it preceded any display of his power, existed independent of his capabilities, would persist even if he became weak.
The village's new attitude was transactional. Conditional. Subject to change if circumstances shifted.
He noted the distinction without placing value on it.
Then he saw Jiraiya.
The Sannin sat alone on a bench near the village's central fountain.
He looked terrible.
The legendary ninja who had trained the Fourth Hokage, who had faced down armies and S-rank criminals, who had built spy networks spanning continents—he looked like a man who had been hollowed out from the inside.
His shoulders were slumped. His usually wild white hair hung limp and unwashed. Dark circles under his eyes spoke to sleepless nights, and the sake bottle in his hand suggested how he had been filling those hours.
He hadn't noticed Naruto's approach. Hadn't noticed anything, apparently, except the contents of his bottle.
Naruto stopped a few meters away, observing.
He could leave. Should leave, probably. Their previous interactions had established clear boundaries—Jiraiya was a resource to be utilized, not a relationship to be cultivated.
But something kept him there.
Curiosity, perhaps. Or something that might eventually become concern.
"You're deteriorating."
Jiraiya's head snapped up, startled. His eyes—bloodshot, haunted—focused on Naruto with difficulty.
"Kid. Naruto." He laughed, the sound hollow and wet. "Shouldn't you be surrounded by your... your entourage? Your devoted little army?"
"They have obligations today. I'm temporarily unaccompanied."
"Unaccompanied." Another bitter laugh. "Must be nice. Having people who actually want to be around you. People who didn't abandon you for twelve years because they were too busy feeling sorry for themselves."
The self-loathing in his voice was thick enough to cut.
Naruto approached the bench without conscious decision, stopping at its edge.
"You're intoxicated."
"Not nearly enough." Jiraiya took another long drink. "Never enough. Can't get drunk enough to forget what I did. What I didn't do. What happened because I wasn't there."
"Your guilt is unproductive."
"My guilt is the only thing I have left." The Sannin's voice cracked. "I had a godson. Did you know that? Minato asked me to look after his kid if anything happened to him. Made me swear it. Made me promise."
His hand clenched around the bottle.
"And what did I do? I ran away. Traveled the world. Wrote my books. Built my network. Told myself I was doing important work, vital work, work that justified staying away."
Tears began streaming down his weathered face.
"I told myself you were being taken care of. That Hiruzen had things under control. That the village would protect you because you were Minato's legacy."
He laughed again—a sound like breaking glass.
"The village. The village that beat you. Starved you. Broke you so completely that you can't even feel anymore." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And I let it happen. I let them destroy you because coming back, facing what you reminded me of—"
He couldn't finish.
Naruto stood in silence, processing the Sannin's breakdown.
"You blame yourself for my current state."
"Of course I do. I should. Anyone with a conscience would."
"My current state is the result of accumulated trauma over twelve years. You were not present for that trauma. Your culpability is indirect at best."
"Indirect." Jiraiya shook his head. "That's one way to describe abandoning a child to hell."
"You did not create the hell. You simply failed to prevent it. The distinction is relevant."
"Is it?" The Sannin looked up at him, something desperate in his eyes. "Does it matter that I didn't personally beat you? That I didn't personally starve you? That I just... let it happen from a distance?"
Naruto considered the question seriously.
Did it matter?
The village had hurt him directly. The civilians who beat him, the merchants who refused him service, the ninja who looked away when mobs formed—they bore direct responsibility for his suffering.
Jiraiya's crime was absence. Negligence. A failure to act rather than an active choice to harm.
Was that better? Worse? Equivalent?
"I don't know," Naruto admitted finally. "I lack the emotional capacity to assess relative culpability in terms that would be meaningful to you."
"But you must feel something. Anger. Resentment. Something."
"I felt anger once. Recently. When Neji threatened Hinata."
Jiraiya's eyes widened slightly. "You felt anger? Real anger?"
"Apparently. The sensation was unfamiliar. I'm still processing its implications."
"That's..." The Sannin seemed to grasp at the information like a drowning man reaching for driftwood. "That's good. That's progress. That means you're not completely..."
"Broken?"
"I was going to say lost."
Silence stretched between them.
Jiraiya set down his bottle with visible effort.
"The women. The ones following you around." His voice was steadier now, professional curiosity cutting through the alcoholic fog. "They've changed. Physically. And Danzo's people—"
"I don't know what you're referring to."
"You don't—" Jiraiya stopped, studying Naruto's face. "You really don't know. They haven't told you."
"Told me what?"
The Sannin hesitated, clearly wrestling with whether to reveal information that had been deliberately withheld.
"Nothing. Forget I said anything."
"You mentioned Danzo's people. That implies some incident involving ROOT operatives and the women who accompany me."
"It implies nothing. I was drunk rambling."
Naruto observed the obvious deflection without pressing further.
If the women had chosen to hide something from him, they had their reasons. And Jiraiya's near-slip suggested the hidden information was significant—possibly violent, given what he knew of both ROOT and his devoted followers' protective tendencies.
He filed the observation away.
He did not pursue it.
"You should eat something," Naruto said instead. "And hydrate. Prolonged intoxication without nutritional support causes organ damage."
Jiraiya blinked at the unexpected concern. "Did you just... tell me to take care of myself?"
"Your deterioration serves no productive purpose. Your intelligence network has value. Your knowledge of my father's techniques has value. Allowing yourself to decline reduces that value."
"That's not—" The Sannin shook his head. "Never mind. You're right. I should eat. I should do a lot of things."
He stood slowly, swaying slightly before finding his balance.
"Naruto. For what it's worth—which isn't much, I know—I'm glad you're starting to feel again. Even if it's just anger. Even if it's just directed at people who threaten the ones you've claimed."
He paused.
"That's more than I ever expected. More than I had any right to hope for."
"Your expectations regarding my development are not my concern."
"I know. I just..." Jiraiya's voice trailed off. "I just wanted you to know that someone out there—someone who failed you completely—is rooting for you anyway. Even if you don't want them to. Even if they don't deserve to."
He began walking away, his steps unsteady but directed.
"Take care of yourself, kid. And maybe... maybe let those women of yours keep protecting you. Whatever they're doing, however they're doing it—it seems to be working."
He disappeared around a corner before Naruto could respond.
Naruto stood alone by the fountain, processing the encounter.
Jiraiya was broken. Consumed by guilt that served no practical purpose. Drinking himself into oblivion rather than taking constructive action.
It was, objectively speaking, pathetic.
But...
But something in the Sannin's desperation had resonated with something inside Naruto. Some fragment of recognition that he couldn't quite identify.
They had both been abandoned in their own ways.
Jiraiya by his own choices, which led to isolation through guilt.
Naruto by the village's choices, which led to isolation through emptiness.
Different paths to similar destinations.
Loneliness.
Naruto had his devoted women now—warmth and affection that filled the void where emotions should have been.
Jiraiya had no one.
Nothing except memories of failure and a bottle that couldn't make him forget.
Was that... sad?
The question felt strange. Foreign. Like trying to use a muscle that had atrophied from disuse.
But it was there.
A flicker of something that might, eventually, become empathy.
"Naruto-kun!"
The voice cut through his contemplation. He turned to find Anko rushing toward him, her massive form moving with surprising speed, her expression shifting from panic to relief as she spotted him.
"There you are! When I finished the paperwork and you weren't at the apartment, I—" She reached him and immediately pulled him into an embrace, his face pressing against her enormous chest. "Don't scare me like that. Being separated from you is—I can't—"
"I'm fine."
"You're alone. Unprotected. Anyone could have—"
"No one approached me with hostile intent. The village appears to have developed a healthy respect for the consequences of threatening me."
Anko pulled back slightly, studying his face with sharp eyes.
"You talked to someone. I can tell. Your expression is different. Who?"
"Jiraiya."
Her expression darkened immediately. "What did he want? Did he try to—"
"He was intoxicated and expressing guilt. Nothing more."
"He should feel guilty. He abandoned you. He—"
"He's suffering." The words emerged before Naruto consciously chose to speak them. "His guilt is destroying him. He has no one."
Anko stared at him, something complex moving behind her eyes.
"Naruto-kun... are you feeling sorry for him?"
Was he?
The question deserved serious consideration.
Jiraiya had failed him. Had chosen absence over presence. Had allowed twelve years of abuse to occur without intervention.
But he was also clearly in pain. Clearly destroying himself with self-recrimination that served no purpose. Clearly alone in ways that Naruto now understood were their own form of torture.
"I don't know," Naruto admitted. "But I think I might be starting to."
Anko's expression shifted through several emotions—surprise, concern, something that might have been hope.
"That's... that's actually progress," she said softly. "Feeling empathy for someone who hurt you. Recognizing their suffering even when they caused yours."
"It's uncomfortable."
"Most feelings are, at first." She pulled him closer again, her arms wrapping around him with protective intensity. "But that's okay. We'll help you through it. All of us. Whatever you feel, however confusing it is—we're here."
"I know."
"Do you?" Her voice dropped to something almost vulnerable. "Do you really know what you mean to us? What we would do for you?"
Naruto thought about Jiraiya's near-slip. About Danzo's people. About the fear he had seen in the village's eyes.
"I'm beginning to suspect," he said carefully.
Anko's arms tightened.
"Good," she whispered. "That's good. Just... let us handle the details. Let us protect you. You focus on feeling. On growing. On becoming whole."
"And the details?"
"Aren't your concern." Her voice carried finality. "We love you, Naruto-kun. That's all you need to know. Everything else—everything we do, everything we've done—it's because we love you."
Naruto let her hold him.
Let her warmth surround him.
Let her love—fierce, protective, possibly violent in ways he was choosing not to investigate—wash over him without resistance.
It was enough.
For now, it was enough.