JohnnyZ
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[Mad Tiger] Chapter 31
🕑 Added 2024-12-25 23:39:48 +0000 UTCEvery critter in the village knows me, but thankfully I’ve had to stay hidden from humans, not critters. Shisui mentioned that, as a subtle remnant of the Uzumaki family, I’m effectively unrecognizable to most. Since memories of the Uzumaki family were suppressed for everyone, the only one who might identify me would be Asuma. Even then, he’d only recognize me as the daimyo’s cat at best—if I slipped up. Otherwise, I’m a total unknown.
Minato thought of nearly everything. With Sarutobi’s help, the archives were wiped clean. Even the Hokage’s names were always kept secret; they were referred to by their titles—Shodaime, Nidaime, Sandaime, Yondaime, Godaime. Connections, supply routes, trade, and contracts were all managed through the neighbouring city’s - Otakuku’s logistical office. Those who knew of Kushina-san’s role were either in the village at the time and caught in the genjutsu’s radius, intimidated into silence, or outright eliminated during the “palace coup.”
By morning, a few more officials had been quietly taken out—likely because they either refused to cooperate or were inconvenient to the Sarutobi clan. Then, the clan itself became victims of the demon’s chakra, suppressing their memories and allowing them to forget their own misdeeds.
In the end, only six people knew what really happened: Sarutobi Hiruzen, who reclaimed his title as the Third Hokage; his son, Sarutobi Asuma, who orchestrated the purges and palace coup; the daimyo and his wife, Minoruhi and Shijimi (my former owners, whom I recalled, coma made a total mess out of my memories); and Uzumaki Kushina and Uchiha Shisui, who were supposed to have died that night. Oh, right—seven. There’s also that masked man who assisted Minato.
Even the animals couldn’t reveal what had happened. For one, nothing really changed for them. Sure, there was a red moon, and their owners stared at the sky for five minutes before going about their business. Second, animals don’t care much about politics or who’s in charge of their human companions, they wouldn’t mention that out of their own volition. And third, even the ninken wouldn’t have the vocabulary to explain something so convoluted, like how the entire village had been manipulated to remove their Hokage and create hatred for a new jinchuriki.
While the children weren’t brainwashed to hate Naruto, their memories of him as a good friend and classmate were sealed, ensuring his complete isolation.
The new jinchuriki’s environment had been meticulously planned—except for me. Cats are usually tied to their territories, so if I’d been near the Uzumaki residence when it was destroyed, I’d likely have been killed. But whoever orchestrated this either didn’t know I existed or forgot about me thanks to the technique. If not, well, Shisui explained that Naruto had been relocated to a tiny apartment near a boiler station, almost diametrically opposite to his previous home. So even if my continued existence was considered they’d think of me as an ordinary cat, who would have stayed in his old territory, instead of seeking out his owner.
But I’m far from ordinary.
Minato’s plan was solid, but it faltered when he used an untested sealing technique—one he had no way to verify. His vision of reclaiming the Yondaime title and raising his son is now impossible. Naruto is left alone in a village that despises him. Kushina can’t intervene, weakened as she is, and burdened by the same hatred.
I respected her even more when she made Shisui promise never to tell Naruto the truth—that his father was behind it all. She insisted the boy should keep his bright memories of a man he saw as a hero. That’s what good parenting looks like. Naruto’s life is hard enough; having his ideals shattered could be devastating.
Our plan was straightforward: I would look after the kid while Kushina-san and Shisui searched for allies and ways to undo the seals and hatred. Personally, I decided I’d try to awaken the children’s memories of Naruto as their friend. Complete isolation, with only an elderly, “kindly” Hokage to feed him, is a depressing existence. The kid needs support, and I intended to offer it—even if it’s just a furry shoulder to lean on… Wait, do cats even have shoulders?
Shisui carried me to the edge of the Forest of Death. I wasn’t yet back in full form to deal with the monsters there, who might think I looked like an adorable, fluffy chocolate treat on legs. I didn’t mind the ride.
“Good luck, Tora-san,” Shisui said, giving me a quick pat before setting me on the grass.
I immediately bolted toward the Hokage Monument, heading away from any place that could compromise me. My target: a village where one face—one very important face—was now missing from the mountain.
At the Shinobi Academy, I hit a wall. Apparently, for some incomprehensible reason, Naruto’s class had been sent on a field trip immediately after the festival. Only after several hours of eavesdropping on the teachers did I glean the truth: the “demon child” had been excluded, which the adults rationalized as “for the best.” Apparently, the parents would have protested against their kids being exposed to “danger.” To me, this screamed of an attempt to solidify Naruto’s image as an outsider among the children. Monsters.
I ran toward the boiler station. There were plenty of buildings in that area, but Shisui had described a brown-roofed, three-story industrial building where Naruto lived alone in the attic, with no neighbors.
It took me a couple of hours to find the place. At first, I ran right past it—I mean, who would expect Naruto to live above a boiler station? But then I noticed two large, shiny windows that stood out from the rest of the structure. Something about them felt oddly familiar.
Peering through the windows, I noticed something strange: the shutters were designed backward, as though flipped inside out. Anyone could enter Naruto’s apartment through the window—there were handles on the outside, just like on the inside. Clearly, this wasn’t a mistake by some clumsy installer. It was intentional, making it easier to monitor Naruto or access his home. I tested the handle and pulled; the window opened silently and with minimal effort. No one was home.
The apartment smelled like Naruto. There was also the faint scent of recent renovations and instant ramen. I explored the space: one bedroom with a bed and two small wardrobes, a tiny kitchen with a stove, table, and mini-fridge, a bathroom with a toilet and shower. The furniture was sparse, and most of it didn’t seem to belong to Naruto. The fridge—an appliance I’d mastered opening back in the Uzumaki household—contained only a carton of milk. On the table were a few packs of instant noodles.
I exited the apartment the same way I’d entered, closing the window behind me. Most likely, the surveillance wasn’t on the apartment itself but on Naruto. Now I needed to find him.
But first, I planned to scout the local residents and establish my territory. Unfortunately, I didn’t get far. As I circled the block, I sensed a strange spike in chakra and heard shouting.
“Don’t you dare come near my son, you little monster! Stay away from him!” shrieked a woman, her voice shaking with rage. The sound alone was enough to make my fur stand on end, and a sinking feeling gripped my chest.
In the alleyway, I found my little chick—Naruto—cornered by several adults. They had him trapped against the wall, their expressions grim, while he glared back at them from under his brows, defiant yet vulnerable.
“I didn’t do anything!” he yelled, his voice cracking so sharply it almost brought tears to my eyes. “Why do you all treat me like this? I didn’t do anything! I hate you! I hate how you all look at me!”
He took a single step forward, and the crowd recoiled, parting like a wave. The adults were trembling, but it didn’t look like they’d resort to violence—yet. The kids stood nearby, watching with wide eyes, their confusion evident. They began whispering among themselves, mimicking their parents’ unease, murmuring things like, “Something’s wrong with that boy.”
Naruto broke free of the crowd and ran toward home. It was gut-wrenching to see him like that, isolated and confused, struggling against a world that seemed determined to crush him.
And as I watched him go, a strange unease crept over me. This… this felt too familiar. Like I’d seen it all before. Like I’d been here before. But how? Why?
No. Focus, Tora. Stick to the mission.
I darted back to his apartment, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. As I approached, I noticed two figures just outside his window. I crept closer, pressing myself low to the edge of the parapet, listening intently. That sickly sweet voice was unmistakable—the so-called benefactor had come for a visit.
“Please, can you at least tell me my parents’ names?” Naruto’s voice trembled with desperation, raw and heartbroken. “I just want to know their names…”
“That’s not important, Naruto,” the elder replied smoothly, his tone so infuriatingly patronizing it made my tail lash. “Your parents have been gone a long time. Knowing their names won’t change anything.”
I could practically see Hiruzen Sarutobi’s wrinkled face, his kindly “grandpa” smile, as he spewed this garbage.
“Then why does everyone treat me like this? What did I do to them?” Naruto’s voice cracked again, teetering on the edge of a scream.
“What do you mean?” The old man feigned surprise, his voice dripping with false concern. “You must be imagining things. Maybe it’s because you’ve been a little mischievous in the past, hmm? Some people might be upset about that. But don’t worry, Naruto. If you ever need anything, you can always come to me. You know I’ll help you.”
The door clicked shut, and through the window, I saw the distinctive white triangle of Hiruzen’s hat bobbing down the street, his stride calm and measured.
And yet again, it hit me—that gnawing feeling that I’d seen this before. Like I was trapped in some kind of deja vu loop. What was this? Was I some kind of clairvoyant cat now?
Before I could get my thoughts in order, the window creaked open. Naruto leaned out, his face tired and drawn. Then he spotted me, his expression lighting up just a little.
“Oh, hey there, kitty,” he said softly, his voice carrying a tentative warmth. It seemed he’d come out for some air and ended up finding me instead.
