As Natsu ventured deeper into the forest, the ambient sounds of nature became increasingly vivid, enveloping him like a living symphony. The rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, the distant songs of birds, and the growing murmur of a nearby waterfall echoed through the trees. Drawn by the sound, Natsu continued his journey, the forest almost guiding him with invisible hands. As the thick underbrush began to clear, he found himself stepping into a wide, open glade—a serene, almost otherworldly scene awaited him.
Before him lay a hot spring, its crystal-clear waters reflecting the soft glow of the sun, which was just beginning to set. The spring was fed by a cascading waterfall, whose rhythmic flow created a calming backdrop to the sight of vibrant blue and red spider lilies blooming around the water's edge. Their petals glowed faintly in the dimming light, as if imbued with some hidden power. The air was thick with moisture, but more than that, it seemed to hum with energy. Natsu could feel it instantly—a pulsing, vibrant energy that seemed to resonate within his very soul.
The sight was stunning, but it was more than just the beauty of the scene that drew Natsu in. He felt an inexplicable pull toward the water, as though the energy surrounding the place was calling out to him, urging him to come closer. The resonance he felt within his body was impossible to ignore. He could feel his chakra reacting to the environment, almost instinctively reaching out to connect with the energy that seemed to permeate the clearing.
His body was weak, a lingering side effect of the sickness and exhaustion he had endured since waking up in Naruto's body. Each step had been a struggle up until now, his energy drained and his muscles fatigued. But as he approached the hot spring, something within him seemed to stir. A sense of calm washed over him, easing the tension in his limbs and soothing the exhaustion that had weighed on him for days. For the first time since waking up in this new life, he felt truly at peace.
Without hesitation, Natsu moved to the edge of the spring, sitting down on a patch of soft grass near the water. The warmth of the steam rising from the spring enveloped him, and the rhythmic sound of the waterfall filled his ears, creating an atmosphere of serenity. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the sounds of the forest and the calming presence of the water to guide his breathing. His body, still weak and recovering, seemed to welcome the stillness, but his mind was focused on a single task—to refine his chakra control.
Natsu knew that in order to survive in this dangerous, unfamiliar world, he needed control. Since waking up in Naruto's body, his chakra had been erratic, difficult to manage. It felt wild, untamed, and without proper control, he knew it would only lead to disaster. This place, with its overwhelming sense of life and energy, seemed like the perfect environment to regain the balance he so desperately needed.
With each breath, he concentrated on his chakra, focusing on its flow through his body. He visualized it moving through his chakra pathways, circulating in a smooth, steady rhythm. The more he concentrated, the easier it became to feel the energy coursing through him. The waterfall's constant rhythm seemed to guide him, helping him synchronize his breathing with the flow of his chakra. His body began to relax, the tension in his muscles melting away as he slipped deeper into meditation.
As he delved deeper into his focus, something began to change. At first, Natsu didn't notice it, too caught up in his attempts to control his chakra, but slowly, he began to feel something new—a second source of energy flowing into him. It wasn't just his chakra anymore; the energy of the natural world around him was seeping into his body, merging with his own chakra. The realization was subtle at first, but soon, he could feel the distinct presence of this new energy—powerful, yet calming, like the steady flow of the waterfall that surrounded him.
Unbeknownst to Natsu, the vibrant blue and red spider lilies that bloomed around the hot spring were no ordinary flowers. In the world he had come from, red spider lilies were often associated with death and danger, symbols of endings and loss. But here, in this world, they held a different meaning. The red spider lilies were aiding him, sharpening his chakra control, heightening his focus, and helping him refine the energy within his body. They pulsed gently with power, their energy weaving itself into Natsu's chakra, enhancing his ability to manage it with a precision he had never experienced before.
Meanwhile, the blue spider lilies that bloomed on the opposite side of the spring were serving a different purpose. In many places, blue lilies were feared for their strange and unpredictable properties, but here, they were acting as a healing force, rapidly regenerating Natsu's weakened body. As he sat in deep meditation, unaware of the full extent of what was happening, the blue spider lilies were working quietly, mending his muscles, restoring his energy, and healing the damage caused by days of sickness and exhaustion.
Natsu remained oblivious to the transformation happening within him. He was too focused on the steady flow of chakra through his body, unaware that the energy of the natural world was merging with his own. The more he focused, the more natural energy he absorbed, blending it seamlessly with his chakra. He had unknowingly crossed into a new realm of training, the realm of natural energy absorption, though he didn't yet understand the significance of it.
His body began to change, though he still hadn't realized it. His hair, once its normal muted color, began to shift, turning a deep, vibrant red, a reflection of the energy of the red spider lilies that surrounded him. His eyes, too, began to glow faintly, their color shifting to a soft, crimson hue. These changes were subtle at first, but as he continued to absorb the natural energy around him, the transformation became more apparent. His senses were becoming more attuned to the world around him, his connection to the natural energy deepening with each passing moment.
Yet, Natsu remained unaware. To him, the sensations he felt were simply the result of refining his chakra. His body felt lighter, stronger, and more resilient. The constant weakness and sickness that had plagued him since waking up were beginning to fade away, replaced by a sense of balance and clarity. The pressure of the forest, which had once made it difficult for him to move, no longer affected him. Every breath he took felt controlled, every movement fluid, as if the environment itself had ceased to be an obstacle.
Time passed, though Natsu had no way of knowing how long he had been sitting by the hot spring. The blue and red spider lilies continued to pulse faintly with energy, aiding his recovery and sharpening his chakra control. The natural energy they provided flowed into him effortlessly, and his body continued to heal at an accelerated rate. Scratches, bruises, and even the lingering fatigue from his previous hardships healed almost instantly, thanks to the energy of the blue lilies.
Eventually, as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a soft golden light across the clearing, Natsu slowly opened his eyes. The sight of his reflection in the water startled him—his hair had turned a brilliant red, and his eyes glowed faintly with a soft, crimson light. He hadn't expected such a dramatic change, but as he gazed at his reflection, he wasn't afraid. The transformation felt natural, as though it had been meant to happen, a byproduct of his connection to the environment.
Natsu stood slowly, stretching his limbs and marveling at the newfound strength he felt coursing through his body. He felt different—stronger, more attuned to the world around him. He noticed something else too—despite the cool evening air, he wasn't cold. Earlier, when he had touched the steaming water of the hot spring, his skin hadn't burned. His body had become resilient to extreme temperatures, perhaps even to other dangers like poison or toxins. He instinctively knew that the red spider lilies were responsible for this newfound protection, their energy woven into his very being, shielding him from the elements.
Despite the physical changes, Natsu still hadn't fully grasped the extent of his transformation. He marveled at his newfound resilience, but he remained unaware of the deeper power he now carried—the natural energy that had merged with his chakra, the transformation that had taken place within him. The red hair and glowing eyes were only surface-level signs of something far more profound.
As he turned to leave the clearing, something caught his eye. He glanced back at the place where the blue and red spider lilies had been blooming, where they had surrounded him during his meditation. But now, they were gone. Every single flower had vanished without a trace, leaving the ground bare. The once-vibrant flowers that had filled the air with energy had disappeared, as though they had never existed.
For a moment, Natsu frowned, puzzled by their sudden disappearance. Had he imagined them? He was sure they had been real—he had seen them, felt their presence, even drawn on their energy. But now, looking back, it was as if the flowers had never been there. The clearing, once vibrant with life, now seemed ordinary.
But Natsu didn't question it further. He wasn't one to dwell on mysteries for too long, especially not when there was still so much he didn't understand about this new world and his place in it. He shrugged, convincing himself that
Natsu jolted awake, his heart hammering in his chest as a sudden, freezing shock overtook his body. Water dripped from his face, soaking through the thin blanket and seeping into the worn-out mattress beneath him. The cold water had been thrown over him with no hesitation, and as he blinked through the shock of being so rudely awakened, he saw the nanny standing over him, a bucket in her hand and a cruel smirk plastered across her face.
"Get up, you filthy brat," she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. She didn't even bother to hide her contempt for him as she carelessly tossed a bundle of dirty, ragged clothes onto his wet bed. "You stink up this whole room like a street rat. Go wash up before you make this place any worse."
Her words were sharp, cutting into the morning silence, as if she derived some twisted pleasure from watching him suffer. Her eyes, cold and filled with a bitterness that Natsu couldn't fully understand, lingered on him with a sense of superiority. This was no accident—she had done this before, and she enjoyed it. For a moment, Natsu just sat there, soaking wet and shivering, his mind trying to process what had just happened. The shock of cold water jolted him fully awake, and as his surroundings came into focus, the truth of his situation began to sink in.
The room was small and cramped, the cracked window allowing a freezing draft to sweep through. The thin blanket he had been using was soaked through, and the mattress beneath him was barely more than a collection of lumps, offering little comfort or warmth. Dust floated in the pale light that filtered through the crack in the window, the stale air heavy with the scent of neglect and abandonment.
This was an orphanage. Natsu realized it now. The room, the conditions, the way he was treated—it was clear that this place wasn't meant to be a home, but rather a prison for children like him. He shuddered, not just from the cold, but from the understanding that began to settle in. Is this how Naruto lived? The question gnawed at him, and a surge of sorrow and anger welled up in his chest. The tales of Naruto's lonely childhood, of being mistreated and ignored by the people of the village, had never seemed as real as they did now, as Natsu lived through it firsthand.
The nanny's voice snapped him back to reality. "Get moving, or do you need me to remind you again?" she barked, her lips curling into a smirk. She turned and left the room without giving him a second glance, leaving Natsu to shiver in the cold, drenched in both water and humiliation.
He forced himself to stand, his body aching from the cold water and the discomfort of the bed. He looked down at the clothes she had thrown at him—they were dirty, stiff with grime, and smelled of mildew. It wasn't just the room that was neglected; it was him. He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of anger rise in his chest. Was this really how Naruto had lived? Treated like garbage, neglected and shamed? He had read about Naruto's struggles, but living it was an entirely different reality.
Still shivering, Natsu grabbed the clothes and trudged down the narrow hallway toward the bathroom. The cold wooden floor creaked beneath his feet, each step echoing in the silence of the orphanage. The bathroom, when he reached it, was just as dreary as his room. Cracked tiles, a rusted sink, and a flickering light overhead gave the space a haunted, abandoned feel. Natsu turned the faucet and, as expected, only freezing cold water rushed out, biting at his skin as he braced himself for the shower.
The cold water felt like knives against his skin, but he scrubbed as quickly as he could, trying to shake off the filth and the feeling of neglect that clung to him. There was no soap, no warmth, nothing but the icy water and the chill that settled into his bones. As he washed, his mind drifted back to Naruto. This was the life he had endured—a life of cold, loneliness, and isolation. Natsu couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pity and sorrow for the boy he had once only read about. Naruto had survived this—but how?
He stared at the cracked mirror above the sink, the flickering light making it hard to see clearly, but when he caught sight of his reflection, his heart nearly stopped. His hair—it was red. Not the usual color he had grown used to seeing, but a deep, vibrant crimson, glowing faintly in the dim light. His eyes, too, had changed—they glowed a soft, eerie red, the reflection staring back at him was almost unrecognizable. For a long moment, Natsu just stood there, staring at the transformation, his mind struggling to comprehend what had happened. Was this real? He touched his hair, feeling the texture between his fingers, but the color remained.
This wasn't a dream.
The realization hit him hard, but there was no time to dwell on it now. He finished his cold shower, pulling on the dirty, stiff clothes that scratched against his skin, and headed downstairs, his mind still spinning from what he had seen. His appearance had changed, and he didn't understand why. Was it something to do with the natural energy he had absorbed from the hot spring and the spider lilies? He couldn't be sure, but for now, he had to focus on surviving this place.
As he descended the creaky stairs, the sound of children talking in hushed voices reached his ears. When he entered the living room, he was greeted by the sight of twenty-nine other children gathered around a large, worn wooden table. The room was dimly lit by the weak sunlight that barely penetrated the dirty windows, casting everything in a dull, grayish hue. The kids sat quietly, eating their breakfast in near silence, their faces blank and indifferent.
But what struck Natsu most wasn't the silence or the mood of resignation in the room—it was the children's clothes. While he was dressed in filthy rags, their clothes looked relatively clean and new. Their shirts were bright, their pants free of grime, and their shoes intact. Some of them even wore jackets, clearly dressed to ward off the cold that permeated the building. The difference between them and him was glaring.
Why was he singled out? Natsu found a spot at the table and sat down, watching the other kids as they ate. They didn't even look at him. Their eyes, tired and empty, focused on their bowls of food, but the message was clear—he was an outsider, even among them.
The nanny moved around the table, handing out bowls of food. She didn't acknowledge any of the children except with a grunt as she placed their food in front of them—warm soup and fresh bread. When she reached Natsu, her expression twisted into one of satisfaction as she slammed down a bowl in front of him. Cold soup. There was no chicken in it, just a few sad-looking vegetables floating in greasy water. Beside it, she dropped a piece of stale bread, hard as a rock.
Natsu stared at the meal in front of him, his stomach twisting in disgust. The other children at least had warm soup—why was he treated worse? The injustice of it all burned in his chest. This was Naruto's life, cold, alone, and mistreated. The nanny's sneering voice cut through his thoughts.
"Eat up, demon," she said with a cruel smirk, her voice dripping with malice. "It's all you deserve."
Natsu clenched his fists under the table, forcing himself to stay calm. He couldn't lash out, not yet. He had to endure this, just as Naruto had. But the anger inside him burned hot. How could they treat a child like this? How had Naruto survived years of this torment? The cold water, the filthy clothes, the mockery—it was enough to break anyone's spirit, but Naruto had pushed through it all. He had survived.
Natsu forced himself to eat the cold, tasteless soup, each spoonful sliding down his throat like grease. The bread was nearly inedible, but he chewed through it, the stale crust scraping against his teeth. He could feel the nanny's eyes on him, watching him struggle, relishing in his discomfort. The other children ate in silence, their eyes downcast, their spirits broken by the same cycle of cruelty.
This was Naruto's life, Natsu reminded himself, the weight of it pressing down on him like a stone. This explained so much—the loneliness, the fierce determination Naruto had developed. He had grown up in a world that had rejected him, treated him as less than human. And yet, Naruto had fought for acknowledgment, for love, despite the cruelty.
As Natsu finished the last bite of bread, his throat tight with emotion, he felt a sense of resolve wash over him. He had to honor Naruto's memory. He couldn't let this suffering go on. The cruelty, the neglect—it had to end. For now, he would endure, just as Naruto had, but he wouldn't stay silent forever.
Natsu glanced around the table at the other children, their blank expressions reflecting the resignation they had learned to live with.
Natsu glanced around the table, his eyes moving from one child to the next. Their faces were blank, eyes hollow and distant, as if they had long since given up on the idea of anything better. There was a shared sense of resignation among them, a silent acceptance of the cruelty that had become their daily reality. No one spoke. The only sounds in the room were the occasional scrape of spoons against bowls and the muffled clatter of utensils. It was a chilling silence, the kind that came from children who had learned that hope was a dangerous thing to cling to.
He couldn't help but feel a deep pang of sorrow for them. These children, too, were victims—perhaps not as isolated and hated as Naruto had been, but still trapped in a system that treated them as less than human. Yet, even here, he was singled out, treated with even more disdain than the others. The other kids received clean clothes, warm food, and perhaps a modicum of attention. Natsu, or rather Naruto, was treated like filth, like a ghost that no one wanted to acknowledge.
As he forced down the last of the cold, greasy soup, Natsu's thoughts kept returning to the injustice of it all. Naruto had lived through this, had endured years of it. The thought that this was only a fraction of what Naruto had faced made Natsu's stomach turn. How could he have stayed so strong? How could he have fought through this without giving in to despair?
Just then, the nanny's sharp voice interrupted his thoughts. "Hurry up and finish, you lazy brat," she snapped, her eyes narrowing in disgust as she watched Natsu push his bowl aside. "Don't think you get to waste food here, even if it's too good for someone like you."
Her words dripped with venom, and Natsu felt a fresh surge of anger rise within him. But he kept his face neutral, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. He knew now that this was Naruto's reality—a life of constant scorn and cruelty, a life where even the basic dignity of a warm meal was denied. And he understood something else: Naruto had faced all of this alone.
But Natsu wasn't just Naruto anymore. He was someone with knowledge, with the insight of an outsider who had seen what Naruto's life could become. He had seen how Naruto had triumphed over his pain, how he had grown into someone powerful, someone respected. But here, in this orphanage, in this dark and bleak corner of Naruto's past, Natsu was determined to change things. He couldn't just endure—he needed to find a way to rise above it.
Once the meal was done, the children filed out of the room slowly, one by one. No one spoke, no one lingered. It was as if they were afraid that staying too long would bring more trouble. Natsu followed suit, but as he made his way toward the door, he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of a nearby window. The faint light from outside cast a dim glow on the glass, and he saw his reflection clearly once again.
His hair was still red. Dark, vibrant red, and not just a subtle change—it was as if fire had been woven into the strands. His eyes, too, glowed faintly with that same eerie, crimson hue, like embers smoldering in the darkness. The shock of seeing himself like this, after the initial surprise in the bathroom, hit him all over again. It wasn't a dream. The transformation was real, and it had happened without him even noticing. His body had changed, but he still didn't know how or why.
Natsu quickly looked away from his reflection, not wanting to draw attention. What if the others noticed? What would they think of him? He knew enough about the cruel world Naruto had lived in to understand that being different was dangerous. It made you a target. And in a place like this orphanage, he didn't want to give the nanny, or anyone else, another reason to single him out. He'd already seen how much they enjoyed making his life harder. They didn't need another excuse.
He quietly slipped out of the room, following the others as they trudged toward their next task of the day. The weight of Naruto's suffering settled heavily on him. He couldn't shake the thought of how many days, weeks, even years Naruto had spent enduring this coldness, this neglect. And yet, despite it all, Naruto had never lost his resolve to be acknowledged, to be seen. It wasn't just physical endurance that Naruto had mastered—it was the endurance of the spirit. The strength to keep going, even when the world treated him like he didn't exist.
Natsu's hands clenched into fists as he walked down the corridor. He couldn't accept this reality. He couldn't just sit by and let the cruel world have its way with him like it had with Naruto. He had to find a way to change things, not just for himself, but for everyone trapped in this cycle of cruelty and neglect. This place, this orphanage, was a microcosm of a much larger problem, but for now, it was the world he had to survive in.
As he walked, his mind raced with plans. He would have to be careful. He couldn't reveal too much too quickly, especially with the transformation he had undergone. But that transformation might also be his advantage—if he could learn how to control whatever power the red hair and eyes symbolized, he could turn the tables. He could become strong enough to fight back, strong enough to protect not just himself, but those who were too weak to stand up for themselves.
For now, though, he needed patience. Naruto's greatest strength had always been his ability to endure until the right moment came. Natsu had to honor that legacy. He would bide his time, gather strength, and when the moment came, he would act.
But until then, he would endure, just as Naruto had. Because no matter how dark things seemed now, he knew there was a future waiting for him—a future where he could rewrite the story Naruto had once lived. And when that time came, he wouldn't be alone anymore. He had something Naruto never had at this age—knowledge, and the will to use it.
With that thought firmly planted in his mind, Natsu walked forward, feeling the weight of his red hair fall against his shoulders, a reminder of the power and the unknown changes within him. The journey ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: he was not going to let this place break him.
As the day began, he kept to himself, quietly observing, planning, and waiting for the moment when he could start to make a difference. For Naruto. For himself. For everyone trapped in the shadow of a world that didn't see them. Change would come, and Natsu would be the one to bring it.
As the hours passed in the bleak orphanage, the knot in Natsu's stomach only grew tighter. The cold soup and stale bread he had forced down earlier had done little to stave off the hunger gnawing at him. His body, though stronger and more resilient than it had been days ago, still craved sustenance—real food that could fuel him through this miserable existence.
He spent the rest of the day blending into the background, observing the other children as they moved through their daily routine. They all seemed to function on autopilot, performing their tasks and chores without complaint, their spirits dulled by years of neglect and monotony. The nanny hovered like a dark cloud, barking orders and scolding anyone who wasn't fast enough to meet her demands.
Natsu felt the hunger claw at his insides, a sharp reminder of how meager his breakfast had been. His mind drifted to Naruto again. How had the boy survived this day after day, with no real food, no kindness, and no hope for anything better? The more Natsu thought about it, the angrier he became. But anger alone wouldn't solve anything—not right now. What he needed was a solution. He needed food, and clearly, he wasn't going to get anything more from the orphanage. The cold soup and rock-hard bread wouldn't be enough to sustain him.
As the day began to wind down, and the children were given a brief moment of free time before bed, Natsu made his move. He slipped out of the building unnoticed, his footsteps quiet against the cracked, uneven ground. The orphanage's yard was bare, save for a few broken swings and overgrown patches of grass. In the distance, he saw the large dumpsters that sat behind the orphanage, their rusted metal frames looming like forgotten sentinels.
His stomach growled, urging him forward. This wasn't the first time he'd thought about searching for food in the trash. Even in his previous life, hunger had often driven him to desperate measures. He knew what it was like to go without, to feel the sharp pangs of hunger eating away at him until he could barely think straight. But now, in this world, it was even worse. He had the memories of someone who had lived this misery every day for years.
Natsu approached the dumpsters cautiously, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. The last thing he needed was to get caught by the nanny or one of the orphanage staff. They would surely punish him for trying to find food on his own, especially since it would undermine their control over him. He didn't want to give them another reason to torment him.
The stench from the dumpsters hit him as soon as he got close, a sour, rotting smell that made him wrinkle his nose. But he didn't hesitate. He had no choice. This was survival.
Natsu lifted the lid of the first dumpster, its rusty hinges creaking loudly in the otherwise quiet evening. He peered inside, his eyes adjusting to the dim light as he sifted through the discarded trash. There were food scraps, rotting vegetables, and bits of moldy bread. He felt a wave of disgust wash over him, but hunger overpowered it. He reached in, pushing aside the worst of the garbage until he found something that looked relatively edible—a bruised apple with a few soft spots.
He pulled it out, wiping it on the hem of his already dirty shirt. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. His stomach growled again, louder this time, as he took a cautious bite. The apple was sour and mushy, but it filled his mouth with moisture, and for a moment, he could almost forget the hunger gnawing at him.
As he chewed, his mind drifted back to Naruto's childhood. This was how Naruto had survived, wasn't it? Scraping by, finding what little food he could, just enough to keep going. It made sense now—why Naruto was always so hungry, always desperate for a real meal. The thought made Natsu's chest tighten with sadness. No child should have to live like this. But here he was, living Naruto's reality, trying to make sense of a world that had been designed to push him down.
He kept searching, pulling out another half-eaten piece of bread, its edges hard but still edible. He pocketed it for later, knowing he couldn't eat everything now. He needed to ration what he found—there was no telling when he'd get another chance to find food.
As he rummaged through the dumpster, his thoughts began to shift. This life—this constant struggle for survival—couldn't continue like this. He knew Naruto had endured it, but Natsu couldn't just accept it. He had to find a way out, not just for himself, but for Naruto's sake, too. He couldn't let the boy's legacy be one of suffering and loneliness. Natsu had knowledge, a sense of purpose that Naruto, at this age, had never had. He would use that knowledge to escape this cycle of pain.
Once he had scavenged what little he could from the dumpsters, Natsu carefully closed the lids and slipped back toward the orphanage, moving quietly through the shadows. The apple and the bread weighed lightly in his pockets, but they were enough to keep him going for now. As he approached the building, the faint glow of the interior lights cast long shadows across the yard, making him feel even smaller, more invisible.
He slipped back inside, unnoticed by the other children, and retreated to his small, cold room. The cracked window let in a gust of chilly air, making him shiver as he sat on the edge of his bed. He pulled the apple from his pocket and took another small bite, savoring the meager nourishment. It wasn't much, but it was something.
As he chewed, his mind raced. He couldn't keep doing this—scavenging for scraps and trying to survive day by day. There had to be a way to change things. But for now, he had to play along, had to endure the cruelty of the orphanage until he could come up with a plan. Naruto had survived by sheer willpower, and Natsu would do the same. But he wouldn't stop there—he would find a way to rise above it, to change his fate.
For now, though, he ate in silence, the darkness of his room closing in around him. The weight of Naruto's past pressed heavily on him, but Natsu was determined. He wouldn't let this be the end of the story. He would fight, just like Naruto had fought—but this time, he had the advantage of knowing what was possible.
As he finished the last bite of the apple, Natsu looked out through the cracked window, his eyes narrowing with resolve. Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow, he would begin to find his way out of this nightmare.
As Natsu slipped back into the orphanage after his search for food by the dumpsters, he noticed the children lined up in the dimly lit hallway. Their faces were blank, tired, their small bodies weighed down by the long day and the cold indifference they had become accustomed to. They stood there, not with any sense of eagerness or anticipation, but with the quiet resignation of children who knew that the meal they were about to receive wouldn't satisfy them—physically or emotionally. The silence was heavy, broken only by the sound of the nanny's footsteps, her worn shoes tapping against the wooden floor as she moved from one child to the next, handing out small portions of bread or a bit of fruit, whatever scraps had been deemed suitable for the evening.
Natsu fell into place at the back of the line, his stomach twisting not with hunger, but with a sense of impending cruelty. He knew what was coming. It was always like this. Every day, every night, the nanny found new ways to remind him that he was different from the others—less than them in her eyes, something to be punished, rather than nurtured. The other children didn't even glance in his direction, too absorbed in their own small worlds of survival to acknowledge the harsh reality that Natsu faced. They received small slices of bread, bits of overripe fruit, or the occasional half-eaten vegetable, things that weren't much but at least edible.
Natsu's turn came, and he stepped forward, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. The nanny's cold eyes flicked toward him, and he could see the faint glint of malice in her gaze. She delighted in this moment, in reminding him of his place. A slow, cruel smile curled at the edges of her lips as she reached behind her, rummaging through whatever spoiled remnants she had saved just for him. With a deliberate motion, she tossed something into his hand—a piece of rotten cheese, the smell immediately assaulting his senses with its sour, rancid stench.
"Enjoy your late-night snack, demon," she sneered, her voice thick with sarcasm, every word meant to wound. She lingered for a moment longer, clearly waiting for a reaction, her eyes watching him with a twisted sense of pleasure. "And don't try to stay awake too long, brat."
Natsu felt his hand tighten around the disgusting, moldy cheese, his knuckles turning white as the sharp smell filled his nose. It was like this every time. She always made sure he got the worst of what little the orphanage had to offer. It was her way of reminding him, day after day, that he wasn't just different—he was less than human in her eyes, a problem that needed to be dealt with, a burden to be punished. The resentment simmered inside him, but he had long since learned how to mask it, how to hide his emotions behind a forced smile. That was the only way to survive here—to endure without showing weakness.
He looked up at her, his lips curving into a thin, practiced smile. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice even and steady, though inside, the anger churned like a storm threatening to break. She wanted him to react, to show some sign of weakness, some crack in his armor that she could exploit. But it wasn't worth it—not now. Let her have her small victory for the night.
The nanny's smirk widened, her eyes gleaming as though she could sense his frustration, but his lack of outward reaction disappointed her. She gave him one final, disgusted glance before turning away, her back straightening as she resumed her task of locking up the house for the night.
Natsu stood there for a moment longer, feeling the weight of the rotten cheese in his hand, the stench filling his nose and making his stomach churn. He glanced around at the other children as they shuffled back to their rooms, their heads down, their movements slow and mechanical. They didn't know. They didn't understand the cruelty he faced—their lives, though difficult, weren't marked by the same constant disdain. They received something edible, at least, something that wouldn't make them gag just by holding it.
As he walked back toward his room, the weight of it all pressed down on him. The mistreatment, the isolation, the systematic cruelty that had become his daily reality. It was inescapable, a cycle of punishment and neglect that kept him in the shadows, reminding him that he was alone in this place. His mind wandered back to Naruto—the boy who had endured all of this without ever truly understanding why. Had Naruto ever realized how poorly he was treated? Or had he just accepted it, believing this was normal? That thought gnawed at Natsu, filling his chest with a deep, aching sadness. How kind had Naruto been, to endure all of this and still seek love, to still believe in something better? How much strength had that taken?
Natsu pushed open the door to his room and sat on the edge of his bed. The room was as cold and unwelcoming as ever, the cracked window letting in a freezing draft that made him shiver. He stared at the rotten cheese in his hand for a long moment before tossing it aside in disgust. The sour smell was unbearable, and he couldn't bring himself to eat it. His stomach growled, but the hunger wasn't enough to make him that desperate—not yet, anyway. He sat there, his mind racing, filled with a mix of frustration, anger, and sorrow. This wasn't a life anyone should have to live.
But Natsu wasn't just anyone, and he wasn't going to sit here and let this break him. He had a plan. Naruto's signature technique—the one that had saved him countless times and made him a legend—the Multiple Shadow Clone Technique. Natsu had seen it so many times, had memorized every hand sign, every movement. He knew how it worked, at least in theory. But his chakra control... that was another issue.
Still, now was as good a time as any to try. He wasn't going to let the orphanage wear him down. He wasn't going to let this cruel life break his spirit. If he could master this technique, even a little, it would give him an edge—a way to fight back, to make small changes until he could figure out a larger plan.
Natsu closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath as he focused on the chakra inside him. It swirled within him, wild and untamed, not nearly as stable or controlled as it needed to be. But he wasn't going to let that stop him. He could feel the energy there, waiting to be molded, waiting to be shaped into something useful. He began to form the hand seals in his mind, visualizing every movement, every step.
"Shadow Clone Technique!" he whispered, his voice low but filled with determination. He pushed his chakra forward, feeling it surge through him, trying to split it as he had seen Naruto do so many times.
There was a sudden burst of smoke, and when it cleared, Natsu found himself staring at a single, wobbly-looking clone standing before him. The clone swayed, unsteady on its feet, its form flickering slightly as if it might dissipate at any moment. It wasn't perfect—not even close. But it was there.
Natsu couldn't help but smile to himself. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He had created a clone, and though it was weak and unstable, it was proof that he could learn. That he could improve. He wasn't at Naruto's level, not by a long shot, but for his first attempt, it was better than nothing. With time and practice, he knew he could get better, stronger.
He glanced around the room, reassured by the fact that no one would notice. The orphanage staff wouldn't understand what he was doing, and even if they saw the clone, they wouldn't recognize it for what it was. Only shinobi would know, only those trained in the arts of chakra and technique. But there were no shinobi here—no Uchiha to sense his chakra or identify the technique. He was safe, at least for now.
As the clone flickered and eventually dissipated with a soft puff of smoke, Natsu sighed, feeling the drain on his chakra. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind him of how much work lay ahead. His control was weak, unrefined, but he had done it, and that was enough to give him hope. He wasn't powerless. He wasn't going to let this place break him, not the nanny, not the orphanage, and not the cruel system that had turned its back on him.
Natsu leaned back on his bed, closing his eyes as the exhaustion from the day finally began to wash over him. He would endure, just as Naruto had. But more than that, he would fight. He wouldn't be passive. With each passing day, he would grow stronger, and he would take small steps toward becoming someone who could change things—not just for himself, but for all those who were trapped in the shadows, just like him.
The future was uncertain, but Natsu's resolve had never been stronger. This was just the beginning.