Two years had passed, and Naruto, now ten years old, had become a shadow of his former self. The vibrant boy who once sought acceptance and affection was now a figure of cold detachment and relentless bitterness. The time since he had last spoken to Sasuka had only deepened the void within him. The bond they had shared was nothing but a distant memory, overshadowed by the cruelty of his new reality.Each day, the villagers inflicted their rage upon him. Their disdain seemed to grow with each passing day, manifesting in daily beatings that left him battered and bruised. Naruto never fought back. The physical pain was nothing compared to the torment he felt inside. Instead, he endured their hatred with a grim determination. Each assault became fuel for his anger, a stark reminder of the world's cruelty and his own perceived weakness.In the quiet moments between the assaults, Naruto found solace in the training grounds. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could channel his anger into something productive. The once bright training fields now bore witness to his relentless pursuit of power. He threw himself into his exercises with a desperation that bordered on madness. His fists struck the wooden posts with a fury that spoke of his desire for revenge, his movements sharp and precise, driven by a singular goal: strength.Naruto's perspective on happiness had shifted drastically. He no longer saw it as a pursuit or a goal. Happiness, he now believed, was a fleeting luxury that could be lost in an instant. What mattered was strength-the ability to protect oneself and those one cared about. Happiness was irrelevant if it could not be safeguarded. His previous dreams of acceptance and belonging had been replaced by a singular focus on becoming powerful enough to ensure that nothing could ever be taken from him again.His training had become an obsession. The pain he inflicted on himself during practice was a constant reminder of his existence, a way to prove to himself that he was still alive. Each bruise and scrape was a testament to his endurance. He didn't need sympathy or recognition. What he needed was the ability to protect himself from the world's cruelty.The villagers' hatred was a daily reminder of his past failures and current resolve. Every harsh word, every blow, fueled his determination. Naruto's eyes, once filled with hope and warmth, were now empty, reflecting only the cold resolve to become stronger. He no longer cared about proving himself to others. His drive was internal, a raw, unyielding force that pushed him to surpass his limits.Though Sasuka occasionally crossed his path, their interactions were nonexistent. She moved through the world with her own burdens, and Naruto remained a silent, ghostly presence on the periphery. Any remnants of the connection they once shared were buried under layers of bitterness and regret.Naruto didn't acknowledge her, and she respected that silence, though it weighed heavily on her. She could see the transformation in him, the way he had withdrawn from the world. It was as if he had become a mere shadow, consumed by his own rage and sorrow.As Naruto continued his relentless training, he questioned the very nature of his existence. What was the point of happiness if it couldn't be protected? The answer he had found was simple: strength. Strength was the only way to ensure that nothing could ever be taken from him again. It was his only shield, his only weapon in a world that had shown him only cruelty.In the silence of the training grounds, Naruto's resolve was forged anew. His desire for revenge and his hatred became his driving forces. He pushed himself harder, each day a step further into the darkness he had embraced. The world around him may have been indifferent, but he would carve his path through it with sheer willpower and unrelenting strength.Naruto had become a man driven not by hope or dreams but by the raw, primal need to survive and protect himself from the unrelenting harshness of the world. His heart, once open and full of hope, was now a fortress of solitude, guarded by the walls of his own making.