[Three years after the Nine-Tails incident]
[Hidden Leaf Village – Konoha]
***
The days in the Hidden Leaf Village had taken on a rhythm—gentle, predictable, comforting in the way sunlight filtered through the trees of the surrounding forests and danced on the rooftops of old tile houses.
Life was normal, or at least it seemed normal to most of its residents.
And nestled beside the ever-popular Ichiraku Ramen was a peculiar, charming bakery with a perpetually glowing sign and the strange aroma of magic and cinnamon.
To the rest of the world, Heaven's Oven was just the best place to grab something warm, sweet, or golden-crusted. But for a growing child named Naruto Uzumaki, it was more than that.
It was a second home—a kingdom where sugar reigned, and magic didn't need a wand or a scroll, just a patient smile from a tall man with long white hair who never said "no" to a second helping.
Naruto was three now. Still tiny, still wild, but unmistakably the same boy whose first cries had echoed over the village on the night of fire and fear.
The village no longer whispered when he passed. No pointed fingers or subtle flinches from adults. No children being pulled away. In their minds, there was no reason to.
The boy was just the son of the Hokage. A mischievous kid with a mop of golden hair, a nose always smeared with something sweet, and a stubborn grin that looked too much like Minato's.
The memory of the Nine-Tails—of what had really happened—was buried, tucked away neatly by Darius like an old record put back in the wrong sleeve.
He had no regrets. Let this boy grow up happy. Let him have laughter before disaster came knocking.
And so Naruto lived his early years dancing in and out of Heaven's Oven, sticky-fingered and starry-eyed, shadowed not by hatred but by the scent of rising dough and caramelized apples.
He wasn't the only child who claimed the bakery as his playground.
Verity and Aurama, Darius' daughter and niece respectively, were his constant companions—his "team," as he called them, though they were more likely to topple trays of muffins than engage in any real mission.
The three were inseparable. Together they invented a hundred games that usually ended in someone getting flour in the face or Kurama being tied up in ribbons and forced to be a dress-up doll.
Kurama, once the fearsome Nine-Tails, now occupied a warm basket under the display window during business hours. He grumbled constantly about his reduced status, but the truth was, he had never been more relaxed.
Miniaturized to a manageable lap-size thanks to Darius' interference, the ancient tailed beast spent most of his time napping, occasionally opening one eye to groan about someone stepping on his tail or calling him "Fluffy."
The girls adored him. Naruto, too.
"I'm gonna be stronger than Kurama one day!" Naruto would declare while trying to lift a sack of sugar that was clearly three times his weight.
[A/N: Just to clarify, whenever Kurama mentions his status as 9 tails, it goes in one ear and out the other. Darius' lil tinkering prevents anyone from fully recognising what Kurama is.]
Kurama would scoff, licking his paw. "Maybe in the next millennia, runt."
The first floor of the house had become a sanctuary—not just a bakery, but a second home for Minato and Naruto.
On the days when Hokage duties pulled Minato too far into the heart of bureaucracy, Naruto would be left under the watchful eye of Darius, Diana, Ororo, and Hela.
Each brought something different to Naruto's world.
Diana taught him discipline—not the strict kind, but the respectful kind. She would sit with him during slow afternoons, helping him practice balance on wooden planks or reading to him through old texts about bravery and choices. Although Naruto was a little too, well, little for such.
She spoke of her own distant homeland sometimes, never in full detail, but with a warmth that made Naruto dream of sword fights.
"Courage isn't the absence of fear," she told him once, helping him up after a tumble from a balance beam. "It's standing anyway, even when you're scared."
Naruto took that to heart.
Ororo, with her calm aura and ever-present smile, was the one who soothed him. When nightmares shook him awake, or when he cried for reasons he didn't understand, she would hold him gently and tell him stories of thunder gods and sky spirits.
Sometimes, when he couldn't sleep, she'd summon a light drizzle over the garden just to help him drift off to the sound of soft rain.
She was the mother figure he didn't have. And though she never tried to replace Kushina, Naruto always found her presence calming, like being wrapped in a warm blanket that smelled faintly of ozone and lavender.
Hela was… different.
She didn't coddle. She didn't smile much. But Naruto admired her deeply. She treated him like any other human being, not a child, and never sugar-coated her words.
"Don't beg the world to like you," she said one day as Naruto sulked after failing to impress a few older kids in the village. "Make it respect you."
She trained him harder than the others. Even at his young age, she'd have him practice throwing tiny shuriken at apple targets hung from tree branches.
"You'll miss," she'd say bluntly, "and that's fine. Just don't quit."
And of course, there was Darius.
He was the center of it all. The anchor.
The one who patched up scraped knees with a flick of his finger and turned bad moods into muffins. To Naruto, Darius wasn't just a bakery owner.
There were moments when Naruto caught Darius doing things that didn't seem real. Bread rising on its own. A broken window unbreaking itself. A man shouting outside the shop suddenly forgetting why he was angry.
But he never questioned it. Because Darius was Darius, and the bakery was magic, and some things didn't need explaining.
Minato was grateful for it all. The Hokage's days were long, grueling, often filled with conflict and politics. But when he saw Naruto laughing with Verity and Aurama, or cuddled up with Kurama, or perched on Diana's lap listening to a story—something in him healed.
He would join them for dinner often, bringing documents or scrolls with him, only to be scolded by Verity for "being a boring grown-up."
More than once, he fell asleep at the kitchen table while Darius quietly slid a pillow under his head and Ororo placed a blanket around his shoulders.
In this household of gods and misfits, Minato had found his family. The village began to change as well.
Slowly, subtly, the people of Konoha grew used to the presence of the "mysterious bakery family." Darius' goods were so addictive that even the gruffest jonin found themselves smiling as they bit into an apricot-glazed croissant.
Children told stories about the talking fox and the who could change her hair colour when excited. The adults talked about how their joint pain vanished after eating one of Hela's "shadow buns," though no one dared ask what the filling was.
Life in the village became a little brighter. A little more magical.
And through it all, Naruto grew.
At four, he could outrun most of the genin in a footrace (barefoot, too, because he hated sandals). He could make perfect shadow puppets and terrible shadow clones (the jutsu always turned into lanky, dumbed down version of him).
His chakra, untamed as it was, still rippled with raw promise. Occasionally, it would flare when he was happy or angry, causing nearby lanterns to flicker or spoons to spin. Darius would just chuckle and gently tap Naruto's head, calming it all down.
"There's power in you, little fox," he'd say with a wink. "But there's more in your heart. Don't forget that."
The quiet days continued.
Spring brought cherry blossoms and strawberry pastries. Summer meant mango tarts and mischief in the cooling fountains. Autumn rolled in with pumpkin spice loaves and lazy fireside naps.
Winter brought gingerbread walls and hot cocoa fights that inevitably ended with Kurama buried in marshmallows and screaming for help.
And though the world outside prepared for its next cycle of chaos and war, for now, Konoha was calm.
A boy named Naruto, raised not by fear or solitude, but by a strange, loving family of gods and heroes, had grown strong—not just in chakra, but in spirit.
***
[Hidden Leaf Village – Early Morning]
[Four Years After the Nine-Tails Incident]
Sunlight cracked through the horizon like golden syrup pouring from the seams of the world, coating the Hidden Leaf Village in a gentle amber warmth.
The streets were still quiet, save for the occasional sweep of a broom or the soft creak of a door being opened by an early riser.
Birds chirped without a care, flitting between rooftops and branches, their melodies dancing through the air.
Inside Heaven's Oven, the morning bustle had already begun—though it wasn't the usual hum of baking trays and customer chatter.
Today was different.
Today was special.
Inside the warm walls of the bakery, the air smelled of roasted pecans, toasted oats, and the lingering hint of honey. The lights were on, though no pastries sat behind the glass counters yet.
For once, the oven remained quiet.
Because today, all eyes were on the three kids bouncing from counter to counter in barely-contained excitement.
Naruto, Verity, and Aurama were already dressed in their freshly prepared academy uniforms—white tops, blue pants or skirts, and bright headbands that had yet to receive their Leaf insignias.
Verity had spent nearly twenty minutes fussing over Aurama's collar, trying to make it perfect, while Naruto impatiently adjusted his sleeves and looked in the mirror for the fifth time that morning.
"Do I look cool?" he asked no one in particular, hands on his hips as he turned sideways. "Like… ninja cool?"
"You look like a sugared doughnut," Kurama grumbled from under the front window, his tiny body curled up in a nest of tea towels. His tail flicked lazily, clearly unimpressed.
"That's because I ate one," Naruto replied with a smug grin, wiping the sugar off his cheek with the back of his hand. "Uncle Darius made them. I needed fuel."
Verity giggled, folding her arms. "You're going to need more than sugar if you wanna pass the first test."
"I'll pass," Naruto declared proudly, puffing out his chest. "I've got secret weapons. Two of 'em." He jabbed a thumb at his companions. "You guys!"
Aurama arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "You mean we're the ones making sure you don't trip on your own sandals."
"Details!" Naruto said with a laugh, ducking as she reached over to swat him.
From the kitchen archway, Darius leaned against the doorframe with a steaming mug in his hand, his white robes flowing loosely over his shoulders.
His long hair glowed faintly as the sunlight caught the tips, his robes caught the glint of morning with soft brilliance.
His eyes were half-lidded with amusement, watching the three children argue and play as though they had the whole world at their feet.
Behind him, Ororo gently placed a tray of fruit slices and tea on the table, while Diana stood beside her, arms crossed and lips tilted in a half-smile.
"They're going to break something," Diana muttered under her breath, even though she didn't sound particularly concerned.
"They're kids," Ororo replied. "It's what they're supposed to do."
"They're not just kids," Hela added from the far corner, her legs crossed elegantly as she sharpened a kunai with deliberate strokes. "They're trouble. I'd bet on them starting a riot before lunch."
"They'd have to outpace Naruto's mouth first," Kurama chimed in again, tail twitching.
Verity poked her tongue out at the fox. "You love us, Fluffy. Admit it."
Kurama mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a reluctant purr and turned to bury his face in the tea towels again.
By the time the three children were finally wrangled and their clothes double-checked for symmetry, Darius stepped forward with a little nod and clapped his hands once. The room stilled.
"Alright, you three," he said, setting down his mug and crouching slightly so he was level with them.
"Today's a big day. You start your journey as ninja. You'll learn how to protect others, how to understand yourselves, and how to fail with grace until you can succeed with power.
It's not about becoming the strongest. It's about becoming the best version of you. Got it?"
All three nodded, their expressions serious now. Darius reached out, brushing his fingers over Naruto's unruly hair and then tugging gently on Aurama's ear, making her yelp in protest.
Then, with a warm smile, he placed a small silver medallion into Verity's hand.
"For luck," he said softly.
Just then, the front door of the bakery swung open with a small jingle, and in stepped the Hokage.
Minato Namikaze looked far too put-together for someone who had likely been reviewing scrolls since dawn. His robes were pristine, his golden hair tousled but neat, and his presence still held the calm authority of a leader beloved by his people.
But as he looked across the room at Naruto, his serious expression melted into a proud, fatherly grin.
"You ready, champ?" he asked, kneeling beside Darius.
Naruto bolted forward and leapt into his arms. "You bet!"
Minato lifted him easily, hugging him tightly before setting him down again. "Remember what I said?"
Naruto nodded, voice softer now. "Don't run in the halls. Don't prank Iruka-sensei. Try not to talk during jutsu explanations."
"Try," Darius added with a raised eyebrow. "Not 'don't.' Good start."
Everyone chuckled.
Darius and Minato stood up together, the children filing between them, bright-eyed and jittery. Diana gently fixed Verity's braid.
Ororo pulled Aurama into a brief hug. Hela tossed each of them a single senbon "just in case," which Darius confiscated instantly with a sigh.
And then, the group headed out into the morning light.
The streets of Konoha had begun to wake up properly now. Market stalls were opening, children were rushing with bent lunches, and older shinobi nodded respectfully as the group passed.
No one found it strange anymore to see the Hokage walking beside the tall, robed foreigner with the glowing presence. Their friendship was old news.
Darius had earned his place in the village—not through titles or battle, but through the simple act of being there.
Naruto skipped between them, hands behind his head, while Verity and Aurama walked with more elegance and purpose, whispering about seating arrangements and class rosters.
"I bet they put us in the front," Verity said. "Alphabetical order."
"No way," Naruto argued. "I'm sitting by the window."
"Why?" Aurama asked.
"Because that's where all the cool protagonists sit in every book."
Minato laughed. "That's oddly specific."
They rounded the last corner toward the Academy, the tall, traditional building standing proudly beneath a canopy of trees.
Other parents and children were gathered near the gate, some chatting nervously, others snapping last-minute photos or brushing off lint from little uniforms.
The arrival of the Hokage naturally caused heads to turn, but the people smiled, waved, and greeted him kindly. They were used to seeing him walk his son to important events.
What surprised them, however, was the group that came with him. Few knew the full story of Darius and his family, but they had learned not to question it.
When gods settle down to run a bakery, you don't argue. You order croissants and nod politely.
Inside the Academy, Iruka Umino stood in the front hallway clutching a clipboard, his nerves held at bay only by his sense of duty.
This was his first year teaching a full class. He'd met a few of the students before in prep sessions, but today was the full intake.
When the doors opened and Naruto came barreling in with Verity and Aurama in tow, Iruka barely had time to brace himself before being tackled around the waist.
"IRUKA-SENSEI!!"
"Wah—Naruto!" he chuckled, patting the boy's head as he struggled to regain his balance. "You're early!"
"I wanted the best seat!"
Iruka glanced up and smiled as Minato and Darius entered together, followed by the rest of the family. "Good morning, Hokage-sama. Darius-san."
"Morning," Minato said casually.
Iruka offered a respectful nod. "These three are definitely ready."
"I wish I could say the same for the class," Darius said dryly, shaking Iruka's hand with his usual calm presence. "Try not to expel them in the first week."
Iruka laughed nervously. "I'll do my best."
The three children lined up in front of their teachers, standing straight now, excitement rolling off of them in waves. Minato leaned down to whisper something into Naruto's ear—something only they would remember—before stepping back to join Darius.
And then, just like that, it was time.
The classroom filled quickly after that. Children filed in with varying levels of enthusiasm, some wide-eyed, others already half-asleep.
Naruto, Verity, and Aurama claimed the middle row by the window—compromise—and took their seats, glancing around eagerly.
Chatter filled the air. Introductions. Laughter. A few shy stares at Naruto, the Hokage's son, and at the graceful girls beside him.
But Naruto didn't care about whispers. He wasn't alone. Not with his family watching from the corridor and his two best friends by his side.
Iruka called for quiet, and the classroom settled.
He cleared his throat. "Welcome, everyone, to your first day at the Academy. Over the next few years, you'll learn what it means to be a shinobi of the Hidden Leaf. You'll grow together, fail together, and succeed together. Some of you may become legends. Some of you may become heroes. But all of you will become stronger."
Naruto grinned, bouncing in his seat.
Aurama leaned in and whispered, "What do you think our first lesson is?"
"Probably kunai throwing!" Naruto whispered back.
"Or chakra control," Verity added thoughtfully.
Iruka turned to the board and began to write, chalk squeaking softly. Naruto tapped the desk with his fingers, smile never fading.
Because this was it.
The start of everything.
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