Pushed roughly to the ground, enduring vicious insults, the figure showed no sign of being a "monster" at all.
That figure looked exceptionally small, probably only three years old.
Little Naruto, with his bright blonde hair and azure blue eyes, was chased out of the store by the owner as if he were a plague.
"I know, I know! If you don't want to sell, then don't sell… why be so fierce?"
Little Naruto picked himself up, muttering softly, and patted the dust off his pants.
He tried hard to make his voice sound indifferent, but the slight tremor in his tone still betrayed a hint of uncontainable grievance.
This was clearly a scene of adults bullying a child, yet not a single one of the villagers who gradually gathered stepped forward to stop it.
They merely whispered amongst themselves, their gazes towards Little Naruto filled not with sympathy, but with undisguised disgust and cold hatred, as if looking at something unclean.
"It's that child again… just looking at him makes my skin crawl…"
"Stay away from him, don't get involved with him at all."
"He's the one who killed the Fourth Hokage… why does the Third Hokage still allow this monster to stay in the Village?"
"I heard he's the one… the one who destroyed the Village a few years ago…"
"Seriously, why can this jinx still swagger around the streets?"
Malicious whispers, like cold needles, pricked densely at the isolated, helpless small figure in the center of the scene.
"Wait a minute! Aren't you going a bit too far?"
A passing man in a Ninja vest seemed unable to watch any longer, and couldn't help but step forward, wanting to intervene.
But before he could finish his sentence, his shoulder was tightly held by his companion behind him.
His companion shook his head heavily at him, his eyes full of helplessness and warning.
Ultimately, the Chunin swallowed his words and silently retreated into the crowd.
"This is… that person?"
Gaara stared blankly at the small figure, recognizing him—wasn't it Uzumaki Naruto, who had shown him inexplicable kindness again and again in the exam and in battle?
This… was his childhood?
The "monster" they spoke of?
"He… is he like me…?"
An indescribable tremor ran through Gaara's heart.
He had always thought he was a unique anomaly in this world, destined to be alone, with no one able to understand his cursed existence.
Thus, he could only, in the despair of countless assassination attempts by those closest to him, come to understand the cruel philosophy of "loving only himself."
However, this scene before him, how similar it was to his own childhood experience of being feared and shunned by villagers, of being regarded as a monster by everyone!
That pain and coldness of being rejected by the entire world, of being seen as a non-human existence, he was all too familiar with.
The scene before him began to shift like flowing water.
He saw little Naruto sitting alone on a swing in the park, watching from a distance as other children, holding their parents' hands tightly, gradually walked away with laughter until they disappeared around the street corner.
He saw Naruto bravely helping a few small children who were crying in fright as they were chased by stray dogs, driving away the vicious dogs, but accidentally getting a cut on his own arm.
He was about to comfort the startled children, but found them looking at him with even more terrified eyes than when they were avoiding the dogs, screaming "Don't come near me!" and then running away without looking back.
He saw Naruto carefully placing his coin on the counter of a grocery store, wanting to buy a cheap loaf of bread, but the owner picked up the coin with two fingers, as if afraid of getting contaminated, threw it into the cash box, and then impatiently waved his hand, not even bothering to say "Take it."
Hearts are made of flesh and blood, and repeated coldness and invisible harm are like dripping water wearing away a stone.
Slowly, in little Naruto's clear blue eyes, besides disappointment, a kind of weariness and bewilderment also began to emerge.
He wondered, confused, "I didn't want to have much to do with you either… I just wanted to buy something to fill my stomach, just wanted to lend a hand… why, even for that, do you look at me with those eyes?"
An invisible barrier began to build between him and this Village.
His gaze gradually changed; in his eyes towards the surrounding villagers, there was less of a child's reliance and closeness, and more of an observer's calm and detachment.
This place where he was born, in his eyes, no longer seemed like a "hometown," but more like a… temporary stopping point.
He began to consciously avoid those malicious streets, choosing secluded paths, actively marginalizing himself, just to keep out of sight, out of mind.
In this bleak memory, occasionally, a figure would bring a touch of warmth.
It was a very old man, wearing a white ceremonial robe somewhat similar to that of his father, the Kazekage.
The old man was almost the only one who would stop and look at Naruto with a calm, even gentle, gaze.
Once, Naruto couldn't help but complain to the old man that no one in the Village was willing to sell him anything.
The old man listened quietly, a thoughtful expression on his wrinkled face.
He didn't say much, but later, Naruto's humble home would occasionally have some quietly appearing food and snacks, enough to last for several days…
Then, the scene shifted again, transitioning to a sight distinctly different from the previous bleak tone.
One store, surprisingly, opened its doors warmly to little Naruto—it was a ramen shop.
The owner, whose eyes were always smiling, was different from everyone else.
He would loudly greet Naruto, and after he finished eating, he would ask caringly, "How was it, Naruto? Want another serving of char siu?"
For the first time, Gaara saw such a bright, sunny smile on little Naruto's face, completely free of shadows, but little Naruto also noticed that whenever he sat in the shop, customers who might have come in would often hesitate or turn away.
Therefore, even though he was very reluctant, he could only suppress his longing, daring to come only occasionally, fearing that he would bring trouble to this rare warmth.
Later, it was unclear what specific turning point occurred.
Originally, almost all shops closed their doors to Naruto, but from a certain day on, although the villagers' eyes remained cold, they began to mechanically, as if completing a task, sell goods to Naruto.
It was as if an invisible command had been issued.
"Was it that old man… Is he a powerful figure like my father, possessing authority?" Gaara couldn't help but wonder.
Although the overt rejection had lessened, the pervasive indifference and isolation had not disappeared.
However, little Naruto seemed to be less bothered by it now.
He dedicated more of his energy to secretly learning Ninja training, filling those long and lonely hours with sweat and exhaustion, thereby passing the years without companionship.
Gaara thus watched these fragments from an observer's perspective.
His heart was filled with immense incomprehension and confusion.
"Why? Why is this happening? This person clearly had such similar experiences to me, rejected by the entire world, regarded as a monster… Why can he still treat others with such warmth, with such an unreserved attitude?
Did his heart truly not harbor a single trace of resentment?"
After all, the ramen shop owner and that old man only occasionally gave him a brief moment of warmth.
"Wait… companionship?"
Gaara suddenly froze; as the bloody urges temporarily receded, two figures instinctively appeared in his mind…
"What about me? Do I truly… have absolutely no one for companionship?"
"He must also be full of dissatisfaction with this place, right? If so, how did he become the way he is now?"
The scroll of memories continued to flash rapidly before Gaara's eyes, recording how the blonde boy spent his lonely time, day after day, all alone.
Until one day, the scene shifted to a training ground on the outskirts of the Village.
It was there that Gaara saw a small black-haired girl meet Naruto, who was training.
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