The night was cold, a harsh wind sweeping across the training grounds. Ryu stood there, motionless, his eyes bloodshot as they glowed with the crimson hue of the Sharingan. His breathing was ragged, his fists bruised and bloodied from hours of striking the wooden post in front of him. The training dummy had long since splintered under the relentless assault, but Ryu continued to push himself beyond his limits, as if the physical pain could somehow drown out the torment in his mind.

The massacre. It haunted him every night. In his dreams, he saw his clan, his parents, lying lifeless on the ground, their eyes wide with shock and pain. He had failed them. He hadn’t been there when they needed him most. The guilt gnawed at his soul, suffocating him.

He couldn’t escape the nightmares.

And so, he trained. He fought. He pushed his body to its breaking point night after night, using his Sharingan to record every movement, every memory. If he couldn’t save his clan then, maybe he could learn to react faster now. Maybe he could become strong enough he could have saved them. The cold night air clung to Ryu’s skin, chilling him to the bone as he stood alone in the training grounds. His breathing was ragged, his knuckles bloodied from striking the worn training post over and over again. The wood had splintered hours ago, but he didn’t care. He kept pushing, as if somehow, if he pushed hard enough, he could escape the tormenting memories.

The massacre.

Every time Ryu closed his eyes, he was right back there, standing in front of his clan’s lifeless bodies, the stench of blood filling his lungs. His family, his people, all wiped out in a single night. And he hadn’t been there to stop it. He had been on some meaningless mission, far from the village, while his entire world burned behind him.

Failure. That’s all he was.

"If only I had been there…"

But he hadn’t. And now, the only thing that kept him sane was the training. The relentless, punishing training that tore his body apart but gave him the briefest moment of peace. If his body hurt enough, maybe—just maybe—it would drown out the pain in his heart.

Ryu’s Sharingan burned with intensity, reflecting the memories that haunted him. He could see his mother’s face—frozen in horror. His father’s lifeless body, slumped on the ground. The once-proud Uchiha Clan reduced to nothing. The massacre replayed over and over in his mind, like a genjutsu he couldn’t break free from.

He slammed his fist into the post again, ignoring the way the wood cut into his skin. Blood smeared across the splinters, but he didn’t stop. His Sharingan whirred to life, capturing every movement, every detail, analyzing how he could have moved faster, how he could have saved them.

He needed to be stronger. Faster. Better.

"If I had been stronger, they’d still be alive."

Another punch. His knuckles screamed in protest, but he didn’t care. Another punch. His muscles ached from overuse, his limbs shaking with exhaustion, but still, he pushed on. He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

Then, in the silence of the night, a voice cut through the air. Calm. Steady.

“That’s enough, Ryu.”

Ryu froze mid-punch, his fist hovering inches away from the splintered post. He knew that voice. Slowly, he turned his head, sweat dripping down his brow as he caught sight of Kakashi standing a few feet away. His old friend, his comrade. The one person who had seen Ryu at his worst and still stayed by his side.

Kakashi’s one visible eye was fixed on him, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’ve been at this for hours,” Kakashi continued, his tone neutral but edged with concern. “It’s not going to help.”

Ryu didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His chest heaved with labored breaths as he stared down at his bruised and bloodied hands. Was it not enough? Was none of this enough?

Kakashi stepped closer, but his approach was slow, measured. “You’re already strong, Ryu. But this?” He glanced at the destroyed training post, splintered beyond repair. “This isn’t the way.”

Ryu’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to hear how he needed to rest, how he needed to take care of himself. He didn’t deserve rest. He deserved the pain. He deserved to suffer for not being there when his clan needed him.

“I have to get stronger,” Ryu muttered, his voice barely audible.

Kakashi didn’t flinch. “And you will. But not like this.”

Ryu’s hands tightened into fists, fresh blood dripping from the reopened wounds. He could feel his Mangekyō Sharingan burning in his eyes, its power feeding off the raw, searing pain inside him. The weight of his grief, his guilt, bore down on him like a mountain, crushing his spirit.

“If I had been stronger…” Ryu’s voice trailed off, the words dying in his throat. He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Kakashi knew what he was thinking. He always did.

Kakashi took another step closer. “You’re punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault. What would Minato-sensei say if he saw you like this? What would your clan think?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The mention of Minato-sensei—the Fourth Hokage, their mentor, the man who had believed in Ryu when no one else had—made something in Ryu’s chest tighten. He hadn’t thought about his old sensei in a long time. Minato had been the first to see potential in him, the first to teach him that strength didn’t just come from power, but from protecting those you cared about.

But Minato was gone now too, like everyone else.

Ryu’s shoulders sagged, the weight of Kakashi’s words hitting him harder than any punch. He lowered his hands, the fight draining out of him. Kakashi was right. He knew it, deep down. But it didn’t make the pain go away.

Kakashi’s hand rested on his shoulder, a silent reassurance that Ryu wasn’t as alone as he thought. “There’s another way forward,” Kakashi said quietly. “But you have to stop blaming yourself. It’s not what your clan would want for you. And it’s not what Minato-sensei would want.”

Ryu’s throat tightened as he swallowed back the surge of emotion threatening to break through his stoic façade. He had been running for so long—running from the pain, from the memories, from himself. But maybe, just maybe, Kakashi was right.

Maybe there was another way.

---

The next morning, Ryu found himself wandering aimlessly through the village. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows over the streets. The village was already bustling with early morning activity—vendors setting up stalls, shinobi heading off to missions, children running through the streets without a care in the world.

Ryu walked in silence, his mind still reeling from the previous night. His body ached, his muscles sore from the relentless training, but the conversation with Kakashi had planted a seed in his mind. He didn’t know what to do with it yet, but it was there, growing slowly.

He found himself at the edge of the village park, his eyes drawn to the sight of children playing, their laughter ringing through the air. For a moment, Ryu felt a pang of something—longing, maybe. These kids would never know the kind of loss he had endured. They would grow up in peace, never understanding the pain of watching their entire world be destroyed.

And maybe that was a good thing.

As he stood there, watching the children, a flash of bright yellow caught his eye. Ryu blinked, focusing on the young boy sitting under a tree, away from the rest of the group. His spiky blonde hair was unmistakable.

Naruto Uzumaki.

Ryu had seen the boy around before—always alone, always distant. The villagers whispered about him, about the demon sealed inside him, and most kept their distance. But there was something about Naruto’s loneliness that tugged at Ryu’s heart. It was a familiar kind of loneliness.

Without really thinking, Ryu found himself walking toward the boy. Naruto didn’t notice him at first, his eyes staring blankly ahead, lost in his own thoughts. But when Ryu reached him, the boy looked up, startled.

“What do you want?” Naruto asked, his voice defensive, as if he were expecting an insult or a harsh word.

Ryu stopped in front of him, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t good with words, especially not with kids. But something about the way Naruto looked at him, with those tired, wary eyes, made him want to try.

“Mind if I sit?” Ryu asked, his voice soft.

Naruto blinked in surprise, clearly not used to people wanting to spend time with him. After a moment, he shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

Ryu sat down next to Naruto, the two of them sitting in silence for a while. It wasn’t an awkward silence, though. It was comfortable, in a strange way. Ryu glanced at the boy out of the corner of his eye. He had heard the rumors—about the Nine-Tails, about the boy being a pariah—but all Ryu saw was a kid who had been dealt a terrible hand in life.

“You know…” Ryu said after a while, his voice low, “being alone... it doesn’t have to last forever.”

Naruto looked at him, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you know about being alone?”

Ryu smiled faintly, though there was no humor in it. “More than you’d think.”

For a moment, Naruto didn’t say anything. He just stared at Ryu, as if trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. Then, slowly, Naruto’s expression softened, and he looked away.

“Yeah… I guess.”

Ryu nodded, understanding the boy’s reluctance. Loneliness was a heavy burden to carry, and it didn’t disappear overnight. But maybe, just maybe, he could help lighten that load, if only a little.

“Come on,” Ryu said suddenly, standing up. “Let’s go get some ramen. My treat.”

Naruto blinked, clearly surprised by the offer. But after a moment, a wide grin spread across his face. “Really?!”

Ryu chuckled softly. “Yeah. Really. Let’s go.”

As they walked through the village streets, Naruto's excited chatter filled the air. The boy’s enthusiasm was infectious, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Ryu found himself smiling. It was a small smile, barely noticeable, but it was there—a flicker of something that felt like hope.

They arrived at Ichiraku Ramen, the familiar scent of broth and noodles wafting through the air. Naruto practically bounced on his feet as he slid onto one of the stools, his face lighting up as Teuchi, the ramen shop owner, greeted them with a warm smile.

“Ah, Naruto! It’s been a while,” Teuchi said, his eyes crinkling with genuine affection. “And who’s your friend?”

Naruto looked up at Ryu, his grin never faltering. “This is Ryu! He said he’s buying me ramen today!”

Teuchi chuckled, glancing at Ryu. “Well then, any friend of Naruto’s is welcome here. What’ll it be?”

Ryu sat down beside Naruto, his expression softening as he watched the boy’s excitement. “Two bowls of miso ramen,” he said, nodding toward Naruto. “And whatever else he wants.”

Naruto’s eyes practically sparkled. “Yes! You’re the best, Ryu!”

As Teuchi busied himself preparing their order, Ryu leaned back slightly, glancing around the familiar surroundings. Ichiraku Ramen had always been a peaceful place, a small pocket of normalcy in the chaos of shinobi life. He hadn’t been here in years, not since the death of his sensei.

But being here with Naruto—this felt different. It wasn’t about the past or the pain that followed him like a shadow. It was about something else, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time: connection.

Naruto slurped his noodles with gusto, completely absorbed in his meal. Ryu ate slowly, his thoughts drifting as he watched the boy. Naruto had no idea the burden he carried. The weight of the Nine-Tails, the hatred of the villagers. And yet, despite all of it, the boy still found a way to smile, to laugh, to find joy in something as simple as a bowl of ramen.

Ryu envied him.

But more than that, he respected him.

“Ryu…” Naruto’s voice broke through Ryu’s thoughts, pulling him back to the present. The boy had paused in his meal, his expression serious for the first time since they had arrived.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you buy me ramen?” Naruto asked, his voice quieter now. “I mean, no one’s ever really done that for me before… except old man Teuchi.”

Ryu blinked, caught off guard by the question. He wasn’t sure how to explain it, at least not in a way that would make sense to a kid. But as he looked into Naruto’s curious eyes, he realized that maybe it didn’t need to be complicated.

“Because you looked like you needed it,” Ryu said simply.

Naruto stared at him for a moment, then nodded slowly, as if he understood more than Ryu had intended. “Thanks.”

Ryu nodded back, his chest tightening again. There was so much more he wanted to say—about loss, about loneliness, about the things they both carried—but the words wouldn’t come. Maybe it was enough just to be here. To share a meal. To be present.

As they finished their ramen, Ryu felt a strange sense of calm settle over him. The weight of the nightmares, the relentless guilt—they were still there, but for the first time, they didn’t feel quite so overwhelming. Maybe Kakashi was right. Maybe there was another way forward.

As they left the ramen shop, Naruto tugged at Ryu’s sleeve, his eyes wide with curiosity. “Hey, Ryu… do you think I could train with you sometime? You’re a jonin, right? You could teach me stuff! Like how to get super strong!”

Ryu chuckled softly, ruffling Naruto’s hair. “Maybe one day, kid. But for now, just focus on your own training. You’ve got more potential than you realize.”

Naruto beamed up at him, his grin as bright as the sun. “Okay! But you better not forget! I’m gonna be Hokage one day, you know!”

Ryu smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through him. “I won’t forget, Naruto. I’ll be watching.”

As Naruto ran off into the village, his energy boundless, Ryu stood there for a moment, watching him disappear into the crowd. The boy was resilient. Stronger than most people gave him credit for. And in a way, Ryu saw a bit of himself in Naruto—the same loneliness, the same drive to prove something to the world.

But Naruto had something Ryu didn’t have back then. A chance to make things different. A chance to carve his own path.

And maybe, just maybe, Ryu could help him along the way.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the village, Ryu turned and made his way back toward the training grounds. The nightmares would come again, he knew that. The pain would never fully leave him.

But for the first time in a long time, he felt like he didn’t have to face it alone.

And that was enough.