From the moment they spotted Uzumaki Naruto, the group of children started shouting.
"Wow! It's the Demon!"
"Look! It's the Demon!"
"Get him!"
"Let's throw rocks at him!"
"Theres no way he's scary look at him"
"Yeah, my mom said to get away from him, but he looks so weak"
Snowballs started flying.
Hard, icy chunks of snow slammed into Naruto—one after another. They weren't soft snowballs made in fun. They were stiff and packed tight, and they came from all directions. To the kids, it was just a game. A game where they played heroes—and Naruto, the 'Demon,' was the villain.
They didn't even understand why he was called that. They were just repeating what they'd heard from adults. They didn't know about the Nine-Tails. They didn't know about the Fourth Hokage or the sealing. They just knew everyone hated Naruto. So, they did too.
Splat.
Splat.
Splat.
One after another, they hit him. His legs gave out and he fell.
But he pushed himself up with his tiny hands but fell again then he stood again.
Again and again.
But the worst pain wasn't from the snowballs—it was from inside. Each icy hit felt like it cracked his heart a little more.
He'd tried so hard to stay away.
He hadn't even approached them he walked away. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?
And still, no one stopped them.
The parents nearby said nothing. Some of them even smirked, whispering to each other.
The ANBU watching from the shadows? Silent.
No one helped the boy who should have bore the name of the Fourth Hokage.
He finally ran, tears threatening to spill, but his lips stayed curled in that fake grin.
"Haha! You just wait! I'll get you all back one day!"
He tripped. He fell. His coat soaked up the snow. His body shivered with cold. By the time he got home, he sneezed hard—"Haah-choo!"—and a long trail of snot dribbled from his nose.
He laughed it off like always, scratching his head. "Heh... looks like I caught a cold."
He took out his key, opened the door, and stepped inside.
He smiled one last time before shutting the door.
And then—
He broke.
His small body shook as he let out a wailing cry, one he'd kept buried deep down all day.
"Waaaah! Why?! Why do they treat me like this?! What did I do wrong?!"
His cries filled the empty apartment.
And in the corner of his mind, Toji listened.
Even he—who had come to this world with the goal of blackening Naruto—couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.
If he hadn't watched Naruto's entire life unfold, Toji might not have believed it himself. How could people be this cruel? How could a village treat their hero's child like this?
Hiruzen Sarutobi, the so-called "Professor," had promised Minato and kushina he would look after Naruto.
What a joke.
The caretakers Hiruzen assigned? They loathed Naruto.
They didn't feed him properly, didn't clean up after him. Didn't care if he slept in filth. Didn't teach him a thing.
And once Naruto could talk and walk on his own—at just 3 years old—they abandoned him completely.
No one objected.
No one stepped up.
Toji had to take over, using the moments when Naruto was unconscious to clean, to feed him, to teach him letters, basic math, how to survive.
If it hadn't been for him, Naruto would've grown up totally neglected—feral.
And the people of Konoha? The so-called "Will of Fire"?
They knew
They ALL should know who Naruto really was.
Blonde hair. Uzumaki name. Born the night of the Nine-Tails attack. It didn't take a genius to put it together.
They knew. And they ignored him anyway.
Toji clenched his mental fists.
He was done trying to make excuses for this village.
He was done pretending they didn't deserve what was coming.
From the start, his mission had been clear: blacken Naruto completely.
For survival. For revenge. For justice. For BOTH of them.
He looked at Naruto now—curled up and crying, small shoulders trembling in the dark apartment.
This was the beginning.
The voice returned, quiet but sharp:
"You still think trying harder will change anything?"
Toji had said this kind of thing to Naruto before—over and over.
But Naruto always bounced back.
He'd cry, wipe his tears, then go back out there with a smile, ready to try again. That was just who he was. Optimistic. Naïve. Stubborn.
Toji knew this wouldn't be easy.
Blackening Naruto wasn't some simple flip of a switch. Not with Asura's chakra tangled up in his body, feeding him hope, pushing him to believe in the good of people.
No, this would be slow.
Deliberate.
Toji had to let him fail.
Let him hope—then lose that hope again and again.
Only when Naruto truly, completely understood the world didn't want him, only then could he be remade.
The system on Toji's end pinged quietly.
[Blackening Progress: 3% → 5%]
He smirked.
Step one, complete.