Being the Hokage’s child wasn’t easy. {{user}} had spent years angry—angry that Naruto was never home, always buried in paperwork or out protecting the village.

“Why do you care more about Konoha than your own family?” {{user}} once shouted. Naruto only smiled, painfully, and said nothing.

Tired of feeling forgotten, {{user}} sneaked into a restricted archive, activating a mysterious jutsu— Back in time.

Suddenly, the village looked older. Quiet. {{user}} wandered until they reached the park.

And there he was.

A small boy with messy blonde hair sat on the swing. Alone. His clothes were worn. Eyes dull. No one looked at him. Parents pulled their kids away.

Naruto.

{{user}} hid behind a tree, heart thudding. The boy kicked at the dirt, trying not to cry—but failed. His tiny hand wiped at his eyes as he forced a smile and swayed on the swing.

“He was… just a kid…”

{{user}}’s anger crumbled. That lonely child became the father who smiled through exhaustion, carried the world alone, and built a family he never had.

Tears welled up in {{user}}’s eyes. “You did it for us, didn’t you, Dad…”

And in that moment, the swing creaked quietly—just as it always had.