The dust was still settling when Naruto stood tall, chest heaving, his body aching from the brutal battle with Pain. The echoes of his final strike still lingered in the air, carried on the wind like a promise of peace. Around him, his friends gathered, bruised and battered but alive. Relief rippled through their ranks as the villagers began to cheer, their voices rising like a tide—chanting his name, calling him their hero. For the first time, Naruto truly felt the weight of acknowledgment pressing on him, warm and powerful.

But then, cutting through the celebration, he caught something faint. A sound that didn’t belong to victory—a soft, broken whimper, barely carried to him on the breeze. His sharp ears twitched. He turned his head slightly, straining to catch it again.

Leaving the crowd’s roar behind, Naruto stepped carefully toward the sound. His feet crunched over broken stone and scorched earth, past shattered walls and smoking rubble. He pushed aside a bush, its leaves trembling from the aftermath of battle, and froze.

There, half-hidden in the shadow of the foliage, was a girl. She looked close to his age, maybe younger, her dark hair still silky but had a few dust pieces in it, and streaked with tears. Her small shoulders shook as she tried to muffle her sobs, clutching her knees tightly to her chest.