Dear Little Sister

Omake: Uzumaki Naruto

Uzumaki Naruto was alone.

Nobody liked him. Nobody wanted him. Nobody wanted to be near him.

Everybody hated him.

He lost hope.

He succumbed to the darkness because there was no light to guide him.

...

Until he met her.

When he was two, the orphanage kicked him out.

He was forced to wander the streets alone. Starving. Cold.

He stumbled upon the Akasen, where some other shunned adults took pity on him and gave him an apartment to stay in.

His monthly allowance was limited, only letting him buy essentials.

Even with that, he couldn't buy food because shop owners didn't let him into their stores. Even if they did, they rose the price too high for him to pay for.

He was starving.

The bartenders in the Akasen often gave him leftovers for him to eat so that he didn't die of malnourishment.

When he was five, a girl walked into the Akasen.

She was the same age as him. Clean, short black hair. Clean clothes. A couple bandages and such on her face and arms. A clan crest on her back.

In her arms were several wrapped boxes.

She approached one of the street children and gave him and his friends a box each.

Naruto watched in confusion as their faces lit up and they quickly began thanking her.

She passed the wrapped boxes out to all the children.

She came to stand in front of him, a final box in her hands. She was frowning.

Of course she didn't want to give him it.

He was him.

But instead of walking away, she smiled and held it out for him to take.

Gingerly, he reached for it, hesitating and waiting for her to snatch her hands away and laugh at him.

She made no move and he took the box, unwrapping the handkerchief that was wrapped around it.

It was a bento.

When he looked up to thank her, she was gone.

There wasn't a name to her face.

When Naruto joined the academy, it was no different. No one liked him. Not the senseis, not the students. No one.

He'd usually sit on the swing at recess to stay away from all the other children.

Even if he did go up to them, they'd avoid him like the plague.

The girl from before often only played with that black haired boy that everyone coddled and liked.

They had the same crest on their back.

He assumed they were from a clan. All clans were prestigious. Rich. Respected.

Not like him.

When the two ran past him, the girl shot him a gentle smile.

It wasn't scathing.

It wasn't ill-intended.

She wasn't laughing at him.