KONOHAMARU SHIPPUDEN

It's been three years since I popped into existence in this world, and let me tell you, it's been a whirlwind of mischief. My three years have mostly consisted of annoying my caretaker and generally causing chaos around the house. You see, I didn't just inherit the appearance of a monkey, I also inherited some of their more… exuberant traits. Like, when I was only eight months old, my body suddenly decided it was ready to stand and walk, and boy, did I take advantage of it.

I climbed everything. Cabinets, bookshelves, you name it. As time went on, my climbs got higher and higher. Now, my preferred sleeping spot is a sturdy old tree in the backyard, complete with a makeshift hammock my parents gifted me for my second birthday (I'm incredibly persuasive when I want something).

Speaking of my parents, they've been mostly absent throughout my childhood, only appearing for special occasions. They always had the same excuse: "Important missions your Grandpa has assigned us." As a reincarnated soul from the modern world, it wasn't the worst thing. There were definitely perks to their absence, like my caretaker showering me with attention and indulging my every whim.

I could ask for anything – early training, jutsu to improve my physique, and mountains of fruit (my favorite). Occasionally, my grandpa, the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, would swing by for a visit and chat. He's a kind old man, though his visits were always short.

Anyway, back to the present. In moonlit night,my parent– just my mom, not my dad – has come back. She found me in my tree, my usual sleeping spot.

"Konohamaru, wake up, sweety," she said, her voice gentle, waking me from a dream.

"Mom?" I mumbled, trying to pry my sleepy eyes open.

"Yes, it's Mom. Now wake up, we're going to the Sarutobi clan house," she said, her tone suddenly urgent.

As we entered the clan compound, I could feel the hushed whispers of the other Sarutobi members. An air of tension hung heavy in the air, a palpable sense of emergency that had everyone on edge. Being the mischievous child I am, I couldn't resist eavesdropping.

"It's the Uchiha clan," I heard one of the elders whisper, his voice laced with dread. "There's been a… a massacre."

My heart skipped a beat. A massacre? The Uchiha clan? an ache in my little chest. I knew it was going to happen. And as a three-year-old kid, I couldn't do much, probably get killed by my involvement.

My mom noticed my ears perked up, her eyes widening slightly. She quickly scooped me up and held me close. "Come on, Konohamaru," she whispered, "we need to go inside."

As we entered the main house, the atmosphere was thick with grief and concern. My grandfather, Hiruzen, sat at the head of a large table, his face etched with worry. He looked older, more tired than usual. My mom placed me gently on the ground, and I scurried to my grandpa's side, I saw the worry etched on my grandfather's face, the lines deeper, the eyes filled with a weariness that felt ancient. He hadn't spoken much about the Uchiha, but the weight of his silence spoke volumes.

Konohamaru," Grandpa's voice was raspy laced with a sadness "There are difficult things happening. Things that will change our village forever."

He didn't elaborate, didn't need to. The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy blanket stifling any attempts at normalcy. My mom, usually vibrant and full of life, stood silently beside me, her hand gently resting on my shoulder, a silent reassurance. Even the usually boisterous clan members, my uncles and aunts, moved with subdued steps, their conversations reduced to hushed tones.

Musa Sarotubi POV

The day after the Uchiha clan massacre remains etched in my mind, not just as a nightmare but as a stark reminder of the darkness that can reside in the human heart. My husband and I, both ANBU, were part of the team that responded to the scene. It was a sea of black, of stillness, the kind that chills your soul. The silence was thick, oppressive, a blanket that smothered the village's usual vitality.

"Itachi Uchiha did this," one of Danzo's Root members, who was already on the scene, told us. His voice was devoid of emotion, but his eyes flickered with something unreadable. "He's vanished, presumed rogue now."

The thought that one individual, a mere boy, could bring about such devastation seemed beyond comprehension. Itachi Uchiha, at only thirteen years old, had orchestrated a tragedy that would echo through the village's history. I had met Itachi before, in less tragic circumstances.

It was during a festival, the kind where the whole village seemed to breathe as one, lanterns swaying gently with the night breeze. Itachi was there with his parents, his little brother Sasuke at his side. I remember his quiet demeanor, his eyes that seemed older than his years, and his politeness when he greeted me with a respectful bow. It was hard to reconcile that solemn child with the figure responsible for such a massacre.

Now, standing amidst the aftermath, it was hard to reconcile that solemn child with the figure responsible for such a massacre. The festival had been a celebration of life; this was a ceremony of death.

The devastation was absolute. Bodies lay like discarded dolls, their faces frozen in expressions of shock and betrayal. It was a massacre, a purge, orchestrated by one of their own. Itachi Uchiha, at only thirteen years old, had brought this catastrophe upon his kin.

"Itachi did this alone?" my husband muttered, skepticism lacing his tone. He was always the more analytical one, questioning orders, looking for the hidden threads.

"Doubtful," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "Look at the precision, the sheer number of bodies. This is... this feels like more than one could do."

We moved methodically, checking for signs of struggle, clues, anything that could contradict or confirm the tale we were told. But every indication pointed towards Itachi. His presence was like a ghost, lingering in the air, in the very essence of the place.

As we moved through the district, my thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a small, quivering figure near one of the houses. It was Sasuke, Itachi's younger brother, the sole survivor of the clan. His eyes, wide with horror, met mine. In his gaze, I saw the reflection of my own son, Konohamaru. The fear, the confusion, the pain—it was a mirror to what could have been if fate had not been so cruel to another family.

"Dog," I whispered to my comrade, gesturing towards Sasuke. He understood immediately, his face set in a grim line as he approached the boy, offering the comfort we could afford in such desolation.

"Why would he do this?" I murmured, not expecting an answer. The human heart, I realized, could harbor depths of darkness so profound that even the light of a full moon couldn't reach.

My mind wandered to Konohamaru, back at home, blissfully unaware of the day's horrors.

We spent hours there, cataloging, investigating, and trying to piece together the impossible puzzle of Itachi's actions. The village elders were in shock, the Hokage's office abuzz with whispered fears of what this meant for Konoha. Itachi was gone, a phantom fleeing into the night, leaving behind a legacy of terror.

At The Present Time

Back at the Sarutobi estate, I couldn't shake off the cold that had settled within me. As I look at my son with an untold intelligence in he's eyes. Konohamaru had an intelligence that was almost unnerving. He absorbed every lesson, every story with a thirst that was insatiable. It was as if he knew more than he let on, as if he was preparing for something great, something beyond the simple life of a shinobi.

As I watched him, the cold within me seemed to recede. The future was uncertain, yes, but in Konohamaru, I saw a flicker of the indomitable spirit of the Leaf.

End of POV

I opened my eyes to the warm, soft light filtering through my bedroom window, the curtains dancing slightly with the breeze. Rubbing my eyes, I tried to piece together the fragments of last night's dream—a wild escapade involving me, a thousand monkeys, and a giant banana. With a dismissive shake of my head, I chuckled. "Just another crazy dream," I muttered, stretching my arms high above my head, my monkey tail swishing behind me.

I padded across my room, my feet finding the cool wood of the floor, and pushed open the door, stepping out into the quieter than usual Sarutobi clan compound. The silence was a stark reminder of the void left by the Uchiha clan massacre. It was as if the very air had lost its lively buzz, replaced by a somber stillness.

"Good morning, Honourable Grandson," an elder greeted me with a slight bow as I passed by. I returned the greeting with a nod, my monkey-like features, including the playful ears and a mischievous glint in my eyes, somewhat at odds with the formality.

The streets of our compound were less crowded now, the echoes of laughter and the hustle of daily life having dwindled. My grandfather, the Third Hokage, would often speak of the days when both clans' children played together, their laughter intertwining like the branches of the nearby trees.

Feeling a tad melancholy, I decided a bit of mischief might lighten the atmosphere. Spotting a small group of clan members setting up for an early morning training session, I hatched a plan. With a sly grin, I darted behind a nearby tree, using my enhanced agility to leap silently from branch to branch, my tail aiding in my balance.

I waited until the kid, a stern but fair Sarutobi, began demonstrating a basic jutsu. With impeccable timing, I dropped a handful of acorns from above. They rained down with a series of soft thuds, causing the children to look up in surprise.

"Watch out!" one of them yelled, as the oldest kid in the bunch narrowly dodged an acorn, his usual composed demeanor cracking into confusion.

"Who's there?" he demanded, scanning the trees. I stifled a giggle, my body shaking with silent laughter.

Suddenly, I swung down from the branch, landing in front of them with a cheeky grin.

"Morning training, huh? Thought you might need a little... motivation," I said, unable to keep the mischief out of my voice.

The oldest of the children raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in an attempt not to smile. "Konohamaru, if you're here to train, then by all means, join us. But if you're here to disrupt, then you'll have to deal with me."

The students laughed, breaking the tension, and one of them, a boy about 12 years age, said, "look at him haki-san he's scared"

"Very well," I conceded, pretending reluctance. "But only if I get to show off my new trick."

The training session turned into a spectacle, with me showcasing a series of monkey-themed jutsu, which were more for amusement than combat. My 'Monkey Dance Jutsu' had everyone in stitches, with me hopping and twirling, my tail acting as an extra limb in my dance.

As the morning wore on, the laughter and light-heartedness seemed to push back the shadows of the past, if only for a moment. Even the stern one of the oldest kid Name Haki Sarotubi found himself laughing, a rare sight that made the whole endeavor worthwhile.