As Sasuke had expected, their first mission was to catch Tora the cat. Though Sasuke could use his knowledge and power to catch Tora in seconds, he had learned from experiences to not do so, because completing e mission too quickly would only push Kakashi to take more tiresome missions.

So, sighing like an old man, Sasuke and his clone-Naruto-began chasing after the cat and making a fool of themselves.

When Naruto woke up, he was surprised to see Sasuke gone. A glance at the clock told him it was already past noon. He couldn't believe Sasuke was actually generous enough to allow him to sleep in, which means Sasuke had probably made a shadow clone to take Naruto's spot so Kakashi wouldn't check up on him.

Perhaps he should thank Sasuke for this.

Reaching the kitchen, Naruto stopped in front of the refrigerator. A note with elegant writings imprinted on it was pinned on the magnetic door.

I let you sleep in because you had worked hard on the stories last night. There will be no next time, dobe.

-Sasuke

Chuckling, Naruto crumbled the note and threw it in the trash can. He proceeded to open the door and take out the breakfast Sasuke had prepared for him. A simple heating spell made the food ready to be consumed. As usual, Naruto took big bites and finished it within minutes. After he was done, he walked around a bit, allowing the food to be digested, then he sat down at the computer and started it. Naruto checked the document carefully and thoroughly, then printed them out. It took a while, but he wasn't complaining, because having already gotten this all done means he only had to spent time on practicing playing the guitar in the next few days.

Taking only the first three pages of the printed pages, Naruto cast an invisible spell on himself and a silence charm on his shoes and made his way outside. A few minutes later, he reached a small company called "Playhouse," a Publisher for publishing children's books. Naruto had done research on this Publisher; it seemed that this was the only Publisher in Konoha that publishes children's books, which confirmed just how unpopular children's stories were, or shall I say, how badly written they were.

Smirking, Naruto made his way inside and found the Head Editor office with ease. Without the editor's noticing, Naruto left the pages on a nearly empty pile of commissioning work and silently left.

Now was time for some ramen!

Mia was the Head Editor of Playhouse and at the same time a single mother of a twelve years old civilian daughter. Her husband had died twelve years ago in the Kyuubi attack. Ever since then, she had hated the demon boy who bore the demon marks on his cheeks. She believed that the demon boy was the one responsible for her husband's death. She had been telling her daughter to stay away from the boy ever since the girl was little. The boy was a monster and no one could convince her otherwise.

Twelve years had past and Mia had gotten used to her life as an editor and a single mother. After years of refraining to cross path with the demon boy, Mia was able to repress her anger and hatred for the monster and live her life peacefully.

Today was no different. Mia was planning to finish her job quickly and return home to spend time with her daughter. As she read the commissioning stories absentmindedly, she began thinking about what she should prepare for dinner.

The title of one story caught her eyes.

"'The Emperor's New Clothes'? What's that supposed to mean?" Mia wondered. In all the children stories she had read, this was her first time coming across such a strange title. Almost all the children stories currently published were about peace and animals and love and were things that could put an adult to sleep. With a spark of curiosity in her eyes, Mia began reading the story.

Many years ago, there was an Emperor, who was so excessively fond of new clothes, that he spent all his money in dress. He did not trouble himself in the least about his soldiers; nor did he care to go either to the theatre or the chase, except for the opportunities then afforded him for displaying his new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day; and as of any other king or emperor, one is accustomed to say, "he is sitting in council," it was always said of him, "The Emperor is sitting in his wardrobe."

Now, this was new! Mia laughed at this beginning. This King was such a disappointment; she wondered how he managed to keep his seat? His appearance was more important than his country? Mia believed that this King won't be able to keep his seat long.

Time passed merrily in the large town which was his capital; strangers arrived every day at the court. One day, two rogues, calling themselves weavers, made their appearance. They gave out that they knew how to weave stuffs of the most beautiful colors and elaborate patterns, the clothes manufactured from which should have the wonderful property of remaining invisible to everyone who was unfit for the office he held, or who was extraordinarily simple in character.

"Invisible?" Mia frowned. Something wasn't right about these two rogues. Plus, if they were genuine weavers, why would the author describe them as 'rogues'?

"These must, indeed, be splendid clothes!" thought the Emperor. "Had I such a suit, I might at once find out what men in my realms are unfit for their office, and also be able to distinguish the wise from the foolish! This stuff must be woven for me immediately." And he caused large sums of money to be given to both the weavers in order that they might begin their work directly.

The moment Mia read the sentence about the money, she became even more suspicious about the rogues. Nothing good comes out of money.

So the two pretended weavers ("See? Exactly!" Mia grinned. "They are disguising themselves as weavers to trick the King into giving them money, knowing this King is obsessed with clothes") set up two looms, and affected to work very busily, though in reality they did nothing at all. They asked for the most delicate silk and the purest gold thread; put both into their own knapsacks; and then continued their pretended work at the empty looms until late at night.

"I should like to know how the weavers are getting on with my cloth," said the Emperor to himself, after some little time had elapsed; he was, however, rather embarrassed, when he remembered that a simpleton, or one unfit for his office, would be unable to see the manufacture. To be sure, he thought he had nothing to risk in his own person; but yet, he would prefer sending somebody else, to bring him intelligence about the weavers, and their work, before he troubled himself in the affair. All the people throughout the city had heard of the wonderful property the cloth was to possess; and all were anxious to learn how wise, or how ignorant, their neighbors might prove to be.

"I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers," said the Emperor at last, after some deliberation, "he will be best able to see how the cloth looks; for he is a man of sense, and no one can be more suitable for his office than be is."

"Never entrust your responsibility to another," Mia said in a serious voice, like a mother reprimanding her daughter.

So the faithful old minister went into the hall, where the knaves were working with all their might, at their empty looms. "What can be the meaning of this?" thought the old man, opening his eyes very wide. "I cannot discover the least bit of thread on the looms." However, he did not express his thoughts aloud.

Mia sighed, having a feeling where this story was heading. "Don't be afraid to say something because others might think you're stupid. Speak the truth!"

The impostors requested him very courteously to be so good as to come nearer their looms; and then asked him whether the design pleased him, and whether the colors were not very beautiful; at the same time pointing to the empty frames. The poor old minister looked and looked, he could not discover anything on the looms, for a very good reason, viz: there was nothing there. "What!" thought he again. "Is it possible that I am a simpleton? I have never thought so myself; and no one must know it now if I am so. Can it be, that I am unfit for my office? No, that must not be said either. I will never confess that I could not see the stuff."

"Just as I thought. He's afraid to speak the truth," Mia frowned, then she widened her eyes in realization. Isn't this what most people were like nowadays? The world was filled with lies because speaking the truth may separate you from everyone else. No one wanted to be singled out; everyone wanted to blend in. So, as if wearing a mask, no one showed their true self. When they interact, they would always speak whatever that would please the other, that would keep the conversation going, that wouldn't make them seem different.

Realizing that, Mia began seeing the story in a new light. It seemed that this story wasn't as simple as she thought it was.

"Well, Sir Minister!" said one of the knaves, still pretending to work. "You do not say whether the stuff pleases you."

"Oh, it is excellent!" replied the old minister, looking at the loom through his spectacles. "This pattern, and the colors, yes, I will tell the Emperor without delay, how very beautiful I think them."

"Idiot," Mia muttered, shaking her head in exasperation. The story continued to show many others who were afraid to be called as a simpleton praise the invisible clothing, and finally, the King saw the clothing. Like the others, his reaction was the same, since there's no way he would want others to think that their King was a simpleton. It didn't take long for Mia to reach the ending.

So now the Emperor walked under his high canopy in the midst of the procession, through the streets of his capital; and all the people standing by, and those at the windows, cried out, "Oh! How beautiful are our Emperor's new clothes! What a magnificent train there is to the mantle; and how gracefully the scarf hangs!" in short, no one would allow that he could not see these much-admired clothes; because, in doing so, he would have declared himself either a simpleton or unfit for his office. Certainly, none of the Emperor's various suits, had ever made so great an impression, as these invisible ones.

"But the Emperor has nothing at all on!" said a little child.

"Good one!" Mia exclaimed. Finally! Someone spoke the truth. In an entire country full of people, in the end it was a child who spoke the truth. Is this hinting that only through a child's innocent eyes was one able to see the truth?

"Listen to the voice of innocence!" exclaimed his father; and what the child had said was whispered from one to another.

"Exactly! Voice of the innocence!"

"But he has nothing at all on!" at last cried out all the people. The Emperor was vexed, for he knew that the people were right; but he thought the procession must go on now! And the lords of the bedchamber took greater pains than ever, to appear holding up a train, although, in reality, there was no train to hold.

-The End-

Mia released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, and relaxed in her seat. After a minute or two, she read the story again, and again. Slowly, she was starting to read it as a mature story, not a childish story. A mature story that teaches the readers to speak the truth, don't be afraid to be different, and don't believe everything they were told, especially if there were no evidence to back the claims up. Only believe what you have seen for yourself. Don't follow the 'experts' who may have been telling lies just so they won't be seen as stupid.

Suddenly, a memory from a long time ago appeared in Mia's mind. It was about five years ago, when she was returning home late from work. On her way home, she saw a angry crowd murmuring and pointing at something. Curiously, she made her way into the crowd, and immediately froze at the sight.

Her beloved daughter was sprawled out on the ground, crying. A small, bloody scratch was on her knees. Kneeling next to her with a dark look was the demon brat, who was slowly reaching towards her daughter...

Consumed with rage, Mia bolted forward and grabbed the boy by his collars. Without giving him any time to explain himself, she slapped him hard, causing him to fly into the air, landing hard onto the ground and rolling towards the crowd, who proceeded to kick the boy, not that Mia cared at the moment. She quickly hugged her daughter, whispering soothing words in her ears while stroking circles on her back.

"It's alright. Mama's here. Mama won't let that monster hurt you."

"No...he didn't. I bumped into him and fell..."

Mia doesn't believe her. "You don't have to blame yourself, honey. It'll be alright. Mama will make hamburger steak for you tonight, how's that?"

"Really?" Her daughter immediately forgot about clearing Naruto's name. "You're the best, mama!"

Now that she thought of it, Mia could see how blinded she had been. Because she was so angry at the moment, and due to her biased view of the boy, she immediately went on defense and believed that the boy was responsible for her daughter's injury. If she had taken her time to register the situation, she'd realize that the dark look on the boy was most likely not intended for her daughter, but for the crowd who was pointing fingers and throwing accusations at him.

Mia pulled her hair, frustrated with herself, as her eyes widened with guilt swimming in them. Why hadn't she taken time to understand the situation before accusing the boy? Why hadn't she believed her daughter? Why had she believed the crowd, not her owns eyes and ears? Her daughter had straight out told her that the boy was innocent. Why had she refused to believe her?

In fact, when had this all started? If the boy was innocent in that situation, couldn't he possibly be innocent from many other accusations that had been thrown to him? Because of everyone's biased views towards the boy, everyone believed what others said about him (secondhand information, without proofs) and no one stopped to see the truth for themselves. Who knows if people had been sprouting lies about the boy so they wouldn't be seen as 'different'? After all, the boy was seen as a monster. Siding with the boy would greatly ruin one's reputation and possibly make one's life hell. No one would want to be that person, so everyone selfishly acted the way that would please other people, that wouldn't make themselves different.

Now that Mia had calmed down, she realized that she had always lied to herself, refusing to side with the boy. Not wanting to be friendly to the 'culprit' of her husband's death, Mia would, whenever the boy did something, automatically view it in a bad way and think that the boy had a bad intention for doing it. Because of these lies, Mia began unknowingly hating the boy more and more. Everything the boy did was 'evil' in her eyes.

"I...I have to..." Say sorry? That's a definite. Not only that, Mia was determined to never let her biased beliefs sway her views ever again. She would interact with the boy, apologize to him, and see things for herself. She would not believe the public's words anymore; instead, she would be the one to judge whether the boy was evil or not.

Mia's gaze traveled down the page, and she noticed a name at the bottom. Immediately, everything made sense.

"No wonder," Mia chuckled. "Who else was able to come up with such a meaningful story other than you, Nakamura Tenzoi?"