The Awakened Soul (Naruto SI)

[Welydora]

Prologue

A place with no concept of a beginning, where an eternal, cold, all‑consuming darkness stretched into infinity. A vast black canvas of existence that seemed to contain nothing at all. But… if you looked closer, tiny embers smoldered upon it, infinitesimally small in comparison to it. Shimmering with different colors, they were endless. Yet they all shared one thing.

They were all slowly burning away, dragging out their meaningless existence as they waited for their doom. Such is the law of the universe—to blaze anew, you first have to go out.

Everyone would go through this… Or were there exceptions?

A tiny soul drifted in the bottomless ocean of what would later be called oblivion. Inside an almost transparent sphere, a gray, slightly murky core glowed. This small planet wandered the expanse, rhythmically emitting a barely visible haze that quickly dissipated into the darkness.

But then, the glow went out.

Was this it?

The walls of the sphere rippled, and the core began to flicker.

An instant later, the little planet was engulfed in a blinding white flame, many times brighter than its former smoldering. Faint hints of gray flashed within it, but in the gloom you couldn't make out the rare black sparks bursting outward. Another instant, and the colors inverted. Now a barely discernible black fire birthed a myriad of almost white specks that exploded in bright flashes. Another moment, so brief you wouldn't have time to blink, and the fire froze, as if time itself had stopped.

A flash—and the swollen blaze was swept away by a wave of gray energy, scattering into countless sparkles. The darkness swallowed everything, except for it...

Once again, the small planet drifted in the ocean of oblivion. But now, right before your eyes, something was happening to it. Something light gray began to ooze around it, as if from nowhere, like a thick, viscous liquid. The color was somewhere between that of the almost transparent sphere and its murky gray core. And finally, after enclosing the orb, it suddenly started to swell into a shape. At first it was just an ellipsoid‑like blob, but it quickly gained detail until a human figure hung suspended in the endless murk.

It twitched once, a shudder running through its entire body. Trembling hands reached up to the face of the hunched‑over figure, and barely visible pulses of energy began to burst out of it.


"So... cold..."

My thoughts were all over the place, my body felt like it had a mind of its own, pulling me in different directions. A chill pierced me to the bone. My fingers were icy against my face. Everything cramped up in a spasm, and I pulled my limbs away, opening my eyes. There was darkness all around… in which I could see my own glowing, semi‑transparent hands…

"What the hell?"

A reflexive attempt to draw a breath was cut short.

I couldn't. No air was coming in.

Panic washed over me.

Goosebumps ran up my spine, and a tugging warmth spread through my chest...

My gaze dropped back to my own limbs. What I saw made me freeze, forgetting all about trying to breathe.

The question stayed the same.

The numbness almost receded, quietly replaced by calm. Had it always been this easy before? Ah, yeah. Almost.

I looked around, but saw nothing except my own body. My gaze slid down to my chest, and I froze, staring for about a minute at the glowing little "planet" inside me.

A thought flickered somewhere in the back of my mind: apparently, I wasn't going to need to breathe anymore. The transparency of my body only backed that up.

I needed to remember what had happened... My head was a mess. Trying to focus, I started to recall the most recent events, like watching an old film reel in reverse. A heaviness grew in my chest...

It all started that evening. Those memories were the clearest. It was raining, dark clouds over the city pressing down on everything. I just felt like buying something sweet—my weakness...

Leaving the building entrance, I headed for the nearest store out of habit. I walked without hurrying, knowing I'd get soaked anyway.

Why didn't I take an umbrella? I shouldn't have been in a rush… and that didn't just apply to me, but to the drivers tearing down the road along the sidewalk. One such speed demon hit a puddle and drenched me from the side, so I ended up wet not just from above. Wonderful...

Soon I was standing at a crosswalk, waiting for the green. The only one I needed to cross.

"At least I didn't forget you," I thought, fishing my earbuds out of my pocket.

Hunching over the case to shield it from the rain, I quickly put the earbuds in and started some music on my phone. The loud track drowned out the gloom.

As soon as it turned green, I stepped forward without looking… and immediately felt a sharp impact from the side that threw me several meters. A flash of pain shot through my entire body, the wail of a car horn punched through my music, and then a new, even stronger wave of pain hit from the same side. The crunch of my own ribs in my chest... then everything blurred and an icy numbness came.

So I got hit by a truck or a minibus... Most likely a minibus, considering the city and the way people here drive.

My hands clenched on their own, but a cold melancholy settled in my head... So, I died. And now I didn't feel anything. That was probably for the best. Looked like I'd already made my peace with it.

Endless darkness... so this was the afterlife. I'd been expecting something more colorful. There'd been so many interpretations of it back in my world.

Whatever. I... what was my name again? My fingers involuntarily touched my abs. Memories of gym workouts floated up. But I couldn't remember my name... The chill spread through my chest again, and I reached for it on reflex. My parents' names, the people close to me—I couldn't even recall their faces... But the feeling that those memories had been important wouldn't leave me.

At least I don't have to take my finals, an ironic thought flashed through my mind.

I didn't even remember my own face, but I knew I'd survived one whole set of finals. How old would that make me? I couldn't remember, so I had to count. Eighteen, huh.

"And what am I supposed to do with that info?" I tapped my chest, as if addressing the spheres. The only answer was a growing numbness.

Was I just tired? That's how I decided to interpret the feeling... Hm. And I kind of wondered what I looked like. I'd probably never find out now... Man, I was really getting pulled under...

The thinking wasn't helping, and without even realizing it, I let go of my thoughts and sank into something like sleep.

About ten hours later

Waking up in a pleasant haze was great. Nothing around me made a sound, my body didn't give off a single negative sensation; on the contrary, it was filled with warmth spreading out from my chest. Yeah... almost worth dying for, just for this... Horrible joke.

Sitting up, I started thinking about what to do next. The answer came up: nothing. That state of affairs didn't exactly thrill me. Then I noticed the warmth spreading through my body again.

"Wasn't I a bit... paler yesterday? And also..." I brought my hand closer to my eyes for a better look. "Did I get a glow or something?"

And sure enough, my entire "skin" was giving off a faint, barely noticeable grayish light. Hm, maybe I was being paranoid, but it really felt like this transparent little planet with the core inside me was behind this weird phenomenon—as well as the temperature thing going on in my chest.

When I was alive, I used to read a lot, and I didn't skip anime either—even though a lot of people think it's, hm, a weird hobby. And this little ball was suspiciously similar to some kind of mana core… just a strange, two‑layered one. Although, considering I'm dead and wasn't a mage in my past life, it's more likely a spiritual energy core, or something like that.

When I looked at it more closely, I added another fact to the pile: there was something else in there. It seemed like something almost transparent was flowing very slowly out of the inner core. Some kind of substance, like thick jelly. And the same stuff was flowing out of the outer core as well.

Should I try meditating or something, to feel the Force? Weird idea. Even if I did die and end up in this equally weird form of existence... yeah, against that backdrop the idea doesn't even sound that strange.

I sat down in the lotus position—I had no idea why—closed my eyes and focused on my chest. A second, two, a minute... No idea how much time actually passed, but subjectively "soon" enough, and to my surprise I really did feel a flow...

It was a strange feeling of something shifting, like suddenly noticing a heartbeat that had always been there. As if it had been with me all along; it felt completely natural.

Not wanting to stop there, I tried to make a sort of channel leading from the top of the outer sphere. And after a few moments that felt longer than before, I managed to catch that inner effort, that thought‑property, that made the energy condense and stretch out of the sphere in a thin cord, before dissolving back inside my body.

For a good ten minutes I honestly just played around with it, pulling out… this stuff into cords of different lengths and densities.

Watching and doing all that from the sphere's point of view was really interesting. I could see in a full three‑hundred‑and‑sixty‑degree circle. Me‑as‑the‑sphere inside my chest, once I more or less got the hang of it, could, by sort of jerking myself up and down, jump over the cord I'd made like it was a jump rope. Of course, that was only after I smacked myself with it a few dozen times.

Even then, probably only thanks to the sense of rhythm I'd built up in life, I managed to do a series of ten "jumps" over this... whatever it was. I had no idea what to even call the stuff inside me... Soul energy? I could be totally wrong about its nature, but whatever. After another minute, mentally huffing and puffing, I was already doing a set of fifteen jumps when something in my mind started itching...

Maybe I was missing something?…

!

Right, I should be seeing through my eyes! What the hell is wrong with my memory that I'm being this dense...

With that thought, my point of view almost literally drifted and stopped at head level. What had been a spherical, all‑around... sphere‑o‑vision turned into the usual view of human eyes.

And then, just by wanting to, my view shifted back to how it had been a moment ago.

"Amazing," flashed through… the sphere, as I switched between those two points of view a few more times and, in the end, was able to literally look through my finger.

I examined myself from the outside. Inside my semi‑transparent shell—in my head, and even down in my groin—there were no brains to be found. Apparently I was thinking with the little planet in my chest. It was the only thing in the body that really stood out.

Interesting picture. As I realized after a few dozen experiments, I was most likely perceiving reality through energy now. I simply didn't have any other organs. I could even "see" with the energy that leaked from the contours of my body.

By the way, the glowing outline that passed where my skin should've been was slightly thickened... like skin. You wouldn't notice it at first because of the glow.

Back to vision: I could sort of see out to about a couple of meters away from my body. In all directions at once, which was important. And it didn't really overload my "brain"—quotation marks now.

Well, I was discovering a new side of myself, heh. Literally.

My body looked familiar to me, so it didn't really trigger any emotions. A lean guy, far from a bodybuilder, but clearly someone who knew a thing or two about working out. Standard haircut with medium‑length hair and, as had been trendy for a while, shaved sides.

A "young man"... wasn't I a bit too young to be using that word? Ah, whatever.

What should I do next?

A cord of energy drifted over me‑the‑sphere.

Well, after getting something that was basically magic, what else was I supposed to do besides mess with it? Although… I could probably hurt myself if I did something wrong with this substance... On the other hand, I'm dead, there's nothing around, and even if I cause myself pain—well, what can you do. At least existing won't be so boring... how fatalistic.

But back to a more positive wave. Energy... let's try pushing it outside—beyond the "skin."

A stream about a centimeter thick rushed out of the core and passed beyond the limits of my body without any obstacles. No issues there.

A few minutes later I was already trying to control two "snakes" of energy. They could easily be merged into one, and I tried braiding them together.

After another ten minutes of this fun little activity, my brain steaming like crazy, I was already trying to make a weave of ten threads—one from each finger.

Another notable thing: I didn't have to pull the energy straight out of the outer sphere—which, as I was vaguely starting to feel, was the main reservoir. In much smaller amounts, the same substance was in my body, and I could draw it not just from the "skin," but even from the "glow."

The experiments with shape manipulation dragged on for another couple dozen minutes, ending with me checking how far I could stretch a thread of energy—a tendril, basically. Turned out to be about two meters. Weird sensation, like how an arm can't physically reach further, and in the same way I couldn't push the energy any farther.

After that I moved on to trying to change the properties of my energy. Up to now I'd just been changing its shape, which is also a "property," kind of. But you can take that concept a lot further.

Right away, a small flame popped up over my finger, like from a lighter. It was gray for some reason... ah, there we go, at my command it turned into a normal color.

"Hmm... looks like I've got the makings of a masochist," I muttered, holding my other hand over the flame. "Nothing... Oh, right, I need to assign the thought‑property that the fire should be hot... Hotter... hotter... Oh fuck, not that hot!"

So I could hurt myself after all. When I was "jump‑roping" as the sphere and smacking "myself" with the energy cord, I hadn't felt any damage. I'd clearly felt that I was touching myself, sure, but there were no real injuries.

I looked at my hand, now nicely filled in with gray... Well, at least I checked whether my "body" has regeneration. I hope it does.

Now I could move on to the sphere and its core... Over time, I was feeling their work more and more clearly: how the outer sphere bled excess energy out of the body, and how the inner core radiated energy into the outer sphere as if from nowhere.

Then a not‑very‑smart idea came to me, but its quality didn't stop me from trying it. As always, obeying my will, the outer sphere stopped radiating energy and started slowly overfilling.

After a minute I felt uncomfortable. After three—more uncomfortable, and a problem cropped up: I could barely hold the sphere back. It wasn't showing any signs it was about to burst on its own. In fact, that lack of an "I'm gonna pop" feeling was what kept me going, because my senses were telling me I could still keep holding it.

Even with my newly discovered self‑torture tendencies, I still didn't want to hurt myself that deliberately. If I'd felt like I was about to burst, I'd have let go.

With a low hum, the energy tore free of my control and gushed out of me in a powerful stream of light.

Ugh... tired again. I don't know what exactly in me gets tired, but this time the feeling came not only from the mental work, like before, but also from working with the energy itself. The energy, by the way, was still there in full. So apparently it was the manipulation that wore me out.

With that, I decided to push the next experiments off until "tomorrow."

Just like last time, I cleared my mind without effort and again fell into something like sleep.

Some time later

Alright, what else is there to do?

Guess I'll keep working on containing the energy.

With a light effort, the inner core kind of switched off, stopping its radiation. That took less effort than holding back the outer sphere. However... yeah, if I stopped focusing on it, the core would just "switch on" by itself again and start pumping out its "jelly." Hm...

What if...

I focused on my "glow" and immediately tried to snuff it out, as if corking the energy up inside.

Starting from the "skin" on my fingers, the glow began to fade. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, the process of "fading" got harder and harder. My mind was practically boiling by the time my hands had "gone dark" up to the elbows...

Failure.

After rethinking what had happened a bit, I felt a slight dissatisfaction with the experiment. Sure, I'd never gotten everything right on the first try anyway. But this was just a mess: I'd failed to pull something off—that just didn't sit right.

As the experiments with form had clearly shown, my skills grew with time. And now I had... a lot of time. Hm... First I'll try making different‑colored glows. I wanna learn how to puke rainbows...

A week later

"Come on... you... I mean, I can do this!" I stared at the fading toes on my feet. At first the progress had been fast. After about an hour of work, I'd managed to "extinguish" my hands. But the farther I went, the more the progress slowed down, even if not too sharply. By my feel for it, I'd already spent something like ten hours actually working on it. Plus an unknown amount of time in between, spent "sleeping." That's how long it had taken to reach where I was now.

Though I hadn't been grinding only this one trick. I'd also been progressing in other areas of energy manipulation. I'd pushed my overall control to the point where I could stretch energy—and therefore "see" with it—up to five meters away. And, by the way, my "body" did have regeneration: the burn‑like injury had healed up over several sleep cycles.

But right now the important part was that I'd done what I set out to do. Straining hard to keep my "skin" from leaking energy, I could only squeeze out a pained smile.

Finally managed to snuff out all the glow from my skin. Now all I'm missing is a bell chime and a "Quest Complete" pop‑up over my head, I thought, my smile becoming a little less strained.

And... what's this...?

Suddenly I started to feel something vague, like my "skin" was getting "thicker"... or rather, denser, soaking up energy to do it. Was it because of the pressure I was putting on it right now?

For a few more seconds I held the energy inside, watching that slow process. But since it was taking real effort, I was just about to let go of my control when I suddenly felt a jolt from below.

A few seconds later, I was being pulled somewhere. My control slipped, and the pent‑up energy gushed out of me in a torrent. But I could still feel that my acceleration wasn't dropping; something inside told me I was moving through space. After another, fairly short stretch of time, I felt the "atmosphere" get thicker, like I'd gone from air into water. I wasn't sure this space—which, as it turned out, wasn't empty at all—had any kind of actual atmosphere, but that's exactly how it felt.

The denser "atmosphere" turned out to be energy, different from the stuff I'd been manipulating. It started slowly soaking into me, and I instinctively felt that this substance was very good for me.

For the first time in a long while, I felt hunger—and I knew clearly that this stuff outside could satisfy it.

With a push of will, my "skin" opened up instead, and the flow of absorbed energy shot up many times over.

Pushing even harder, I started yanking that energy into myself as much as I could.

I didn't really have the strength to look closely, but as it washed over my soul, that energy almost immediately made the outer shell completely transparent, while the core barely changed—its gray color just turned... grayer.

Strangely enough, even at peak strain, I didn't get tired for a long time. My control was actually growing stronger.

After a while of letting the energy pour through me, I felt... younger? And, like I just mentioned, stronger. However... my stamina still couldn't keep up with the power of my efforts. I hadn't totally lost my mind, and I noticed that as I went, so I eased off the pace. All so I could stay conscious longer and absorb more energy.

But as I kept pulling more and more into myself, fatigue still crept over me in a slow wave. And after a while, I couldn't fight it off and slipped into unconsciousness...

 

[Welydora]

I woke up in complete darkness, same as before. Only this time my "spherical vision" was almost completely cut off, and everything around me was suspiciously warm and damp.

But most noticeable of all, I was currently wrapped up inside a holy-shit level of powerful energy.

Did some creepy thing eat me? was the first thought that flashed through my mind, but I pretty much dismissed it right away.

I could clearly see my body had changed. It was smaller—shaped like a fetus, about five months along… To be honest, I'm no expert, but the transformation itself seemed pretty damn interesting. Even more interesting than another change I haven't mentioned yet: my, let's say, power had grown a lot.

I could feel the increase in my power almost in percentages: after ending up in that place, my soul had become more than 3.5 times stronger. But it was a weird metric—it somehow factored in not only the amount of energy, but also its density in some way I couldn't explain. If I multiplied both sensations together, it came out like the energy in my core had grown by about 6.5 times. Some weird bullshit.

Bullshit or not, going back to the main problem: apparently I was encased in energy that utterly dwarfed my own.

To feel it better, I tried to stick a cord of my own energy out past the edge of my body, to "look around" and "poke" things in a different way. But the moment it touched the outer energy, I jerked back from a scorching sense of hostility. Like I'd plunged my hands into weak acid, only with a very clear feeling that something was trying to erase me… not super hard, but the intent was there.

Still, I got some picture of things.

The thing containing me was soaked in this energy, but dozens of times more of it was flowing through what looked like its veins. A circulatory system? I couldn't even touch those properly—my soul energy got blown away almost instantly, not leaving me a chance. But one brush against a "vein" was enough for me to grasp the shape of that system, and I stopped thinking it looked like a blood vessel network at all—because it didn't. It also let me better gauge the power level of the creature I was currently inside… and if I'd had, say, three times less energy, then just in raw volume it would surpass me by four orders of magnitude. Ten. Thousand. Times.

That bit of information knocked me out of it for a few seconds. What kind of monster was I inside?.. Though, judging by my current situation, "imprisoned" wasn't exactly the right word.

Focusing, I carefully checked my own body again, this time a lot more consciously.

No, I mean, I did look human, right?

My eye snagged on something, but I shelved it for the moment. I was almost sure the body was human—just at some stage of development… and inside a womb. From that, I could conclude the creature I was inside of was technically my mother now. And I'd somehow ended up in a new body.

As for how it happened—in that part the logic chain got fuzzy: I'd been sucked into some space filled with energy I absorbed, and the cause of that was… my experiment to turn off the "backlight"? I can totally believe I missed something, and the cause-and-effect chain is anything but solid. But without more info I just have to work with what I've got.

So now I had at least some idea how I'd gotten here. And before moving on to "what now?", I went back to the thing that had caught my attention. When I focused on the energy system… of my mother, something at the edge of my awareness poked me—like I had something similar inside myself. To my surprise, by zeroing in on that thought and kind of projecting it into my soul energy, I started seeing a similar system in my own body more and more clearly.

Same as last time, as I changed my approach—using sensations to interact with the unknown—my mind started creaking. "Shifting" it into something I didn't understand to grope around for something I also didn't understand was, yeah, not exactly easy.

After a while, entirely new sensations from this new energy system began seeping into my mind. A slow, steady flow.

This new energy was oversaturated with a whole ocean of feelings I'd never had in my soul energy. If my power was like pure water, then this was like an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of flavors and emotions, made of two currents: one warm, alive, the other colder, more spiritual.

I tried touching the new energy with my soul energy—but I just couldn't. My soul tendril passing through the new energy felt like brushing some barely-there fog. There was something there, but I had no idea if those sensations were even real or just my brain bullshitting me with phantom input.

Weird… My mother's energy, by comparison, had been harshly blocking and shredding my soul energy. I couldn't figure out why, other than, "well, this energy belongs to my body, so it doesn't mess with my soul." I just put that question aside for later. Maybe for never, heh.

This new energy system had a pretty funny shape, though. This little flame… Wait. Hold up.

I stared harder.

Froze.

Burned myself on my mother's system again while examining it.

Realized—and holy shit.

The chakra circulatory system from the anime Naruto. No fucking way.

Look how far I've fallen… I actually ended up as some isekai insert into the anime I used to be into in my past life. If I'd known, I would've prepped way better. What do I have in my memory? Right… the anime itself, though I watched it ages ago and probably forgot half of it, and a shit-ton of fanfics… What the hell was I doing with my past life?

Anyway, now I had to recall everything I knew about this world. Any info could be valuable… I must've really gone off the deep end if I'm treating this whole "transmigrated"—yeah, "transmigrated," since I haven't actually "reincarnated" yet—thing as something more or less normal.

Eh… Fine. If that's reality now, I've got to adapt. What do I remember about Naruto? Actually, a lot. Chakra in this world either appeared, or got concentrated, because of some failed attempt by two aliens to suck all life off the planet. They had some kind of falling out, and everything went to shit. That's if you believe the Naruto sequel anime—Boruto… which I really should've watched way more attentively. I don't remember anything besides the fact there were two aliens—a man and a woman. The second betrayed the first, took everything for herself, while the first had to run and hide for like a thousand years.

Ōtsutsuki Kaguya, one of the strongest beings in the world. The Rabbit Goddess, and probably a whole list of other terrifying titles I don't know. What matters is she's insanely strong… And a vague thought kept poking at me: comparing the power I felt from outside, it wasn't crazy to think she might actually be the mother of this physical body.

I reevaluated again.

No… Or rather, I wasn't sure. Yeah, a power almost four orders of magnitude higher than mine is insane. But it's not like I'm putting out mind-blowing numbers myself right now. I mean… for example, I'd managed to learn how to burp rainbows. I'm awesome, sure—but nowhere near omnipotent. Even if you multiplied my power by those three-thousand-something times, I kinda doubted it'd be enough for an Ōtsutsuki… Damn, if only the anime had detailed power stats for the characters. In numbers. That would be useful for me… But no, anime usually doesn't like "nerding out" with exact data. Although, if I remember right, I actually liked numbers. LitRPG was a pretty good genre, I was into it. Probably… If I live, I'll need to start systematizing the stuff I'm working with.

For now, I'm in a womb. Pretty much sure of that. I've got a fetal body that clearly shouldn't be able to think like this, but I can think just fine. And also…

I tried to wiggle the fingers on my hand, but only managed an awkward twitch with the whole arm. Yeah, I could feel my body. And judging by how it looked, I was going to be stuck here in the dark and this actually pretty pleasant warm dampness for a few more months.

So I'll spend that time replaying my memories about this world—Naruto and Boruto—and messing around with my soul energy inside my body. It's not getting out anyway—I'm basically sealed in.

What else is there to do? Guess I'll try moving my chakra. It's already flowing on its own, but maybe I can speed it up?

That's what I did for the time that followed. As it turned out pretty quickly, my new brain did work somehow, though it was probably only handling part of the thinking load. Because after maybe twenty minutes of entertaining myself, I felt tired. A different kind of tired, most likely physical, and I drifted off to sleep.

Sleeping in the womb turned out even nicer than… There. Nothing hurt, there was a pleasant feeling in my chest, and waking up wrapped in that softness was insanely good. Such a cozy, skin-tingling sensation—those first few times I didn't even want to wake up right away, just basked in the bliss over and over. But I couldn't stay like that forever, so I mixed it up with various energy exercises.

That's how the new cycles of a very pleasant existence began…

Over the months, I got used not only to my new state, but also to the one who was my whole world. I didn't know her name, hadn't seen her face, but I felt her. I felt joy in the slight stir of energy around me, fatigue in the steady slowing of her heartbeat, the muffled laughter coming from outside. It all became so familiar, so dear and calming.

Until it was time to be born.


AAHHHHHH!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT?! I screamed in my head as my mother's insides painfully clenched around me, trying to push me out.

"OH GOD, IT HURTS S-O-O-O-O-O-O-O MUCH!" A muffled female voice with incomprehensible moans reached me. The voice that had become so familiar and warm over the past months was now filled with searing agony.

Then my head was hit by an unpleasant cold, and the air stabbed through my hair like needles.

And life had been so good until now. Comfortable, nothing extra I had to do…

The outside world decided not to wait for me to make my own way out. I realized that when I felt something put on the crown of my head and then, somehow grabbing onto it, start to pull.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" my mother screamed.

Yeah, I'm freaking out too!

It felt like they weren't being very gentle with me, prioritizing speed over care.

A couple seconds later I reflexively opened my mouth and inhaled, and my lungs were hit with the unpleasant cold of air. Sounds got way louder, another scream from my mother rang in my ears like a damn alarm. Light—something I hadn't seen in so long—slammed into my eyes like burning knives, making me squeeze them shut even tighter.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

With that last scream, still pounding in my ears like a death knell, I was pulled out completely. Breathing was hard, my whole body was shaking from the strain…

Mom, you still alive in there? I asked mentally, kind of worried. Not that anyone could hear me. Everything felt like a blur; people were fussing around me, but I couldn't really sense anything properly.

Very soon, after a feeling of warm moisture, they apparently washed me. At the same time, everything around me started getting clearer. Sounds became distinguishable, though not any more understandable. My mind was mush; I couldn't process my surroundings properly.

"He's not crying?" They lifted me again onto… hands?… that slowly started forming a black-and-white picture in my mind.

I can see with my soul again? What's with the lack of color?

"He's breathing. It's all right, Kushina-chan."

My soul vision slowly expanded, letting me see more of the woman holding me: looked about sixty, loose robe, steady grip.

Another half second and I saw, very close—maybe a meter away—a girl of about twenty. She was also in a robe, something like a medical gown, and a cap. I still couldn't see color properly, but at least I could make out shapes inside the expanding sphere of vision.

No fucking way I'm being born again. Life was so much better last time when I didn't remember these sensations, flashed through my head.

After a bit more time, they moved me to a young woman lying on a table-bed, looking horribly exhausted. I couldn't tell the color, but she had long, straight hair.

"N-Naruto… Haaaah… I finally get to see you." They brought me up to her face. The ringing in my ears was slowly fading, and I started catching individual words. But that didn't help me much—I couldn't understand the language…

Sorry, but it was way nicer inside you. Ugh… screw this.

"Look, I'm a father! Ha-ha!" A guy around twenty, standing next to my mother's bed, was saying something while wiping away tears. He had medium-length spiky hair that fell down in two locks at the sides.

I don't get a word you're saying, but… thanks, I guess.

I reflexively reached for the girl's face. My body was so fragile. But I'd been with this woman for so long. That pleasant feeling in my chest when I looked at her? Was that… love?

"Childbirth has tired you out, I know, Kushina. But we need to completely seal the Kyuubi…" the guy said again, in words I still couldn't understand.

Wait. Just now Mom said "Naruto" while looking at me? And one of the words aimed at her was "Kushina"? And yeah, my body had those lines on the cheeks. Just great… So I'm Uzumaki Naruto now, huh…

"O-okay."

I focused on what the guy was doing. He put his hands on my mother's stomach, which, I now noticed, was covered with strange lines and circles of energy.

While I was lost in thought, the old lady who'd brought me to Mom carried me away again, stepping aside with the younger assistant.

Millimeter by millimeter, my vision kept spreading, soon reaching about three meters out. I don't think I could even control it… it was so hard to fit everything into my mental grip. I could see both women beside me more clearly now, as well as my mother and, as I now had to assume, my father. Minato—I remembered his name—kept doing something with the seal, making it fold in and get sucked inside.

My thoughts were cut off by a wave of unpleasant feeling.

I remembered that Naruto's birthday in the anime turned into a tragedy—both his parents died. But my mind was like frozen jelly, refusing to flow the right way and give me the mental images of why exactly it happened.

Instead, a dull ache started growing in my chest from a simple fact: the woman whose heartbeat had been my world these past months would soon die.

Floating away from the world, I suddenly felt like something metaphorical grabbed me and yanked me back into reality.

A picture started burning itself into my numb mind: a huge hand of a cloaked figure hanging over my face. In front of us, in slow motion, the older and younger women were falling. Their throats were slit, and I saw in crazy detail how the blood burst out of them under pressure.

With a heavy thud their bodies hit the floor, splattering it with blood.

"AAAAAAAAHHHH!" my scream, full of horror, echoed through the room. Goosebumps raced over my skin, my heart exploded into a frantic beat, the thudding echoing through my whole body. The nightmarish image of the murdered women wouldn't leave my head; I watched the sticky pool of blood spreading under them, and no matter how I tried, I couldn't "close my eyes" in my own mind.

"M-mph…!" A huge hand grabbed my head, muffling me. My whole being was flooded with anxiety. On reflex, tendrils of soul energy—what I'd been training with all this time—shot out of me, trying to stab into whoever had grabbed me. They just broke apart uselessly on his skin. His own chakra, circulating under it, was an unbreakable wall to my weak power. He didn't even react, like nothing had happened at all.

"Fourth Hokage… Minato. Step away from the jinchuriki," a deep, chilling voice rumbled above me. "Or your son dies."

"Wait! C-calm down," Minato backed away from Kushina, raising his hands in a placating gesture. But at her pained cry he immediately looked back— the beast inside the seal was breaking loose.

"You'd better follow your own advice," the intruder said, taking his hand off my frozen face and, with an imperceptible movement, pulling a kunai out of his sleeve. "I am perfectly calm."

Let me go, you fucking psycho piece of shit! was all I could do—scream mentally. I was on the edge of a full-blown meltdown. And to my surprise, he did let me go… by tossing me up, right into the path of the falling steel blade!

"AAAAAAH!"

"Naruto!" my mother shouted, turning toward me.

Swish

A hard jolt—and suddenly I was in the arms of Minato, who was crouched on the wall(!!).

Kshhhhh—my swaddling was now covered in ominously sizzling paper tags with kanji on them. This time my brain worked properly, instantly recognizing that those tags were about to blow like a grenade.

"AAAAAAAAHHH!" I screamed, doing my best to convey, Dad, save my ass!

The world smeared, my body got crushed by pressure for a moment, and then we were already out on a nighttime clearing, without the blanket. Less than a second later, an eardrum-busting explosion thundered behind us. The small stone building blew apart into shards of rock.

"AAAAAAAAAHHH!" I screamed again, fully realizing what had just happened.

"You're not hurt… Shhh… easy," he tried to calm me. "It's okay…"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" My scream was carrying a whole bunch of meanings, most of them insults. I wanted to say: You inbred runt of a hyena and a buttfucked skunk, what the FUCK are you doing?! Mom was still in there! You got her killed, you dumbfuck! You couldn't throw that fucking blanket somewhere else?! Outside, for fuck's sake?! Like, literally into that fucking forest right in front of us?!

But I cut off my internal rant when it hit me that I couldn't see my mother or that shinobi in the smashed house. It was like they'd just vanished… Unlike the old lady and the young girl.

A lump rose in my throat as I focused again on their mangled bodies. Even under the pile of stones, I could still see them through the obstacles.

Before I could start throwing up from the sight, all my guts clenched and flipped over several times. With a soft pop of air, we moved to some room made mostly of stone and beams. The lump went back down, so nothing came out of my mouth. I noticed lots of gear bags around, and a three-pronged kunai hung from the ceiling.

"I have to save your mother before it's too late," he said, quickly laying me down on a bed that had been set up there. "Wait here a bit. You'll be safe here…"

Whoosh—saying that, the man who was apparently my father—most likely blond—vanished.

I'm out of non-swear words. What a fucking day…

For a moment, silence settled in my head. One more realization…

Fuck. And this still isn't the end. Next they're going to seal the Nine-Tailed Fox into me. My parents are going to die. And I'm about to get up close and personal with the God of Death.

My brain throbbed from the effort. I wanted to figure out how to escape this. But nothing came to mind. I really did not want to meet that scary-ass freak of a god…


A few seconds passed, panic still gnawing at me, when with a heavy clap of air my father appeared—with my mother in his arms.

She's alive… relief fluttered inside me… before bitterness washed through my insides from helpless despair. But not for long…

"W-why?" she asked something, and the man laid her down next to me, but she immediately pulled me close.

"No matter what happens, stay with Naruto," he said, quickly opening one of the cabinets and pulling out a cloak with flames along the bottom and kanji on the back.

"You won't even have time to blink before I'm back," he finished, then vanished in a flash.

"Good luck… Minato… Thank you…" Kushina barely murmured. "Naruto…"

She hugged me a little tighter.

My body, which had been on the edge of madness, somehow started to calm down.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump

The sound of her heart, so familiar… so soothing…

I hadn't even noticed how long it had been with me, or how close it had become.


Seconds ticked by as I lay there with my mother. Explosions boomed from outside, the air grew thick with something heavy that made me shiver in fear of the inevitable. At the same time, I felt myself being wrapped up by an energy that had grown much warmer. My mother's chakra, still just as mighty, but now a lot more gentle. Over time I felt it more and more clearly on me, subconsciously calming down further.

After a few more minutes, with another soft clap of air, we were moved again. Mom was back in Dad's arms, and I was in hers. Together we found ourselves at the edge of a nighttime forest.

"Let's put up a barrier," Minato suggested tiredly.

"My chakra is almost depleted…" Kushina said, and the air vibrated with released energy. Incredibly fast, expanding chains burst from her back. The air filled with the clanging of links. I couldn't see where they went—they left my sphere of vision—but I heard clearly:

"G-R-A-A-A-A-A!!!" came the helpless roar of the strongest tailed beast, and the ground beneath us shook. It was bound, not a shred of hope left.

I was feeling something similar. Something was about to happen… something that could very well end with my death… Or maybe Minato wouldn't summon the Shinigami after all?

My body started trembling with fear again.

Kushina almost collapsed, but Minato caught her—after first smoothly taking me so he wouldn't crush me.

"I'm sorry, Naruto, I didn't mean to wake you…" Kushina's soothing voice reached me. It didn't really help.

Then they started talking about something.

"Kushina…"

"I'll drag the Kyuubi back inside… and die with it still in me…" She drew a sharp breath. "That'll keep it from coming back for a while…"

Minato sighed heavily at her words, looking at my mother with pain in his eyes.

"Thank you… khh," two thin streams of blood ran from the corners of her lips. "For everything…"

"Kushina, you…" tears began gathering in my father's eyes. "You made me your husband… You made me the Fourth Hokage… You made me this boy's father… And I…"

"Don't be sad… Minato. I… I'm happy," a strained smile appeared on Kushina's face. "Happy that it's our son's birthday."

She took a heavy breath.

"If I regret anything… it's that I won't get to see Naruto grow up."

Minato's expression darkened even more. His head dropped, and a shadow slid over his face.

"Kushina, you don't have to take the fox with you," he said, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts. "We can use what's left of our chakra to see Naruto one more time."

"…Huh?" Mom looked at him in surprise.

"I'll use the Eight Trigrams Sealing Style and seal half of the Kyuubi into Naruto. Sealing the whole bijuu is insanely hard… Right now it's physically and conceptually impossible. So I'll seal the other half inside myself…"

"But that's impossible for a non-jinchuriki! Wait, no! You can only do that if you use…"

"The Reaper Death Seal…" he confirmed grimly. "I can't let the bijuu be reborn without a jinchuriki. The balance of the tailed beasts between the villages would be ruined."

Images from the past flashed before the Fourth Hokage's eyes. Him listening to a man with long spiky hair and two lines under his eyes:

"You know, you really might be the child of prophecy."

"What child?" a younger Minato had asked back then.

"One day, in the near future, the shinobi world will be in danger."

And the child of prophecy will save it… echoed in the blond's thoughts now.

Kushina stared at Minato in shock.

"I know what you want to say… But Jiraiya-sensei said a revolution is coming to the shinobi world. And with it, great danger!" His eyes met hers again. "And today I learned two things. First: that masked man who attacked us—he's the herald of that danger. And Naruto will be the one to stop him. A jinchuriki who'll bring light to our future. I just… know it."

Somewhere in the distance, there was the rustle of something landing.

"But… Minato—"

Ignoring her attempt to stop him, my father gently set me down on the ground, then stood and ran through a series of hand seals.

"Just believe in him. After all, he's our son."

That's it… flashed through my head as I braced for the worst. Completely out of hope, I didn't even try to resist.

After the last seal, a strange silhouette slipped out of Minato's body, only to have its hair grabbed and yanked by a huge figure. With my soul vision, I watched an extremely thin being, vaguely human-shaped. Dressed in a baggy robe, with very long hair, and horns jutting from its head. In its hands, the God of Death held a short tanto; its clawed hands pulled open its own clothes. In one palm, it clutched a string of beads.

And… nothing? I noted with faint surprise that nothing was happening to me. Huh… I'd thought this "god" would be something like a guardian of the world who wouldn't tolerate a foreign soul… Guess I shouldn't have read those fanfics… got my expectations all twisted. I focused on the thing that had appeared. So what are you, then? I can't feel your soul. Where is it…? You pulled that thing out of my father… but I don't feel a soul in it either.

"As soon as I'm done with the tailed beast, I'll seal your chakra into Naruto too. You'll meet a grown-up Naruto faster than you think… The time will come when he tries to control the Kyuubi's power. When that happens, I want you there beside him—to help."

"He's our son… That's exactly why I don't want him to bear such a heavy burden alone."

"…"

"But why the Reaper Death Seal? You don't have to die… just so I can see him for a few minutes." Kushina's voice began to crack. "I wanted you to stay with him… to raise him!"

"…"

"…Why? Why are you sacrificing Naruto for the balance of the bijuu? For the village… and the country… Why are you sacrificing yourself for me?"

"Turning your back on your village and country… is no better than abandoning your own child," Minato's voice took on a calm certainty. He was sure of what he was saying. "You know that. You remember what happened to your village. You know the pain of growing up without a home… And you know that we're a family… of shinobi."

Kushina's eyes filled with conflicting emotions.

"Besides," Minato spread his hands a little, "even if I survived, I could never replace you."

"…" Her eyes widened in surprise.

"There are things Naruto needs to know, things I could never tell him myself. That's a mother's duty, and I want you to fulfill it. Even if you only get a few moments…" His eyes narrowed seriously. "I'm not doing this only for you… but for Naruto. Dying to make your son's life better… that's a father's duty."


"The Reaper Death Seal… It can't be?!" a hoarse voice, already tinged with age, shouted. It was a shinobi in a black jumpsuit, a helmet with protection, and a steel plate on his back. In his hands he gripped a thick staff.

He shot a sharp look at the Nine-Tails wrapped in chains, and at the dome that had it trapped, with a pair of shinobi inside. Glowing golden chains ran along the perimeter of the dome, forming the barrier.

"What's going on, Third-sama?!" asked one of the two ninja who had just arrived.

"We're too late. They've put a barrier around the Kyuubi!" The old man stepped up and pressed a hand to the invisible force field. "No way through…"


The beads wrapped around the God of Death's arm, and it became covered in black markings. The arm lengthened, spearing through the belly of Minato's soul, then through the stomach of his real body, and shot toward the tailed beast.

Circling the beast, the arm sprouted countless mouths and hands, sinking into its flesh.

"R-R-A-A-A-A!!!" the Nine-Tails roared. "Damn you, Fourth Hokage!"


"It's shrinking," said the third shinobi by the barrier, watching the huge beast. The chains no longer held it, now hanging with a loud clatter.

"I can't believe he actually used that technique…" the Third Hokage said. "But the fox is still here. He didn't seal it all!"


My mind sank into empty melancholy. My parents were saying something… but I couldn't understand them.

I don't remember my old parents… and now I have to lose the new ones.

So empty…

A fox's head grew out of the head of my father's soul-that-wasn't-a-soul… Eh… that's probably supposed to be funny.

Minato formed a few signs, and an altar with candles appeared beside us. Guess it's time…

Kushina coughed as Minato laid me on the summoned platform.

From the distance came the loud rattling of chains.

"Kushina, help me!" my father shouted, and from my point of view, both of my parents blurred into motion.

"R-R-R-A-A-A!!!" The roar of the Nine-Tails drowned out the crunch of tearing flesh. Minato and Kushina, shielding me with their backs, had stopped the descending claw of the Kyuubi.

The world around me dimmed. A heavy cold filled my body. Only the corners of my eyes burned with the warmth of falling tears.

Through a muffling haze, I heard a commotion; some long toad appeared, but I didn't pay attention. My whole focus was locked on yet another pair of torn bodies. And seeing these hurt much, much worse.

Drip

A drop of warm blood slid down the claw and landed on my stomach. It forced me to focus on the face it belonged to.

"N-Naruto…" blood dripped from her chin, staining her clothes in a pattern like red roses, "don't be a picky eater… eat a lot and grow up to be a big, strong boy! H-ha…"

Beads of sweat dotted her face; every word cost her a huge effort.

"Take a bath every day… go to bed early and sleep well! Make friends… as many as you like… But first make sure they're real friends… people you can trust… Just a few is enough!"

Kushina smiled sincerely, closing her eyes for a moment.

"And study your ninjutsu… I was never good at it. Maybe you'll do better. Everyone's good at something and bad at something else. Don't get upset if you can't do everything. Listen to your teachers at the academy… and remember: avoid the three shinobi taboos… don't borrow money if you can help it. Save what you earn on missions. Don't drink alcohol until you're twenty. And don't drink too much, or you'll wreck your body."

She paused briefly.

"As for women… Well, I'm a woman myself, so I don't really know what to tell you. But one day you'll want to get yourself a girlfriend… Just try not to pick a weirdo… Try to find someone like your mom…"

"And a fourth warning…" Minato's voice came from behind Kushina. "Watch out for Jiraiya-sensei!"

"…Ha… hu," a weak laugh escaped her. "Naruto, you're going to face a lot of pain and suffering… Remember who you are! Find yourself a goal… a dream! And don't stop until you reach it!"

"…"

"I'm sorry, Minato… That used up all our time…"

"It's… all right," my father said, smiling wider, even with just one eye open. "Listen to your chatty mom…"

With Minato's last words, everything was drowned in white light. The Eight Trigrams Seal had been activated.

 

[Welydora]

My mind was blank. With a dragging cold in my chest, I watched as my parents' hearts beat slower and slower.

After the flash, the Nine-Tails moved into the seal on my stomach, which I couldn't even feel. Kushina and Minato just collapsed to the ground, living out their final seconds.

The God of Death still loomed over us. He was giving his summoner his last moments, knowing the man wasn't going anywhere.

Bursts of wind sounded nearby. Three shinobi appeared and, in a panic, rushed toward us. The oldest of them lifted me from the pedestal... Someone familiar? Oooh... a younger Hiruzen... Compared to the pain inside me, though, I felt almost nothing. I'd run out of strength to suffer. Only the burning in my chest stayed.

"Fourth-sama!" a worried jonin shouted, lifting the Hokage into a sitting position.

His comrade did the same for Kushina.

All three stared in alarm at the terrifying, gaping wounds. It was amazing anyone with injuries like that was even still alive.

"Minato... Kushina..." Hiruzen spoke their names with bitterness; his hands trembled.

Don't you go dropping me now... I noted melancholically in my head.

"Hiruzen-sama..." A strained smile appeared on Minato's face again. "Forgive me... I have to leave you..."

The old man turned a desperate gaze to him.

"Please, pass my words to the people of Konoha... I want them not to think of my son as the vessel of a monster... that only brings grief. Let them know him as a hero..."

"Y-yeah..." Hiruzen nodded firmly. "I'll tell them."

"Third..." Kushina said quietly. Hiruzen stepped closer so he could hear her better. "Take care of him..."

"Of course. Don't worry," the old man nodded without hesitation.

"His name... is Naruto..."

…

…

The pull in my chest got even worse...

Kushina's heart stopped.

And it hurt like hell...


Hiruzen watched sadly as the young woman's life ended.

"Kushina-sama," the jonin called, shaking her, but when he turned to the Third, he saw only a slow shake of the head.

The Hokage shifted his gaze to Minato. His eyes had gone lifeless, frozen on the elderly shinobi.

At that moment, the Shinigami moved. With its free hand, the one without the beads, it pulled a tanto from its maw. Then, opening that maw wide, it sucked the "soul" of the Fourth, along with half of the Nine-Tails, into its bottomless stomach. After carefully putting the weapon back, it vanished without sparing anyone a glance.

"Hokage-sama?" asked the shinobi who'd been holding Minato.

"Let's go. We need to take everyone to the hospital... and bury the dead with dignity."

A few days later. Evening

In a spacious office with a view of Konoha, a not-so-young man was once again sitting in the Hokage's chair. Whatever that reincarnator might say, he didn't have any gray hairs yet, so "old man" was a bit of a stretch.

Folding his hands under his chin and lighting his pipe, he sat there, thinking.

Sarutobi Hiruzen was in a foul mood. He had just come back from the cemetery, where they had honored not only two of Konoha's heroes—Minato and Kushina—but also many other Leaf shinobi... and his wife, Biwako. The old lady who'd delivered their baby.

In one moment, problems had piled up higher than his head. But the main question he still couldn't answer was: How? Judging by the wounds on that medic-nin and Biwako, how had someone managed to get into the place where Kushina was giving birth? The Fuinjutsu Division had put the best possible protection seal on that rock. Even he, the Third God of Shinobi, would've had to work on it for a long time to break it. On top of that, there'd been a not-weak team of ANBU on guard outside—operatives who specialized in combat. Yet they were all found strangled; none of them even managed to make a sound—they died right at their posts... After that, the unknown enemy still managed to fight one of the strongest shinobi in the Leaf's entire history—the Fourth Hokage. Even exhausted, Minato, in that state, could've beaten several elite ninja, but he couldn't handle the one who showed up...

Every loss, every burned leaf, echoed as a dull ache in Hiruzen's chest.

In the end, it came out that to pull something like this off, it had to be an insanely strong shinobi. He got into the village in a way the barrier never sensed. Killed so many people... Only someone on the level of Uchiha Madara would be capable of that. The fox's eyes as it broke free had clearly shown a Sharingan, which meant an Uchiha was involved in the incident. But Madara was dead! One of Hiruzen's own sensei, the First Hokage, Hashirama, couldn't have lied... Or could he? Not that it changed much. That enemy wasn't here, unlike a bunch of other problems.

The village was in mourning. A lot of streets and houses were destroyed. That had to be dealt with.

Thankfully, it wasn't as bad as it could've been. As soon as the fighting started, Hiruzen had ordered the young shinobi and civilians hidden under barriers in the bunkers inside the Hokage Rock. The Leaf's future was intact, even if their hearts were wounded. But... time would heal that.

With a sad sigh, Sarutobi exhaled a cloud of smoke, thinking of his wife.

It should heal...

The title of Hokage means a highly respected shinobi who leads the Great Hidden Village of the Leaf. And that title is for life—and even after. Even if a new Hokage is chosen, it doesn't mean the previous one loses his authority.

After the Nine-Tails incident, a village council was convened, and one of the issues raised was the next leader. Hiruzen had readily offered to shoulder that burden again. He understood the village needed a leader, and since Sarutobi already had experience, he was the one who'd handle the aftermath of the tragedy better than anyone.

But one of the councilors—Shimura Danzo—was against it. The councilors' authority was almost equal to that of a Kage. Shimura argued: what kind of Hokage was Hiruzen if he hadn't even managed to protect the Fourth? But Sarutobi defused the situation with a smile, saying he'd hold the post until they found a better candidate.

No one else objected, aside from that same councilor. Even the other two councilors, who often opposed some of Hiruzen's decisions, didn't say a word against it.

And why was that. Sarutobi, though he was a clan ninja, always put the village first. That was the Will of Fire, left behind by the almost-extinct founding clan, the Senju. Despite being one of the strongest in the village and having fought in three wars, the man had stayed soft. At least toward the people of the Land of Fire. It was in his nature to try to solve conflicts peacefully. It wasn't always effective, or even useful. But overall, it worked out okay. The other two councilors disagreed with him on some things, but they respected the title of Hokage and met him halfway. The three of them, by the way, had been on the same team in their youth, led by the Second Hokage. But the Konoha Council also included Danzo—a long-time rival of Hiruzen and pretty much his opposite. Not soft at all, and a fan of radical solutions. In their youth, all four of them had to work together. Later, after the Second's death, it was through that joint work that they managed to create something like a balance of views and, together, lead the village toward prosperity.

Whatever some people might think, Hiruzen, like all the councilors, aimed for Konoha's prosperity. The difference was in the paths they took to get there. Still, the final word was always the Hokage's... even if Shimura sometimes forgot that.

And so, the student of the Second Hokage kept on fulfilling the duties that came with his post.

Uzumaki Naruto's POV

…

Once that nightmare ended, they moved me to a hospital ward, where there were other babies in beds along the sides.

For two days, I just stared at the ceiling and slept. That time was like a fog. Nothing else stuck. Now it's the end of the second day, and I... feel a lot better.

In a short time, I'd gotten really attached to my new parents. I don't know—or don't remember—why, but blood ties mattered to me. And... it was hard to lose them.

Honestly, that applies way more to Kushina. I'd spent almost all my time only with her. For the months I'd been inside her, I mostly felt satisfaction from my progress in manipulating energy, plus a constant warmth and this feeling of support in whatever I tried to do. Without her, the outside world feels so cold... Like they threw me out on the street and then demolished my house right in front of me... Yeah, probably not great to miss a person the same way you'd miss a building? (-_-`)

So my depressive mood started to crack. Besides, what good did it do me anyway? If we're honest, I'd have been evicted from that "house" sooner or later regardless. But there was that warmth I wanted too, just of a different kind now.

Even if it wouldn't have all been smooth, Kushina and Minato were my closest relatives. We could've had a good relationship, mutual support, and all that stuff people like me need. The fact I'm a reincarnator who somehow crawled into the body of their unborn son doesn't bother me at all. My new shell didn't have a personality—what personality are we even talking about at that age—so the shell belonged to no one. Blood ties are undeniable, which means again that Minato and Kushina are my relatives. That's how they should be seen, and the fact my mind appeared in this body doesn't change that at all.

Anyway, again: there's no point thinking about it. They're dead, and I've got to keep existing in this unholy world somehow. Preferably in comfort. And it's still a bit early to think about that. My options for preparing right now are pretty limited.

I swept my "gaze" across a few cribs with "bars" in the rather long room. Once I calmed down, I managed to get my sphere-vision back under control. Meaning I could focus on something, shift my view like I was swiveling a camera floating in the air, or even close the "lens" so I didn't see anything at all.

The room stayed exactly the same as before. I, on the other hand, was slowly getting bored. These two days, I guess, had been a good rest. But with every second, my mind, now recovered, started spitting out more and more intrusive thoughts. The energy was starting to just burst out of me, and it needed direction. So, while there's time, why not start preparing for the future right now?

I "prodded" my chakra core—looked fine. With a light effort of will, I started circulating the energy faster and faster. I clenched my "mighty" little fists, then relaxed them. This energy was so dense... The chakra flowing through my channels was way richer than my soul's energy and, even in a newborn body, surpassed my soul by orders of magnitude.

In the womb, all I'd really done was sometimes send chakra around in circles, without doing anything weird with it. I remembered how members of the Hyuga clan in the anime could block strikes with streams of chakra. So back then, releasing it through those tiny special points—tenketsu, which I barely managed to find and can now feel pretty well—seemed like a bad idea. There were three hundred and sixty-one points—nothing better to do in the womb, so I counted. But now, I'll start slowly trying to let some chakra out.

After about ten minutes, I switched to soul energy. It had gotten stronger, but for some reason my sphere-vision had shrunk compared to what it had been There. As for why, I could only guess it was because of the presence of natural chakra in this world. I literally didn't know what else could be messing with it. Kushina's chakra, even if it was probably different from the world's, had interfered with my soul as well. I should probably be grateful my soul's abilities were only cut by some fraction. Looked like that hit all the abilities that interacted with the outside world. My "feelers" had also gotten a bit harder to make than before.

Those feelers, as far as I remembered, didn't interact with the world at all. Or rather, judging by the resistance I felt when I pushed them out of my body, that wasn't entirely true. But that masked bastard hadn't even noticed them. Which is actually good—I'd just found myself a future project: figure that out. It's not like I've got anything better to do right now anyway.

Twenty minutes later

My mood was getting darker. For another reason, barely related to the last few days' events. Everything around me seemed to grow dimmer, and not because it was evening.

Rage spread through my veins like ice...

With the clang of steel, thoughts overflowing with hatred started echoing in my head.

Pain is the universal language. This world is rotten. It created me exactly like this just to humiliate me. By causing me pain, it clearly showed me it hates me.

But at the same time, the world is blind. It doesn't understand when its actions make others suffer.

But pain gives birth to understanding. Pain is the only way to reach harmony.

This world will know pain. And then it will understand true peace... with me.

"Waa-aa-aaah!" the kid in the next crib suddenly started bawling, cutting off my thoughts.

"A-aa! Mwaaa!"

"Ee-vaaah!"

One after another, to my confusion, the babies around me started crying. What the hell now?

Yeah, I'd shit myself. Literally. And yeah, I was pissed about it. "Cultivating" hatred, you could say. But why react like this? It doesn't even stink... yet.

On the first floor of the hospital

Sarutobi Hiruzen walked into the building, looking grim. Not long ago, he'd held a meeting with the villagers who'd taken part in the fight against the Nine-Tails, though the "old man" hadn't liked how it turned out.

The meeting had been about his new ward, Naruto.

Now, the Hokage had come to check on him.

The hospital was almost in the heart of the village. There was no ANBU security here. Who'd attack a building full of shinobi, even if they were wounded? And do it alone, since getting a pack of shinobi through here unnoticed would be basically impossible.

But, to his surprise, as he approached the stairwell, Sarutobi felt something threatening. He immediately bolted toward where he'd been heading.

At the same time, the escort of a few special shinobi that always followed the Hokage started moving. They caught the hand-signal command from their threat-sensitive leader and instantly headed for different exits. The ninja were hoping to drop the intruder into a kettle, with them on one side and the Kage on the other.

Back to Uzumaki Naruto's POV

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Hiruzen burst in, his two-toned robes swirling around him. (?! ) What the hell is he doing here?! Was he standing outside the door or what? Why?

"Hmm..." He looked around the room. All ten cribs were in place; only kids inside. "Strange."

He said something I didn't get once he'd finished his inspection. I still didn't understand the language. And I had barely any idea how to learn it. But that's something I can work on later.

When the old man rushed in, I got nervous. But then the thought flashed through my head that it was pointless—I couldn't do anything anyway. So I started calming down.

I heard rustling, and before I could even react, a few more ninja appeared in the room. These ones were in black uniforms with gray armor on their torsos and painted porcelain masks.

Is there some kind of masquerade going on around here or what?

"All clear, Hokage-sama. No source of killing intent detected," one of the ANBU operatives reported.

"We lost them..." Hiruzen said darkly. "Sweep the area and the hospital."

"Yes, sir," three shinobi answered at once, then vanished.

The old man kept frowning and glancing around the edges of the room after that. Another half minute later, he let out a heavy sigh and walked over to my crib.

He looks at me, I look at him. To my eyes—which still haven't learned to see the world properly—he's just a dark, blurry silhouette.

"I kept my promise, Naruto..." he said to me, but I still didn't understand the words. "At least, I tried... one of them. I'm sorry, but not all the villagers see you as a hero. The loss of their loved ones has blinded them. Even if they try to show me the opposite. I hope you find the strength in you to forgive these cracked leaves..."

He fell silent for a few seconds.

"Your chakra reacts in time with my voice. And at the same time there are so many different shades in it. An emotional child... I hope you don't cause as much trouble as your mother did," he chuckled to himself.

The door opened again, and this time another old man came in, with a cross-shaped scar under his lips. His clothes were also in two colors—probably white... and something else, darker than the Hokage's.

What the hell is he doing here?!

"Danzo?" Hiruzen was surprised too, though not as much as I was.

"I was going to wait for you at the residence, but I sensed killing intent," he answered coldly, then turned to me for a second. "Is everything alright?"

"No, since someone showed up," the Hokage's frown came back. "We couldn't find them."

"I still propose we leave him with me in Root. The jinchuriki will be safe there."

"And I still say that's not happening," Sarutobi's tone got a lot more heated. "To grow up whole, a child needs to know what care is."

"No. He needs to live through hardship to grow strong and understand his place," Shimura got a glare filling up with anger in response to his words. "Hn. Have it your way."

"I'll arrange surveillance for him. Naruto's safety is my concern. He was entrusted to me, so I'll handle everything else," and just as fast as Hiruzen had gotten angry, he calmed back down. "Why did you come?"

"Funding."

Sarutobi's face twitched.

"Is everything alright, Hokage-sama, Elder-sama?" a nurse suddenly stepped into the room.

"Yes," the one called "Hokage" nodded and waved her off. Then he turned to the other man. "Let's go. This isn't the place."

Well, that was a conversation, I noted once they'd all left. Fantastic. So what the hell am I supposed to think now? Am I moving into Root's basements or what? Yeah?


Time started to gallop.

No, they didn't take me anywhere.

But with each passing day, life didn't feel any easier. If anything, it got harder. My mind, though it had kind of gotten used to it, still missed the constant stream of information and was howling from boredom. Training with energies was, sure, a fun activity. But I couldn't do it non-stop. On top of that, there was the problem of slow progress. That slowness just got more obvious over time. Not only because I kept running out of ideas for what to do, but also because my activity–sleep cycle had shifted more toward activity.

The pressure in my head kept ramping up, like... I'd been locked in solitary. No human interaction, no way to move properly. Even working with energy didn't help shake that feeling off. I don't actually know what solitary is really like—never been. But I guess it's something similar.

Two more weeks passed like that, until my genius mind came up with an equally genius idea. Or rather, after two weeks, I learned to really throw myself into a certain activity—meditation.

Sadly, I didn't have internet access. There wasn't even internet in this world. So I had to meditate by feel, going off whatever I understood "meditation" to be. Focusing on different thoughts, then on the world around me, then on the "inner" side of my being. It was that last one that fascinated me the most—the endless flow of chakra through my channels, which I couldn't exactly see but could feel in crazy detail, so a phantom image of my chakra system formed in my head.

For some reason, meditation never got boring. That wonderful state of calm, as the days went by, took the pressure off me. The days started flying by way, way faster than before. Later, I even started catching myself spending whole days in complete silence doing literally nothing. So I had to start planning things out, setting a goal to spend at least some time every day on self-improvement. Luckily, I had some experience with that—forcing myself to do something useful and a rough idea of what discipline is.

Six months later

Sadly, I hadn't been counting how many days I'd lived since I was born, but over my relatively short life so far, there had been a few events worth a quick mention. They'd moved me several times to different rooms with other kids my age living there. Right now I spend most of my time in a private ward in the same hospital. Sometimes they drag me out to a shared room for the "conditionally-sapient vegetables." In other words, to my peers.

After some amount of time, my paws got strong enough that I learned to walk. It was when they took me to my age group that I got especially physically active. Concentrating on anything more mentally demanding in the middle of constant, unintelligible babbling was harder, so I didn't have many other options. Usually I'd wander around and, like some kind of maniac, stare at the babies for several minutes at a time. Maybe my behavior looked weird from the outside, but sometimes it was fun.

Right now...

A guy with a bored face was standing by my crib, leaning over the bars of my "prison." He was showing me cards with pictures and hieroglyphs and then saying what I was almost a hundred percent sure was the word for whatever was on the card.

"Yoru," he said, showing me a night sky with little stars and a moon. Below was the hieroglyph 夜.

"Y-yo-ru," I repeated. Pretty sure that meant "night."

He suddenly said a word that sounded a lot like "sucky," then pointed at the moon. That threw me, and since I didn't answer, the guy repeated himself and pulled a card with a huge moon from the stack on the nightstand and showed it to me.

"Tsu‑u‑ki‑i," he drew the word out, repeating it.

Aaaah... it finally clicked that I'd just misheard.

"Tsuki. (日)"

So my language lessons had started recently. Honestly, proud of my outstanding intellect—among infants for sure—I spent a bit of time pretending I didn't get what they wanted from me. Not for too long, though. I remembered that in the world of Naruto—now my world—there were "geniuses" who could do a crazy amount at a very young age.

First half hour I played dumb on purpose, the next two... because of "enunciation issues"?

I hadn't practiced speaking before and eventually just forgot about it. But if they'd come to teach me, it meant my body had to be capable of something along those lines.

Fact was, by then my body's eyesight had developed enough for this kind of thing.

And also, I wanted my first word to be something special.

That's where the "enunciation issues" came in.

Imagine my surprise when they handed me a card with three whole hieroglyphs, 査克拉, and showed me a picture I remembered clearly—a little guy with channels and a flame in his stomach. "Sa-ku-ra," if you write it out in romaji. Not to be confused with "sa-kura," which is the local cherry tree with pink leaves. The first has three syllables, the second has two, and they sound different.

The word "chakra" was what I ended up saying first, and for some reason I'm weirdly proud of that now.

At first, I doubted these cards were even supposed to have hieroglyphs on them. What business do babies have learning to read? But, as it turned out later, there's plenty of point.

After about a month, when I'd learned a couple hundred words, the lessons switched to groups of three. So besides me, there were two other kids my age, and still one instructor. And that's when I realized I'd apparently been subconsciously downplaying my own intellect. And way too much at that. Because my peers, who I thought would be at least a little behind, had actually overtaken me. The brains in the two little skulls on either side of me were working so fast they were beating me to the answers! So I had to really push myself for a while before our pace evened out and then I finally pulled ahead.

Are kids at this age really supposed to be able to do that? We aren't even a year old yet, I think.

Apparently, yeah. But the record of the time I lost to babies will forever remain a shameful stain on my life's history... Same as every time I went in my diaper... The only good thing is that no one will ever know.

 

[Welydora]

I'm a year and a half old. They showed me where the calendar was and explained when I was born, so now I know. During this time, I've been moved again, and now they drag me off for the whole day to be with kids who are nothing like the drooling vegetables I was used to. The children here… well, I'm no expert, but it seems to me they're developing way too fast. Either that, or I've landed in some kind of prodigy group. After all, they, much like me, are capable of primitive conversation! In my opinion, that's a terrifying accomplishment for this age.

Having gotten used to my situation, I started looking at things more positively. Instead of beating myself up, I looked for fun in my surroundings. For instance:

"What you doing?" I pestered a boy one day, who was building some lumpy, squarish thing in the sandbox that looked a lot like piles of dung.

"A fortress," he answered immediately, not looking up from his task.

I watched him work for a few seconds. Then I proclaimed:

"It fall down."

He froze, then turned to me.

"I know death. Existence finite," I said, glancing at his structure. "Sand fall to dust. You die. Because you build bad fortress."

For about fifteen seconds, you could practically hear the gears grinding in the boy's head as he tried to understand what I'd said. Then horror dawned on his face.

"How fall? Good fortress! Don't wanna die!"

"Fortress—bad!" I declared, maintaining the most serious expression I could muster on my chubby toddler face. "Wall crooked. Tower tilted. Sand… wet? Ew!"

I poked one of the "towers" with my finger, and it collapsed with a sad splat.

"You… you broke it!" The boy's eyes filled with tears. "My fortress."

"Fortress is dead," I stated, nodding my head like a wise old sage. "You dead too. Soon."

The boy sniffled, staring at me with wide eyes.

"But… but I don't wanna die!" he repeated, starting to sob. "I… I'll build good fortress!"

He immediately began scooping sand with renewed enthusiasm, trying to give it shape.

I moved closer, leaned in, and whispered conspiratorially:

"You know what else dies?"

The boy froze, afraid to look up at me.

"What?" he whimpered.

"Relax. I joke," I said, patting him on the shoulder, which only brought a look of confusion to his already tear-streaked face. "You not die if fortress die. Not connected. Gotcha." I gave him an apologetic smile.

"Y-you," he stammered, realization dawning. "Bad joke!"

Strange, but the kids never got my humor right away. At first, they even disliked me… However, I knew when to stop, even if not always on time. Which eventually let me blend into the group. So they probably didn't think I was insane, just… "special." Ahem.


Time passed; everything moved forward. My development was multifaceted. Right now, I'm listening to a fairy tale with the other one-year-olds… for the second time, the same one. It wasn't very entertaining. So I kind of tuned out, sinking into my thoughts.

My progress in mastering chakra and soul energy hadn't stalled either, even if it was proceeding at a rather measured, calm pace.

The flow of chakra was becoming much easier to control. My reserve itself had grown by about one and a half times, even though I wasn't really spending much energy. My main activity with chakra involved moving it along its natural pathways (channels) and honing minor manipulations that wouldn't leave any traces.

At this point, I had polished the "adhesion" skill using chakra, and from that, the Chakra Threads. At less than a year old, while also developing my hand motor skills, I tried to kind of hook the chakra in the pads of one hand's fingers onto the other, and then do the same using chakra in both hands. Strangely enough, I managed it pretty quickly back then, after which I began to build my mastery of this skill.

After some more time, I started learning to concentrate and stretch out chakra. First between my palms, creating balls of blue energy that spat out blue flares. Then I'd lengthen it, manipulating it like a Chakra Thread. Or rather, an actual thread, visible thanks to the concentration of energy. After that came practicing the trick in all sorts of variations: more threads; greater dissipation—to make them invisible; forming them into different shapes, like with soul energy; and whatever else came to mind. Chakra was harder to control, but its power was impressive and mesmerizing. Even though I never used it for mass destruction. But it felt like something inside me, in a barely audible whisper, was telling me that I could. Oh, I definitely could. This world will yet feel my hatred! Mwahahaha! Okay, that last part was extra.

There was progress with my soul energy, too. My control had grown significantly. I'd pushed it to two techniques.

First: by twisting and contorting my mind in every way possible, I managed to make soul energy interact with the real world. To do this, I had to really strain myself, forcing the energy to shift… into something I'd felt out, and then, for example, the tendrils could actually touch and move things. The only problem was that these tendrils had very little strength. At this point, having developed this ability quite a bit, I could maybe lift a couple of mugs.

The second ability could basically be counted as two. By moving in another something… that I don't understand, I somehow managed to stick my soul's arm out of my physical arm! Thankfully, by returning the limb to its place and, after some mental huffing and puffing, I got everything back to normal. It was a prospect… the possibility of leaving my body. But I had no intention of using it. One, there was no guarantee I wouldn't go straight to reincarnation after something like that. Two, there was no guarantee I'd be able to possess another body. Three, I was already starting to like this body with its powerful chakra; I was used to it, so I wasn't going to change it.

And… with these thoughts, I came up with another motivation for not doing that. In fact, it was a reason to do the opposite—to stay and "grind" like ten gym bros combined. This world will soon have, if it doesn't already, an organization called Akatsuki. They want to gather all the Tailed Beasts to resurrect the Ten-Tails and plunge the world into an eternal genjutsu with its help. Of course, they have their reasons for it. But the truth is, if I remain Naruto and stay weak, then I'll likely face a fate possibly worse than death. I'll be taken, half-dead, to the vessel of the Ten-Tails, and they'll drain all my chakra into it.

Chakra is said to be composed of Yin and Yang, where Yang is physical energy and Yin is spiritual energy… And frankly, I find that statement dubious. I can more or less clearly feel these two energies in my core, and I can combine them to create chakra. It's an extremely natural process, barely perceptible to my consciousness. In contrast to separating the two components, which I've never been able to do, though I tried hard. But my soul energy is different from Yin, which I also feel quite clearly. From this, I can vaguely surmise that having my chakra extracted isn't a mandatory death sentence for my soul… But that's a hypothesis, not a certainty. Everything needs to be double-checked. With stakes as high as my very existence, it's better to assume the worst. Which means, to avoid kicking the bucket, I have to grind.

I also considered the option of taking the risk and switching bodies. But that's even worse: this body, I assume, would die without a soul. It's not like everyone has one for no reason. Or it would become… not right. Or I'd simply hand control of the body over to my doppelgänger… In short, the idea already stinks. But it gets worse. Let's say this body dies. The world will be left without a shinobi who could have become very strong—considering this chakra core. Meanwhile, let's say I successfully possess an adult body to make life more convenient. Would I be able to become just as strong in another body to stand against the same Akatsuki? I don't know; it's doubtful. If not, then the Akatsuki capture the bijuu, after which they cast the eternal genjutsu. Every inhabitant of the planet, including me, becomes fertilizer for the tree that drains chakra. Quite possibly, along with the soul.

For the same reason, I can't just possess a body and hide out on another continent—death awaits everywhere if I don't grind. Therefore, I have to grind.

Still, not everything is as bad as it might seem at first glance. No, it's all crap. Just not the worst kind.

Self-improvement is something you can get used to. Moreover, you can even enjoy it. I've been convinced of that since my past life—my trips to the gym will confirm that. So this life might not be so bad after all. Which means there's no point in inventing things to worry about.

"One day, on the darkest of nights, when the fog was especially thick, a stranger infiltrated the village. He was a shinobi from another land, known for his cruelty and thirst for power…" one of the caretakers continued. I returned to the real world. Another bout of introspection was over, so I'd have to alleviate my boredom some other way.

Putting on my most dignified expression, I discreetly separated my soul's arm from my physical one. It was invisible to others.

"His name was Kazuki, and he had come to seize the spring and use its power for his evil purposes…"

All just so its finger could end up in my nose and start casually digging around. Of course, in a way that made it feel like a foreign object was in there.

Yeah, this was exactly what the technique was worth mastering.

Interlude: Sarutobi Hiruzen

A year and a half had passed since the Kyuubi incident. Sitting in his office, the Hokage was taking stock.

A great deal had been done in that time. In minutes, the Fox had destroyed numerous buildings that needed to be rebuilt. Almost through the center of the village, albeit at an angle, there had swept the strongest technique of the Tailed Beasts—a sphere, the bijuudama. The Fourth, of course, had managed to teleport it away with his technique, preventing it from detonating within the village. But the kilometer-long gash of obliterated structures had only been partially restored by now. All efforts were first directed at rebuilding the most essential buildings. Even so, only now had the Ninja Academy itself been rebuilt.

There was, of course, some good in this period. Simply in the fact that it wasn't as tense as the years of the Great Ninja War… Things were, for the most part, a little quiet. Relatively.

Konoha had recently been shaken by the case of a certain Might Duy. A very, extremely persistent ninja. To think, he became a junior shinobi, a genin, at three and a half years old. Though he remained a genin three decades later, the man had shown the highest valor and courage in March of the previous year. Using a forbidden technique, fatal to the user, he protected the team entrusted to him, which included his son, from an elite squad of Hidden Mist ninja. The Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist were effectively disbanded, as four of them were killed by a Konoha shinobi.

Thankfully, there had been no more shocks for the Leaf. The same couldn't be said for the Mist, where a year later, just days ago, a child not yet a genin had slaughtered all the academy graduates. Hiruzen deeply disapproved of Kiri's customs. A caste system reigned there, where members of the lowest—the third—were forced to kill their comrades upon graduation.

But no matter how much Sarutobi disliked the shinobi world and its particular quirks, there was little he could change. Especially in a land as distant as the Land of Water. Likewise, as Hokage, he had to focus on the affairs of the village he led.

Undoubtedly, the greatest tragedy for the aging man was the Leaf's casualties. In a mere few minutes of the Fox's rampage, hundreds of shinobi had laid down their lives… Time had scabbed over the wounds. They no longer hurt, but they remained visible. The Kage did everything in his power so the residents of Konoha could live at least as they had before. Even if not everything went as he would have liked.

Remembering those events, images of the child he had promised to care for often flashed through the Hokage's mind. Uzumaki Naruto—that was the name recorded in the documents, so as not to expose him to his father's many enemies. Despite the Fourth Hokage's young age, Hiruzen found it difficult to say with whom the Fourth hadn't yet gone to war and, accordingly, managed to build friendly relations. Therefore, it was forbidden for anyone to speak of Naruto's parents. An unnecessary risk would be… unnecessary.

Little remained of the couple's property, including Uzumaki Kushina's. Unfortunately, their house had been almost in the center of Konoha, slightly to the west. Right where the bijuu's technique had flown. And all that was left there was a huge bald patch of land with the rubble of hundreds of homes. Of course, Minato, as Sarutobi knew, had secret safe houses. But Hiruzen didn't know where they were. They were secret, after all. The parents had left their son only their techniques and a small apartment Konoha had issued to his father back in his student days.

Many shinobi who survived the fight with the Kyuubi were unwilling to simply let go of their losses. Hiruzen could understand them, he truly could; he had lost his wife then. But to start blaming everything on the child who became the beast's vessel was absurd. An absurdity that, due to spreading rumors, became reality.

The Hokage passed a law forbidding anyone from saying that Naruto was the jinchuriki of the Nine-Tails. Especially to the younger generation. The man didn't know who exactly had spread the word about the jinchuriki's appearance: one of the ninja who helped during the attack; some medical-nin who easily sensed the bijuu's constantly leaking chakra; or some overly perceptive, gossip-mongering cleaning lady who, based on the "fox whiskers," correctly guessed everything. Sarutobi was sure of only one thing: someone didn't have the brains to keep their mouth shut about it. And Hiruzen had been irritated by this for some time. So irritated that he enacted the law and punished its violation harshly. He was disgusted that some would spit on the Village's principles. To hell with the term "village weapon," they were, first and foremost, willing to harm a resident of Konoha! It was outrageous!

Catching himself on these negative thoughts, Hiruzen stopped abruptly. He reflexively reached for his pipe, lit the tobacco, and took a deep drag of smoke. Calm returned as quickly as it had vanished.

Time will pass… and things won't be so bad. Naruto is only in the hospital for now, nothing threatens him there, and he won't be able to feel the villagers' hatred. By the time he enters the outside world, they will have calmed down.

Naruto is a year and a half now, right? It's been over six months since the ANBU stopped watching him. That incident with the bloodlust in the hospital wasn't ignored. But a completely quiet year, without a single need for shinobi surveillance, led to the watch being called off.

Sarutobi occasionally, not often, looked at the reports on Naruto. He was almost immediately placed in the group of children with the highest potential. Unsurprising, considering how strong his parents were. More importantly, he should already be able to speak a little…

Hiruzen glanced at his desk. Empty; all the papers had been reviewed and processed. He turned around and saw the yellowing evening sky.

"Just the right opportunity," the man noted, rising from his chair. "I made a promise, and my words are not empty. It's time to meet Naruto in person. And while I'm at it, tell him that I'm his…"

Uzumaki Naruto's POV

Sitting in my room, I was habitually stretching chakra threads between my fingers and forming them into various shapes. Completely by accident, and sometimes not at all, they would form into something indecent.

Evening, as one could tell from the view out the window. It would have been no different from any other, if not for a familiar old man in spacious white and red robes who appeared in my sphere-like vision, which had grown to almost seven meters. White and red, specifically. By shifting my perception in a similar way, I was able to perceive colors, though not as well as with my eyes.

A slight tension came over me. I was about to have a more conscious meeting with the leader of the entire village, who… as I recalled from my meta-knowledge, was supposed to be a reasonable old man. Well, within the bounds of an unreasonable world with magic energy and perpetual wars… Recalling fanfiction, I imagined some kind of evil schemer who was probably here to bring me another dose of arsenic, just to make sure life wasn't too sweet. On the other hand… I didn't remember anything like that from the source material, and more importantly, in my entire life here, I had never once been "mistreated" by the local staff. They didn't even whip me or send me to the galleys. Which meant I shouldn't see him as someone bad just yet. And I definitely shouldn't worry. Especially considering the fact that, while I'd feel bad for Kushina, I could try to separate from my body and just bail from this world.

The arguments seemed sound. However, I couldn't completely shake the jitters. Which resulted in some strange actions:

Out of a subconscious, unthinking desire not to "reveal" my abilities, I immediately stopped my chakra manipulations and put on my dumbest expression. Then I jumped off the bed (from which the "bars" had been removed) and walked over to the wall to stare at it.

The door opened, and the old man with hints of gray in his hair froze in the doorway.

"…What are you doing?"

"Wall is pretty." I turned around. "Should knock. I training."

"Training?" he asked again.

"Yes. Stare at wall and think how to conquer world."

The Hokage was speechless for a moment.

"A-ahem… And how is that going?"

"Bad. No money, no army, no plan. But I working on it," I declared with the utmost seriousness.

Meanwhile, my evil inner troll rubbed its belly in satisfaction. It was pleased with its work. Hiding anxiety behind absurd humor was a good tactic, and if necessary, I wouldn't hesitate to use it.

"…May I come in?"

"Be my guest," I shrugged calmly, walking closer.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked as he entered, his eyes scanning the moderately furnished room. Quality, though sparse, furniture: a bed, a wardrobe, and a small table made to my height with two cushions by it. Excellent finishing, light tones, soft light from the lamp.

"Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiru-pzen," I nodded importantly, ignoring the mistakes in my speech. It was still a bit difficult for me, and now, being nervous, even more so. "Uzumaki Naruto."

I introduced myself, and Hiruzen's gaze softened for a moment, but then he returned to what he had just heard:

"…Do you really think about conquering the world? Where did you even learn such words?"

"Books. In library. Lots of villains there want conquer world," I shrugged. "I can too. But I do better."

The Hokage paused for a second, clearly trying to decide if this was a joke or not, and finally let out a heavy sigh.

"Listen, Naruto… You wouldn't be teasing a poor, feeble old Hokage, would you?"

Emotions jumped inside me, and the old man let out a small huff of a laugh. Uh-oh, he saw through me. But! Maintain composure!

My face became important, and I looked Sarutobi over with an equally important gaze.

"My peers not able to understand my jokes. Now I see why you are Hokage." I gave him a thumbs-up and finished with, "When I rule world, you be my deputy?"

"…"

Did I break him?

"Khm-khm," oh, he's alive.

"So… let's change the subject," he finally said.

"Let's."

"I actually just came to meet you. And also, I am… your guardian…"

"O-o-oh…" I was genuinely surprised. "Officially?"

"That's right, Naruto."

"That's good! Means I live with you? You will cover me from tax agency?"

"What…? N-no!"

"A shame. You look kind. Could be fun with you. Then just from tax agency, yes?"

"No, you don't understand." Hiruzen was clearly out of his element, as if he'd stumbled into some den of chaos. He tiredly rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "I'm sorry… I would like to take proper care of you, but I am the Hokage. I'm truly sorry, but I have to leave you here… There are caretakers here, other children. You'll be better off here."

"O-oh…"

"As for the tax agency. Where did you even hear about it? Taxes? Isn't it a bit early to be telling children about such things?" He was already speaking more to the air than to me. But I cut in.

"They didn't tell me. It's also from books."

"Oh-h… Such a smart child. We will be seeing each other more often now. You don't mind, do you?"

I shook my head no.

"Good… I'm sorry, but I don't have much time."

"Yes… It was nice to meet you, Hokage-sama."

"Yes, be well, Naruto."

Finishing his sentence, Hiruzen calmly left the room and closed the door. Then, thinking no one could see him, he exhaled with his whole chest, even bending over, and wiped his forehead with his hand. Only after straightening up and finding his pipe in his robes did he move away from my room, nervously but quickly.

Yeah… He probably won't be visiting me again anytime soon. An amusing, easily flustered old man, as I already mentioned. So innocent, as if he still sees something wrong with covering for people and blatant nepotism. A strange politician. Or maybe I just shouldn't have read so many different publics and forums that dump shit on everyone, because people aren't as bad as they might seem. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'll see what kind of person he is over time. A first impression is good, but it can only reveal a part of a personality. It'll take a long time to paint the full picture of who Hiruzen is.

My regret that I wouldn't be living with him was genuine. It seemed like it would be fun to spend time with him, and he didn't seem like a bad person after all. I'm a little bored here; life is quite monotonous. Of course, I'm used to it, but the routine… Also, I shouldn't forget my mercenary desires. The Hokage himself would surely have things to teach, as well as a whole library on chakra. A shame I won't get access to it. For now… But later, I must try to fix that…

Walking over to the bed, I sat down and, with an innocent face, began to think about how I could grab as much as possible for myself. Techniques, for example.

As I know, shinobi can sense lies. Worming my way into his trust on a lie won't work. And I'm not good at that anyway. So… I just have to do it sincerely. Sounds like a good idea. As for the plan… I need groundwork to build it on. And since there's no groundwork, there's no point in racking my brain over it.

Ugh… What a villain I am. Thinking directly about personal gain, without the prism of the common good. I must have grown up in a bad society, a society that imposed the idea of the individual's insignificance before the collective of the same kind. If only I could remember more details… And why I always put myself first. But that's probably not destined to happen.

However, the extent of my "villainy" is debatable. Because to the same extent, I feel that I can look down from the pedestal of my own importance and see other pedestals—pretty high ones too… And why am I justifying myself, telling myself I'm not that much of a stale loaf of bread? Remembering how and why I had a meltdown during the events of my birth, it's crystal clear that's not true. Oh, right, I heard somewhere that this kind of introspection promotes self-discovery and can give you a lot of positive things I've already forgotten about. Or drive you into depression. Or it's all nonsense?

Okay… Considering where these thoughts are heading, I should stop. I was practicing chakra shape manipulation before, so I'll just continue with that.

 

[Welydora]

Time took off at a gallop again, and I didn't even notice another year go by. Now I was two years and… almost nine months old. The days flew by just as fast, but they were also getting more monotonous, which slowly started to put me in a bit of a funk.

Right now I was sitting in my room, waiting for Hiruzen. He'd dropped by a few times over this period; we'd talk a little, and that was it. To my disappointment, the amusing old geezer had quickly developed an immunity to my behavior. Making his brain freeze from pure absurdity was getting harder and harder. Today, though, he was supposed to tell me something important, or so he said.

In the time that had passed, I'd made a bit of progress in controlling my energies, but not much more than that. Training was getting more and more monotonous and, it seemed to me, way too limited. With each passing day, that unpleasant feeling of falling behind kept growing.

Ever since birth, I'd been sneaky whenever I used my energies. Even I don't really know why; I just had this gut feeling that not hiding it would be dangerous. It seemed like it'd be extremely weird if someone found an infant practicing techniques. My imagination would then happily draw pictures of me being hauled off to some dark basement, where a bunch of blond-haired "mind‑scramblers" would install a whole stack of mental backdoors for loyalty to every boss in the Leaf. As far as I remembered, Konoha had the Yamanaka clan, specialists in mental techniques. I also remembered a lot of stories and write‑ups about them where the Yamanaka were portrayed as the guard dogs of the "evil" advisors and the Hokage, brainwashing absolutely everyone in Konoha into loyalty.

Back then, right after I was born, a whole mess of images about this world got jumbled together in my head, and it wasn't clear which one was actually true.

Of course, I didn't remember ever actually being in any basements. There were only paranoid thoughts that if I showed myself to be even a little "off," that's where I'd end up. But now all those assumptions were collapsing like a house of cards. The local caretakers did, of course, read us fairy tales about various heroes who sacrificed their lives for their country/village or whatever. But that, as far as I was concerned, was within the usual bounds of building people's moral compass, not aggressive propaganda. No one ever told us straight up, "You must die for the Leaf!" And they didn't treat us—the little kids—badly either. They weren't training fighters from birth. Technically, instilling any principles is propaganda. But when it's aimed at kids my age, it's called "upbringing." It just helps you function in society.

And that was not the picture all the stuff I'd read had taught me to expect… Hiruzen himself didn't seem like some villain at all. Judging by how he reacted to my various suggestions for shady schemes, he was damn near a saint. Or an insanely good actor—which I doubted.

So yeah, what I'm getting at is that maybe I don't really need to hide anymore. Or more like, considering how much my progress has slowed, I almost can't afford to. The Akatsuki… Every day brings me closer to meeting them. And as long as I'm not strong enough to stand up to them, there's this constant little drip of anxiety in the back of my mind that never goes away.

What's much worse… I watched Boruto. Or rather, I know about the threat of the Otsutsuki clan. Aliens who might end up stronger than the strongest shinobi in history. Thoughts about them even keep me from sleeping sometimes. But to deal with all of that…

Let's say I reveal some of my chakra‑control tricks to Hiruzen. By his own words, I'm already old enough for some Serious Talk or whatever, which means they're unlikely to find anything too suspicious in what I know. And since Hiruzen is my guardian, then after I show him, maybe—guided by the simple "don't waste talent" principle—he'll get me some teachers, most likely give me access to some kind of training ground, and I'll be able to develop properly. I'm guessing it'll be many times faster than now. So I figure this upcoming conversation is a good chance to steer things that way.


Hiruzen and I were walking through the streets of Konoha. It was the first time I'd ever left the hospital‑slash‑daycare they kept me in.

The village's main landmark was the massive cliff with the four Hokage faces carved into it. Although, from the books I'd read, I knew that obviously wasn't the only thing here. The village, as far as I knew, was pretty big. The population was definitely over a hundred thousand if you counted civilians.

Most people here seemed to go for dark tops—black, blue, that sort of thing—and usually green‑ish bottoms. Well, at least that applied to shinobi—the guys wearing the metal forehead protector with the village symbol. A lot of them also had this habit of wrapping their lower legs in bandages, which seemed weird and uncomfortable to me. My pants, for example, had an elastic band at the bottom, so I didn't have to keep wrapping fabric around my legs all the time.

My own outfit didn't stand out at all—just a simple, comfortable black jumpsuit.

We were walking down a medium‑wide street where ten people could easily pass side by side. The buildings here were packed in tight. There were a lot of them—some pretty low, others towering more than ten stories above the street. Sometimes you could see bridges connecting buildings right over our heads. Huge signs with kanji or pictures trying to lure in customers were everywhere. The buildings themselves often looked clunky, archaic, like they'd been put up by architects from different schools who, at those same schools, clearly never got more than a C at best. Looking at the roofs of some houses or their plumbing really made me want to spit out a couple of unprintable words.

On the other hand, maybe I was being too harsh. This world had gone down a different development path. The tech here was similar, but not the same. The streets were pretty clean, it didn't stink. And that alone was a huge plus.

"Impressive?" the Hokage asked as we walked, watching me out of the corner of his eye as I twisted my head around, taking everything in.

"Not quite what I was expecting," I answered honestly, still walking. "I saw some of the landmarks in textbooks. They looked more… organic. But here… Architecture as a field isn't really popular around here, huh?"

Over time and with a lot of practice, my speech had lost its childish mistakes. And after talking with Hiruzen for so long, I'd stopped getting nervous around him and had become much more open.

"The people who built this often had no formal education. Many buildings are only still standing because they were reinforced with shinobi techniques…" the old man explained lazily, starting to look around with a hint of nostalgia. "This place reminds me of my childhood. I remember how every year I walked through here, it changed. It's only in the last twenty years that they've stopped putting up new buildings."

"Interesting…"

We kept walking wherever it was we were heading. Once I'd finished inspecting the buildings, my gaze switched to the passersby. A lot of them kept throwing glances at Hiruzen and me, often bowing to him and stepping aside to let us pass. The old man was clearly respected.

What was kind of strange was that I didn't feel any of those "hateful" glares aimed at me. A few people did widen their eyes when they looked specifically at me, but almost immediately, once they noticed the Hokage, they either gave him another little bow or just turned away.

"This is one of the better spots. Naruto, want some ramen? My treat." We suddenly stopped in front of what looked like a tiny open‑fronted eatery. Kind of like a garage, only instead of a roll‑up door there were fabric flaps with "Ramen" written on them, and inside you could see a counter with stools.

"I've never tried it. I'd be grateful."

We went inside and were greeted by a man with a somewhat gaunt face, wearing a white chef's hat and an apron. That was the cook. He greeted Hiruzen respectfully and asked what we'd be having.

They helped me climb up onto a stool, and I picked a standard beef ramen. This was that ramen shop—the one the original Naruto used to eat at all the time. I recognized it by the cook—Teuchi. It was a legendary place in its own way, and I didn't want to ruin my first impression with something weird. The Hokage, for his part, ordered ramen with some kind of seaweed and sardine fish balls. To my past‑life palate that had been spoiled by European cuisine, his food had to taste… strange. But hey, to each their own.

"What I want to tell you is very important, Naruto."

Sluuuurp—I noisily sucked the noodles into my mouth and then nodded with great seriousness.

"Ahem… Your nindo. Have they told you about it?"

Gulp.

"Yeah. The ninja way."

"It's a ninja's way of life, their motto, their convictions or… their dream," he began, ticking them off. "Nindo can be anything. Even something society doesn't really accept. Every shinobi has their own nindo."

"M‑hm…"

"It doesn't have to be something rigid. Shinobi often follow two or more nindo. Different shinobi can also follow the same nindo. Right now I want to tell you about the nindo that almost all of Konoha's shinobi follow: the Will of Fire."

"Oh, I've heard of that," I nodded. "We have to choose what we're going to fight for. Set a goal in front of us and move toward it."

"That's right, but not the whole picture," Hiruzen smiled at my answer and went on. "It's the Will of Fire that gives Leaf shinobi the strength to fight no matter the circumstances. It strengthens their will, their character. But it's also a symbol of how the dreams and hopes of the previous generations are passed on to the next ones. That's how the Will of Fire lives on through the ages."

"The caretakers said it goes back to when ninja first appeared. Is that true?" I remembered again what I'd heard in the hospital. I didn't recall that kind of detail from the anime, but I was curious.

"In truth, no one knows for sure. As for the Will of Fire… you were right about the goal," the old man confirmed with another smile, then continued, sounding more and more inspired. "But it would be more accurate to say it can be anything. You can choose a person or people you want to protect. For example, I protect the civilians who can't defend themselves. That's my 'king' in shogi. That's where my Will of Fire lies."

Here they had the local version of chess—shogi. That game also had a king piece you had to protect, or the game was over.

Once he finished his speech, he looked at me expectantly, clearly waiting for something.

"Uh… wow?" It didn't really hit me.

Hiruzen's shoulders slumped.

"The First Hokage once told me this. And I was deeply impressed back then…" Sighing, the old man finally dug into his food, popping a fish ball into his mouth.

"Don't be upset, Lord Hokage," I patted his hand, since I couldn't reach his shoulder. "Everyone feels things differently. Don't blame yourself. I think nindo is important, sure, just… in its own way for everyone."

"It's the foundation of life…" the words slipped out of him, strained. "The thing thousands live for. But you're probably right, Naruto."

We ate in silence for about half a minute, until the old man, having gotten over his bout of sadness a bit, perked up—just enough to ask me a question:

"Naruto, have you chosen your nindo yet?"

I thought about it. Grind so I don't die? A temporary one, I guess I already had. Why not share it, after tweaking and adding a bit?

"Not my main one… more like a draft. It's similar to the Will of Fire. But different. Sadly, there's no one and nothing for me to protect except myself." I stirred the ramen with my chopsticks, then turned to Hiruzen. "You can protect yourself better than I ever could, hah. Me, I… want to protect myself and whatever becomes important to me. Maybe friends… maybe someday… a family. And also protect what I build with my own hands. Maybe some kind of organization, a company, whatever. And for that, I need strength…"

"You can only be truly strong when you're protecting something precious. But, you know…" A glint of wisdom flashed in the old man's eyes. "Don't put that off. I've seen plenty of shinobi who put their lives on hold. They thought they weren't worthy yet of getting now what they'd supposedly have in the future… like they'd only start really living later. But it was only their minds that lived in dreams of the future, while their bodies suffered in reality."

"Maybe…"

I mulled over his words. And yeah, I really didn't have anyone close. Over all this time, only Hiruzen could even sort of be called that. And even then, with reservations—since I wasn't completely honest with him. But the future… right now, I really did need time before I could start living more fully—more carefree. It was hard… the threat would always be hanging over me. And it felt like only once I became much stronger would I be able to convince myself to focus on something else. For now, I changed the subject:

"I've heard a lot of tales about heroes who sacrificed themselves for their goal. And… I don't like that. Why didn't they save themselves first? They could've just started over."

"Oh… Naruto, we're not immortal. Sometimes what needs to be protected is so big that one lifetime isn't enough to rebuild it. Konoha… we live like one big family. We, shinobi, protect that family. But if Konoha falls, neither I nor anyone else will be able to restore it."

"Hm… when you say Konoha, you mean its people?"

"Correct. Hashirama united us, then passed his will to his brother Tobirama. He, in turn, passed his will to me. And I… to the Fourth, who's now gone. It was a tragedy that such a young Kage sacrificed himself. But we can see it wasn't for nothing. Konoha will keep standing, just like he wanted."

"That really does make sense… as long as the one doing the protecting is mortal. Hm‑m. So, to make any goal more meaningful, you need to become immortal. That way you'll always be with what you live for. I think I'll make immortality one of my side goals. As for my main one, I'll decide on that later."

Hiruzen's eyebrows twitched, and his eyes clouded over with memories.

"Naruto… There's something else I have to tell you: smashing straight toward your goal isn't always the right way. We don't live alone. Don't let yourself go blind… don't walk over the heads of those who once called you a comrade. Every life is precious, don't forget that."

…

Silence hung between us. I remembered the rumors that had recently raced through the hospital, about some Orochimaru becoming a missing‑nin. As I recalled, he'd been Hiruzen's student… And now I'd accidentally pressed on a sore spot. Orochimaru, if I remembered right, craved immortality, and he really had been willing to use any methods to get it. That was exactly what the Hokage had just warned me about. Hence the slightly abrupt change of subject.

Awkward.

"I assure you, I remember," I began slowly, picking my words. The phrase "every life is precious" honestly rubbed me the wrong way, but I didn't manage to put it nicely into words. "The value of another's life… it's a complicated thing. On the one hand, yeah, everyone's important. On the other, there are people who have to be killed. Because they threaten those who are dear. Did you kill Konoha's enemies, Lord Hokage?"

You'd think that if I stood up and took a stroll, you'd hear my steel balls clanking down the street. I mean, asking a Kage such a loaded question. But Hiruzen was the sort of person you could actually ask stuff like that. He really did value the people around him and treated them with understanding. Especially those close to him—and I was almost sure I was in that group on his side too.

At my question, Hiruzen was startled at first. Then a kind of sadness and weariness slipped into his posture. His eyes lowered and froze over his bowl of ramen.

"I… it was unavoidable. That's part of what it means to be a ninja—to do what's necessary to protect the village. Every death leaves a mark. On the soul. On the conscience. Even if it's an enemy's death. I have regrets…"

"You said not to live in the future. But I can see how the past still drags behind you. Even if it's deep inside… I don't get how you can regret those who wanted to cause harm. I think that when a person goes after someone else's life, in that moment they lose the value of their own. At least in the eyes of the person they're trying to kill. Our goal is to try to live in a way that there are as few such cases as possible. You can't always negotiate… but often you can."

"Hm," the old man grunted after a few seconds, then added thoughtfully, "those are very grown‑up words for someone so young."

"Maybe," I shrugged.

"How do you plan to avoid situations where you have to kill someone?" There was a flicker of interest in his eyes.

"The simplest way is to show you're willing to talk. Think about what compromises you can offer."

"Ahh… Naruto, that doesn't always work. A compromise is when both sides give something up. But some people… just don't want to give anything."

"Because they don't see an equal?"

"That's one possibility."

There—nice opening for my plan…

"Then you also need strength. At the very least, not much weaker. But ideally—overwhelmingly stronger!" I grinned and reached for my ramen again.

Hiruzen, meanwhile, fell into thought. It looked like he was finally starting to move on from the heavy topic I'd dumped on him… It was good that he was a pretty positive guy and could get his good mood back quickly. I approved of that, and I tried to be the same way myself.

"Power, even in good but unskilled hands, can cause harm."

"And speaking of that… we were talking about the way of the ninja. And I want to become one. Will you help me with that, Lord Hokage?"

"Oh…" He peered at me thoughtfully, then turned away again and straightened up. "To be honest, I wanted to give you more time for a childhood. But you've grown up so fast…"

"Hah, so I was basically supposed to become a ninja?"

"Um, you see… I can't tell you why yet, but most likely, yes."

"Going to put up an illusion barrier? Feels like this conversation is getting private."

"You know about genjutsu?"

Hiruzen formed a series of a couple dozen hand seals, and the air around us seemed to ripple for a moment.

"I put up a barrier that messes with what people see and blocks sound. It's ninjutsu. This way, no one can eavesdrop or read our lips. Have you been studying this topic in detail, Naruto?" His curiosity grew. Hiruzen was the shinobi they called "The Professor" because he knew all of Konoha's techniques. So, yeah, the subject of those techniques interested him.

"As much as I could. And not without some success." Two threads shot out from my fingers, hooked onto my chopsticks, and lifted them.

"W‑what?" He stared at me, wide‑eyed.

I tried to grab some noodles with the chopsticks, but the chakra thread trembled and jerked, and the wooden stick snapped against the bowl with a crack.

"Ahem… So yeah. I haven't actually learned all that much on my own. And I feel like I can do a lot more." I must've gotten nervous… Normally my control was way more precise.

"That is… impressive," Hiruzen shifted his gaze to the broken chopstick.

"So will you take me on and train me yourself?"

He thought again, this time for about ten seconds, then just shook his head no, a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Naruto. I don't have very much free time," he went on right away, not even giving me a chance to at least ask him for a reading list. "But that doesn't mean I won't deal with this! Of course I'll assign a few teachers to you. They'll pass on the basics, and then we'll see which directions interest you."

"…Thank you, Lord Hiruzen," I really was grateful. "That's very important to me."

"Oh, come on, Naruto. I'm your guardian, after all. How could I just leave you on your own?"

 

[Welydora]

And so began the path where I could more easily advance beyond the first steps of mastering chakra. Back then, Hiruzen had approved my request to make our conversation private. Then, for whatever reasons of his own, he asked me not to spread the word about my abilities. Later, as we were leaving, Hiruzen remembered the ramen shop owner, and we apologized to him. After all, we had been discussing some not‑so‑kind topics.

But, back to the subject of keeping my abilities secret. If I went around blabbing about them to everyone, the first thing that popped into my overly paranoid head was a certain Danzo, who might try to snatch me up after that. He was known for scooping up talented shinobi for his sketchy organization, Root. An organization that, as you might guess, dealt in shady business: sabotage, assassinations, inciting wars. Though, of course, that chain of events is pretty unlikely.

A more rational take is that Hiruzen believes talent attracts fame, and fame, in turn, provides opportunities... and a host of additional threats. Like Danzo, for instance. By sharing the news of my abilities with Hiruzen, I had seized the opportunities while managing to avoid those very threats, all thanks to his character.

On one hand, I was now under his watch. On the other, I was already there anyway. And I don't see much wrong with this patronage. It comes in many forms, after all. I was never destined to have a completely free childhood. "Freedom" is a fluid concept and probably only attainable with the complete cessation of being. Because as long as you're living, there will always be something that infringes upon your freedom. Maybe a more powerful enemy who's interested in studying your insides. Maybe just a mundane death from old age.

But that's philosophy. One positive fact about my existence under Hiruzen's patronage is that Sarutobi's students are all alive. Hiruzen even let a certain Orochimaru—one seriously nasty shinobi who conducted inhuman experiments on the residents of his own village—go. Even though their worldviews really, really clashed. From this, it follows that to avoid provoking my guardian, I just need to avoid messing with my fellow villagers. Whereas, based on our conversation, anything that's an "enemy" is fair game... What am I even thinking about? I'm not going to become a maniac... although some of my caretakers might have thought so a year or a year and a half ago. Or a vivisectionist? I never killed anyone in my past life... I think. And I wasn't in any kind of relationship with any corpses, either...

In short, being under Hiruzen's watch is far from a bad position. Considering no duties were mentioned, you could even say I've got it made. Exactly how "made" remains to be seen. After all, I wasn't handed a list of future perks. As for duties, well, you're supposed to be grateful for what you're given, in theory. But at the same time, you need to find a balance for that gratitude. If the duties turn out to be more than they're worth, I'll definitely try to weasel my way out of them. Thankfully, Konoha is an organization, and in any organization, not everyone actually works.

Right now, by the way, I was sitting on a cot in one of the hospital rooms.

They had recently taken a whole battery of tests: blood, hair, skin, they'd stuck some thin needle into my stomach and, for some reason, clipped off a tiny piece of my nail. Thankfully, my anal orifice remained untouched.

Some old geezer in a doctor's white coat was cheerfully tapping away at the keyboard of what looked to me like an ancient computer. Though for this place, the machine might actually be state-of-the-art.

Holy shit. Turns out the internet might actually exist here.

"You have extensive dendritic vessels of chakra expansion, Uzumaki-san," he said, spouting some clearly smart‑sounding crap.

"...What?"

"I'm saying, you have high potential for chakra reserve growth. Astonishingly high..." He suddenly started moving, his fingers flying across the keyboard and mouse. "M-hm, m-hm, congratulations. If you start developing right now according to the latest program, by the time you're twelve, your reserve will surpass that of Lord Third's! At the peak of his power! And even though you have Yang-dominant accretive channels of chakra flow... your Yin component is remarkably developed!"

"Uh-huh..."

"You must have done a lot of mental work," he nodded to himself and clicked the mouse again. "As for the other results, you're surprisingly healthy—not a single allergy, pathology, or anything of the sort. Your hair is resilient; you definitely won't go bald before you're thirty. Strong nails. Normal skin type."

"Uh-huh... Though it's weird that all these tests were lumped together."

"What do you mean? It's standard procedure," he said, turning away from the monitor to face me with a puzzled look.

I could only shrug in response. Well, I'm no medical expert, maybe that's how it's done. They can't just be yanking my chain, can they? So instead of empty complaints, I showed some curiosity. "About those dendritic vessels... they determine potential, right?"

"Correct, although the subject is still very poorly understood."

"So... we don't have ways to increase the number of vessels to, you know, increase potential?"

"Alas, alas, the level of sensitivity required is immense!" the old geezer exclaimed, shaking his head. "These are the creations of Lord Third and a huge scientific team. And even with our combined fuinjutsu capabilities, we were only able to get a tiny glimpse of them."

"Fuin?"

"The fuin research complex, under the control of fuinjutsu masters, with Lord Third in the central position!"

His statement threw me for a bit of a loop. Because:

"Isn't fuin just about sealing things?"

"No, no, not at all. That's generally correct, but not entirely... It's a whole complicated story with the terminology," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Fuin seals the creator's will so that... Well, you can read about it later."

To my disappointment, he quickly stopped answering questions and returned to his computer. Hmm.

"Now for the most interesting part!" he jumped up and slid the door to the side. "Come in."

And on his command, in walked shinobi who looked similar to the ones who accompanied Hiruzen in masks. ANBU—the Special Assassination and Tactical Squad, directly under the Hokage's command and not as shady as Root. They'd been waiting in the hallway for about ten minutes, by the way. It was kind of interesting to watch, as they were talking amongst themselves the whole time. Probably about work. Too bad I can't read lips. With this ability of my soul, I could be a great spy.

Then I noticed three chairs, which the newcomers sat down on. After that, I was asked to sit up, and they wheeled over some kind of metal cube on a pedestal covered in characters.

"Uzumaki-san, now listen carefully and follow my commands," the old geezer said in a serious tone, though he immediately undermined it by kicking his legs and rolling over on his chair.

The chair was a bit too big for him, so his feet didn't quite reach the floor… I know that feeling all too well.

"You mentioned that you are capable of chakra manipulation," he continued. "Your task is to concentrate images in your chakra as much as you possibly can. I will say a word, and you are to pour the very first thing that comes to mind into your energy! Don't try to find meaning in the words; they will be random. The main thing is to channel the first image that comes into your head as quickly as possible. Ready?"

"I guess..." I answered, placing my hands on the cube and peripherally noting the sharpened attention from the three shinobi.

"Green..."

In that same moment, with a pleasant, quiet hum, my chakra rushed through its channels. The current stopped inside the cube, quickly filling the unknown artifact. The humming disappeared; I held my energy within the object. An image flared in my mind. Clear, reflecting the ever-growing essence of the word that denotes color. I felt something inside me strain to change the chakra.

"Elephant."

My hands trembled involuntarily as other images tried to follow the one of the animal… but I managed to hold them back.

"Grass."

I focused more and more. Without my noticing, the world around me began to fade. My soul vision dimmed…

"Tower."

The word seemed to echo from somewhere farther away as my consciousness slipped into a trance.

"Carriage."

Even farther...

"Flooower."

Suddenly, my spherical vision expanded, and I felt a hand shaking my shoulder.

"What, flower? Oh... oops, sorry." Apparently, I had zoned out and gotten lost in my own head.

"It's quite alright," the not-yet-introduced older man said, moving away. "That's enough."

He took three clipboards with data from the shinobi. Where did they get those, I wonder? I hadn't noticed them in the room before.

"Thank you, you may go." As they were leaving, he started rapidly inputting data into the computer again. "And so... O-o-oh, uh-huh, uh-huh… I must congratulate you again, Uzumaki-san. I envy you… A diamond in the rough. The facts have all aligned. From the moment you were born, you were destined to be great..."

"Could you be more specific?" I asked, pulling him back from his poetic stream of thought.

"Yes… My parents were powerful ninja. I inherited a great talent for chakra reserve growth. But my talent for control was deficient… so much so that I couldn't become a shinobi…"

Seriously? I thought wearily. Is some random guy really about to tell me the sob story of his life? Oh, right… I'm in Naruto…

"The world is unfair," he continued. "Some get nothing, others get everything. Usually, everyone is born with an average talent for control. More rarely, with one like mine. Even rarer are true geniuses, like Lord Third. But cases where all talents converge at their highest point… We only know for certain of Lord First."

"More concisely, please," I requested, already a little glad that he was keeping his autobiography brief.

"You have the greatest talent for energy control! But it will only fully blossom in your old age. And I must say, on behalf of the scientific community, do not die! By fifteen, you could already replace Lord Third, but beyond that, you will only surpass him exponentially. I must also ask you—study fuinjutsu! It's an incredibly broad field. But in any of its branches, you can reach heights that others can't even fathom." Finishing his spiel, the scientist stared at me with immense expectation and some kind of hidden… reverence? Awe? It was strange to be on the receiving end of that.

"I'll... keep that in mind." Not dying… I'd like that. "And I'll try my best."

"Excellent! All the data has been collected. Later, a messenger will deliver your individual chakra source development program. Lord Third himself will create it!"

"Thank you for your work," I said, about to get off the cot and go about my business.

"Oh, don't mention it, they pay me for it," the old geezer said with a wave of his hand. "Perhaps you have any more questions, Uzumaki-san?"

I suddenly stopped, halfway to getting my feet on the floor, and climbed back up. This man seemed quite knowledgeable about chakra. So why not continue this little "interview," just not about him, but about a topic that interested me.

"Yes, going back to the dendritic vessels. Is there a similar marker for control potential?"

"We hope so," he said without hesitation, spreading his hands. "We would very much like to find one. Perhaps that discovery could elevate humanity. The ability to control energy is extremely important… But, alas, not everything is within our power."

I see. According to the scientist, this control, unlike chakra, develops throughout one's life. "But it will only fully blossom in your old age." For now, it seems they only have some cobbled-together formulas for roughly calculating something they don't fully understand. I'll need to dedicate time to this question in the future. For now, next question:

"What did you mean by an individual program?"

"A set of exercises with chakra. As for physical training," he said, looking me over, "it's not recommended without a course of special preparations and the supervision of an experienced mentor. One thing at a time—first, you need to get used to the methodical development of your chakra."

"So that means, for a while, I won't be developing my Yang component. That component progresses from physical training, right?"

"No, Yang, like Yin, can be developed through any chakra manipulation. By training the body, a shinobi undoubtedly increases the production, reserve, and slightly the quality of Yang. Every cell in the body produces and stores Yang. The chakra nexus penetrates every cell; it directly interacts with and is the center of energy. But this means that by manipulating chakra, we can work backward: develop the body through the use of chakra… though, generally, that develops Yin better than the body. Although the method isn't significantly worse than physical training if you use a single methodology."

"So, Yin can be developed by practicing chakra manipulation?"

"Not only, but it's one of the most effective ways. You can also do it through any kind of learning, meditation, and gaining experience in something. For example, you can hone one technique and try to add something to it. That will strengthen your Yin and, as a result, the chakra created with it."

"M-hm... you mentioned potentials for reserve and control. Based on that, are there perhaps some objective power rankings? Besides dividing shinobi into Genin—junior shinobi, Chunin—senior, and Jonin—elite."

"There are also Tokubetsu Jonin and their commanders—Senior Jonin. A Tokubetsu holds the rank of Jonin in only one area, while regular Jonin have at least two specialties. As for Senior Jonin, we have almost none… They are appointed by the Hokage for exceptional mastery in their field and the ability to teach it. But all these ranks can be considered relative. It happens that a Genin will defeat a Tokubetsu in a fight—and there's nothing surprising about that."

"How so?"

"There are a ninja's main stats: Bloodline Strength—you could call it potential—mastery of weapons, Ninjutsu, Genjutsu, and Taijutsu—using the body for combat. That's speaking generally, without details. But there are also other characteristics: speed, energy, strength, intelligence. Many pass the Chunin exams thanks to the last one. Good teamwork is one of the two qualities a Chunin must possess. The other is the ability to prepare for and adapt to an opponent. But that doesn't mean a Chunin has to be strong on their own. Everyone has weaknesses—a Chunin must exploit them."

"Based on my tests, could you give me a breakdown?"

"Of course, I essentially did that before. Just in much greater detail. But to summarize, among the main stats, you only have Bloodline Strength—your genome is maxed out. Though that's relative. Some, like the Uchiha for example, also have this stat at maximum. But your talents are incomparable. I've also symbolically put a few points into the Ninjutsu line. Of course, your control is higher than almost any Genin's. But you don't know any techniques. Of the other characteristics: speed is that of a normal person, since you can't enhance your body with chakra; strength is at the same level. But due to the properties of your chakra, your stamina is much higher than it should be for an untrained person. Intelligence, considering your age, is presumably over two hundred IQ points. And you have as much energy as a dozen Jonin."

"As much as a dozen Jonin?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. That is the 'injustice' of the world!" the old geezer feigned outrage this time. "All shinobi, one way or another, have a limit to which they can develop. Until that limit is reached, they can multiply their chakra reserves. And in a relatively short time. Once the limit is reached, of course, a shinobi can continue to develop. But nowhere near as quickly."

"So, in a way, everyone is equal after all? And, let's say, in terms of reserves, it's quite possible to catch up to me?"

"No, it's not. You were born with a reserve that almost all shinobi will never develop. It's very good if a shinobi reaches the reserve of a Jonin by twenty. But even that is rare."

Well, cool. Good thing I stayed in this body. It's an awesome vessel. Not only are my connections damn impressive, but my potential turned out to be even higher, it seems.

"That's an understatement, Uzumaki-san. But for now, it doesn't reflect much of your actual abilities. With this ranking system, you can become a shinobi with just brains and a bit of talent. Even a Senior Jonin, in fact. Though you'd have to get lucky with the brains. And the position would be military, yes, but definitely not a field one."

"Thank you for your explanations… Hospital-Worker-san," I said with a nod of gratitude, finally hopping off the cot.

"Oh, don't mention it, Uzumaki-san. This stuff is all in the basic literature anyway. And I enjoyed slacking off. Stop by anytime. I'm always here."

"Uh... Okay."

I walked out into the corridor and trudged off toward my section of the hospital.

They sure gave me a lot to chew on. A thought is even creeping in—did I do the right thing with all this?.. I could have spent years in my usual rhythm, without overexerting myself. But now, with some kind of training system, I'll have to work. Heh.

On the other hand, if you don't leave your comfort zone, life can eat you up. In my case, literally. So… we grab our something-or-other, and forward we go, with a song!


A/N

The characters in this story—even the ones in lab coats—can be wrong. How much, and in which direction, is a secret.)

And thank you for reading this starting block of chapters!
If you liked the beginning, the best way to support me and help the story get noticed is with a like and a comment. They help it rise in the rankings and find new readers.

 

[Welydora]

A week later, sitting in my hospital room, I was studying my hundred‑and‑somethingth scroll. I lost count after the forty‑third.

A multifaceted, deep dive into chakra theory. What chakra is in the locals' understanding, how they use it, how new techniques were created. My twenty‑first‑century brain, which had long since forgotten what it means to be starved for information, pounced on all that like a starving beast.

Some scrolls were huge, really wide. Big enough that you could probably mummify a dozen bodies my size in their paper. But that didn't stop me from reading them.

There was, without a doubt, a ton of information. But after finishing, I realized I actually hadn't learned all that much. The scholarly works were packed with minutiae, patterns that weren't always useful (at least for now), and sometimes a fair bit of fluff. Still, that didn't change the fact that I was very pleased—both with myself and overall—with how much I'd managed to learn.

Telling Hiruzen about my abilities had definitely been the right move. He really does seem like a world‑class grandpa.

He'd said that if anything important came up, I could drop by.

Running out of scrolls—that's important, right? Right. Besides, my development is kind of a secret. So I should probably report to him in person.

Still, before I crawl out from under this last scroll and go beg for more, I might as well sum up what I've managed to learn.

The first thing was about chakra development and was one of the most important facts: I'd been completely wrong to baby my Chakra Pathway System (CPS). It turned out to be tough as all hell. From birth. Actually, even earlier. That durability applies in particular to my "Uzumaki" CPS. It could, right after birth, withstand the fox's chakra, even if only in small doses, or so I figure.

From that it follows that all my previous "don't overload it" precautions about my CPS were mistaken. And, as several studies pointed out, even harmful. Because to develop the CPS, you're supposed to hit it with all‑around abuse as hard as you can; that's one of the most, if not the most, effective ways to stimulate it to grow. By babying my CPS, I was just developing way slower than I could have.

But whatever. Again, good thing I found out early. Otherwise I could've been stuck developing much more slowly.

Of course, there are nuances to "abusing" the CPS. The problem is that after heavy loads it builds up damage just like muscles do, and it needs some rest and resources to recover.

In a chakra system as developed as mine, more than ninety percent of the system's resource is self‑produced. The locals don't know exactly why, but people with dozens of times more Yang don't eat dozens of times more food; the energy just somehow appears in their bodies. They do eat a lot—yeah—but not proportionally more. So where does the energy come from? From faith in a brighter future, probably. Jokes aside, local researchers lean toward: first, that the energy itself (yin and yang) partially produces more of itself without taking anything in return; and second, that it also absorbs energy from the outside world.

As for recovery, my chakra system bounces back in no time—many times faster than that of other shinobi. They didn't tell me why, but I'm almost sure it's thanks to the bijuu's energy, which it "voluntarily" shares. Because of that recovery rate, the standard formula‑manual—what intensity to use, on which sections, and in which poses to huff and puff over your CPS—didn't really fit me. It had to be recalculated by hand, based on my recovery and growth graphs. That's what Hiruzen was busy with, because, in his words, he knows his stuff in that department.

On the practical side, there was nothing pervy in the CPS training method itself. The chakra user just sat or lay down—basically got into a comfortable position (you can even stand on your head if that's your thing)—and then used a technique: Pulsation Method: Wave Strike. The essence of the jutsu is elementary, but moderately hard to execute—the user generates a big amount of chakra, compresses it as much as they can, and sends it as a pulse/wave through specific points. Then they repeat it as fast as they can. Over and over, making the process rhythmic.

That's more effective than just running a continuous, even powerful, stream of energy, because it creates a higher load. The method is also considered relatively safe, since users usually don't have the control to launch a wave strong enough to cause real injury. And, as you'd expect, as the user's reserves grow, their experience and overall control of the technique slowly grow too, so they eventually become able to inflict micro‑damage even on their already‑toughened CPS. Because of that, this technique usually stays effective right up until the user's death.

Because of that last fact, not many shinobi bothered to think up new development methods. It felt like everything had already been invented. Still, there were always tinkerers. Some of them, by showing by example how not to do things, let other people write better safety procedures. How else, if one "genius" literally burned himself from the inside out when he decided that turning all the chakra in his pathways into fire was a brilliant idea?

But back to the actual point. At my request, after a bit of thought, Hiruzen even tweaked my training regimen.

Originally, for all shinobi except those belonging to a certain Hyuga clan, it's considered enough to develop the CPS in just a few spots: the palms, so that the energy that goes through them when you form hand seals passes more easily; the legs, to better accelerate your movements; and sometimes the lungs and throat, if the shinobi uses techniques like the Fireball, where you need to stockpile chakra in the lungs and then exhale it.

But now I'm developing my entire chakra system evenly. Which means that later, in theory, I'll be able to perform Hyuga clan techniques like Kaiten. That's where a shinobi evenly releases chakra from all their tenketsu and spins it around themselves into a very tough hemisphere. Or, say, shoot the same Fireball out of my ass. There's just enough room there to pack chakra and then blast it out in one go.

This only slightly slows CPS development, and honestly, I'm not in any particular rush right now. I'll hit the limit of how developed my chakra system can get in just a few years anyway, and after that I'll have to move at a snail's pace.

That limit… doesn't make me happy. The fact that it's very far off—sure. But the fact it exists at all—not so much. Something inside me kept whispering that if I don't find a way to at least push that ceiling further back, I'll end up feeding the God Tree. Maybe not the one Kaguya might grow if things line up that way. Maybe I'll just become a tasty piece of fruit in the hands of some passing Otsutsuki.

I don't like either option.

But that just makes me more motivated to keep moving forward.

Putting it even shorter: a big chunk of the theory was about hand seals. Those little signs you make with your hands. And that section was tightly tied to something called "affinity." Better to start with the second one.

Affinity is basically an accumulated array of chakra properties. It's split up between the components to some degree, but no one uses pure Yin and pure Yang completely separately, except maybe the Sage of Six Paths, if you believe the locals' guesses. So you can treat affinity as belonging to all your chakra.

You could say chakra has a kind of "memory." When a ninja uses, say, a Fireball, the already‑existing chakra, like one big template, gets supplemented by the properties the ninja manually gives it to transform the energy into elemental form; properties for controlling shape, and so on. With practice and time, the chakra remembers which properties it took on (for creating the Fireball, for example), and the template expands. That way, the shinobi doesn't have to impart all the necessary properties to the energy from scratch, because they're already there to some degree. Or rather, they still do, but their starting point is further along than before, so they need to put in less effort. That doesn't mean the chakra will keep getting more and more "fiery" over time—though a harmless imprint might stay. You could also call affinity the "sleeping" properties of energy, since they don't affect the world as much as they can once they're "awakened."

On top of that, with effort and practice, shaping a technique starts costing less effort for the brain too. It's like training your subconscious to handle repetitive tasks, so your mind doesn't really strain itself to do routine stuff. The subconscious works together with that "chakra memory," which makes the effect even stronger.

It's important to mention that affinity isn't just something you grind up on your own. That takes a long time and a lot of effort. No, affinity also gets passed down by inheritance. To be born with a "high" affinity, your parents need to have high affinity too—that's the first factor. And the chakra of the baby has to pick up those properties strongly enough—that's the second, and it happens differently for everyone.

You can get really lucky, and almost any technique your parents know will come to you almost right away. Or you can get really unlucky, end up with barely any affinity, and have to bust your ass just to learn even basic techniques.

The trend in this world is that affinity does grow with each generation. Not fast, but still. Because of that, every generation is stronger than the last—their starting point is just further along.

In my case, I can't say I hit the jackpot with affinity, but I didn't get screwed over either. The part of my affinity that's responsible for wind is actually pretty damn good. Overall I'm noticeably above average, but there are people who can beat me in those stats.

There can be a bunch of reasons why a shinobi's affinity doesn't get passed on well. In my case, maybe it's the influence of the fox's chakra. I can easily imagine that, in order to fight off the aggressive properties of that foreign energy, my CPS just didn't have enough spare resources left to inherit better affinities. Though that's relative, of course. Instead of stronger elemental affinities, for example, I got high resistance and regeneration. Or maybe the bijuu's chakra didn't interfere at all, and it's just how my internal mutations lined up: the gene lottery isn't exactly something you control.

Anyway, back to where I started.

Hand seals. They're directly tied to affinity. Chakra can remember any properties you give it. The property of accepting other properties through hand gestures is deeply imprinted in the energy of pretty much every shinobi. It's an ancient art that, I figure, started out as self‑suggestion to make manipulating energy easier—"repeat a certain chakra manipulation together with a specific gesture so that later your subconscious itself will give the chakra the right properties whenever that gesture is made." And it works very well, which is why it's insanely popular.

There are twelve basic hand seals, named after animals. By forming them, a shinobi can feel their chakra start to move and take on properties on its own. Even properties the ninja might not consciously know about. But those properties are already in their affinity and get awakened by the hand seals.

Overall, this makes using chakra a lot easier. But there's a downside—it takes time to form seals. If two equally experienced shinobi meet, one a ninjutsu specialist and the other a taijutsu specialist, then even at medium distance the taijutsu master will usually have enough time to close in and kill the ninjutsu master.

I memorized all the hand seals. Obviously, I rewarded myself with a pastry for that. And now I've started forming and holding them. First, to be able to form them faster later. Second, to feel what properties each seal gives, so I can later strengthen those same properties in my chakra myself, and so that, over time and constant reinforcement, they get imprinted deeper into my affinity. In the end, that's supposed to boost the power of my techniques, both with hand seals and without. Along with the basic ones, they also gave me a few specific hand seals, even some one‑handed ones. I started drilling those too, of course.

These hand gestures make life much easier. But they can also complicate it. A shinobi who's trained with hand seals and roughly knows what result they want can create a technique just by picking the right gestures. But it works the other way too: if a shinobi with a well‑trained affinity for hand seals forms them in a random order, something unpredictable can happen.

After that deep theory, I finally moved on to something more superficial. The basic shinobi techniques, i.e., E‑rank. In theory, every graduate of the Ninja Academy is supposed to know them. There are six ranks total, from E to S. Roughly: E is for students, D for genin, C for chunin, B for jonin, A for jonin and Kage, and S‑rank techniques can be pulled off only by a tiny handful of shinobi.

Each rank of technique is harder to perform than the one below it. But that doesn't mean, say, that a genin can't perform a C‑rank technique. On average, if they train hard enough, they can. If a genin is really talented, they might manage B‑rank, or even something A‑rank.

Back to E‑rank techniques. They differ from village to village, but in the Leaf they're:

Transformation Technique—when a ninja changes their own properties, turning into another person, an animal, or even an inanimate object, adopting all the relevant properties in the process. That's with perfect execution of the technique, which almost no one reaches. According to the scrolls, for graduation it's enough for students just to take on the appearance of another person. But the jutsu has huge potential. Changing the properties of your own body, even temporarily. That's mind‑blowing.

Another promising technique is the Illusionary Clone Technique. Using chakra, a shinobi creates several non‑corporeal copies that can move and distract the enemy. The variation where you create a clone of yourself is what's classified as E‑rank. The ninja's chakra kind of "remembers" what their body is supposed to look like originally and always strives to return to that form. In this technique, that helps you spend less effort than, say, on creating an illusory copy of some other object, which is why this ninjutsu is placed in the lowest rank.

The third technique, similar to the second, is the Cloak of Invisibility. You apply it over fabric, which is harder than creating clones. But it's static and doesn't let you move, which, on the other hand, simplifies the technique. The shinobi basically uses an external illusion on the fabric to blend into the surroundings. I saw a mention of an improved version of this technique, where the shinobi makes themselves invisible and can move. That upgrade was invented by some Jiraiya, and, based on my knowledge of canon, I have my doubts it was meant for espionage or any other noble, righteous shinobi business.

The fourth technique is probably the coolest one in my opinion. Substitution. A space‑time jutsu where a shinobi turns into energy and instantly swaps places with a nearby object. Sounds awesome as hell! But in reality, like any jutsu, it takes some time to execute. For example, in close combat, two more‑or‑less equal opponents won't be able to use it unless one of them catches the other off guard and somehow buys some time. And even then, it's not always the best play. Because if you've got spare time in close combat, it's usually better to shove a kunai into the enemy's neck than to run away.

The fifth is basically not even a technique, but a manual on how to escape from bonds. Ropes, for example. How to dislocate your joints and then pop them back in. How to focus chakra in your limbs, with which properties, to temporarily make your bones more flexible. How to concentrate properly so you can then release a surge of chakra and try to stretch the bindings. If you're really good at Substitution and can use it without hand seals, you don't really need this last one. But in general—it's a useful little book.

Finally, I put aside the theoretical study of the greatest technique of all, the one that lets you completely destroy your opponent. Physically and morally. Its name—A Thousand Years of Death!

The shinobi puts their hands together, extending the index and middle fingers. Then they concentrate chakra into them. Then, with a sharp thrust, they ram them into the enemy's anal cavity and, with that same impulse, release the chakra.

A very cruel technique. It shows how a chakra burst can multiply the damage from a simple strike. To truly master it, you need pretty fine control. But even with crap control, the technique is very effective. If you use it on a shinobi who doesn't know how to reinforce their body, their asshole will literally get torn apart.

All in all, a very useful technique. Or rather, a very useful scroll. Because it also has recommendations for future genin on what books to read to better learn how to reinforce the body. I read that too, by the way—they threw it in as a bonus. In short, a regular shinobi just concentrates chakra in their body. That's it. That's the Body Reinforcement Technique, which also toughens you up in the process. But the technique can be improved over time if the ninja runs chakra through their body, as if feeling out and memorizing the structure of their flesh.

With greater mastery, during reinforcement a shinobi subconsciously creates temporary "energy" muscles, bones, and everything else. Almost no one gets to that level. Only if they've got good affinity and got lucky with their potential for control. That energy flesh is usually invisible, but as you'd expect, it boosts physical stats like strength, durability, and agility even more than just flooding your body with chakra.

Though it won't help much against A Thousand Years of Death. A shinobi it's used on will feel nothing but pain, despair, sorrow, and disappointment in life. Or, if they're lucky—they'll just die quickly.

So yeah. I read a lot, but it still feels like not that much.

With that, I got up from my scroll and headed outside. No one had actually been restricting me before. I could have gone out whenever I wanted. I just hadn't really wanted to. Mostly because of paranoia and prejudice.

Once outside, I wandered toward a tall building with a red circle on the roof and the kanji for "Fire" inside. The Hokage Residence is visible from almost anywhere in Konoha. You just have to climb a bit higher and the distinctive building is easy to spot.

Walking the streets on my own, I, to my surprise, didn't draw much attention. Lots of people just walked by without paying any mind to some random little kid. That… was different from what I'd read in fanfics… Ah, those unreliable sources.

At a leisurely pace I covered about five hundred meters in maybe four minutes. Small legs are evil. But the important thing is that only now did I run into the reaction I'd been expecting… Well, kind of. Some little brat out for a walk with his grandma, by the look of it, shamelessly pointed at me and asked her what those whiskers on my face were. The old lady, without even throwing a tomato at me, just clicked her tongue at her grandson and hauled him away.

I watched them go and thought, what the hell? I was supposed to get pelted with half the produce from the local market and at the very least be called a demon. Where's all that?

Snorting, I kept going. And another ten minutes later I reached the Residence. A complex of three round buildings painted red. The one in front was bigger, with an extra floor—so three total—and an open roof. The roofs were covered in crooked pipes installed by who‑the‑hell‑knows. One thing was clear: whoever did that job was a complete hack.

Not bothering to be shy, I walked through the main gates like I owned the place and swaggered over to some guy at the reception desk.

"Hello, esteemed sir," I said from a few steps back so he could see me over the counter. "Is the Hokage‑sama in?"

"Um, hello, Uzumaki‑san. Yes, he is."

Oh, he knows me? Ah, right, the whiskers… I guess anyone can recognize me now.

The man called over some kid with a Leaf forehead protector but no chunin vest. A genin, probably, working here as the local "fetch‑this, go‑there, now‑get‑out‑of‑the‑way." He led me upstairs to the office of the biggest boss around—that is, the Hokage.

"…," I muttered, eyeing the door handle that was pretty high up. "Could you open the door, please…?"

I decided not to humiliate myself by jumping like… some kid who can't reach the handle.

After thanking the genin for the help, I went into the office. Wide, bright, thanks to the large panoramic windows. The view of all of Konoha was mesmerizing. Inside, along the walls, were lots of cabinets, a huge open space in the middle, and at the far end a solid-looking desk with a familiar old man sitting behind it.

"Hello, Hokage‑sama. You've got a nice setup here," I commented without thinking, looking up at the high ceiling. For some reason, in my head a heating bill counter immediately started spinning upward.

"Hello, Naruto," he said, looking up from some paper and greeting me just as formally. "Did something happen?"

"Yes…" A note of sadness slipped into my voice. I made my eyes as big as I could and, wearing my best pleading face, walked closer to the desk. "The scrolls ran out. Please, sir, may I have some more…"

"Eh… hmm…" He scratched his goatee.

Ah… Judging by Hiruzen's face, my little act didn't work. A shame the Hokage isn't a forty‑year‑old woman. Then I could use this look constantly and wheedle out even more than I'm already getting.

"So fast. That's commendable, commendable," he nodded. "Of course, I'll give you more scrolls. I promised, after all. But for now, I have a better proposal."

"Oh?" I perked up.

"How about we hone your knowledge in practice?"

"O‑o‑o‑oh…" That would be awesome.

"Excellent." The old man nodded again and shouted, "Weasel!"

In my spherical field of vision I caught a blur as, from the hallway, a shinobi in a painted porcelain mask—a weasel, apparently—burst in at such speed he almost knocked the door off its hinges. My body only felt a gust of wind before the shinobi was already beside me.

"Impressive," slipped out of me, and I turned around to look over the newcomer, then the door. "That's some seriously sturdy hardware."

I turned back and saw Hiruzen staring thoughtfully in the same direction.

"You know… it really is sturdy. Anyway, to business." He glanced at the ANBU. "Shisui should be off‑duty right now. Escort Uzumaki‑san to the reserve station and tell Uchiha he's to go with him to Training Ground Seventeen. As an instructor."

"Hai, Hokage‑sama!"

He yelled the local military "Yes, sir," then turned to me, clearly meaning it was time to go.

After thanking Hiruzen, I left with yet another escort. We walked a bit through Konoha and found another round building, smaller this time. On its roof, like on the Residence, there was a circle, only with the first kanji of the word "jonin." This village had all sorts of different organizations. The one whose building we entered was called the "Jonin Reserve Station." Jonin could hang out here when they were, say, waiting for an order from the Hokage, or just if they felt like sitting around.

Soon we entered a huge round room, with lots of couches lined up along the walls and a column with plants around it in the center. Or rather, judging by the marks on the floor, that's how the furniture had been arranged recently. Right now, a few ninja had pushed the couches aside, dragged over a table, and were playing cards.

When Weasel and I walked in, everyone stared at us—or rather, at me.

A chill ran down my spine. Suddenly I felt really awkward.

Luckily, my escort didn't waste any time and went over to a black‑haired kid of about nine. He explained what the Hokage had told him. Hm… This guy. Shisui. I'd definitely heard that name before…

"Hey," he walked up to me, scratching the back of his head. "We heading to the training ground, yeah?"

By then the ANBU who'd brought me had already left.

I nodded. I shouldn't have.

Because this… let's just call him a bastard, casually scooped me up into his arms. And before I could even object, he took three steps, opened a window, and my body got plastered to his chest as the guy shot off at insane speed.

---

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[Welydora]

The wind slammed into my ears, stuffing them shut. I could barely keep my eyes open, just enough to see the world nearby smeared into almost a blur. Buildings flashed by—tall, then low—nonstop, like my heartbeat that had shot up into triple digits, right under us and off to the sides.

"Shisui of the Body Flicker! You fucker!!! Stop!!!"

I yelled, remembering this… shinobi. But he couldn't hear me over the wind.

This guy was one of the strongest ninja in this world in terms of potential. He'd awakened special eyes—the Mangekyo Sharingan, his clan's kekkei genkai. They let him throw people into insanely powerful illusions or brainwash them. More important right now, though, was that he was also a master of the D‑rank Body Flicker, which is how he got his nickname in the first place. A high‑speed movement technique—and exactly what this bastard was using right now.

"Hm? I think I heard something?" he said once we arrived. He set my heavy, wheezing ass down on the ground and started looking around.

"You… you bitch," I managed between breaths. "Haa… What did I ever do to you…"

Bent over with my hands on my knees, I tried to catch my breath. I'd burned through all my air screaming and cursing him out while we were moving.

"Ah…" He was taken aback, but quickly asked with this kind of smile like he was talking to a kid. "Little boy, who taught you that word?"

"Little boy?..." I almost choked, then snapped upright. "I'm a grown, respectable man. You've got no right… you little runt, to call me that…"

The last bit slipped out with some doubt. Looking more closely, I noted Shisui was about one and a half times my size.

"Hmm…" He eyed me skeptically. He'd probably noticed that too, but decided not to say it out loud. "Alright, let's skip the whole 'how you were raised' thing."

My face twitched.

"Though it is kind of funny… Hey now, don't look at me like that. Anyway, we know each other's names, so we can get down to business. I'll be your instructor for the next few hours. So tell me what you know, and we'll go from there."

I kept drilling him with a stare for another couple of seconds, then just sighed. Yeah… Usually nobody talked to me like I was a kid. The hospital staff used to, but that stopped over time. And this guy… Whatever. Dumb reason to be pissed. Fact is, I'm small.

Once I'd fully calmed down, I briefly listed what I knew. Then said I could already do a few things and that my basic control was relatively decent. After that, I told him I wanted to practice as much as possible.

Shisui nodded and said I could start with whatever I wanted. If needed, he'd correct me or back me up. I wasn't sure that's how instructors were supposed to act. Just going, "Do whatever you want." Still, you don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Excellent…" I summed up our little exchange and only then looked around. Big field, maybe four soccer fields put together. Forest beyond its edge.

Slowly, exactly like in the manual, I clenched my hands into fists, then extended my index and middle fingers. No, not to form some Ultimate Technique. Instead, I slid my right hand onto my left, forming a chakra‑saving concentration seal. The world around me dimmed a bit, my focus shifting more and more to the flow of energy inside my body. Yin and Yang merged with a soundless chain‑clank, forming the amount of chakra I needed. Then it filled with the properties to change my appearance. I was using the Transformation Technique.

I opened my eyes. I hadn't even noticed I'd closed them.

My viewpoint was higher now.

I looked at Shisui, who was inspecting me.

"Well?"

"Impressive, for your first time using the technique. You got me pretty detailed…" He kept studying what was essentially his own copy—me, at the moment. The Transformation had worked. "Though the lines on the bandages are a bit off; and here and here"—Shisui poked me in the chest—"these folds in the clothes look unnatural. Also, you should've made the technique denser—the shadow's lighter than it should be. And straighten up a bit, my posture's better."

Forming that hand seal again, I drew a bit more chakra and fixed the flaws he'd pointed out.

"Yeah, that's much better!" He clapped lightly. I hadn't really paid attention before, but he's a pretty upbeat guy.

"Thanks…" I said—both for the praise and the tips. With a pop, white smoke burst out of me, dispelling the technique. I could've dropped it without the smoke, but I wanted to test that aspect of chakra too. Making smoke with this energy is really easy.

After that I created an illusionary clone, also on the first try and at a decent level. For a moment I felt some kind of link between us. And sure enough, the clone seemed almost sentient and moved on its own. But through that link, it felt like it could read my intent and follow commands. In general, you can control chakra from a distance, as I'd read. Chakra maintains a connection with its creator until it burns itself out. Creating an illusionary clone, I felt that much more clearly. Though you can cut the link, by the way.

Then I brought up the topic of boosting my body. That one really interested me. Getting superhuman physical strength—now that sounded promising. So, under the Uchiha's supervision, I started practicing flooding my body with large amounts of chakra. But I quickly lost concentration when I noticed the Sharingan in his eyes.

A glowing red iris with three tomoe.

"Hm?" He clearly didn't get why blue chakra suddenly surged out of me in all directions with a faint hum. Up to then I'd been more or less controlling it fine.

"Uh, sorry, spaced out," I said, and went back to pumping chakra into my body. This time without a seal. Harder, but doable.

Sharingan, yeah. The thought that this guy had a brainwashing Mangekyo had already crossed my mind. Only now that I'd calmed down enough was it really starting to bother me. That whole run‑flight here had been a little too memorable.

More and more chakra gathered in my body. Before, hidden in its two components, only now did it become something bigger, and, it seemed to me vaguely, closer to reality. Or… no, it was like by creating chakra in the body I was just… pulling energy into reality? The scrolls described it, but feeling it yourself is way better, deeper. Weird, hard‑to‑describe images.

Power filled my body, sending phantom goosebumps racing across my skin. I wanted to move.

"Catch me if anything?" I asked Shisui, figuring my reaction speed might not boost as much as the rest of my body. It should've gone up too, of course. But that doesn't mean I couldn't still accidentally crash into a tree.

"Go on, I'm ready." He showed me an upraised finger and an encouraging smile. For a moment, I thought there was something weird in that second gesture, but decided to ignore it.

I turned, leaned forward. Then, with that tense, humming feeling of chakra, I pushed off with all my strength, forward and up.

Instantly the wind stuffed my ears again, the ground dropped far away under my feet, and the clearing below quickly gave way to trees.

"Fuck me!" I started flailing my limbs, but you can't change your trajectory midair. Meanwhile, the treetops, probably sharp, were getting closer and closer!

My brain, working flat‑out, ordered my chakra to reinforce my body. Then I slammed stomach‑first into some thick branch—a loud crack—and kept flying; I spun, another crack, this time under my back; another second of flight, and I smashed sideways into the thick trunk of yet another tree, finally dropping to the ground with a dull thud.

I just lay there for about five seconds, staring at the grass next to my face. Then, after blinking a few times, I jerked upright. Nothing hurt… Holy shit, I'm intact!

I started looking myself over. Well, almost. My little black jumpsuit was clearly going in the trash. Now it was just a rag, torn in several places and with an unplanned dirt camouflage.

The chakra I was supposed to be holding so I could keep using it for a long time slipped out of my control when I got distracted standing up and just scattered into the world.

Then my spherical vision caught a mug that hadn't been there before, and I whipped around toward it.

"You were supposed to catch me!"

"There was no point." Leaning against a nearby tree, Shisui shrugged. "You used a lot of chakra for your reinforcement. It's amazing you managed to release that much, let alone hold it. But my Sharingan could clearly see it was enough to protect you from the landing."

"So that means… you could also see how far I'd fly? Given how hard I kicked off?"

"Yeah." He nodded kindly.

…What a troll. So high‑level he might not even realize what class he belongs to.

"Alright. Since we're in a forest, I'd like to try walking on trees. You mind?"

He flicked his hand at me again, another clear "do whatever you want." So I went and did whatever I wanted.

I walked up to a tree, formed that same efficient concentration seal, pushed a bit less chakra into my body for reinforcement this time, and focused part of it in my soles.

"By the way, during that jump you unconsciously used the Shunshin. Though at a pretty meh level."

The Uchiha noted that, but I waved him off. He was distracting me…

Still, I couldn't focus right away. Thoughts about Shisui's Mangekyo crawled back in. I started wondering if that brainwashing worked on the entire mind. In my case, would that include the soul too? The more I thought about it, the more uneasy—no, creepy—it felt. Because if yes, then this guy could actually kill me as a person. End, basically, my life for real.

I put my foot on the vertical surface of the tree. Then focused on the desire to stick… and my leg immediately flew off it with a crack. Too much chakra.

The next try went better. Focusing the right intent with a more reasonable amount of chakra, I could feel the energy, under my will, seep a little into the wood and then literally pull my leg toward it.

Carefully, I lifted my other foot off the ground and, with slight effort, ended up standing horizontally. Put my second foot down. Then added a bit more chakra into my body. Standing got easier. I lifted my first foot, the chakra still obeying my will. Put it higher. Repeated with the second. Another step. Another, another…

Soon, hanging upside down from a thick branch, I turned toward Shisui.

"Yeah…" He scratched the back of his head again. "I used to suppress thoughts of pride. I knew I was really talented. But now I'm not so sure about my own qualities, ha‑ha."

I cut off the "stick to surfaces" property of my chakra and tried to drop onto my feet… but only managed to flip in the air and smack my ass on the ground.

"Ow…" I rubbed the sore spot. Should've reinforced my body a bit more.

"But I successfully resisted that dark feeling," he went on, making his face more serious. As serious as a nine‑year‑old kid could manage. "Don't you get arrogant either, Naruto. That probably won't lead to anything good."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I waved him off again. "Besides, how are you supposed to get full of yourself when you're getting your ass kicked this much? Even if it's by nature and not people."

"Hm, fair point. And also," he looked me in the eye with those red peepers of his, and I glanced away, "why are you afraid of me?"

Huh? He noticed? I guess my skill at hiding emotions with facial expressions isn't exactly top tier. So it's not surprising… Fine. As the scrolls—and my own memory—said: it's pointless to lie to shinobi, especially the experienced ones. They'll spot it easily. So you have to tell the truth—just the kind that leaves no room for follow‑up questions.

"Because you're an Uchiha. The power your eyes have over me is scary. It makes me feel helpless."

"…So blunt." After my little speech, he even straightened up a bit. Looks like I really hit him. More than I meant to.

"Yep. Happy with the answer?" I added, not quite as confident.

"Yes… or rather, no. Sorry, I didn't think about that." His eyes dimmed, turning black again. "If you're okay… shall we continue?"

"I'm fine."

I answered and turned away. Hm. Emotions hit me harder than I thought—that's why I snapped… After all those same‑old‑same‑old days, I'd gotten out of practice with some of them. But time to focus. I at least need to test every technique I've learned. Then drill them more.

But first—body reinforcement.

I pumped more chakra inside. So much it was hard to hold. At the same time, that inner rush came back.

I walked up to a thick tree, about a meter and a half across. Punched—and with a loud crack, my fist went in up to the wrist.

I formed the concentration seal. The feeling of power grew.

Bracing my foot into the ground, I spun and kicked. Bark flew apart in splinters. The wood crumpled like paper, letting my leg sink in about twenty centimeters. Power wrapped around me. It was intoxicating. The tree creaked dangerously, but held.

I drew my leg back. Focused more chakra into it. More. And more. As much as I could. A full minute of just concentrating. Then a wind‑up, and exactly at the moment of impact I blasted the energy out like an explosion. A flash of tension shot through my limb, followed immediately by a deafening boom. Half the trunk blew apart into chunks under the moving chakra. Then, with a loud crack, the tree leaned over and crashed down under its own weight.

The power spread through my veins like warm magma. It gave me confidence. The feeling that there was nothing that wouldn't break in front of me. For the next ten seconds I just watched the results of my handiwork. The tree was done for. The leaves and branches of neighboring trees were shredded by flying splinters. My body was completely intact. Only my leg ached a little. Satisfaction.

"What a nice feeling. Before, I couldn't really believe so many shinobi could do this," I said.

"Actually, almost nobody can do it like that," came a voice behind me, and I turned. "Or rather, plenty of people can, but only with ninjutsu. This kind of body reinforcement either takes crazy fine control—which is rare—or a ton of chakra, which is also rare. My control is really good, but I still can't do that."

"Uh, really?"

"No, I mean, I could," Shisui fumbled with his hands awkwardly. "But I'd need a lot of time to polish that move. It's not efficient. I specialize in other stuff."

"Right… Shunshin. You gonna teach me?"

"Let's leave that for another time. You need to polish your basics."

He was right. I was almost sure I'd burned an order of magnitude, if not two, more chakra on that self‑buff than I needed. Probably closer to two, judging by what Sakura showed in the anime. And her reserve was supposed to be small.

I'd used about three percent of my chakra, and the payoff was pretty meh. But whatever, I'll make up for it! It just means I've got room to grow!

We left it at that. After that, using body reinforcement and the chakra blasts from that cool move, I chopped off a log about my own height. Then, after about thirty seconds of practice sticking things to my hands, I started hauling the tree to the clearing like an ant. The weight of the load, way more than my own, didn't bother me much. I had a big chakra reserve, so I was going all‑out.

Once I'd dragged it over, I formed a sequence of hand seals and, again on the first try, performed the Substitution Technique. Weird feeling: one moment I'm standing in one place, blink, and I'm in another. The transition is almost unnoticeable, but at the same time there's this phantom sensation, like for a split second I turned into an ultra‑tiny point and then expanded back. I repeated the technique. Same phantom feeling. Hopefully I'll get used to it.

After that, like I'd planned, I worked on every technique I knew. Except, of course, for the Thousand Years of Death. Shisui refused to be the test subject. Then the sneaky bastard suggested I test the technique on myself. To be "ready," you know. I refused that too. Better to let life stay a bit more unpredictable. Like, for example, the nice surprise of nothing extra suddenly ending up in my ass.

I picked up the basic level of E‑rank techniques almost right away. Either I got lucky with affinity, or the control I'd already drilled on threads and other stuff paid off. Probably more the second, though the first clearly played a part too. After that, progress slowed. But that's fine. I've got time.

That day, after working on ninjutsu a bit, I decided to focus on training body reinforcement, sticking to surfaces, and movement coordination. So for the first hour I tried jumping through the trees with Shisui. After about an hour and a half I'd more or less gotten the hang of it.

So three hours later, when I'd really gotten good at it, we headed back to the residence using the upper routes.

Once we showed up at the Hokage's, I bragged about my achievements. Then I got told I was doing well and to come by at noon tomorrow and for the entire next week. From now on I'd have ninjutsu practice with different jounin at that time. After that they said ANBU would bring me more reading later, and asked me to go and not get in the way. The Hokage had work to do.

Turned out to be a good day.

Although toward the end it started to look suspicious. I mean, my "genius" status is supposed to be classified. Yet here they are scheduling my training with a bunch of people… And we went back into the village by a very "noticeable" route. I'll have to ask about that.

As for Shisui. In spite of my prejudice, he came across as a decent and maybe even reliable guy. And I remembered something about his grandpa—or maybe his dad—Kagami. I'd read about him in a scroll once, and I think he showed up in the anime too. Anyway, that Kagami and his descendant Shisui were apparently really loyal to Konoha. Plus, would Hiruzen have sent him with me if he didn't trust him? Probably not… Unless Shisui has brainwashed everyone here… including me… But no, that sounds like bullshit. Mangekyo has to have limits. And the Uchiha himself, well, again, seemed like a good guy. Also, I hope we meet again soon so I can shake that promise out of him to teach me that cool technique. The one called Shunshin.

---

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[Welydora]

Two weeks had passed since I started training more or less systematically. Mornings I crammed theory, evenings I put it into practice. Of course, it didn't always work out like that: most of the time I ended up polishing old basic skills. But my arsenal was slowly growing.

Naturally, almost right away I asked the Hokage about how "hidden" I was supposed to be. I got what seemed like a decent enough answer.

Turned out my moving around on the rooftops wasn't some crazy wow‑achievement, and no one was going to pay special attention to it. Especially since no one knew I'd learned it in just a few hours.

The fact that I was working on self‑improvement at all—yeah, people would find that out. But to learn anything more, they'd have to spy on me at the training grounds. And that's hard to do when you're being escorted by elite ninja. The only one who could really manage that was probably the Hokage himself, using some badass A‑rank technique called the "Telescope." The secrecy was more about keeping foreign shinobi from knowing too much about me.

As for the jonin they sent with me, the Hokage trusted each of them—they wouldn't blab. They weren't kids, after all. Well, except for Shisui. And one other guy.

The escort‑instructors were different each time but repeated often enough that we ended up with a pool of six shinobi, from tokubetsu jonin up to senior jonin, rotating on a "whoever's free" basis.

When it was Shisui's turn again, it was the fifth day, and by then I'd gotten noticeably better compared to day one. Because of that, I managed to pull off Shunshin—the technique he'd promised to teach me—on my first try.

Shunshin, a D‑rank technique, is basically about giving your chakra properties that lighten your body, letting you hit much higher speeds for the same effort. Shisui can move so fast with it that even battle‑hardened jonin can't always track his movements.

Turned out I had a pretty strong affinity for this technique. The first time I jumped with chakra enhancement, I also partially lightened my body, which sent me flying even farther.

But obviously, after just two weeks of training, I was still a long way from Shisui's level. Though, according to him, I'd definitely end up faster than he'd been at my age. As long as I didn't drop my training. And I wasn't going to.

Besides that technique, I also learned and honed all the most well‑known basic shinobi skills (E‑rank techniques). Among them:

I learned to walk on water. Turned out it was harder than walking on trees, but by the end of the first day I practiced it, I was using the technique just as freely.

I also learned to use hand seals to create a quickly dissipating smoke cloud with less chakra. Basically, a smokescreen to duck behind in a hurry if needed.

I also worked on improving my focus and concentration with the leaf‑on‑the‑forehead thing and trying to blank out the whole world. Supposedly, that's meant to boost overall attentiveness, which is a useful skill in general. For example, for the next topic.

Sensory stuff—sensory jutsu—is when a shinobi, usually by tuning out the world, shapes and fills their chakra with properties that focus on the energy around them—other chakra, basically. That way some sensors—as they call people trained to feel chakra over long distances—can sense someone else's signature from tens of kilometers away.

Of course, the technique has its limits. For one, you have to detach yourself; that need shrinks over time but never completely goes away, or it gets replaced by using the ground more openly as a transmitter: the shinobi puts a hand to the earth and senses enemy chakra that way. Also, to feel chakra at really long range, there can't be too many interfering signatures around, and the target has to not be constantly changing the properties of their energy, throwing off your focus, and also not suppressing the pulses of their chakra—those same pulses the sensor actually picks up as a signature.

There's another option where a shinobi blasts out a burst of their own chakra and senses how that energy passes through a hiding ninja, but even that doesn't always work if the target has really high control and way better concealment skills. Very skilled sensors—like, really skilled—can make their energy kind of transparent… better to say "nonexistent" to other energy, by giving their chakra the right properties.

The obvious downside of the pulse‑detection method is that the sensor is basically yelling over a huge distance, "I'm right here, come stab me."

Also, not all sensors know how to hide their own energy, and not everyone who can hide their chakra is a sensor. But the two techniques have a lot in common, so it's pretty common to find a stealth‑type and a sensor rolled into one person.

I got most of my information on sensory jutsu, and even a lot of the finer points, from one of my instructors. We even played a game called "Dig Up a Worm for Fishing." Or rather, he called it serious training. But it was basically a game where my instructor, an earth‑style user, would quickly hide two meters underground and move a few meters to the side (by the end of our training, he'd even try to hide his chakra), and I had to find him and dig him up. With my body enhancement, that part wasn't hard.

That way I unlocked a very useful ability to feel chakra. My affinity for it wasn't especially high, but with enough effort I could develop it pretty far, according to the instructor. It also turned out I had a much better affinity for sensing chakra at close range than far away.

When I was looking for the "worm," I tried to use my chakra‑sensing specifically, turning off my sphere vision, which, by the way, keeps slowly expanding over time. In two weeks I developed my sensory skills pretty decently. Even though at close range they're still nowhere near as good as my sphere vision. By chakra alone I can't even tell a dog from a person. I just feel that there's a little "spark" of energy over there somewhere. Even at close range, sensory skills don't let me feel an object's outline, which means they don't let me, say, dodge a shinobi's punch right next to me.

To feel chakra at close range, you don't need any special concentration, as long as the shinobi isn't hiding. Ordinary non‑sensor shinobi, at least the experienced ones, can sense chakra signatures anyway—either by turning just a tiny bit of their own chakra into sensory chakra, or without even consciously doing that. Or rather, they do it unconsciously, thanks to affinity or habit (or both at once).

The next ninjutsu area I studied was genjutsu. Or rather, the part of it that was important for me to learn, with a different instructor—the technique for breaking illusions. You do it by disrupting your own chakra flow, or an ally's if the illusion was cast on them. Unfortunately, they didn't really enlighten me on how genjutsu themselves are structured and cast; they focused on every possible way of getting rid of illusions.

Genjutsu itself is usually built on interacting with the victim's nervous system and brain via chakra. Genjutsu targets the five senses (sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell), because that's how the brain gets information about the world. By messing with those signals using chakra, a genjutsu user can:

Make the target see, hear, or feel things that aren't there. Fake images, sounds, phantom pain.

Change how the target perceives their surroundings or the genjutsu user themselves.

Feed the victim false information to nudge their decisions or actions.

To get out of a genjutsu, the victim first has to realize they're in one. And that's not always easy. They trained me to pay attention to details. To be sensitive to my own chakra. But that still won't always save you from a true genjutsu master… and by "master" my instructor almost always meant the Uchiha.

To put someone under a genjutsu and start manipulating chakra inside them, the user has to somehow "get into" their system. Technically, you could try just shoving your chakra in directly, but that's not efficient—shinobi got smarter than that a long time ago. So they started using the sense organs as entry points, channels to deliver the genjutsu user's chakra.

Back in the earlier days of the chakra world, a lot of masters focused on a single sense, building up an affinity so it got easier and easier to push their chakra through that one sense organ. At first the idea didn't really work all that well. But now… now it's basically how everyone uses genjutsu.

The Uchiha are the prime example—they're the best in this field. Their dojutsu (eye technique) is itself a source of powerful chakra with unique properties that are perfect for genjutsu. Why and how, my instructor didn't know. Unfortunately, he wasn't in the group of scientists who dissect red‑eyes, though from what I could tell, he really wanted to.

The eyes are directly connected to the brain via the optic nerve. When a target looks into a Sharingan, they're not just seeing the eyes—they're picking up a specific flow of chakra the Uchiha is projecting through their eyes. That eye contact creates a direct "bridge" for the Uchiha's chakra to penetrate the target's nervous system and start controlling it. For their kind of genjutsu, that's the most direct and effective method. Although, say, sunglasses can get in the way of that.

Though, as the instructor also said, there are special prodigies among the Uchiha, and sometimes straight‑up monsters, who don't need eye contact at all. One of those is the head of their clan, and I got very firm recommendations to stay the hell away from him…

Lucky me, I got the nervous instructor. Up till then no one had ever tried to propaganda‑blast me with "how terrifying the Uchiha are." This guy really went all in.

I doubt everything is as that nutcase described it, though. I'm almost sure it's just his paranoia.

Said the paranoid one.

Because if it were otherwise, the Uchiha would already be ruling the world with their almighty genjutsu. Which means genjutsu aren't almighty. With insane levels of chakra sensitivity and control—which that paranoid guy later confirmed, though grudgingly—it's supposedly possible to resist even very strong genjutsu. Like the Hokage can, for example. Any Hokage. My instructor couldn't recall a single historical case of Madara putting Hashirama under genjutsu. Even though Madara had to have been insanely strong in his clan's techniques.

You can also cast illusions through other senses. Through sound, for example: when special chakra‑infused sound waves reach the target's ears, they stimulate the auditory nerve. That nerve also leads to the brain.

It sounds complicated, but it's actually doable with some effort.

Another, and for now last, area that interested me even more than all the others was fuinjutsu.

The basics of this art I got from scrolls, and I honed those skills with different instructors.

For whatever reason, the term "fuinjutsu" had two meanings. First, it's a special technique for sealing something—objects, chakra, living beings—inside something else. Basically, a kind of spatial pocket that plays with the metric of space while skewering the laws of reality on a long rod. But in this world, that's just normal.

More importantly, "fuin" also means sealing chakra properties, and the chakra with those properties, for later release. In essence it still feels like one concept, but not quite, because the release is meant to be stretched out over time and, for some reason, not as tightly tied to the creator.

A fuinjutsu master can, for example, draw a little circle somewhere and imbue it with the property of creating a tiny flame above the seal. Once the fuin starts working, the person can just get up and walk to the other side of the world and stop caring about their creation. The flame will keep burning without the creator's direct will. Only when the fuin runs out of chakra—which, by the way, can be supplied by someone else—will the flame go out. But it's also important that the flame will still go out if the fuin master dies. Because any "author's" fuin is tied to the creator's chakra. In that case, topping the seal up with chakra doesn't help once the creator is dead.

So they taught me how to feed chakra into other fuin, and also strongly advised me not to test this energy transfer technique on other people. Unless, of course, I ever needed to torture someone with my aggressive chakra.

Creator‑type fuinjutsu is only available to fuin masters. In general, you get the rank of fuinjutsu master for a certain level of ability to give chakra properties strong enough to create fuin seals of a certain power.

But fuinjutsu is also tied to certain symbols, usually kanji, that denote different effects. That means a user, even if they're not a fuin master, can draw a few symbols—say, with chakra‑conductive ink—and then run their chakra through them, and the fuin will work too. The user doesn't have to imbue the symbols with special‑property chakra; they don't even have to understand what they wrote. The fuin will still work.

The thing is, the planet's chakra, you could say, "remembers" a fuin symbol if it's been active for a long time. After that, it's enough to just draw that simple symbol, without giving it any properties.

So, in general, you can stick properties into any symbol, drawing, whatever, and after a while it'll start working on its own.

From this came a pretty surprising thought. A few times, walking around Konoha, I'd see drawings of the male reproductive organ. Could it be that some fuinjutsu master had poured something multifaceted and profound into that image—that's why some people are so irresistibly drawn to sketching this supreme art?

I'll have to try adding a fuin for better ambient chakra absorption to one of those sometime.

In general, all "remembered" fuin absorb the planet's chakra by some not‑very‑clear principles. But with an extra seal—some old design that works off weird, barely understood properties—the efficiency jumps several times over.

Maybe then the drawing will ascend to the next level.

Anyway, back to fuin symbols: there's a whole alphabet of them, with long‑ass scrolls on compatibility and different combinations. Things aren't exactly rosy there, since the data was grabbed from different countries and clans and stitched together however it fit. Some stuff's been lost, a lot of it is built on archaic logic. But there's still plenty to work with.

It's these ready‑made symbols that fuin masters mostly use, sometimes weaving in a few of their own. It's more efficient in terms of effort versus result.

Shinobi can also form symbols with their chakra on the ground or right in the air—that's a pretty easy skill to learn, which went straight into my bag of tricks. Some ninja need way less than a second to charge over a hundred symbols like that and form a fuin seal.

A fuin master can create their own symbol, or even a chain of symbols, and then spend a long time polishing them so at some point they can create them relatively quickly. But even then it'll still be slower than just drawing the standard ones.

Another well‑known but barely confirmed fact: the number of author‑type fuin you can have is limited. Since all of a user's chakra is linked, and has to stay linked for author‑type fuin to function, the more such seals you have, the more they drain their creator. The limits are very high, but they're there. That's why people who mass‑produce fuin are almost always non‑masters who just draw fuin schematics with ink on special paper. Those paper tags, mostly explosive tags, are cranked out on an assembly line. And because of how unique author‑type fuin are, a master's custom seals are even more expensive.

With one instructor I practiced creating an explosive seal, which detonates when hit with a specific chakra pulse you set in advance. I learned how to use—but not create—storage fuin scrolls. Meaning, how to seal and unseal items. And also how to put a simple paralysis seal on someone by drawing the right symbols with chakra.

This field really hooked me, because with fuin you can literally surpass your own limits. There are special seals that boost sensitivity, letting you study things in crazy depth. There are ones that help in medicine. That kind of stuff just blows my interest wide open. So once I polish my inscription skills a bit more, I'm definitely going to try and shake more knowledge on this topic out of the old man.

Those two weeks were packed.

When I stepped outside, I was already getting sick of the sight of the buildings around me, with those… pipes, which no longer triggered the old negative feelings or the urge to lecture the local builders on how wrong they were.

Before this, my training, according to the Hokage, had been "just kids' games." But for the time being, that was better than nothing. Over these two weeks, though, the old man had found people who were ready to take me on seriously.

Soon I was supposed to meet the first one.

Now I was standing in a kind of windowless gym, full of all sorts of training machines I'd never seen before. Lots of different hunks of metal, each with inlays of black metal. That stuff, as I'd read, was from a special ore, then soaked in chakra‑conductive ink; inside the metal of the equipment there could be a whole bunch of author‑type fuin.

I spent about a minute looking everything over before I noticed the door slide aside.

Then, ducking and turning sideways, a damn machine, not a man, stepped in! I'm sure if he'd existed in my old world, he would've easily taken the Mr. Olympia title.

Dark‑skinned, which is rare for the Land of Fire, but more importantly—holy shit, what a massive, jacked guy. A mountain of a man, at least from my fairly close‑to‑the‑ground point of view. Black tank top, regular shinobi pants. No hair on the visible skin except for black eyebrows.

"Yo, I'm Toraki Roen," he said, rolling his shoulders with surprising grace as he walked over and greeted me in a deep, bass voice. Then, grinning wide enough to show every tooth, he bent down and held out his huge paw.

"Hey, Uzumaki Naruto," I introduced myself back, even though that was probably obvious, and shook two of his fingers—I couldn't get a grip on more. "Are you gonna be my trainer?"

He looked seriously impressive.

At my question, his face twitched. But he quickly smoothed his expression out and went on.

"That's… You know, I'm a pretty humble guy. But still, just call me 'sensei.' To make sure we understand each other, let me clarify. I have three higher‑education degrees," he straightened up and started counting on his fingers, "kinesiology, nutrition science, and eudaimonology. I've also defended my doctoral dissertation and made a significant contribution to the development of biology and training methods."

"Whoa…" The respect in my eyes shot up, and I gave him another once‑over. He looked pretty young for that kind of résumé—around forty, at a guess. "So, are we starting?"

I asked, while in the back of my mind thinking that apparently here too there was this trend where, besides real pros, people who'd just finished some two‑week course also called themselves "trainers." If that was the case, no wonder Roen didn't want to be called a "trainer."

"Of course," he nodded, his smile not fading for a second, and then started explaining. "Let's get right to it. We'll be working together for quite a while, and I'll be adjusting your training plan. Until you really get to know your own body and don't need me anymore. I'll also put together a nutrition plan and keep an eye on your mental health and motivation. You did understand what my degrees are in, right?"

"…In short, yeah. I'm guessing it's exactly what we'll be working on?"

He nodded.

"Excellent, you know how to use logic. You'll need it in training. Let's begin. First I'll teach you the technique, and for the next week we'll be testing your limits. To make your training as effective as possible!"

"Uh‑huh…"

"But…" His smile turned into a predatory grin and he spread his arms in an inspiring pose. "Get ready for pain! Because only through pain is strength born!"

---

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[Welydora]

One Week Later

Standing in the power rack—a training cage with safety bars to catch the barbell if the athlete fails a lift or just collapses—I was pulling some serious weight.

"Light weight, baby! Light weight!" Roen cheered, while what felt like five tons of steel rested on my back.

The seals on the machine were slowly drawing on my energy to bind my body and give that kind of resistance. In reality, I only had two hundred kilos on my shoulders.

My body hummed from the strain and the energy coursing through it. If not for chakra enhancement, my body wouldn't have been able to lift even a hundredth of that load.

"Every rep is a step towards greatness. Come on, lift that iron!"

My massive chakra reserves, combined with my ability as a jinchuriki to regenerate quickly, let me do terrible things to myself. And without any real harm to my health. All for the sake of progress.

At first, I started with the seals turned off completely, like most shinobi do. Ninja, with very few exceptions, are focused on speed. They can't lift one or two hundred kilos, yet with their legs, in motion, they can put out force equivalent to thousands, even tens of thousands of men.

Jumps of nearly a hundred meters are no joke.

My work with these kinds of weights is only possible thanks to my strong Yang nature, an immense talent for energy control, and, to some extent, my previous experience with managing energy.

That's just how humanity here developed—everything into speed. Everything into leg work. And, sure, strengthening the body so it can withstand the loads from movement… but that doesn't help much with pure arm strength.

Without my noticing, my mind drifted into memories. But my body didn't stop working like crazy.

On the first day, my training was conducted with a whole dozen medical-nin who came in a bit later. After hooking me up with wires, they were practically drooling over the numbers for my regeneration and other aspects of my body's adaptability. To be fair, so was I. Those stats turned out to be, like, many times better than a cockroach's.

With every set, I got better at controlling chakra to enhance my body. As a result, on the very first day, my body pulled a couple of tons.

After that, they had to urgently summon the fuin master who'd made the training equipment, because my physical training sensei predicted that the seals, which had been "made with a huge safety margin" for a three‑ton load, would soon not be enough.

My training was focused on developing explosive power first and endurance second. Naturally, they drew up a program built to pump exactly those stats.

Getting back to my body's toughness and regeneration—those traits were used to the fullest.

Turned out that after each training session, I didn't need a long rest. On the contrary, if I had constant access to food, I could handle as many as three sessions a day.

For reference, only very genetically gifted shinobi can repeat that, and even then, not without steroids.

But the limits of my body were still eventually found. Only when some enterprising doctors gave me some interesting little pills and injected me with some no less interesting drugs. Because of that, on the fifth day of training, I was able to push a monstrous load—around eighty to ninety percent of my max—for eighteen hours straight. And what's even crazier—I could have kept going; my body was practically bursting with energy.

Except that by the end of that time, my heart and other organs started to slowly lose efficiency, so the doctors, quite reasonably—despite the rush from the drugs that had me in their grip and my stubborn resistance—used some jutsu to knock my ass out.

The experiment was fun. The next day was almost normal.

I'd been expecting insane muscle soreness, but nope, by morning my body had recovered even from that. In just four hours, actually, since they'd prudently hooked me up to parenteral nutrition—IV drips with all the necessary elements—so I had plenty of resources for recovery.

Only a slight fatigue throughout the morning reminded me that it probably wasn't the best idea to do that. Although, in principle, it was doable. Even without constant doctor oversight—my body turned out to be, again, very tough and much more capable of drawing resources for itself from the chakra it produced. So I didn't need any drugs just to develop normally.

At least, that was the conclusion the doctors came to after their diagnostics. And they shut down the whole "interesting drugs" operation when they calculated the chances of deformed physical development—the odds were pretty low, but, as I found out, the Hokage had forbidden them from doing anything that could harm me.

Yeah… Remembering that feeling of relentless drive and the urge to move non‑stop, I almost regret that I can't keep doing it. On the other hand, the old man's concern warms me—it's kind of touching.

By the end of the week, the doctors and Toraki‑sensei had finished building my initial training program, eventually cutting it down to two sessions a day, once every three days.

That way my development wouldn't slow down too much, but I'd free up a lot of time for other things. With certain drugs, they could have cut the number of workouts even more, but that was overkill. I still needed time to practice the body‑enhancement technique, to feel and shape chakra inside my body better, and so on. Time in the gym is considered one of the best situations for that.

The training program wasn't aimed at big muscle hypertrophy, meaning a huge increase in size. So I was never going to get anywhere near as massive as Roen.

Toraki‑sensei, by the way, had once wanted to be a shinobi. But he didn't get lucky in the genetic lottery, and for all his external power, he's only as strong as a solid Chunin. Which is actually impressive, considering people with his kind of talent usually don't become ninja at all. But by dedicating his whole life to physical development, he pulled off almost a miracle through sheer effort. Though in terms of real shinobi combat, he's not that strong—his main skill is developing and training others, so even a combat‑type genin could probably beat him. And that's despite the fact that, on paper, Roen holds the rank of senior jounin because of his achievements. He gets a huge salary, often travels around the country to all sorts of scientific conferences, and all that.

But that doesn't diminish what he's accomplished. Just walking into a room, this guy with insane determination makes your inner fire flare up and pushes you to keep going, to reach no less greatness.

Usually shinobi, to my surprise, don't hit the gym on a regular basis. The average ninja gets enough leg and full‑body training from sparring alone. Those loads, in principle, give results not much worse than if they did go to the gym. But for the sake of five, maybe ten or fifteen percent more speed, almost no one wants to pour in a ton of extra time on top of everything else. That's why the average ninja looks pretty lean, without any obvious muscles.

But the minority that does go thinks differently. You could say they're a separate breed that believes every drop of strength might be what keeps you from dying. Throwing away a chance to protect your life, when you could just trade a few hours a week for hard work instead of some random bullshit—that's dumber than dying way earlier.

With my genes, the difference wouldn't be just a few dozen percent. In one case, I'd reach the level of an average Kage—with almost no training. In the other, the level of a God of Shinobi, like the First, who eats those same Kage for breakfast, if I worked flat‑out. That's… assuming I do any training at all. But the gap is so massive that the miser in me, the part that's supposed to be hoarding money, wraps its cold little paws around my neck every time I even think about ditching all this and burying my talent.

Not that those thoughts showed up often, and with Toraki‑sensei's support they were easily crushed by the sense of inevitable progress. Compared to Roen, who'd busted his ass his whole life to tear a few tons off the ground, I'd already lifted more thanks to better genetics and a much greater talent for energy control.

They also told me about how much higher I could aim. There was—and still is somewhere, wandering around and drinking herself stupid—the Third's student. Tsunade, her name was. She's got a huge talent for energy control, and one of her main specializations is body enhancement. She got so good at it that, despite looking like a pretty fragile woman, she can lift several times more than I can right now. And what's even more important—she can land blows a whole order or two of magnitude stronger than what you'd expect from those raw strength numbers. But that's thanks to a technique that releases a burst of chakra right at the moment of impact.

She's the one I wanted to surpass. No idea when that'll happen. But it's a damn good goal.

"Excellent! Next up on the plan: high‑speed jump rope."

Racking the barbell, I followed my sensei.

My body was pleasantly buzzing from the load, and only a slight shortness of breath reminded me I'd been working with something heavy.

Even in just a week, my muscles had grown a fair bit, and their outlines were already clearly visible under my skin. It also felt like someone had shoved a crowbar down my spine from all the back training, and my posture had become perfect. The shape from my ghostly past life was slowly returning.

"You're performing the technique perfectly," Roen said. "Soon you'll be able to train without me."

I just nodded in response, focused on my tasks. Picking up a jump rope with a very tough cable and throwing a weighted vest onto my torso so I'd land faster and put more load on my body, I still decided to clarify:

"Are we going to be seeing each other a lot less?"

A bit of sadness slipped into my voice. In a pretty short time, I'd gotten used to his constant hype‑up.

"Not as rarely as you might think." With the same inspiring smile, he winked and struck a bodybuilder pose. "I don't have that much free time, and it's not rational to spend it on something that doesn't need it. Soon I'll be heading to the capital, where the competition for the title of Rengoku no Taiko will be held!"

I froze at his words and almost dropped the jump rope.

"Drum of Hell? So what exactly are you going to be competing in there, sensei?"

I was genuinely curious; the name itself didn't tell me much. Although from the way he was posing, I had my suspicions.

He stopped showing off his muscles and, as if stating the obvious, said:

"A competition for the greatest muscle mass, symmetry, proportions, and definition in the Land of Fire."

"Uh, yeah, fitting name. What was I even thinking…"

Sometimes you run into some really colorful locals who give things totally impractical names.

"Good luck, sensei. I figure you'll wipe the floor with everybody there."

"Thank you!"

After that, we continued the workout.


Soon Roen left, once my routine had more or less settled. But literally a few days later, I ran out of basic material on the shinobi arts. It was time to choose some specializations and dive into them.

Spreading myself thin over everything was a dumb move that would just leave me knowing a lot of stuff on the surface, and any narrow specialist would outclass me. So, after what seemed to me a pretty sane assessment of the available fields, I started studying medicine and fuin. For now in a general sense—later I hoped to focus on working with genes to overcome the body's limits.

My motivation was the same as ever—I need to become very strong, stronger than any human who has ever existed. The Otsutsuki threat is way too big, even if I'm still far from reaching my own limits. But those limits exist, and they need to be broken. How—that's not clear yet, but that's a problem for future me.

Besides that, though, I think I was starting to genuinely enjoy studying anything related to chakra more and more. Over time, the purely rational motive—this is something you have to do: train, grow—started picking up emotional color, turning into real interest.

For medical ninjutsu, I was enrolled as a student at the hospital. Unfortunately, the Hokage didn't manage to find some legendary sensei, but there were plenty of good and even very good specialists in the hospital. I'd just be making the rounds between them, studying the pile of information that pretty much everyone there knew at a decent level: healing wounds and diseases with chakra, and for that, anatomy and pharmacology.

First thing they did was give me access to a huge library.

Actually, as I'd later realize, it wasn't that huge. Here, in science, a lot of things are tied to how chakra works, not just how the body works. Healing, for example, doesn't require a super deep understanding of biosciences—just a reasonably deep grasp of anatomy and some chakra theory.

Or rather, not deep by the standards of the sciences from my previous world. No doubt, especially thanks to peacetime, medicine here had advanced quite a bit. But as I dug through the scrolls, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that some things here, considered recent discoveries for real specialists, were just basic common knowledge in my past world—stuff from high school biology textbooks.

Not that it's surprising. Different world, different development path.

Medicine, even at the very beginning, wasn't some useless discipline for me. Even if, with the Mystical Palm Technique—which I still had to master—I couldn't heal other people. Not unless I learned to properly filter my chakra from the aggressive properties of the bijuu's energy. But I could heal—very effectively—myself. Just by speeding up training progress. Getting there, though, would take a lot of practice.

The Mystical Palm Technique is basic for medical‑nin. But it's also a pretty complex A‑rank jutsu. It's about pouring energy into someone's body—or your own—and kind of projecting through it the command, "Move, damn you!", making the body's internal mechanisms kick regeneration into high gear. The main thing with this technique is that you need really fine control: enough chakra so it actually does something, but not so much that you accidentally kill the patient.

After they drilled me on the basic theory, they let me practice on a nice big fish.

Knowing who I was, the medic who brought it in had already buried the poor thing with his eyes.

He was right.

When I pushed what felt to me like the tiniest bit of chakra into the fish, it instantly exploded into bloody mince.

Washing myself off, then helping clean the room, was not exactly pleasant.

Usually, by the way, from an excess of chakra, organisms go into something like suspended animation. Only with high affinity do weird things start happening. For some people, the fish might, for example, catch fire. Or swell up from increased water content. Or start getting covered in cuts, like it'd run through solid blades of wind. In my case, because of my wind affinity, something like that last one happened. Just a lot stronger than expected… Maybe the Fox's chakra got mixed in there too.

On the second attempt, to the surprise of the same doctor—who, for some reason, had called over a friend and put a weak barrier around me—and thanks to my insane concentration, the fish just started twitching, getting covered in cuts, and giving off the smell of scorched flesh. But it stayed… in one piece.

After that, though, progress went a lot slower. It took me a full three weeks to get to the point where the fish would just thrash from pain, sometimes "leak" from internal bleeding, but at the same time heal up at an accelerated rate.

At first, I felt sorry for the fish. Even though, in this life, I've personally eaten more than a few kilos of fish. But feeling a living thing's suffering under your hands and eating that same thing with tasty spices are two completely different experiences.

By the end of that period, though, I think I'd cooled off a lot.

Training became routine, and the cooling bodies under my hands became something ordinary. Even if they weren't human.

I've still got about that much practice ahead of me before I can safely start working on my favorite patient—myself.

Besides the more or less healing techniques, I studied pharmacology: creating different kinds of medicines, stimulants, poisons, and the like. For that, I ran massive tomes through my brain; in three weeks I must've read a kilometer of scrolls. To my surprise, the knowledge sank in easily. At some point I just realized my mind had gotten used to huge workloads, to constant analysis, and my memory stat had shot way up. Normal people can't just read a page once and, a month later, repeat it almost word for word, right? Usually they can't. But in some shinobi clans, even among kids, that's normal. Just not in the clan I belong to.

From what I found out, people around me chalk it up to a lucky combo of genes. I figure it's also the result of the huge strain on my brain from having an adult mind since birth. And that load has only gone up over time. It's entirely possible both explanations are right, plus some third, fourth, whatever else that nobody even suspects.

For pharmacology, they taught me a weird and not very effective—without a ton of practice—method for determining the properties of plants and some other materials, like animal parts and minerals, by taste and smell, for later use in medical ninjutsu. The idea was that if a shinobi got lost in some unknown area, somewhere really, really far away, without a local bestiary, he could still whip up primitive medicine after first figuring out what the stuff around him actually was.

The catalogs of known plants were huge; I studied them, of course. But you can always stumble on something new.

By the way, among non‑shinobi, figuring out properties by smell and taste is super inaccurate. And to learn how to boost my basic senses with chakra to a decent level, I had to spend a lot of time. And eat several kilos of random herbs along the way.

Some flowers taste pretty damn awful. But power demands sacrifice…

In parallel, I was studying fuinjutsu. Can't say it was easier, but it was definitely more monotonous.

In that field, my sensei was Hiruzen himself, since he knew it very well. His teaching didn't actually take much time though, because most of learning fuin is: studying seals, practicing them, and training yourself to pack specific properties into your chakra. On that foundation I need to push further, so I can first "read" the original seals of the masters and then start creating my own.

But not all at once. With fuinjutsu, you can't just rush in and grab everything; I needed time to get results.

And so time stretched on in this mess of different studies. Until a new, annoying, but very game‑changing person showed up in my life…

---

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[Welydora]

A month passed. Life fell back into rhythm.

Roan came back from his competition, where he'd become the top something-or-other "Drum." I've always had a very selective memory when it comes to dumb names. Anyway, he showed them who had the biggest muscles.

My schedule got a little too familiar. I had plenty of free time—several days a week. In a world without wide‑spread internet, that got kind of boring.

It's not like I was tired of what I usually did. I could've just spent even more time on training. But I wanted something… different.

So yeah, I got hit with some wild thoughts about how I was a future shinobi, a killer and all that. Not that I liked the idea—killing wasn't part of the social code where I came from, so I had mixed feelings about it. But given the threats to this world, the same Akatsuki, killing is the most efficient way to deal with a threat. It's easier, and the requirements for it are lower than for capturing someone alive. So with my limited strength—of which I might not have any surplus by the time it matters—I'll have to use any means available. There's no room for morality when it's my existence on the line…

Ugh. Cheerful stuff. Luckily, I shook it off pretty fast and moved on to something a bit more upbeat.

Right now I figured I should probably hurry up and learn how to fight. The earlier I start, the stronger I'll be later. With that in mind, I went to the Hokage. Again.

I don't know whose pockets he dipped into, but the old man said he'd take care of this too. A week ago I'd gone home happy, expecting some martial arts pro, the same way Roan was a pro at physical conditioning.

Only when I showed up at the closed underground training ground—yeah, Konoha has those—what I saw was an old hag. Really old, with a cane. And something about her rubbed me the wrong way immediately.

"Uh… Hello, Elder-sama?" I greeted the granny with the squinted eyes, two pinned-up buns of almost completely gray hair, loose robes and, as mentioned, a stick.

This was Hiruzen's former teammate, Utatane Koharu, one of the village elders and a very respected person in Konoha.

"Hmph," came a dry, emotionless grunt. Koharu slowly ran her gaze over me from head to toe, sizing me up with narrowed eyes like a vegetable at the market. "Uzumaki Naruto. Hiruzen has spoken a great deal about you. Exaggerating, I presume."

"Oh?" That caught my interest. "About what, exactly? And why 'exaggerating'?"

"He was right about your curiosity," she nodded flatly. "And about a certain… lack of restraint. As for your persistence, 'great talent' and 'ability to learn quickly'… You lack tactical training and an understanding of real combat. I am not here to dance circles around you or praise every successful jump. My task is to assess your potential and, if it exists, make you into a tool useful to Konoha. If not—then we shouldn't waste valuable resources on you."

"Hmph," I choked on air. "A tool? You should choose your terms more carefully when you talk to me."

I disliked her even more.

I tried to pin her down with my stare as hard as I could, but all I got back was wide, surprised eyes. Apparently no one had talked to the Elder like that in a long time.

"A tool implies an owner. But with me, the only kind of relationship on the table is a partnership. Am I being clear?" I spelled it out, just in case she was slow on the uptake.

"…Insolent brat!" the old woman shrieked in a suddenly high voice, and angry chakra flared off her.

A chill ran down my spine, but I crushed the feeling quickly. Her chakra was… weak? Way too weak compared to mine.

"You've been granted a great honor! And you turn your nose up at it! No matter… I'll educate you right now…"

She went to step forward with very clear intentions, then reflexively jumped back as I released my chakra.

The air hissed softly from the energy pouring out of me.

The amount I currently had focused in my body was three times the Elder's entire reserve. And if I wanted to, I could fill it back up more than ten times over.

From the excess of chakra reinforcing my body I felt my hair stir, my clothes billow in the vortices of blue energy. My heart started pounding like a war drum as adrenaline raced through my arteries. Every cell of my body felt filled with power that could burst out at the slightest command.

"Educate me? You?" I was a little confused—there was no killing intent in her chakra. But at the same time, anger at her dismissive attitude boiled up in me and bled straight into my aura. "What can a fossil crippled by three wars even teach? Hiruzen showed that the answer can be 'a lot.'" I raised my hand and jabbed a finger at the Elder. "But you? I doubt you can offer anything but violence."

Koharu opened her mouth to say something, but then a door at the far end of the training ground slammed open, and two ANBU strode in.

Not as fast anymore. After working on the Body Flicker and enhancing my vision with chakra, I could see their blurred movements now. My sphere-vision had sharpened up too; with some effort it kept pace with my normal sight.

"Elder-sama, Uzumaki-san," one of them began as they came closer. "We detected spikes of chakra with intent that doesn't match the nature of your assignment here." After this long sentence he looked us over and, a bit uncertain, added, "How should we interpret that?"

"…As a misunderstanding," Utatane answered, after we finished drilling each other with our eyes. By then I was already standing in a closed-off pose, arms folded. "Everything's under control. You can leave us."

They gave us another once-over, saw no deathmatch in progress, and left.

I kept my chakra running through my body, ready to spring at a moment's notice. It was way easier than when I'd first learned the technique, and thanks to all the training I could maintain that state for quite a while.

She shot me a sharp glare.

"And how long are you planning to stand like that?"

"I could ask you the same thing. You're the 'sensei' here, so go on, lay out your program. Since the Hokage couldn't find anyone better, I'll have to work with what I've got."

We silently buried the topic of how we'd address each other, settling on something moderately rude and completely informal.

The old hag let out an offended snort, but didn't start yelling again, slipping back into her original detached tone.

"My strength is not in flashy jutsu or a massive chakra pool like Hiruzen—my teammate. Or… you," the Elder paused, looking at me with obvious displeasure. She clicked her tongue a couple of times at whatever she'd remembered, then went on: "It lies in cold calculation, in the ability to analyze a situation, find an opponent's weaknesses and exploit them with maximum efficiency. Espionage, sabotage, quiet eliminations, survival in any conditions—that is my field. That's what I'll teach you, if you prove you can learn."

She wasn't lying about her type of strength. Calculation, situational analysis and, I assume, living in the shadow of a stronger teammate. I had to admit a certain respect—surviving to her age as a shinobi is not easy. She clearly wasn't lacking in brains.

"The training will be grueling."

I raised a brow.

Was she serious? Or did no one bother to show the Elder my gym results?

"Mistakes are unacceptable. Laziness is punishable," she said, lifting her cane meaningfully. "This stick isn't for support. It's a great tool for beating lessons into thick skulls. Are you ready?"

Now it was my eye's turn to twitch.

"For a spar? Or are we starting with something more basic?"

"Did you read the scrolls on basic stances and combat tactics that Hiruzen gave you?"

I nodded.

"Then we'll move on to practical drills. We'll correct the details as we go."

Without waiting for my answer, she moved in, closing the five meters between us in less than a second.

My leg swung out in a wide arc, aiming to take out the blurred figure.

But Koharu just shifted her center of gravity and stopped short, letting my kick whistle past. She didn't move in, having guessed that I'd use the momentum to send my other leg straight past her face.

At the same time, I formed a seal, realizing I was out of range, planning to release a burst of chakra smoke from my second foot to blind her, while the first foot—about to hit the ground—would dump chakra into the floor, breaking the footing under her, hidden by the smoke, and buying me time to disengage.

But instead of just waiting for both kicks to miss, Utatane didn't hesitate. Bending out of my line of attack, she swung hard and cracked me across the spine with her cane.

I hadn't even landed yet when I went flying four meters to the side—about a sixth of the distance to the wall.

I tucked in midair, came down in a crouch and immediately straightened.

"Damn, that hurt," I muttered, rubbing my back. Koharu clearly didn't pull her punches.

"Pain is the best teacher," she replied evenly. Her cane was back in its starting position, like it had never moved. "You rely too much on brute strength and speed. You forgot about tactics. Your smoke and ground-breaking plan was predictable and took too long to set up. In a real fight, you'd have been killed three times over by now. Again."

I could feel irritation starting to boil. That wasn't a tactic? A tactic that didn't work is still a tactic. Predictable? It was a damn good combo… But there was no time to argue, and my back was still throbbing.

Fine, let's try something else. Speed and surprise.

I lunged forward, using a short Body Flicker to close the distance as much as possible, forming hand seals at the same time and creating a simple Illusory Clone in front of me. The idea was that she'd react to the clone and have to guess where the real hit was coming from. In that gap I'd attack from the side or from below.

The clone rushed in, but Koharu didn't so much as twitch toward it. Her gaze stayed locked on me. The moment I shifted to the side to attack, her cane swung, looking almost lazy. My eyes couldn't follow it anymore when I was almost in reach, but my sphere-vision showed the staff blurring from speed—and then a stab of pain in my left shoulder made my attacking arm jerk and threw off my balance. The cane instantly changed direction and jabbed me under the ribs on the opposite side. I grunted and jumped back, clutching my flank. The clone vanished without a trace.

"Pathetic attempt," Koharu said. "Your clone was unstable; its chakra was fluctuating—a sign of inexperience. You shifted your focus to your real attack way too obviously. Never telegraph your intentions like that. And watch your balance after a Body Flicker—you were vulnerable for a full tenth of a second. That's enough. And where are your eyes looking? Watch the shoulder, not the hand."

More pain, another humiliating breakdown of my mistakes. I clenched my teeth and got ready for the next exchange. This time: not just misdirection, but evasion and a counter.

Judging by how she was talking, she wasn't expecting much from me. Which meant I could play off her condescension and pull something only shinobi with pretty high control could manage.

When she came at me again, cane swinging, I didn't counterattack. I tensed and jumped back, opening the distance.

I pulled part of my focus away from reinforcing my body and formed the seal for Illusory Clones, this time making four.

We rushed her all at once, passing through each other on purpose so the old hag wouldn't know where I was… or rather, so she'd think that was the trick.

Two clones immediately dispersed. One went around behind her while I approached from the front.

Koharu's gaze flicked between us, trying to pick me out, and she found me at the front fairly quickly, ignoring the clone behind her.

Closing in.

I took up a good position to strike, then focused as hard as I could on the clone.

Whack!

The cane struck where the real me had been, passing through the instantly-dispersed illusion.

At the last second I'd managed to pull off a Substitution—Kawarimi—without seals.

I appeared a meter behind the old woman, ready to hit her… but she was already gone.

My eyes didn't catch it, but my sphere-vision clearly showed that the old hag was now behind me, her cane already on a collision course with my head.

I spun sharply and swung my arms up, almost knocking the cane aside as she yanked it back at the last moment…

Too close.

"What reflexes… Not a bad use of Kawarimi." For the first time during the spar, something like approval slipped into her voice, but it immediately dried up again. "But you picked an obvious spot to reappear. The technique itself was unexpected, but the follow‑through was weak. That's only good for scaring snot‑nosed chunin. You wasted precious moments getting ready to attack again. Remember, Uzumaki: every technique is not an end in itself, but a tool. Use it efficiently, or don't use it at all."

I just snorted at that, and we kept going.

We wrapped up the session after only an hour. By then I was hot, pissed off, covered in bruises and still felt like I could go on for hours. The old hag… the Elder, though, was spent. So we agreed to continue the next day.

Part of me had to admit it—this old bag really knew her stuff.

And the training went on in that vein. As far as calling it "grueling" went, she'd really oversold it. That didn't mean it was exactly easy for me, though.

Koharu turned out to be a merciless, nitpicky instructor. The first few days I spent more time dodging her cane—or taking hits to the arms, legs and back—than actually fighting. At least she didn't smack me in the head. Very often.

Every wrong step, every hesitation, every lapse in focus came with a sharp, painful strike and a dry comment on what I'd done wrong. She didn't raise her voice anymore, didn't curse, didn't act like some hysterical granny during spars. Her blows and her cold analysis worked a lot better.

"Too wide a swing, you're leaving a gap in your guard"—jab to the back of the knee. "Your stance is unstable, you're easy to knock down"—crack across the ankle. "You got distracted by a noise. In battle, that's death"—a stinging smack to the back of the head.

She made me drill basic stances, movement and evasions for hours, until they were pure reflex. She taught me not just to block a hit, but to redirect it, to turn the opponent's momentum against them. She showed how one precise, fast move could throw off the balance of, or even disable, an opponent who was stronger than me. We broke down tactics for different situations: cramped rooms, open ground, forest; fighting one enemy or several. For that, Koharu roped in a bunch of ANBU with different fighting styles, plus some chunin and jonin. Utatane forced me to analyze my own and other people's actions, look for weak spots, think several moves ahead. "A shinobi fights not only with his body, but with his head, Uzumaki. The head is what lets a man kill even the scariest monster," she liked to repeat.

On top of straight taijutsu and tactics, the advisor gave me basics in survival, camouflage and stealth. How to move silently. How to use shadows and cover. How to read tracks and how to throw off a pursuer. Koharu explained the principles of sabotage and espionage—how to gather intel, how to slip into guarded facilities, how to set up and disarm traps and alarm seals. We didn't practice silent killing directly, but the old hag went through the theory in detail—vital points on the body, the most effective and quiet ways to take out sentries or targets, how to hide traces… Not footprints—corpses. All of it was given dryly, pragmatically, as just another set of tools for getting a job done.

"Tool" was her favorite word, as I later noticed.

It was painful and humiliating to keep getting whacked with that cane. But… I basically got used to it, even if the irritation from the regular beatings never quite went away. If anything, it just pushed me further. Because, much as I didn't like her methods, I could see the results. Every day I moved faster, more accurately. I started anticipating the old woman's attacks, dodging the cane more and more. My own movements got cleaner, more economical. I started to get why you had to move exactly this way and not that, why this strike was better than another one.

My skill was growing, and growing noticeably faster than during my solo training or even with other instructors. Koharu beat the excess out of me, leaving just lean, lethal efficiency. My anger at the old hag slowly mixed with a grudging but undeniable respect for her experience and knowledge. She wasn't just making me a strong fighter—she was making me into a real killer.


The new lessons with the Elder took a decent chunk of time, but still fit pretty naturally into my life.

At the very start, I did kind of regret that I couldn't keep my ass still and went asking for a new mentor.

More than a year passed, and that regret was gone without a trace.

I'm six years old. It feels like a huge amount of time has passed. But being buried in all this stuff, I barely noticed how fast it all flew by.

The progress was getting more and more obvious; in that time I'd gotten a lot stronger.

My chakra reserves, they said, were already two and a half times what Hiruzen had at his peak. He has way less now—age hit him hard.

On top of that, my control had grown. Way more than the people calculating my growth curve expected. Control isn't supposed to increase that fast, if you believe the formulas. The researchers split into two camps. Some said it was thanks to a ton of practice and persistence, and that technically it was still within the normal range, just at the very top. Others insisted it was some kind of anomaly and I needed to be observed further so they could study it in detail.

My own opinion floated somewhere in between—I wasn't sure. Maybe it was because of my reincarnation… tied to that somehow. On the other hand, nobody really knows what "control potential" actually depends on. So you can't claim anything for sure.

Reserves and control—it was thanks to knowing how to use those two things that I'd gotten so far.

First thing to note, with the regular training under Toraki-sensei's programs, my body had gotten insanely strong. The Hokage just shook his head and said I really ought to meet his student sometime. But she was still wandering who-knows-where, leaving behind a trail of gambling dens stuffed with the money she'd lost them and a string of bars she'd drunk dry.

I saw Roan less and less. That was kind of sad sometimes. He'd taught me a lot, and I didn't really need his guidance anymore to move forward. I had a lot to do, he had a lot to do. In the end, our joint training just… stopped happening.

But no point sulking. Moving on…

In medicine, I'd gone through the whole course and only recently started getting into genomics and body enhancement. Koharu had given me the Shadow Clone Technique, and thanks to that I could chew through huge amounts of information in a short time. That's how I cleared out the hospital library. It cost me, though—a large number of clones put a heavy load on the brain. And unlike my body, my mind wasn't that tough. But under that kind of pressure over time, it definitely got stronger.

By then I could heal my own body. Very quickly, too, though it still didn't compare to a certain Divine Regeneration technique. Although, as Hiruzen—whose student knew that technique—noted, I wasn't that far behind. The main difference was speed: a fracture (which I gave myself, yeah, I'm that kind of masochist) healed in about fifteen seconds, and a deep cut in ten. The catch is, for regeneration like that I have to sit down and focus on the process as much as possible, while Tsunade can use her technique in the middle of a fight. With a crutch, yeah—the Strength of a Hundred Seal, where she stockpiles and releases insane amounts of chakra. Unfortunately, the Hokage didn't know that technique; it belongs to the Senju clan, and the only person from it who has that knowledge is the Tsunade in question. But I've got my own crutch, and it's always with me—the bijuu's chakra.

Sometimes it's funny watching people squirm when I first ask some deliberately dumb question, pretending I don't understand from the textbooks why my chakra feels so aggressive to others, and then just sit back and watch them try to wriggle out of answering. I'm still forbidden from telling anyone I'm a jinchuriki. I don't ask the Hokage about it, either—what if he cancels the ban or tweaks what exactly people are allowed to tell me? That would ruin all my fun.

As for the fact that the bijuu's chakra lets me heal myself much more effectively—that's an obvious plus.

Lately, my training progress has slowed down a lot. I mean, if you don't compare me to other shinobi.

Because of regeneration and heavy loads, my body hit the peak of its current potential pretty fast. For this size, at least. Once I grow up, I'll be several times stronger.

To keep progressing faster and better, after a long talk with my colleagues—as I now call the doctors at the hospital—and a few experiments on corpses (after a couple of trips to the morgue, they stopped bothering me at all), and after crunching the numbers carefully, I started using medical techniques to artificially densify my muscles, bring them up to a slightly higher quality, do the same to my bones, and generally develop the whole organism—respiratory system, circulatory system, all of it—so the body could actually handle that kind of load. But so far, the results of that technique have been questionable.

A technique is not just doing something; it also means "packing certain properties into your chakra."

To strengthen my body, I'd stand in the center of a fuin array the Hokage drew up when he got interested in the idea. The seal itself partially gave my chakra the needed properties, kind of "pushing" my affinity forward and giving me more oomph at the same chakra density. In simple terms, it boosted the technique. By spreading those properties through the chakra circulating all over my body, I was stimulating the organism to develop according to a specific template. The one I'd put together with my colleagues.

But again, the results were so-so. Yeah, something was changing, but my strength stats weren't exactly shooting up.

Staying on medicine: my control was now enough to heal other people too. I didn't reach any great heights in that area, and that kind of healing doesn't even come close to what I can do for my own body. Suppressing the nasty properties of my chakra eats up too much of my CPU load for me to keep pace with the other doctors' growth.

Back to sealing and fuinjutsu. You may congratulate me: in just half a year of practice I became a fuinjutsu master. Meaning I can design my own seals. For now, yeah, they can't compare to Hiruzen's work. But he's the strongest living fuin master in the nearby… world? While with what I've got already, if I lived in some xianxia cultivation world, every old fart proudly calling himself a "master" would be coughing blood.

Hard work and talent—that's what supposedly makes you unreachable.

That saying's actually wrong. They forgot to add "a shitload of time."

Right now I was very reachable. Even if I was progressing fast.

I studied a ton of existing seals. I also kept practicing making my own, but that was going painfully slow. I wanted to make something similar to the medical seal Hiruzen came up with. I just didn't have the skill yet. So for now, all I could do was keep training and stamping out little trinkets at my level.

My long‑term plan was to create something at the intersection of medicine and fuin to analyze genomes. But I'm too weak for that right now. I'll still be too weak in a year… and in three… maybe even in ten… To pull that off, I need to surpass Hiruzen. And I don't even know by how much. Probably not by some crazy huge factor, judging by the indirect results of a few studies I read—but even that will take years.

My development in combat went especially well. My freakish physical stats let me put out enormous power—as well as speed and stamina.

It bugged me that the development of my chakra network had slowed down, along with my body as a whole.

But it felt damn good to realize how strong I'd become when I was beating up yet another ANBU in a spar.

I used to be surprised that some kids became shinobi so early. At eight, five, even three and a half.

That was before one of the hospital doctors explained shinobi potential and its limits to me, of course. Potential gets mastered relatively quickly. With my crazy‑ass training and correspondingly huge potential, it still took a year and a half. Right now, though, the thing that limits my strength the most is my kid body. In an adult one, I'd definitely be Kage‑level. Well, if we're talking pure taijutsu. And that's with my combat experience not being all that big yet.

As it is… I still get my ass kicked by various jonin pretty often. They're just bigger, which makes it hard for me to even reach their heads to hit them. Some of them can still pull off higher combat speed. Overall speed, not just sprinting, for example. With their huge experience, older shinobi orient themselves in a fight more easily and faster, and can beat me off that alone. I've got great physical power, but using it properly—that's still an issue.

There's also the problem of time—I just haven't spent enough years in this body. Shinobi use chakra for years, they get used to it. And over a longer life they simply end up controlling their bodies way better.

Me, my unaccustomed brain has to work a lot harder to get the same results—results that will come much, much easier with time, even if I just lie on a couch and move once in a while over the next five–ten years.

On top of that, affinity strengthens over time too…

In short, I just need to get older.

But whatever, no point whining. It's just more motivation to keep moving forward. And if I manage to maintain this pace, I'll only be stronger by then. I'm already happy that thanks to Koharu's pretty average potential, I've almost completely stopped getting whacked across the spine with her cane.

Back to the present.

Morning.

I was bored again… Yeah, looks like I really don't learn from my mistakes. Guess I wanted to get hit again. In the head, for example.

Because right then I was on my way to the Hokage's residence so he could give me something interesting to do. I wanted to go on a mission.

I'd even come up with a solid excuse, in my opinion. Koharu says I don't measure up to a real shinobi (a "normal" shinobi by her standards is something like an elite jonin with ten years of experience, who's been through one or two wars and has a decent talent in their field). In every spar, both me and my opponent have to hold back so we don't kill each other.

And that's true. With every fight I notice more and more moments where if I turned my arm just a bit more, I'd knock my partner's head clean off; if I grabbed an opponent who overextended, I'd feel flesh tearing under my fingers; if my palm with the "adhesion" property I use to run on trees touched their body, my powerful chakra would turn their scrawny frame into bloody mush.

For better or worse, I haven't experienced anything like that yet. To my detriment, according to the Elder. Because "only in a real battle do you temper hot blood," or something along those lines.

It was… still pretty creepy, if you ask me. But I think I can handle it. Especially thanks to my time working with corpses in the hospital. Every drop of strength matters to me. Well, more or less. By avoiding that kind of fight, I figure I'm cutting away way more than just one "drop" of strength.

And anyway, you have to start small.

It's not like they'd send me out to eliminate, say… the Mizukage as my very first mission, right? Doubt it. But I was hoping to squeeze at least a C‑rank out of him.

With those thoughts in mind, I walked into the Hokage's residence.

---

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[Welydora]

"Hello, Hokage-sama." I walked into the old man's office like I owned the place.

He was puffing on his pipe over some paperwork and, as usual, answered my greeting and immediately asked:

"What brings you here, Naruto?"

"Give me an A‑rank mission." I decided to start high so it'd be easier to bargain down to what I actually wanted.

Two wide, round eyes stared at me.

Silence hung for a couple of seconds.

Then Hiruzen choked on his smoke and went into a coughing fit.

"Kh‑kh… Naruto." The Hokage pulled the pipe from his mouth, stared at it thoughtfully for a second, then set it aside. "Right. I must've misheard. Gone completely deaf… Repeat that for an old man…"

In answer, I repeated my request with a perfectly straight face, earning a look of pure skepticism.

"Ah…" He was clearly struggling to find the words, but still tried to dig out a grain of sanity in what I'd said. "Why?"

"Following Koharu‑sensei's instructions, I'm lacking real combat experience." I shrug. "Working under the pressure of mortal danger and killing an enemy—that's exactly what would suit me."

A whole parade of emotions flashed across the old man's face. Before he blurted something he'd regret, I decided to dial the whole thing down a notch.

"But I'd like to start with something lighter. How about a B‑rank mission?"

His face tightened, went serious. Almost immediately it smoothed out again, and the Hokage scratched his head under his hat like some regular old grandpa.

"Okay, but why?"

"To…" I trailed off; time to leave some things unsaid. "To get stronger? Same old desire to protect myself and maybe others… You remember. We've talked about it a few times. Back at Ichiraku…"

"Yes…" Hiruzen drawled. "I understand your reasons. But isn't it too early? What are you rushing toward?"

"Strength is always necessary." I shrug again. "Danger lurks even inside our village. Not to mention we're at war with the Cloud."

"Oh? And where do you get ideas like that?"

"Orochimaru did experiments on Konoha citizens. He could've grabbed me too."

"I wouldn't have allowed that." Hiruzen grimaced at the mention of his wayward student. Catching my skeptical look, he corrected himself: "Leaf shinobi would've pulled you out. Orochimaru's a lost sheep… He's not as bad as a lot of people think."

"Anyway, back to the topic—are you going to give me a mission? Konoha needs missions done too."

In response to that carefree line, I got a very loud, very long sigh. After another ten seconds of him drilling holes in me with his gaze, Hiruzen bent down, pulled a thick folder from a drawer, opened it and started flipping through it quickly.

"No respect for an old man's nerves," he muttered, shaking his head. "What A and B‑rank missions? You're not even a genin…"

He kept grumbling as he skimmed page after page.

"Oh, this will do nicely." Holding the sheet so I couldn't see it, he lifted his head and looked at me. "Naruto, I'm your guardian. I can't deliberately put you in danger. Even if you want that. More importantly, our village has laws, and I can only issue missions to Leaf shinobi. You're not one yet. Your desire to grow is praiseworthy. But you're too young for anything serious. So I'll give you something entry‑level. So there's progression, as you say, toward mortal danger. A long progression… At least until you become a genin. Also, you are definitely going with an escort."

Listening to Hiruzen's tirade—logical enough on the surface—I was reading the mission sheet with my Soul Sight and trying to keep my expression neutral.

This is… is he really going to make me do this?.. I'm… strong. And this is…

"Here's a D‑rank mission." He finally handed me the paper, and I just stared at it blankly. "You need to catch a brown cat with a red bow on its left ear. It has a long stripe on its forehead, crossed by three more."

"A cat… With an escort? The lowest‑rank mission, inside the village… with an escort?" Now it was my turn to doubt my hearing.

"An escort is mandatory. That's the law. Until you become at least an experienced genin. But the mission really doesn't involve much danger, so your teammate will be only one chunin."

"But I need to get stronger…" I reminded him of my motive, and he smashed it without mercy.

"Strength is made up of many factors. Until you formally become a shinobi, we can polish a lot of other skills. No need to be so bloodthirsty. Tracking is what you'll be doing. That skill is very multifaceted and touches on such important parts of a shinobi's life as escape and concealment."

"…" I looked from the sheet to the old man in confusion. Tracking, escape and concealment? Are we even talking about the same mission?

Understanding my silent question, Hiruzen filled in the missing pieces:

"This is the cat belonging to the wife of our country's ruler, the daimyo. It's a very capable cat, I'm serious. It's already run away from its owner several times and hid perfectly from genin. Usually shinobi of that rank still manage to find it in the end. You've had much better training. And I believe you'll cope."

"I've tracked animals in the forest with Koharu‑sensei," I confirmed my skills, though the skepticism inside me didn't go anywhere.

But… Hm. My safety… Hiruzen really did care about it. Just like he cared about the safety of all Konoha residents. This mission is… complete crap, honestly. But something inside tells me they're not going to give me anything better.

Thinking it through rationally, I figured that if I refused this, I'd just lose my chance to build any trust or authority with the old man. I'd show him I wasn't serious about what I'd asked for, and then I probably wouldn't see any missions at all until I made genin. So I had to take what I could get.

"Thank you for this, Hokage‑sama."

I dipped my head a little, showing my respect.

"Oh, no need, no need." He waved a hand. "A young sprout grows into a branch that will support the leaves on the tree of Konoha. How can I not be glad about that?"

Hiruzen let himself drift into his favorite philosophy for a moment, then quickly brought the conversation to a proper end.

"I'll write up the mission now and give you the address of that ninja. His name is Fumaro." He started scribbling quickly on a new sheet in pen and handed that to me as well. "Here. You have until evening."

After saying goodbye, I left the office and headed where I needed to go.

Using the rooftops, I found the chunin's house in under a minute.

Knock‑knock.

A minute after I knocked, the door slid open and a man of about thirty appeared. Spiky black hair, confused expression with two vertical scars on his face, plain black clothes. He would've looked intimidating if not for that expression.

When he lowered his eyes to me, recognition flashed there, but he chose not to show it.

"What do you want, kid?"

"Fumaro?"

He confirmed with a nod.

"We've got a mission together. Get ready."

I handed the surprised shinobi the two sheets. He took them, looked them over, and went inside to get ready.

"Well, this is unexpected." He came back already in a green vest with pouches for shuriken, kunai and other ninja gear like wire or paper tags, plus a thigh holster for the same stuff. "Usually the Hokage doesn't do it this abruptly. Well, with missions of this level. But if he did, then I, the great Fumaro, will complete this assignment!"

On those last words he proudly jabbed his thumb into his chest and puffed himself up.

"You're sure you're a chunin?" I raised a brow.

"To you, kid, I am Fumaro‑sama!" Not the least bit offended by my, apparently for such a person, disrespectful tone, he corrected me. "I specialize in combat encounters. You should be happy you'll be working with such a respected ninja!"

"We've got a tracking mission." His tirade didn't impress me at all. I was wiping the floor with guys like him half a year ago, so imagine now.

By the way, what Fumaro said about how to address him was interesting, even if not surprising. Even though Hiruzen is my guardian, I call him "Hokage‑sama," as local etiquette requires. First and foremost he's the village's ruler, not someone's dear old grandpa. And I… don't like that kind of policy. Though, probably, it makes sense. Still, calling him that really is a sign of respect. Not a fake one.

But those rules imply that his family comes second, while the village comes first. That kind of self‑sacrifice to the village gives me this strange sense of not getting it. I don't think I'd put the value of all humanity on the same level as my loved ones. They're… loved ones.

Anyway. More philosophy. If that old man were actually my real relative, I'd probably blow off the customs and just call him Grandpa. From some stories I know a lot of clans do that. In some, they don't. But what matters there is what I and my close ones think.

Eh… a certain bald man would probably be proud of me right now.

"We've got a tracking mission, Fumaro‑sama," he corrected me.

"You called me a kid right off the bat. So I'll talk to you the same way. Our positions aren't different enough for me to let that slide."

"But…" His eyes met mine; mine clearly suggested he shouldn't waste our time. "Fine. So, the mission says the cat was seen in the district… We'll start there. You… can track small animals, right?"

"…Yeah." I rolled my eyes. "I can track by scent at medium sensory ranges. I've got special skills in that."

"O‑oh… So your lot can do that too. Mhm‑mhm, makes sense. Beasts and all…"

"Our lot?" I clarified.

This guy was starting to annoy me. Might as well have some fun watching him try not to tell me I'm a jinchuriki. The Hokage's ban on that is still in place. No one knows that I know.

"That's… you… You're hallucinating. You didn't hear anything."

"…"

A real master of keeping secrets, this one.

"Shall we go?" he asked.

"Let's go."

We set off.

No matter how much time passes, moving fast is still fun. The wind is so loud it drowns out your hearing. Dozens of houses flash past under your feet every second. And if I push just a bit harder, my speed jumps to a level even the fastest race cars in my previous world couldn't reach.

Fumaro… Yeah, he's a chunin, I can see that. Maybe he really is good in a fight. But on this mission he's probably just ballast. Well, ballast and a decent chunk of backup in case some random strong jonin‑level enemy decides to drop out of nowhere. Together, we'd last a few seconds. After that, I'd flare my chakra so hard the sleeping shinobi on the other side of the village would feel it. Then we wouldn't have to hold out any longer—support from a village full of ninja would definitely show up, at least ten faces minimum.

Attacking a conscious jinchuriki, in the middle of a ninja village, is a good way to die like an idiot. Unless the attacker is on the level of this body's daddy.

Though, thinking through that scenario… it's kind of a dumb one. I've lived here several years and no one's touched me. Why should someone show up exactly the moment I leave on my first mission?

Soon we arrived at the place.

Forming the seal of concentration, I focused, gathering the right properties of chakra in my nose to sharpen my sense of smell.

"We're lucky. Only three trails fit the timeframe and the cat's sex—we're looking for a female. First we'll check the northern track, then the southwest one, then the eastern one."

Fumaro had nothing to argue; this wasn't his area. So we moved out without extra words.

It didn't take that long. About half an hour while we followed two trails and found the wrong cats. These furballs could wander pretty far. Unfortunately we got unlucky with our first choice of direction.

Should've sniffed the daimyo's wife. Her smell had to be on her pet. Only she was currently at her residence, even if that residence was still inside the Leaf. Getting to her would've taken… honestly, less time than following three different cat tracks. But since we'd already checked two routes, there was no point in turning back and causing extra trouble for a supposedly important person.

Soon we'd reached the far edges of the Leaf Village. The village, by the way, is enclosed by a wall that forms one huge circle. From wall to wall it's probably over thirty kilometers. I'm not exactly a local geography expert. I just know that the inhabited part of the village only takes up a small portion of that circle. The rest is training grounds, forests, fields and all sorts of other useful things.

Eventually we began wandering into a strange forest.

With my senses on edge, I could feel seals embedded in the trees. With Soul Sight, I could even see the symbols on those seals—immobilization formulas—and sometimes wires running from one seal to another.

Soul Sight. Over time it just kept turning out more and more useful, even though the overall capabilities of the soul aren't that impressive.

Unfortunately, I still don't have a solid theoretical base on how the soul is structured. I need experiments. And experimenting on yourself… isn't a great idea.

Soul energy behaves very differently from chakra. In terms of raw power, it's fallen even further behind my now‑grown chakra. I've just hit a ceiling for now, only steadily making sure not to forget to develop this unique soul of mine.

The width of my soul's field of view has expanded, by the way. Same for the "reach" of the energy. I can't call the soul useless. But at this stage it's definitely barely useful.

After about a kilometer, having already noticed three traps, I was about to ask Fumaro where the hell we'd wandered off to.

Didn't get the chance. Because this genius, whom I'd still been considering at least a bit of an experienced shinobi, stepped right into the next trap.

He was running at easily over a hundred kilometers an hour, stepped on a seal—and turned to stone on the spot.

At the same time, a niche opened in a nearby tree, and senbon shot out at him at high speed.

Landing on the nearest branch, not wasting a second, muttering something not very PG‑13 under my breath, I whipped out several kunai and threw them along the senbon's flight paths. My projectiles knocked down some of the needles, but several still embedded themselves in Fumaro.

"Damn…" Closing the distance quickly, I caught the falling shinobi. His eyes shut and he passed out.

There can't seriously be a poisoned trap inside the village, can there?

I immediately started checking my teammate's body for signs of poisoning.

Looked like simple paralysis…

Or a slow‑acting poison?

Hm. No, better be sure. I have to get him to the hospital. Doing a deep field diagnosis myself might be beyond me. And I can't rule out that this is something fancy that only a few very experienced specialists could even detect.

Maybe I'm being paranoid. But the guy's life could really depend on this.

But… the mission.

In this society, failing missions is heavily frowned upon. And if I fail one this easy, it won't make me look great. Even if, realistically, saving a teammate's life should outweigh the mission. The stain would still be there.

A dilemma…

Luckily, not really. Because…

I crossed my fingers, and a shadow clone popped into existence next to me. I handed him the unconscious chunin.

I've got this wonderful technique, and I've polished it pretty well over time.

I'll finish the mission on my own. The hospital staff will manage without me. When it comes to poisons, there are a few shinobi there far more experienced than I am; I'd just get in the way.

Following the cat's scent again, soon I vaulted over some fence topped with wire and moved on.

The forest was getting… bigger? Or rather, the trees were. They were turning into enormous colossi—two or three dozen meters in diameter, hundreds of meters tall. Their leaves completely blocked out the sky.

But the smell is strong. The cat's close.

I stopped and put my hand to a trunk.

Sent out a pulse of chakra.

Nope, still can't pick a small animal's chakra out from the background. Sensors don't distinguish chakra by "species" anyway; they use other criteria. Easier that way.

However… Oh, this is getting interesting. There are a lot of chakra sources in this forest. Mushroom pickers?

I get it. With trees like these, imagine the mushrooms.

There wasn't far left to go, and in a bit I was going to cross paths with one of the chakra sources.

Seriously speaking, I knew there were no mushroom pickers living here. My nose still worked, and I could clearly tell there were only animals around.

I wasn't too lazy to walk around the beast; it wasn't bothering me. Taking a small detour, I stepped out onto a little clearing where the kitty smell was strongest.

Not bothering to be quiet, I crashed through the bushes and walked up to the roots of a giant tree.

"Come on out. Or I'll drag you out," I said to the cat sitting somewhere among those roots.

No answer.

"Eh… Poor tree." I shook my head, went around the trunk and, finding the burrow where the cat was apparently hiding, started digging.

Hard earth crumpled easily in my hands and flew out behind me into the bushes. Like I was in a sandbox, like some overgrown mole.

The burrow was deep, and roots blocked my way. So I had to bend and break them with a little effort.

After about half a minute of digging, with clumps of dirt rustling through the leaves above, I could tell I was almost at my target. But a clearly felt chakra source behind me made me irritably stop and turn.

"What are you sticking your mug in here for, huh? Place is taken, can't you see?" I turned toward the big bushes, from behind which a gigantic bear snout, about my size, poked out.

"Grrrrr…" The animal lumbered forward in all its glory. The bastard was about seven meters at the shoulder.

All of a sudden, images from my past world flooded my brain. Scenes from the lessons of a truly great Sensei, explaining how you're supposed to act in situations like this.

"Go ahead and growl. Now get lost before I knock your block off!"

Turning fully, I straightened up and stared the beast right in the eyes.

As I spoke, a powerful wave of chakra burst out of me—a warning.

Didn't help.

Drool was hanging from the bear's jaw. It was hungry. And it clearly wasn't planning to leave.

"GRRRRR!!!" It rose up on its hind legs, almost doubling in height.

"Well then, roast bear for dinner it is." Having decided the animal's fate, I reached into the pouch on my back and felt a tough, chakra‑conductive wire slide between my fingers. Almost a razor‑wire saw. "You're fucked, bear."

A little earlier. Hokage's office. An interlude about the old man for real this time, since he's gray now.

Sarutobi Hiruzen, as usual, was sitting and thinking about the past. This time—the recent past.

Not long ago, he'd clashed with his son Asuma. A conflict sprang up between them over their views on what a shinobi should be. What he should believe in and what he should protect.

In Asuma, the old man had seen a possible successor. The boy was talented enough that, if something unforeseen happened, he could at least partly replace the Hokage.

To Hiruzen's regret, it got to the point where the young shinobi left for a monastery…

Or rather, joined the daimyo's guard, part of which consisted of monks.

Maybe Hiruzen had been too persistent. Maybe Asuma had just let the blood rush to his head.

Either way, what's done is done. Once again, the position of Hokage had lost a candidate.

Unfortunately, his other child—though more sensible—had simply not been blessed with much talent. A Hokage can't be weak; that's the cruelty of this world. Hiruzen couldn't dump the responsibility on someone who couldn't carry it.

Sarutobi also had pupils, each undoubtedly outstanding. But… Tsunade was who‑knows‑where, Jiraiya was too flighty, and Orochimaru… Better not remember him at all.

Of course, besides his "inner circle," there were other strong shinobi in Konoha. But they weren't suitable either.

The son of the White Fang, Kakashi, was stuck in the past and just couldn't return to reality. A boy with a very tragic life—he'd lost everyone.

His rival Gai was an extremely impressive shinobi. But, let's say, not exactly well‑rounded. Not stupid, no, just completely wrapped up in taijutsu.

There was also the head of the Uchiha clan. Strong, very responsible and caring, even if he tried to look like an emotionless rock. But because of Tobirama‑sensei's old policies—his hatred of the Uchiha—things with that clan were very complicated. Hiruzen had long since outgrown childish prejudices about Sharingan‑bearers. Many other shinobi hadn't. Especially given that Hiruzen's rival in his youth, Danzo, not only shared the attitude of Tobirama, who'd been their team leader for a while, but was even more cruel about it.

The rest of Hiruzen's old teammates were already helping him run the village, but they were far too weak to become Hokage. Danzo… he was strong enough, but his treatment of subordinates was far too harsh. Shimura didn't understand that Konoha wasn't just a military organization; it was a family, and every member has feelings.

The Fourth had been the perfect candidate. He understood the village's legacy—the Will of Fire—very well and was devoted to the village… But tragedy took him.

Hiruzen desperately wanted to pass on the post that weighed on him. Or rather, that's not quite right: it was fear for the village's uncertain future that truly bothered him.

He couldn't hand the village over to someone who'd lead everyone to ruin.

New talented ninja were being born in Konoha. Maybe, taking all his past experience into account, he should ease his criteria a little.

Thinking about this, Hiruzen saw that for several years now he'd already had what looked like a good candidate.

Minato and Kushina's son…

At the memory of the boy's face, a smile that was both sad and proud appeared on the old man's lips.

The villagers—and Hiruzen himself—remembered how shinobi children had lived before the creation of the Great Villages. They had no childhood. At five years old, sometimes even earlier, they were given a sword too big for them, stuffed into armor and dragged off to yet another war. Over the years, an unspoken tradition had taken root in Konoha: let children have a childhood. They hadn't shed blood to build a village for nothing, right?

Usually that tradition held. Only rarely, for clan heirs, were exceptions made. As inhuman as that was to Hiruzen, he had to reckon with the clans—as long as it didn't threaten the whole village.

The old man wanted his ward to have the same carefree period his own children had. A time when Naruto could just enjoy life within the village walls, not knowing the dangers outside.

But the brat turned out to be smart beyond his years, and very curious. Hiruzen often noted that Naruto, for some reason, faintly reminded him of a mix of Orochimaru—only without the inner darkness—Jiraiya with his shamelessness but without the perversion, and a chunk of Tsunade with her desire to punch someone… And why had he remembered that particular trait of his student? She was also quite talented, after all. And as for Jiraiya's perversion, it was probably too early to judge; the boy wasn't even six yet.

You can't force someone into a mold, as they say. Hiruzen knew very well from experience how true that was. Because of that, when Naruto asked to work on his development, the old man didn't refuse. And he still didn't regret it.

Whatever Koharu‑chan said, Naruto accepted everything he was given with gratitude and dedication. He did everything asked of him responsibly, all to, as he said himself, become stronger. That sense of responsibility added a lot of points to the boy in Hiruzen's eyes.

His former teammate had also said the two of them were similar in some ways. She hadn't gone into detail.

Naruto's motivation did worry Sarutobi slightly, though. The boy seemed to feel like he was in danger. The Hokage had noticed that long ago and, of course, ran several checks on the caretakers, but never managed to find the source of that feeling.

So the old man hoped it would pass with age.

On the whole, the picture looked good. Very good, actually. Naruto's results were simply astounding. It was like every possible talent had come together in one body: incredibly strong chakra, almost jeweler‑level control and an unstoppable desire to use it all.

He'd taken on several disciplines at once—and moved with incredible speed in each.

Sometimes, when looking at the portrait of the First hanging in his office, Hiruzen felt that something new might be coming. That maybe, in just a decade, a new God of Shinobi would appear in the world—one to whom Hiruzen himself wouldn't be able to compare.

But that would be in a decade.

For now, the old man didn't see a deep, burning Will of Fire in his ward—but he didn't see rot either. His qualities suggested that if you entrusted him… Not now, of course, but in the future… with the village, then it was very possible he wouldn't just preserve it, but lead it into an even brighter future. Maybe… he'd even manage to break the world's cycle of hatred.

No. That was Hiruzen getting carried away.

Although… that prophecy.

No.

You had to rely on your own actions.

Naruto was his ward, whom he'd promised to protect. How would he look Minato and Kushina in the eye, in the Pure Land, if something happened to their son?

The boy was also a citizen of Konoha, and of the Land of Fire, whom Hiruzen, as Hokage, had sworn to protect.

Therefore, the ruler's goal was to ensure safety.

Lost in these thoughts, the old man didn't notice how far he'd drifted from his work.

He sighed.

Since Naruto had left his office, he still hadn't touched the paperwork… That needed to be fixed.

But…

Curiosity got the better of Hiruzen.

He pulled open a drawer and took out a crystal ball on a cushion.

Well then… Sarutobi would take one little peek at how the brat was doing, and then he'd definitely get back to work.

Forming a few hand seals to simplify the technique, Hiruzen tuned his chakra to the familiar signature of Naruto's.

Soon the ball glowed, and an image formed inside it. What he saw there made the old man clutch his chest.

His ward was, for some reason, alone. And not just anywhere, but in probably the most dangerous place in the entire Land of Fire—the Forest of Death. And right now he was standing on a massive branch, face grim, tightening a wire that ran under that very branch and looped around the neck of a huge bear that had to weigh twenty tons at least.

Now that's strength…

The beast was trying to break free, jerking its whole body and paws; judging by its open mouth, it was trying to roar. But it probably couldn't, with its airway cut off. Its claws couldn't tear the chakra‑reinforced wire either.

At that moment the door in front of Hiruzen swung open and an ANBU stepped in.

"Hokage‑sama, reporting: Uzumaki Naruto is in the hospital with Fumaro. I came straight here as soon as they arrived!"

"…" Eyes bulging, shifting his gaze from the ball to his subordinate, back to the ball and back again, Hiruzen started cursing for the first time in a very long while:

"What the fuck is going on here?!"

---

How do you like the hero's first mission? The continuation will be in the next chapter, but you can share your thoughts already.

P.S. Not all fights will be described in such a joking manner. This is a serious story. Just not everywhere.

If you enjoyed my work, feel free to check out my Patreon. There you can read up to 20 chapters ahead and get early access to any new stuff that I publish

 

[Welydora]

Uzumaki Naruto's POV

"Dooom... dooom... taa-ra-taa... dooom-ta..." Humming the tune, I stepped smoothly around the bear, one hand holding the cat clinging to my shoulder while the index finger of my other hand released chakra to complete the fuin seal's circuit beneath me. "Toom-ta-toom... sounds kinda grim... taa-ra-taa..."

Same clearing as before.

There was a soft poof, and that was it. Now I had to figure out what to do with the bear carcass I'd just sealed into a kunai.

These specific kunai I had were meant for combat, not for being vessels for big animals. The fuin would fall apart in about half an hour unless I shifted the "load" onto my own chakra, which required close contact.

As for the carcass... I'd probably have to swing by the Akimichi clan district. They mostly work as shinobi, sure, but they also run food businesses. I sealed the thing into a kunai exactly so I could hand the body off later—it's way easier to carry that way.

The cat, for her part, crawled out on her own once I let go of the now motionless, lumbering beast. And to avoid having to chase her down again, I had to pick her up.

Finished with that, still not letting go of the vessel-kunai, I released chakra from my chest in parallel, "gluing" the cat to me. Developing my whole chakra network is paying off; that last bit came really easy.

One jump, and my body shot off along the upper paths.

The chunin, by the way, was fine. A clone had successfully delivered him to the hospital. After explaining everything to the medics and waiting for their signal—that it was just a paralytic and the effect would wear off in an hour or two—the clone dispelled, passing its memories back to me.

Another leap. Another. At this speed, everything would've blurred into one solid smear of brown and green if not for my sharpened perception.

Moving through the forest, I also went out of my way to avoid any other animals. The bear meat would be plenty.

But just as I was at the edge, one cocky chakra source locked onto me. And it was fast.

I could've just lost it, but I wasn't in the best mood.

So I just waited ten or so seconds.

"What do you want?" I asked the tiger that was bounding through the trees toward me. It was smaller than the bear—only about four meters at the shoulder.

The beast wasn't planning on stopping and just lunged, stretching its paws forward, claws extended.

A second of focus.

Bam—a crash shook the forest like something huge had just exploded.

That was me. I'd spent some time beforehand thoroughly soaking my arm with chakra, slipped right past its paws and clocked the tiger in the head, and it went tumbling down to the ground, its jaw knocked loose.

"Well?! Anyone else want their face rearranged?!" I yelled at the forest, turning in place. No answer. "Thought so!"

And, feeling pretty damn proud of myself, I moved on.

Shame I still can't pull that off against shinobi in a real fight. Charging a limb that much with chakra still takes too long.

A few minutes later I walked in on a scene: the cat—who'd already seen a lot in this life—was being squeezed within an inch of her furry existence by a woman who wasn't very tall but was, let's say, very... expansive.

After listening to how I was such a good boy for bringing back her "Little Tiger" (the cat's name, Tora, Japanese 虎, means "tiger") and turning down her offer of home-cooked food, I made sure to memorize the cat's scent and chakra. Because watching the owner literally mash the kitty into her cheek and choke her out, and seeing how much the poor thing was suffering, I had a feeling someone would be running this mission again. Quite possibly—me.

Hiruzen hadn't lied about the cat, by the way. She'd hidden herself really well. She'd gone off to a remote corner of the village and crammed herself into a deep burrow. They would've been looking for her for ages—unless they'd sent shinobi specialized in tracking.

Once I got the signature on the form that the client was fully satisfied with the mission, I headed for the Hokage's residence.


I opened the door and went straight in:

"A little over an hour. Hokage-sama, give me something harder. That was way too easy."

Right after I said that, some suspicious fruity smell puffed into my face. I decided to ignore it—the windows were open, and soon it was barely noticeable. I chose to focus on Hiruzen's face instead, which right now was pretty relaxed.

"Hello again, Naruto." Putting his pipe down on the desk, he took my paper and, after a bit of reading, went on, "Easy, you say? Hm... And what about your partner, Fumaro-kun? Word reached me that he needed medical assistance."

By that time I'd already sat myself comfortably in the chair opposite the old man.

"Yeah, there was a small mishap with a trap. Apparently my teammate didn't notice it, or maybe he didn't even know about them. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to warn him at the right moment. But I did everything I could. Sorry it turned out like that. I know he's okay, so I assume there's no reason to worry?" I spread my hands in a gesture like, I'm a little embarrassed about that bit, but I did my best. Can we move on?

"Ahem, ahem," for some reason Hiruzen went into a coughing fit.

The reason became clearer a moment later.

"I heard a shadow clone brought him in. That's an impressive technique for someone your age. But tell me—was it really the right decision to send a clone off with a disabled comrade and personally keep chasing... a cat?"

He doesn't know I mastered that technique? It's been a while. Or he's not sure how good I am with it?

"Yes," I answered without delay. "The mission has to be completed, Hokage-sama. Failure, even on a D-rank mission, looks bad for a shinobi. Besides, I was sure the clone could handle the delivery, and the medics would handle the treatment. Fumaro-san was safe. What would've been the point of me going back?"

"The point, Naruto, is about principles," Hiruzen said, gentle but insistent. "A comrade's life and safety are always the priority. Always. Even if that means failing the mission. What if the clone had dispelled on the way? What if Fumaro-kun's condition had worsened? What if the clone had run into an unforeseen problem? You left your partner behind, even if you did entrust him to a clone. That goes against the basic rule of teamwork."

"That's true if we're talking in general. I understand that the worst possible outcome for this mission was our deaths. In that case, failing the mission wouldn't have led to any real losses. But, again, I was confident in my clone," I finished that last line with extra seriousness, looking the old man straight in the eyes.

He apparently found that answer good enough.

"Alright, let's leave Fumaro-kun for now..." Hiruzen sighed. "From what I understand, the chase led you into a rather... interesting place. Training Ground Forty-Four. You know what that is, don't you, Naruto?"

"The Forest of Death?" I shrugged again, dropping the serious act. "Yeah, I've heard of it. A bit creepy, big trees. Big animals too. But I wouldn't say there's anything special about it. You're pretty well informed, Hokage-sama. Been peeking into your little crystal ball, huh?"

"I do indeed have a certain artifact... that lets me use a long-range surveillance technique on shinobi. It's for maintaining law and order in Konoha."

Mm-hm, and for peeking at kunoichi in the bath. Yeah, yeah, I know.

"But back to the Forest of Death. Naruto, that's one of the most dangerous areas in the entire Land of Fire. Uncontrolled giant animals, poisonous plants, leftover traps—not to mention other teams who might be training there... And you come back from all that with a look like you just went out for a loaf of bread..."

I just spread my hands at his speech, as if to say, well, that's more or less how it was.

That gesture wasn't entirely honest, and he caught it.

"Do you really not understand the danger, or is this... a mask, Naruto?" Hiruzen asked softly, his gaze turning sharper. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on the desk. "I didn't worry and decide to use that surveillance technique for nothing... And what I saw, Naruto, didn't look much like 'going out for bread.'"

My body tensed up a bit on its own.

How much did he see? I'll assume the worst—he saw everything. And a little honesty won't hurt anyway.

"In many ways, it was like that," I started answering. "But even if it wasn't, I generally don't like to stir up negativity in my relationships with people I'm close to. What happened is already over."

"What happened made me clutch at my heart. Why did you hang that bear? And tell me, what did you feel when you took a life?"

Damn, what a question... Learning from me, huh...

"It's really touching that you worry about me that much. But..." one eyebrow went up on its own. "I killed the bear because it was threatening my life. Partly, I'll admit it. I could've run. But it was probably... also a test of my resolve. Could I handle a threat that, in theory, I should be able to handle? Turns out, I can. What did I feel? Same as genin who've gone through psychological conditioning—nothing. Koharu-san tried to run something like that on me, but my own understanding of why such actions are necessary is enough. Plus, I've seen enough corpses in the morgue. Am I supposed to start bawling out of regret every time I walk into the hospital? It's just an animal. I doubt I'll be feeling much remorse when I'm eating its meat and have a rug from its hide on my floor."

Hiruzen listened carefully, his face calm, but his eyes had gone deeply thoughtful, with a hint of worry. He slowly rubbed the bridge of his nose, like he was gathering his thoughts.

"I appreciate your honesty, Naruto. And I understand your desire to test yourself, to test your resolve. Self-defense is not just a right, it is a shinobi's duty," he began in a flat, measured tone. "But what you're saying about your feelings... or rather, their absence... that's what truly worries me."

He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, his gaze going serious.

"Shinobi must be ready for the cruelty of this world. But the goal of that training isn't to kill your feelings, it's to learn to control them, to keep them from interfering with your duty. A complete lack of regret, even for a beast... that's not a sign of strength, Naruto. It can be a sign of dangerous detachment."

His voice stayed soft, but there was iron conviction in it.

"Detachment frees the mind. Emotional control does the same," I said.

"Today, it's an animal. And tomorrow? If you so easily accept the death of one living being, what guarantee is there that you won't one day just as easily accept the death of a person? Even an enemy? The line between the necessary cruelty of a shinobi and indifference to life is very thin, Naruto. And I'm afraid you're approaching it too closely and too soon."

He pointed at the kunai with the bear, which I was still holding.

"Thoughts about turning its hide into a rug... They show pragmatism, yes. But also... a certain callousness. You can't forget that even the fiercest beast had a life of its own."

Hiruzen leaned back again, his gaze full of fatherly concern. In me, that stirred not only a bit of warmth, but also some confusion that made my eyebrow twitch. I still tried to keep a straight face.

"Your strength is growing at an incredible pace. Your mind is sharp. But your soul... it also needs to grow, to understand the value of life, to feel compassion. Otherwise, you risk becoming exactly that 'tool' Koharu-san talked about—an incredibly powerful one, yes. But not a person. That's why, Naruto, I insist on reevaluating your training. You don't just need to learn to kill or to survive. You need to learn to live as a shinobi of Konoha. To understand responsibility, to value your comrades, to see not only the threat, but also what you're protecting."

He picked his pipe back up, signaling that this part of the talk was over.

"Nice lecture," I said; my face had kept the same calm mask through the whole conversation, not letting any emotion slip out. "My answer is that I do have principles. You meant, didn't you, whether I'll lose the line between enemies and allies? That there might come a point where killing either feels the same to me?"

Hiruzen gave a cautious nod.

"I've thought about it before. And I'm thinking about it now, even if I haven't fully decided yet. One of my most important principles is making sure I can live an easy, carefree life. Second priority—a carefree life together with my loved ones. Don't take that as me devaluing them; that second spot is almost at the very top, which means it's worth a lot. But right now, the most valuable thing I have is me. Based on that, anything that threatens those two points is an enemy. Regret is an emotion that burns energy. It's irrational to waste extra energy on something that's going to be removed anyway. Sometimes it's hard to judge when something really is a threat to your life. But that's exactly what a weak person like me needs to work on. Regret and compassion are luxuries of the strong. From the books I've read, the biographies, stories, teachings of other shinobi—this world is cruel. Sometimes you have to be ready to throw your emotions aside to protect what's dear to you. And one of the most effective ways to do that is killing."

Silence hung for a few seconds. After my words, Hiruzen even seemed to straighten up, like he'd sunk into some old memories. But he still found it in himself to continue.

"You've built a very... coherent system, Naruto," he said slowly. "One where there's no room for weakness, doubt, or regret. A system meant to protect you and what's dear to you in this cruel world. I understand... your logic. I've seen enough in my long life to understand how such views are born."

He sighed, running a hand over his face.

"But exactly because I've seen so much, I'll tell you this: the world isn't just black and white, enemies and allies, people to eliminate and people to protect. There are shades. There are mistakes. There are people who stumble but can find their way back. There are enemies who can become allies. By tossing aside compassion and regret as an 'irrational waste of energy,' you risk blinding yourself to those shades. And you risk becoming someone who only sees a threat and a way to remove it."

Hiruzen paused for a moment and was about to go on, but I didn't let him.

"I think we're talking past each other. My 'system' is pretty relative, and flexible. But sometimes the criteria for when killing is necessary are very straightforward. Like when someone comes at you with a kunai. Being able to see shades of gray and try to bring the 'strayed' back is also rational. But people don't always change, and then spending effort on them is, on the contrary, irrational. You know situations can be all over the place. And also... just because I'm throwing around words like 'rational' and 'effective' doesn't mean I'll actually act that way. I have feelings. They're layered and they swing around a lot. But trying to fully lay out my thoughts on this topic is, again, irrational in terms of time. I couldn't explain my ideals to you in full even if we sat here talking for hours. They just change and adapt with time. But I will say this: my compassion is meant for me and my loved ones. If I try to spread that feeling over the whole world, the result will be the same as if I gave it up entirely. Because, using myself as an example again, I'd spend all my energy on compassion and achieve nothing. Because I'm too weak. When I get stronger, then we'll have a different conversation."

Silence fell again. Hiruzen didn't interrupt, listening carefully and thinking over what I'd said.

"You... think too much for your age, Naruto," he finally said quietly. "And you build very complicated, very... adult constructs. I can't say I fully agree with your philosophy; it feels too cold to me, too... defensive. But I hear your logic. I hear your fear of being weak, your desire to protect the little you hold dear, starting with yourself. And I... accept your point of view. As your current point of view."

He put a kind of emphasis on that entire last sentence.

"I still hope that with age, with experience, with real friends and comrades, your view of the world will... broaden. That you'll find it in yourself not only to be pragmatic, but also to feel compassion for those outside your close circle. But I won't force you. Time will tell."

A heavy sigh slipped out of me.

"There are still shadows of not-quite-understanding in your words, Hokage-sama. I think you're taking the 'finished' part of my philosophy only from what I just said. But that philosophy is way too big to fully tell even in hours. Strangers and enemies are two very different things. You have to really work to get moved into the second category. And again, just because I sound pretty cold doesn't mean I won't subconsciously feel regret even for enemies. Like I said, I have feelings. And in some situations I can't even predict myself how I'll act."

"Hmm..." his expression shifted and he scratched his head. "Well, um... that makes more sense then. Let's probably drop this topic."

"Great..." I took a moment to gather my thoughts, then, already smiling, slapped the kunai onto the table. "Here. The bear's in here. Think you can use your connections to reach the Akimichi and sell the carcass for a good price? I don't need a rug or the head. I'll just embarrass myself showing off that I only took down a bear..."

For a moment, Hiruzen was thrown off by the sudden change of subject and the businesslike tone, but he quickly recovered. A faint smile touched his lips, bleeding off the last of the tension in the room.

"Hah... you really do switch gears fast, Naruto," he said, shaking his head and examining the kunai with interest.

"Well, yeah! We droned on with that philosophical debate so hard that even the open window isn't helping."

"Straight to business, then. Sound pragmatism," he nodded. "Alright, I'll get in touch with Choza. I'm sure we'll come to an arrangement."

"Hope so. And yeah, don't be shy about taking your cut for acting as middleman. We might not be strangers, but it's exactly the people who aren't strangers you shouldn't screw over."

"Um..." he clearly felt awkward about taking money from, in a sense, an orphan.

"Or just take half the 'cut'. Your principles matter too."

The old man had suddenly gone quiet. When it's time to lecture me on morals—no problem. But when it's time to pull a slightly shady deal, selling a carcass that wasn't acquired in the most legal way—suddenly he's shy.

"Ahem," as if hiding from the topic, he reached under the desk and slid one of the drawers aside to pull out an envelope. "Congratulations on your first completed mission. Here's your share. Officially the mission will be recorded only under Fumaro-kun, but you earned this fair and square."

"Hmph, like you're handing me a salary without deducting taxes," I said with a grin, taking the envelope.

He froze, then asked quietly:

"...Tell an old man, where did you get that much knowledge about corruption?"

"...That," I blinked innocently. "You're hallucinating. You didn't hear anything."

"...Alright, we'll let that go."

Holy shit, it worked! Then again, it worked on me too... Turns out that line of Fumaro's is actually pretty good. I underestimated it at first.

"So... when's the next mission, Hokage-sama?"

"You know, I was thinking of temporarily suspending you from missions. You need to learn teamwork..."

I raised a hand, and the old man stopped.

"All that stuff you're about to list can be worked on during missions. Just with someone more experienced than Fumaro. After that we'll gradually move on to C-rank missions, then B, and so on up to S-rank."

"...Alright, that makes sense too. But until you finish the academy, no missions above C-rank."

"What? H–huh?! What academy, what do I need that for?"

"For socialization, for developing empathy. And..." he gave me a strange look. "For building ties with clan heirs. Many of them are your age, and you'll be in the same class."

"Clan heirs, huh... I can get something out of that. And I can cut class at that academy a lot, so it won't eat up much time," I thought for a moment, then snapped back to the real world to ask the question still bugging me. "But why the limit on mission rank?"

"..." Hiruzen clearly had opinions about my plans, but he still answered the question. "No matter how much you might think otherwise, you're still too young for that."

The air started to feel thick with the smell of things unsaid. Well, my instincts felt it; it didn't literally stink.

"Besides, we're still trying to keep your abilities under wraps."

"Which plenty of people already know about."

"I repeat: those people are trustworthy. But if you disappear from the village for a long time, you'll put yourself in serious danger. Worse than anything you might face even on an A-rank mission. Your power is too anomalous and too dangerous for the future."

There we go, that smell of half-truths eased up. But I still needed more details.

"..." I gave him a very confused look to show I wouldn't mind a few clarifications.

At that moment Hiruzen drew in a hidden breath and dropped the truth bomb that was supposed to knock me flat:

"You're the jinchuriki of the Nine-Tails."

"..." I stayed silent, face blank.

"..." Hiruzen stayed silent, waiting for a reaction.

"Yeah, I know," I said. And before he could start asking where from, I clarified, "It's actually pretty easy to guess. Inhumanly fast recovery, and more importantly—an aggressive chakra you have to suppress before you heal anyone."

"..." He glanced at me, then off to the side, drumming his fingers on the table. "That was... unexpected."

"Yep. So, the danger is that other countries will want to take out the jinchuriki while he's still weak?"

"Yes... Naruto, you've understood correctly. In fact, a lot of people in our village know that you're the jinchuriki," I snorted. "And I took it upon myself to forbid them from talking about it. You see, many shinobi lost loved ones when the Kyuubi broke free. They don't understand that you're the cage for the beast. On the contrary, some are convinced you're the demon incarnate... Maybe you've noticed wary looks or something like that?"

"Uh... honestly, pretty rarely. Three shinobi once glared at me like I'd stolen their mission reward. A couple of shopkeepers. But I just assumed they were constipated or something."

"...Ahem. Those associations of yours."

"They are what they are."

"This hatred toward you, it is there... Some parents will forbid their children from talking to you."

"I don't give a damn, I don't hang out with kids anyway."

"That's exactly what I'm getting at. You need to talk to your peers. Broaden your social circle. Feel more like part of the community."

"...Let's say I agree."

"So. I have to ask you not to spread it around that you're a jinchuriki. Especially in your future team. It's for your own good."

"Okay," I shrugged. "Until those brats seem smart enough, I'll keep the secret. So what about missions? If I get strong enough, will you give me harder ones?"

"..." Hiruzen laced his fingers together and covered his face with them. "After you finish the academy. I did say strength isn't only about power, didn't I? Show that you're just as strong at socializing."

"...That's a bullshit reason. But whatever, it's not like I desperately need it. I'll just focus on Iryo- and Fuin-jutsu."

The old man choked on air.

"The kunai's going to fall apart in about half an hour, so you should hurry getting it to the buyer. On that note, I'd say we're done."

"Yes, I'll take care of it. Stay healthy, Naruto."

"You don't get sick either."

After we said our goodbyes, I walked out of the office.

Ugh... that was a heavy conversation.

Still, I pretty much said everything I actually feel during it. Even if skipping some details—like the inter-universe sources of my knowledge—was a bit of a pain.

First paycheck in hand... I should celebrate.

Leaving the residence, I ducked into an alley and counted the bills.

Ten thousand. Half the mission reward, after taxes.

Before this I'd get pocket money. But I preferred to spend that on something practical. This money, though, I wanted to blow on something fun.

Ten thousand is actually a solid amount. D-rank missions usually pay from five to fifty thousand. But that money gets split between the jonin, three genin, and a twenty percent tax.

Once, when I was bored, I tried to compare the value of the local currency to that of my old world. It came out, roughly—very roughly; different tech level, different production costs, so some things are way cheaper here and some way more expensive—that about five local ryo are equal to one dollar from a certain pretty big country in my past world.

So yeah, still a pretty hefty sum. On one hand, I could buy some decently expensive crap and enjoy it. But I went a different route—straight to a sweets shop.

In this world, it just turned out that my food was always made for me. And it was done according to a diet. Which, according to the doctors, I don't really even need, given my body relies more on chakra. But since I'm simply used to eating that way, I haven't had anything sweet in a long time. Like, really damn sweet. In my past world I used to love that stuff.

So at the confectionery I immediately bought myself a chocolate cake...

And I probably shouldn't have... Or maybe I definitely should have?

Because the taste on my tongue—already enhanced even at rest thanks to earlier chakra reinforcement—gave me a range of sensations I'd never felt before.

That cake tasted so nice, so damn good, that I didn't even notice it was gone.

So I ordered another one right away.

Then another.

Then they ran out of pure chocolate ones, so I got a different kind. Those I really liked too.

And another.

And another.

I walked out of the shop with my wallet a bit thinner, but very, very satisfied.

Looks like I've found where all my money's going to go...

---

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[Welydora]

Some time had passed since that mission ended. Just enough that, according to the schedule, it was time for my "lessons" with the old hag again.

And that particular epithet was picked for a reason. After the mission the old crone started going even harder on me and, accordingly, loading me up even more.

It started with Koharu telling me she'd immediately wrung all the details of my mission out of Hiruzen, even though he kept trying to steer the conversation away from it, and had then strong‑armed him into doing a debriefing of the mission itself with her sitting in. Weird relationship, those two, I noted, and then we moved on to the detail that had really grabbed her attention: my shadow clones.

Before, we'd rarely used that jutsu in direct clashes. At first it hadn't been all that effective anyway, since the clones would pop from a simple poke. Koharu wanted to see what my clones could do now, if I was so confident in them.

I had good reason to be that sure. My control had gone up a lot over this time, and if the original—me—wasn't in a heavy fight and, on the contrary, was giving a big chunk of his attention to a clone, then that clone would pick up some actual durability.

Because they needed help and focus, the clones weren't all that great in straight‑up, one‑front combat. But in other situations they were really damn useful. Sure, if a ninja's got enough chakra and control, you can wreak havoc even with one or two clones. It's just that people usually don't use them like that.

So I made a shadow clone and stood off to the side, watching with mixed feelings as the old woman immediately drove a senbon under its ribs. The clone didn't pop—it started bleeding like a normal person.

After a bit, once I'd gotten the feedback from the clone that he really hadn't liked that, that it had sucked in general, Koharu sent a fan of kunai into him.

That echoed through my link with the clone, but with me straining and focusing, he stayed not only in one piece, but combat‑capable. The elder checked that combat‑readiness right away, lunging into a short sparring match and, in the process, putting a few more wounds on the clone. It all ended pretty fast for the old hag, though, with a shot to the head, when the shadow, in a suicidal burst, grabbed Koharu by the arms, taking a solid kick straight to his own groin at the same time, and then smashed his hard forehead into her skull.

End result: old hag knocked out, and me gritting my teeth and clenching my legs from the sensations of the clone finally dispersing.

The fight itself was whatever, it didn't really show off either my or the elder's abilities. But the question of how reliable my clones were was settled.

After a few more days, our lessons even ramped up in difficulty.

Off my conversation with Hiruzen—which she then went over with the old man again—Koharu figured out I was lacking narrower experience, the kind you need for specific missions. On Hiruzen's suggestion we started going over all kinds of different missions using their reports.

Usually I'd be sitting at a low table across from Koharu, with scrolls spread out in front of me: layouts, terrain maps, short—or sometimes very long—descriptions of objectives and outcomes.

What I had to do in that kind of lesson boiled down to running my finger over the map, pointing out mistakes in a hypothetical mission, frowning, puffing, straining my brain, and scribbling with my little pencil on the paper. Koharu would watch, sometimes nodding or shaking her head, forcing me to rethink something, and then giving her own take.

Or, as also happened a lot, Koharu would set up shogi pieces on the table, laying out a battle formation or enemy positions. My job was to solve the tactical puzzle—how to get around a patrol, how to set up an ambush with minimum forces, how to retreat while covering a wounded comrade. So I'd move the pieces around and explain my plan.

We'd done that kind of thing before too, but way less than after that talk with the old man, since before we'd focused on other aspects of being a shinobi. Now we were focusing on tactics that could really twist your brain. Useful, though, for developing the ability to see a situation from different angles, analyze it and play out the risks.

Sometimes it occurred to me that Hiruzen had been kind of shortsighted, putting my training in things like this in Koharu's hands. Their views disagreed on a lot. But… knowing the old man's character, I could only assume the most basic and likely reason: Hiruzen just trusted his former teammate and believed in her better qualities. Maybe a bit too much, in my opinion. Still, that was just guessing; I didn't know all the dirt under the surface.

At the usual pace—aside from these new lessons with the elder—a month went by, and it was time to enter the Ninja Academy.

In that time I only got two missions, this time with more experienced backup from a jonin, where we just had to find some guy who'd gotten lost in the woods. Not the Forest of Death, just a regular forest…

Boring as hell, obviously. Same with the next mission, looking for leaks in the pipes… Have I mentioned I don't like the people who installed those pipes? Anyway, that dislike hardened after I had to spend several hours wandering through a maze of pipes that sometimes looked like they'd been installed with zero system whatsoever.

That's how the month went. It really would've been boring if not for Koharu's promise hanging over me that after I enrolled in the academy, there'd be some kind of update to what we did, something I wouldn't like but that'd be useful…


Before enrollment, I was just bored, and the itch in my ass started acting up again. An idea popped into my head. It had to do directly with the academy and my first day there. On that day everyone introduces themselves, and first impressions are insanely important.

Like they say, how you walk into the joint is how you're gonna live there. Or do they not say that? Whatever, the point was, I wanted to walk in at least a little bit epic.

Anyone who's studied psychology, even at the most basic level, knows about character and temperament. Oversimplifying: character is the stuff that forms over your whole life, temperament is supposedly the inborn part. Going off that, it's totally possible I'm being influenced by a temperament coming from this body's genetics, so my already‑formed personality has, to some extent, adapted to the body and picked up some of its traits… It felt like I definitely had something of that anime Naruto in me. For example, this very urge to make the introduction day at the academy anything but normal.

I could make a bunch of clones and do something with that… Although no, clones are a no‑go, secrecy and all. Then again, the main thing is not to reveal my abilities to enemies, and the size of my reserves is obvious already. And it's exactly those reserves the clones would show if I used them. So I can use a certain number.

But I still need more people… I've got a bit of savings from missions. And I can always borrow some. Guess I should drop by the orphanage and grab some of the older kids. Don't think they'll say no to getting paid. Plus, on their background the "sovereign" won't look comically short, heh‑heh. Oh, and I can hire a student or two from the academy, so we don't end up with my hired help barging into the wrong classroom.

Interlude: Sarutobi Hiruzen

A light snow was falling. In the inner courtyard of the big Ninja Academy complex, a crowd of incoming kids had gathered, along with a lot of their parents.

On a small dais, under the soft gusts of wind, the Third Hokage was giving his speech.

He spoke about unity, love, faith, care, and the readiness to move forward to protect their huge family called Konoha. No matter the hardships, just like the generations before them had. He was lighting the Will of Fire in his listeners.

His speech was genuinely fiery, but he wasn't completely lost in it. His sharp eyes scanned the people below and betrayed a faint worry.

Yesterday Hiruzen had talked with Kumao Gendai, the homeroom teacher of the class Naruto was supposed to be in. Sarutobi was a kind old man, but attentive enough to at least try to predict the brat's actions. So before the school year he'd asked the teacher to treat his ward with understanding, because the blond kid was… special. It'd be good if the teacher didn't take everything too close to heart, didn't get offended, scared, or driven to tears by his jokes, since it was pretty unlikely Naruto would be doing it out of malice. And also, that he shouldn't take bribes from him. In response Gendai had just assured him he'd do everything perfectly—he was an experienced teacher, and all that. And of course he wouldn't be taking bribes.

Today, though, Naruto hadn't shown up to the opening assembly, which was what bothered Sarutobi. Of course, you couldn't rule out that the blond had just overslept or even blown off this "questionably important" event. Questionable by his standards—Hiruzen did note Naruto's sense of responsibility, but he didn't apply it to everything.

Finishing his speech and watching the students follow their teachers away, Hiruzen decided he'd send an ANBU to check on Naruto and figure everything out.

About two minutes later, when the old man had already gone up into the building attached to the academy—the Hokage's residence—he got a report that barely made sense. As it wrapped up, some kind of booming sounds started coming from the street.

Deciding to see for himself—since this clearly concerned Naruto directly—the Hokage left his office and went to a window of the residence that faced the academy. Right away he spotted a procession moving down the street.

Coming down the street, parting the few passersby just with its appearance—the onlookers pressed themselves to the walls in stunned, wary amazement—was something huge and completely absurd. At the head of the procession were about fifty people—older kids from the orphanage, as it would later turn out, hired by Naruto—carrying a massive, richly decorated palanquin on their shoulders. The thing was truly cyclopean in size, with a massive carved roof crowned by a gilded phoenix, and a wide, ten‑step staircase leading up to a platform hidden in the shadow of heavy purple‑and‑gold curtains. There was so much gold it was honestly unclear how the bearers' backs hadn't snapped under the weight.

On both sides of the palanquin, and in front of it, marched at least a dozen drummers. Their instruments pounded out a deafening but perfectly in‑sync rhythm. The drummers themselves, in loose, bright outfits, weren't just hitting the drums—they were throwing their whole bodies into it, shaking their heads, twisting around like members of some metal band from another world. Their hair flew everywhere, and their faces radiated total devotion to their craft.

It… looked, again, absurd. Sarutobi had heard that long ago the rulers of the Land of Wind used to travel in something like this. Across the desert. Whereas right now, it was snowing.

After watching a little, Hiruzen closed his eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled, and then calmly went back to his office. Today, the Hokage's workplace was once again going to smell of fruit.


Meanwhile, in the classroom where Naruto was supposed to be, there was the usual first‑day commotion. Kumao Gendai, a middle‑aged chunin with a tired but kind face, a pretty solid build, and a big nose, was trying to shout over the kids' chatter and explain the rules of behavior at the Academy. Suddenly his words drowned in the growing thunder of drums from outside.

On cue, the kids rushed to the windows. Gendai‑sensei sighed and followed them.

What they saw made the man's jaw drop. A huge, ridiculously luxurious palanquin was slowly drifting up to their first‑floor windows. The drummers below were beating out some kind of primal rhythm that made the glass vibrate.

"What… what is that?" someone whispered.

"Maybe… the Daimyo came?" another suggested.

At that moment the palanquin stopped right in front of their window. Two tall guys (older Academy students he'd hired) burst into the classroom, yelling, "Make way for the Sovereign! Clear the path!" They shoved the kids aside, threw the window wide open and, to the total shock of teacher and students, bent over to form a living staircase out of their backs, going from the floor under the window straight to the edge of the palanquin.

Gendai‑sensei finally snapped out of it. His face ran through a whole range of emotions before finally flushing red with strain.

"What… What is going on here?! A genjutsu?! Release!" he yelled, forming a hand sign.

"Silence!" came a voice from the "staircase." "Disrupting the Sovereign's advent is punishable by seven thousand curses!"

The attempt to dispel the genjutsu did nothing, so the teacher could only stare helplessly ahead at the scene playing out.

The drums fell silent in an instant, like on cue.

The curtains on the palanquin parted, theatrically slow. In the opening, deep in the shadows, there was a silhouette sitting on a high throne. The tension in the classroom peaked.

Then the figure on the throne lazily rose and stepped forward into the light. Metal clinked.

Dead silence fell in the room, broken only by the quickened breathing of everyone there. Standing before them was… a kid. A boy of about six or seven, blond, dressed—or rather, almost not dressed. He had on something like golden briefs, and his surprisingly ripped little body was covered in massive gold chains, bracelets and rings. A necklace of huge precious stones hung around his neck, and on his head sat a circlet with leaf motifs, like a laurel wreath, of course also gold. There was so much gold on him it looked like he should collapse any second. Hell, Xerxes himself, marching on Thermopylae, would've gone green with envy at that kind of wealth.

The blond stopped and spread his arms wide, showing the world his magnificence.

Right then, another "servant" burst into the classroom—a kid in a herald's outfit with a long scroll in his hands. He cleared his throat and boomed:

"Heed me, O mortals! Before you stands He! King of Kings, Lord of the Seven Seas and Three Deserts! God of Gods, Crusher of Rocks and Tamer of Winds! Sovereign of Heaven and Earth, Master of the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars! He whose name is whispered with reverence and fear! Heir to the Ancient Emperors, Keeper of Forgotten Secrets, Master of All Arts! Victor of a Thousand Battles, Unforgettable Love of Goddesses, Scourge of Demons! And these are but a fraction of his titles, for a full list would take three days and three nights of continuous reading! Behold—His Unsurpassed Majesty, the Emperor…"

The kid from the throne, whose face up till that moment had stayed so solemnly serene it was like every word spoken was pure truth, now moved forward gracefully. Each step down the "staircase" rang in their ears with the jingle of chains.

Finally, stepping off the backs of his servants and into the classroom, he slowly swept his gaze over everyone, and the kids instinctively edged back. Then he raised a ring‑covered hand and… snapped his fingers.

Right then there was a bang, and everything was swallowed in white smoke. When it started to clear, the purple curtains, golden phoenix, carved throne—turned out all of that had been just an illusion that vanished along with the white veil. The "servants" in the classroom stayed, but the crowd outside seemed to have shrunk somehow. The gold chains and all the other precious metal on the boy himself vanished. In front of the stunned class now stood an ordinary fair‑haired kid in black pants, hurriedly pulling on the jacket of a jumpsuit that one of the hired helpers had just handed him.

Naruto Uzumaki, grinning from ear to ear, swept his eyes over the speechless class and his teacher, whose mouth was hanging open in pure what‑the‑hell shock.

"So? Pretty flashy entrance, wouldn't you say? I hope I'm not too late for the first lesson?"


Sliding the door shut behind me and cheerfully flicking the corners of the rectangular sheet of paper, I headed a bit farther down the hallway.

And seriously, what was the point of dragging me straight to a shrink? See, it even says right here: "sane."

Soon enough I spotted my sensei sitting on a bench—the very one who'd insisted I come here.

"Here you go," I said, handing him the certificate. "Nothing wrong with my head." Then I handed him two more slips. "Statement that I wasn't under genjutsu. And that I wasn't on drugs either."

"Strange…" he muttered after a few seconds of reading.

"Depends who you ask. So, your name? I already introduced myself."

"Kumao Gendai, your sensei as of today…"

After he said that, the man just kind of wilted. Then he lifted his eyes to the ceiling and, I think, started sniffling.

Guess he pictured that if I pulled something like this on day one, what the hell was going to happen next.

"Why me?.."

"Don't get upset." I patted him on the shoulder. "It's not that bad. I've actually got a pretty pleasant personality. I don't think you'll be able to teach me much, but we'll manage to work together somehow. Here, have a candy."

I held out the sweet that'd been rattling around in my pocket. Seemed like it had been there a while already, but whatever, the guy looks sturdy—he'll survive.

"Thanks."

That was all I got out of him once he accepted my treat. Man of few words.

"And, I suppose…" Gendai stood up. "I should probably go in there too."

And he went into the psychiatrist's office.

Well, he'd know best.

Class, by the way, got canceled a bit later, and all my, I guess, classmates were sent home. Well, after they'd dropped me off at the hospital, they went back and finally explained the academy rules to them in full. I'll have to read that code of conduct myself. Not that I was that late anyway—they hadn't made it to self‑introductions yet. So I'll get acquainted with the brats tomorrow.

All the procedures didn't take that long, twenty minutes maybe. So after drilling the door to the office where Kumao had vanished with one last look, I headed outside.

A snowy Konoha was actually a pretty rare sight. The climate here's pretty warm. Which just makes every snowfall especially beautiful. Especially in the park. That's where I went, deciding to do my run there today and check out the scenery. It was on the way.

Only, running into a certain someone ended up changing my plans.

---

If you enjoyed my work, feel free to check out my Patreon. There you can read up to 20 chapters ahead and get early access to any new stuff that I publish

 

[Welydora]

"Hey, Hyuga girl. Show us your Byakugan!"

A boy's voice reached me from a few hundred meters away, and I almost sprawled out flat on the ground.

"If you can't, then get lost!" came another voice, this time from a different kid.

You've got to be kidding me, I thought. Is this some kind of fated encounter or what?

"Your eyes are creepy," a third voice added.

I quickened my pace.

Hyuga Hinata. I'd seen her in class, along with a few other characters I knew from my past life… But now, they were real people.

What a strange feeling, thinking about them. They were complete strangers here, yet they stirred up some leftover emotional attachment.

In class it had felt like I was imagining it, but now it was stronger again. Weird… I hadn't felt anything like that toward Hiruzen or, say, Koharu. Maybe because those shinobi didn't take up much screen time in the plot?

My mind, in my past life, had gone through a lot with these anime characters; I understood their goals, their trials, their grief and triumphs. And also… even though I rarely give in to dark, destructive feelings… this new world still feels, even if just a bit, alien to me. The warmth and all‑encompassing care are gone—they died with my mother. But when I look at someone so familiar, I feel the world get a little closer.

And again, pushing those gloomy thoughts aside—I'm just curious how these characters will behave and develop now that I'm here.

"You're just a monster, aren't you?"

"Yeah, a Byakugan monster!"

By the time I heard that line, I could see everyone involved.

A girl with bluish‑black hair, a light beige scarf, and a reddish‑brown coat was standing with her back to me. Hearing that, she whimpered, covered her face with her hands, then sank down.

I did not like that scene.

But the boys, noticing me coming, fell silent and watched.

Once I got close, I could get a good look at the three of them, who could be described from left to right as the fat one, the tall one, and the average one.

"Hey, why are you guys picking on a girl?"

At my words, the girl in question turned to look at me with big, white eyes that, together with her whole hime‑cut vibe, were actually pretty cute. Adorable—and right now, so damn pitiful…

Hug her, squeeze-squeeze, protect her, sickeningly cute, must-cuddle-must-squish-must-pet… flashed through my head. But I kept myself in check.

"…Is that him?" The three of them shuffled closer, starting to whisper loudly.

"Yeah, yeah, that's definitely the one sensei told us about."

"Are you okay?" I asked Hinata, even though I knew they hadn't actually done anything to her. I got a cautious nod in reply.

"Maybe we should… run?" the average one suggested, eyeing me warily.

"Why?" the tall one asked.

"Sensei said it was almost all illusions. Created by other shinobi, even."

While they were whispering, I helped the girl up and managed to say a couple of comforting lines before stepping in front of her and blocking her with my back.

"You haven't answered my question," I reminded them in a firm voice, but it didn't make much of an impression. The boys were clearly way more into their own conversation.

"A few ninja… lots of other guys. He hired them all," the average one started.

"And his clothes look high‑quality," the tall one continued.

"And he wears pouches, like a shinobi," the fat one added.

"That last part's what's bothering me…" the average one muttered again.

"What's the big deal? It's fine," the fat one slapped him on the shoulder.

"Just some rich kid we're about to shake down," the tall one grinned nastily.

After a last silent round of eye contact, all three of them, grinning, spread out to different sides.

"Done talking?" I raised an eyebrow, frowning.

"Yeah." To my surprise, the average one stepped forward. "Take off your pouches. Weapons aren't toys for kids."

He stuck his hand out, bold as hell.

My face twitched. No need to spell out how hypocritical that sounded.

They were kids… and muggers… and, thinking of the girl behind me, bullies, or whatever you call them. But I couldn't just beat the crap out of them, right?

"Move your ass already," the tall one tried to hurry me up.

"Yeah, or you'll be crawling home!" the fat one added.

My facial muscles started having issues again.

I was about to say something, but stopped when I felt a hand touch my back.

"D-don't. They'll beat you up… I-it's not worth it. Because of me, you'll…" Hinata started, stammering.

"Hey, hey, it's fine," I stopped her, now fully turning my back to the boys. "These losers can't do jack to me, and don't blame yourself. You… uh, well, you were probably trying to hold your head high. But everyone has moments of weakness."

At that, the trio froze up, clearly not expecting to be ignored this hard.

"You're, um… a strong girl. On the inside. You didn't run away, right?" I kept trying to encourage her, dressing her behavior up as courage instead of being frozen with fear. Ahem.

"Hey, are we a joke to you?!" That sounded like the average one.

"Or, it's also possible no one's ever taught you how to deal with this crap," I went on, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder at them like they were a bag of trash. "Watch, I'll show you."

On the last word, I leaned slightly back and caught the leg flying at my spine.

Yeah, this crooked parody of Leonidas—same as the other two—was just a kid. And also, if I stuck to Hiruzen's philosophy, "one of ours," since he was a Konoha resident. Still, I really wanted to smack their heads together. Hard. I was just afraid I'd knock out the last of their brains and push their odds of growing into normal people even closer to zero.

Which meant I needed something that wouldn't cripple them, but would teach a lesson.

I spun around sharply, letting go of the kid's leg, then quickly swung my own up.

"Sh-a-a-a!" I shouted, like I was doing some karate move. Reality was a lot more mundane.

My foot shot between the attacker's legs and slammed into his crotch hard enough to make him almost jump. His eyes bulged, his mouth froze in a silent scream of pain.

The other two, also frozen, watched their buddy with horrified faces. They'd just managed to close in from both sides to surround me, but couldn't take another step.

And I, even without using chakra to boost myself, had moved fast.

"Sh-a-a-a!"

"Sh-a-a-a!"

All three of them dropped to their knees, then collapsed flat to the ground.

Covering the lower half of her face with her hands, Hinata stared at the boys with some unreadable mix of emotions.

"Something like that," I turned back to her proudly. "Got it memorized?"

Another cautious nod.

"Good." I nodded back. "By the way, looks like we're classmates. Let's introduce ourselves properly. I'm Uzumaki Naruto. Certified sane, according to one psychiatrist."

I proudly flashed the certificate at her. By then, her hands had returned to their normal position.

"Hyuga Hinata. Y-yeah, I remember when you showed up."
That's not something you forget.

"And… how was it for you?"

"Strange…"

Should I be upset or happy about that? Wait… how far have I fallen, wanting approval from a little girl…

"…Not a bad review," I decided out loud. "Want me to walk you home?"

"I… I don't know. I don't want you to…" she trailed off.

"It won't be a hassle for me. But I'm not forcing it—your opinion matters."

Something flickered in her eyes.

"But even if you say no, I still have to say this. Your eyes aren't creepy, they're actually really beautiful. And you're not a monster. The monster here is me! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

"You're not…" Her face went bright red; she clearly had no idea how to react. She bowed her head and, still blushing, started poking her index fingers together. But after a few seconds she finally managed to say:

"Walk me home, please."

"Huh? Okay." I held out my hand, and she timidly took it. "Off we go, then. I don't think your compound's very far."

With that, I stepped right on one of the boys, while Hinata carefully stepped over them, and we headed out.

On the way, we tried to keep a conversation going—mostly me taking the lead, but with a bit of effort from Hinata too. Now that we were officially acquainted, we told each other more about ourselves.

My entrance the day before gained a new epithet: "majestic." I, in turn, once again assured the girl that everything about her was normal—better than normal, even—which made her blush.

When we got close to the Hyuga compound, some girl ran out to meet us, whom Hinata identified as one of the maids at her house. The maid shot me a dirty look and quickly dragged Hinata inside by the arm.

"Don't forget the move! See you!"

I waved, and got the same wave back.

Standing there with the two gate guards, watching them disappear into the distance, I felt a strange sensation.

"Hey, guys, can you pass a message to her father?"

"…Suppose so," the one on the left answered.

"Right. Tell him that I, Uzumaki Naruto, will give that asshole a couple of smacks upside the head if, thanks to his fucking negligence, his own little daughter ends up left without supervision again."

"…"

"…"

They were stunned.

"On her way home, I mean, or just when she's out walking. That's it—later," I added, then turned and left.

There, that should keep them from slacking off, I thought, while the two guards' stares drilled into my back. Though I doubt they'll actually pass the message on. Hinata's father is the clan head, after all, and they'd be the ones catching hell for that. What I'd get out of it is a different question. My age works in my favor; they might just not take my words seriously. Because for now it's still just talk.

After all, I'm a little kid, and if he does take it seriously, other clans might decide the Hyuga are petty—like, instead of doing something actually important, they're picking on a child. And judging by how they let their heiress get pushed around… apparently a reputation for scaring off street punks isn't all that important to them. They're probably more worried about how they look to the other clans.

And finally, I'm a jinchuriki, which means I can do pretty much whatever the hell pops into my head. Within reason, anyway. Insulting the head of the Hyuga for a good reason—and even giving him a beating if the chance presents itself—is well within those limits, as long as no one gets seriously hurt.

I walked like that for a bit longer before cutting off that stream of mostly useless thoughts. Then I picked up the pace and headed for the hospital. I could work on something more interesting there.

The very next day, I had to go back to the academy.


"Yo, pipsqueaks," I said as I walked into the classroom, half‑full of my peers. Flashing a rock‑on gesture, I added, "The king is in the building!"

There were still about fifteen minutes until class started, but a good number of kids had already shown up and split into little groups. About half of them, anyway—the other half sat alone. There were around fifteen people here already, which was… more than in the story I knew, especially considering more students were still supposed to come.

As soon as I showed up, all eyes snapped to me. A second of silence hung in the room, then loud whispering broke out among the groups. Even though I was in my usual clothes, they recognized me one hundred percent.

After a few seconds of soaking in the attention and spotting a familiar face, I lazily strolled between the rows.

There were three rows of desks, and each desk was pretty wide, comfortably fitting three people.

"Hey," I greeted Hinata, who was sitting at the second desk of the middle row. "Mind if we sit together?"

She nodded, a little delayed and surprised, then started blushing shyly.

"How did things go yesterday?" I tried to start a small conversation.

"F-fine."

Yeah? Hm. Feels like she's sugarcoating it. But she'll talk if she wants to.

Looking at Hinata, it seemed she wasn't really in a chatting mood, so I didn't pry.

Didn't mean I had no one to talk to, though.

"Hey, that was you yesterday, right?! Yeah?" some kid ran up, blurting questions that weren't very coherent, but definitely energetic.

"Yep."

"Awesome! How'd you do it?"

"O-o-oh… that's a long story. But short version: I used my savings and borrowed some from the Hokage. Mostly hired low‑paid, unskilled workers, but spent most of it on a couple of shinobi. They were the ones casting the illusions. C‑rank techniques that work kind of like illusionary clones, if that means anything to you," I said. As I talked, the kid's face just got more and more disappointed. In the story, by the way, I was lying, downplaying my own part. "I made the palanquin myself ahead of time. Then it was writing the script and organizing the groups of people. Huge pain in the ass. We barely even had rehearsals. We were lucky it all went off without a hitch. And also…"

"Wait! So you're not a god? And you borrowed money from the Hokage?"

"Yes to both. And those two things bother you equally?"

I was starting to feel a bit irritated that my pretty extensive work—even with the modesty filter on—wasn't being appreciated properly.

"Fraud!" he shouted, jabbing a finger at me before disappearing to the back row.

"…Well, he's not entirely wrong. Although dispelling the technique should've made it obvious it was all fake anyway."

Right then Hinata managed to dig up enough courage to thank me for yesterday. But after that, the conversation fizzled out again.

I spent the rest of the time before the instructor showed up lost in thought.

When I'd walked into class earlier, I'd noticed a few more familiar faces. A pink‑haired girl in a blue kimono, most likely named Sakura. Two boys sitting together—one chubby, with brown hair and what looked like underwear as a headband; the other with a black ponytail and a sleepy face. The first should be Choji, the second Shikamaru. As for others… hard to tell. Little kids all looked kind of similar, and not everyone wore clan symbols. There were three blonde girls, but no way to tell which one was Ino.

What was interesting was that the ones I did recognize stirred up feelings similar to the ones Hinata did, to some degree. It was weird, feeling that…

Soon the number of people in the classroom doubled, but no one else dared to come up to me. Right when class was about to start, Kumao walked in.

Trying not to look in my direction, he gave a short speech about how the rules of conduct at the academy were very important, then moved on to another "important" activity—introductions.

"The strength of a society lies in its unity. Forging bonds, you could say, is the key to strength. Therefore, I believe that learning to take the first step toward others is a mandatory skill for everyone. It will be easier for you to build connections with each other once you know what everyone is into. So I'm going to ask each of you to come up, state your name, and tell us about your hobbies. And also, if you have one and aren't shy—tell us about your dream…" By the end of his speech, the man's head finally turned in my direction. "…Just don't be like the already well‑known Naruto."

I snorted. That was rich—I highly doubted anyone here had the organizational skills, everything else you'd need, plus a whole pile of lucky factors to pull off something like that.

And so it dragged on. Now I knew which of the two Aburame boys in our group—both black‑haired and in glasses—was Shino, and which had a different name. I also learned that yeah, that totally average‑looking kid was Uchiha Sasuke, and that among the two brown‑haired boys, one was Inuzuka Kiba.

So far, none of them looked like anything special, either in appearance or based on what they said they did—just normal kids. Normal for this world, anyway. Sasuke liked throwing kunai at targets, and sometimes at his beloved big brother if he wouldn't play with him for too long. Ino, for example, was into flowers.

To my surprise, they called me up to introduce myself too. I told everyone I dabbled in fuinjutsu development, was poking at genetic engineering, and rattled off about a dozen more hobbies that sounded smart. Sadly, all I got for it were blank stares.

Looks like I won't be finding any kindred spirits here…

Since nobody got it, I added that I lived at the hospital, even though I wasn't a patient—not even in the head—and showed off my psychiatrist's certificate again. Still no "wow" reaction.

After the introductions, Gendai started a standard lecture on the history of the Leaf. Very rough and simplified, so even the not‑so‑bright could follow.

And I got bored, with a growing sense I was wasting my time.

For now, there was nothing to squeeze out of the clan heirs, no matter how much I wanted to. Everyone looked like regular kids, not prodigies who'd already mastered all their family secrets. Which meant that unless those "geniuses" suddenly popped out of nowhere, I'd have to wait until my classmates learned their clan techniques and then try to pry them out of them. Though something told me I wouldn't get much that way…

The kids themselves, as far as I could tell, weren't anything special either. I'd have to wait until their personalities came out more.

I'd looked over the curriculum and, unfortunately, there was nothing interesting for me today or in the coming days. Our teacher was supposedly experienced, but just a chunin, and he had to pay attention to the whole group, not just me. Even if I did manage to get something out of him, it probably wouldn't be anything crucial.

Sitting through the rest of the lesson was, again, boring. So I decided that, say, chatting with the old hag—or getting smacked across the back by her, depending on how it went—would be more fun.

By the end of class I still hadn't seen anything in the faces around me that really caught my interest, and I noted that people seemed kind of afraid to approach me. So, after finding out from Hinata that she'd have an escort this time and telling her not to be bored, I just left the academy. On my way out, I tossed out that I'd go have a word with the local boss if he started giving me shit about attendance, which seemed to calm the Hinata who was worrying about me leaving.

Looked like my behavior was breaking her worldview—as well as a lot of other people's around me.

---

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[Welydora]

Some time later

Another dead end. I set aside yet another fuinjutsu scroll and rubbed my temples in frustration.

That fuin I'd been working on myself, along with a bunch of my colleagues and Hiruzen… The complex seals that were supposed to give me permanent enhancement of my whole body, the ones I'd pinned a lot of hope on, turned out to be pretty much useless.

Sure, basic reinforcement or a temporary boost in stats—that worked. But together with my monstrous training regimen, it felt almost meaningless.

What I needed was a qualitative leap, a deep restructuring of the body… not this crap. My body was acting like it resisted any crude meddling, refusing to move from its "factory settings" to something that would let me drop jōnin with a twitch of my left tit.

"Sadly, not everything is that simple," I chuckled to myself. "This world is a cheapskate; it's not ready to hand out power that easily… Or rather, it is, just not every time."

In the bright room, my gaze fell on a stack of iryo-ninjutsu scrolls. That was where the key seemed to be hiding. My current "forays into genetic engineering," as I jokingly called them back at the academy, were far from actual genome editing, but the direction was similar. I was trying not just to heal but to… guide growth, modify existing structures.

Mystical Palm. At its core it just stimulated the body's natural processes. But what if those processes could not only be sped up, but also redirected? What if you could force cells to divide not how they usually did, but according to a new template I set? Densify muscle fibers, making them stronger and tougher than nature intended. Restructure the bone matrix, cranking its density up to insane levels. Improve the conductivity of neural pathways for lightning-fast reflexes.

This A‑rank technique, Mystical Palm, was actually kinda primitive.

Right now, a lot of medical-nin would be coughing up blood if they heard me thinking that.

But what if I changed the "emission spectrum," so to speak? That wouldn't be so primitive anymore—there'd no longer be the inherited affinity built up by all the generations that had used Mystical Palm before me. But it would be promising.

I'd done experiments on corpses, but they only gave a general picture—too many variables separated dead tissue from living. Every system, every organ needed its own unique approach, its own "command" transmitted through chakra. I didn't need one technique but a whole set, a ridiculously complex symphony of chakra and biology.

I sighed.

I looked down at my hands.

Control… It was growing, for sure. But for what I had in mind, it was still catastrophically low. It would take years to polish it to the point where I could safely and effectively meddle with my own body's functions on that deep a level. Years of study, experiments, trial and error.

The prospects… were as foggy as it's probably foggy in the Village Hidden in the Mist. But somewhere out there, behind that haze of uncertainty, there was the possibility of surpassing any known limits. To create a body that could withstand insane loads, regenerate at crazy speed, and conduct colossal amounts of energy. A body that could fight the monsters that would come to devour me and my new world.

Sometimes my shifts at the hospital slipped by under thoughts like these. Though rarely with quite this mood.

A month had passed since I joined the academy. In that time, I still hadn't managed to really dive into socializing with my classmates. To be honest, their company was almost never interesting to me, and I didn't always even show up to class. I'd only really talked to Ino a couple of times, when I told the girl about a method for growing some cool bush‑like herbs. They tasted pretty decent, though I know some people also smoke them.

From the "happened, but not that important" category: Hiruzen tried to give me some spiel about unreasonable spending, but I wasn't having it. Same way I failed, in that very conversation, to convince him that acting all flamboyant looks cool.

I did a couple of missions to clear my debt, and that was it—then I went back to my usual stuff.

Half a year went by in about the same way. Koharu didn't show herself at all, even though she'd supposedly said she'd surprise me. And things stayed like that until the Hokage got some weird idea that I should, you know, slowly start learning independence. On that note, they handed me a little apartment and basically went, "Here, live here now."

I didn't like the apartment. I mean, considering what architectural geniuses live here, the housing stock overall is above average. And better than a simple room in the hospital, sure. But the ugly-ass interior just murdered my sense of aesthetics.

So I started racking my brains about how to earn some "green" and buy myself a house more to my taste. Sadly, outright criminal methods were off the table—the old man wouldn't approve. I didn't want to sell my own original fuin either, because even though it would bring in a lot of money long-term, it'd limit my potential in fuinjutsu itself. I couldn't perform super‑complex operations at the hospital either, since I didn't have the control for that thanks to, again, the aggressive nature of my chakra. Missions weren't an option either—they weren't giving me the high‑paying ones that would let me earn enough for a decent mansion in a short time.

After weighing it this way and that, I came to the conclusion that buying my own mansion would come out too expensive anyway. And why bother, if I could just rent? With those criteria, missions could easily cover rent—housing here is relatively cheap.

But relying on a single source of income is kinda crappy. So, after going over my abilities again and deciding my strongest side was fuinjutsu, I decided to try making some kind of fuin anyway. Not an original one, but something built from the existing fuin "alphabet." And in principle, I did get something to work. Just not what I'd originally been aiming for.

For that, I analyzed the market and also questioned a lot of shinobi: what they were lacking, how their normal day looked, what their time on missions was like. All that, just to find out they didn't really need anything—everything was "fine enough" already. Either none of the people I asked had any imagination, or I was a crappy sociologist, but I ended up with the conclusion that all the obvious niches were taken, or I just didn't know about the empty ones. So I thought about what knowledge I had from my previous world and dragged out a few ideas from there. Obviously, there wasn't much aimed specifically at shinobi, but that wasn't a bad thing—on the contrary, there are way more regular people in this world, and way more money in their hands.

So I made a few puzzle prototypes, patented them, and over a couple of months invested money into their production at several firms. I couldn't sell them all right away; a few thousand units moved purely because niche stores were literally buying up everything, mine included, just to diversify the assortment.

But that was only the beginning. It was time to start hyping my products.

To do that, I started holding tournaments using those very puzzles, shamelessly exploiting shadow clones. At first, thanks to cheap, small‑scale ads, not many people came to gawk, and most of those who did were just passersby who'd stopped out of curiosity, since the tournaments were held in open city squares.

Good thing I didn't have to pay for the space, and the tournament prize pool—with its "cash prizes"—was completely fake. The clones, who Hiruzen let out of the village without a problem on the condition they stayed under Transformation, handled everything just fine.

In just a month, my fake identity—the only illegal thing I was using (not without some grumbling from the old man, of course)—became known in certain circles and started drawing in investors. The Rubik's Cube tournament was especially popular—may Rubik forgive me, whose creation I straight‑up ripped off.

After the tournaments, popularity jumped nicely, to the point some particularly slick businessmen were offering me a few hundred thousand ryō for the patent so they could start raking in cash off what looked like a promising business. But I fought for my shares like a lion and, like the slipperiest snake, talked them into investing in my venture with no right to equity, instead writing in a fixed payout amount that was supposed to hit in a couple of quarters. Collateral, contracts, loans—I managed to sign everything through the fake identity a clone was playing.

In the respectable banks where I handled business with investors—even ones far from the Hidden Leaf—there were shinobi on staff, often experienced chūnin, who weren't supposed to let other especially savvy shinobi like me pass themselves off as someone they weren't. But I wasn't born yesterday; my teachers were no joke, and my control over energies was just as good. So I managed to fool those ninja with the Transformation Technique. Though honestly, it didn't require anything too advanced (even though I had that too), because those hired hands weren't exactly killing themselves at work. So in the end, my fake identity worked just fine.

Next came putting the money I'd gotten into circulation, a few weeks of actively selling puzzles, and parallel PR—first through my fake tournaments, and then through other people's real tournaments run by newly emerged fans, whose free work boosted my product's popularity and, personally, my income.

The business started growing like crazy, and I had to pull in a lot of clones to control it. That brought plenty of problems—a constant flow of outside data at night when the clones dispelled, which I then had to process, then build sales and PR strategies, plus lines of behavior with current investors and ways to attract new ones. Because of my inexperience, all that started eating up a lot of time, so I had to cut back some of my training and other projects. And that part I didn't like at all… But I had my own plan, and I wanted to see it through.

The fortune of several million ryō that piled up over three months didn't go to my head. And not just because I couldn't pull that money out of the business yet and didn't physically have it in my hands. I needed to get stronger. A solid financial cushion wasn't going to help with that much, since my projects at the hospital, like a lot of other stuff, were funded by the coffers of Konoha and the Land of Fire. Although, again, a bit of independence, now and in the future, definitely wouldn't hurt.

Because of all that, I decided my business projects would live another three months. In that time I'd try to squeeze all the money I could out of them, then dump them.

I stuck to that plan, which was relatively easy—no board of directors, and the whole "company" that had formed, whose office nobody knew the location of, still consisted entirely of my shadow clones.

Time passed, the business expanded. Bigger and bigger sharks started paying attention, offering more and more for a full buyout, but I kept up my "not for sale" policy. At the same time, I didn't stop pulling in investor money in other ways, promising I'd pay it all back later. Some tournaments started drawing crowds of several thousand people, while the whole business hit a valuation of a hundred million ryō.

By the end of the period I'd set for myself, I did everything I could to push my puzzles and the Rubik's Cube to the peak of their popularity. Not that I really pulled it off… Let's just say the business was successful, but nowhere near world‑class. Some of the high nobility were interested, but most were just watching from the sidelines. I was trying to attract that one rich guy who wouldn't just wait and see, but would also offer a more serious sum. I actually managed to hook several, and they fought pretty hard over my business.

Even with all the debts, my alter ego still managed to sell the whole thing along with a small office, which by then I'd set up so it could take over part of the clones' duties and, of course, create the impression my firm was reliable. A solid share of the tournaments was organized through that office. Same with a lot of other financial operations.

The final sum was fairly solid—four hundred million ryō. After pocketing it, my now‑multimillionaire fake identity went off to travel the world and stopped showing up in public. From now on, if I have any personal projects, that fake persona will resurface and become my investor.

Those six months were exhausting. For better or worse, I managed to put an end to that whole puzzle and Rubik's Cube saga. On the plus side, I suddenly had a lot of free time again, even with all my old training and projects back in full swing. On the minus side, I probably could've pushed the business even harder and squeezed more than a billion out of it, maybe even a few dozen billion of the local currency. But that would've been a level of money where just moving it around would seriously affect the whole country.

People way more important would've taken an interest—like the daimyo, other Kage, or shinobi clans—and I wouldn't have been able to stand against them without throwing in even more effort. The business would've sucked me in and put a ton of responsibility on every move I made. So, before the train picked up too much speed, I jumped off, to focus on something that was much more likely to help me in the future—self‑improvement.

The funds I already had would be enough for long‑term funding, and, if needed (which I don't), for hiring very sharp specialists—who, in Konoha, mostly already work with me basically for free anyway. For consumables, or if I suddenly need to put up a building or two, four hundred million will definitely be enough, with a lot left over. So if I regret not becoming a billionaire, it's not by much. And in any case, if I suddenly desperately need money, with multimillion‑ryō starting capital I could spin up something even bigger than this business in just a few months.

The puzzle business—the one that was no longer mine—collapsed pretty quickly afterward. Heh. A big chunk of the hyped tournaments the brand's fame was built on just shut down without my clones. The clones, by the way, for the sake of a good cover story, staged a protest over the sale of all the patents and how they didn't like the new boss, then all quit together and scattered. By the time that little aristocrat got moving and squeezed out the other tournaments, the hype had already died. He'll be lucky if, in a few years, he even makes back what he put in.

But I didn't care anymore. The staff who actually worked for the firm had good contracts. And if they get organized, they'll be able to squeeze their salaries and then some out of the new employer without much trouble if he gets too cocky.

It might seem like I have a bit of contempt for the guy I squeezed four hundred million out of. And yeah, that's not exactly wrong. The world of the village, which had seemed pretty kind up till then, showed its dirty side. The side things foul‑smelling run down.

"Foul‑smelling" was exactly how you could describe the buyer of my company, because—as my alter ego learned from various sources—his family used to be in the racketeering business, is probably running some criminal operations even now, and definitely provides pretty crap working conditions at their own factories. And I'm sure that if I started digging into that aristocrat, I'd find not just a bad smell but straight‑up shit.

It's not like that made me furious—"oh no, someone out there is a criminal." It just killed any sympathy.

Anyway, that doesn't matter anymore.

After that, like I mentioned earlier, I went back to my own stuff. I rented myself a nice little mansion with decent renovations (no damn pipes on the roof!), four bedrooms on the second floor, and a big basement. Too bad the owner, the bastard, didn't want to sell. "The rental business is more important," you see. And I wasn't about to offer him several times what the place was worth, so he can go wipe his nose; renting it suits me just fine.

Hm… what does that remind me of? Whatever.

The time that followed was sometimes even boring. And a bit later—even sad… Because I found out about what looked like the beginning of some kind of Uchiha coup. And another piece of news—Shisui's death…

But I wasn't allowed to mull it over while nursing a beer mug full of milk. A certain inventive old woman noticed my gloom. And she decided that moment was the perfect time to slightly change our training approach.

---

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[Welydora]

Evening. Sarutobi Hiruzen was, as usual, sitting in his office, sifting through papers and smoking his pipe.

Gazing at the report on the general affairs of the "P‑Puzzles" company, he could only sigh and set it aside. After that, he took out a scroll and wrote a decree saying he was no longer to be notified about that particular venture.

Koharu‑chan did a good job, he couldn't help but note.

And indeed, thanks to that woman, his ward had managed to acquire considerable resources without much harm to himself or those around him.

Hiruzen was too modest to admit his own significant role in this: answering Naruto's many questions regarding politics and the country's internal affairs, and helping him put together certain strategies.

The only thing is those "legal methods"... Here, the old man could only shake his head.

As Hokage, he was supposedly in charge of maintaining order in the country… or at least in his own Village. Hiruzen barely managed the second part, and even that was a stretch. How it had come to the point where he was almost abetting Naruto's shady business on the Land of Fire's territory was harder to justify. No—that was a lie. Sarutobi understood perfectly well that he was sometimes too soft. That was why he'd gone along with it. He just couldn't seem to do anything about it.

It had all started with that harmless suggestion that Naruto needed to be more responsible and start getting used to living on his own. It seemed like standard practice for someone his age, something taken for granted. And of course, no one would just dump a kid in an empty house without first teaching him how to do laundry, cook, and clean. But apparently, even if he hadn't shown it, his ward had taken those words way too seriously.

As a result of that seriousness, he went on a proper bender in the capital and rented himself a mansion. Why he'd done the latter was also beyond Sarutobi. By his standards, a house with walls was already good enough. Hiruzen's own parents had lived comfortably in tents. An apartment like Naruto's, he would have happily given to the Daimyo's children—and the Daimyo himself on top of that. Why not? The walls were straight with quality finishing, no pests, the floors didn't creak, there was hot water and gas. Everything was perfectly fine. But because of the view of some damned pipes, Naruto had flat‑out refused to live there…

In any case, it didn't matter anymore. A lot of time had passed since then. And, to the old man's regret, Naruto was the least of his, so to speak, "problems." Alas, Hiruzen was the Hokage, and a lot was happening in the village he ruled.

Shortly after classes started at the Academy, a Mist spy—Kohinata Mukai—was exposed in Konoha. Before that, Hiruzen had considered him a loyal shinobi, even if he was an irresponsible drunk at times. He was also a Hyuga bastard, and a fairly strong and well‑known Konoha ninja, though, again, there were times when he was assigned a mission but couldn't go because he was too drunk to walk.

Danzo uncovered this connection between the Leaf shinobi and the Mist and had him killed by two Uchiha—Itachi and Shisui.

Hiruzen disliked his "rival's" methods. He tried to see the best in people, especially those he had worked with for a long time, and those who had long (if not always) fulfilled their duties and cared about Konoha. And only some nagging feeling on the edge of his mind stopped Sarutobi from expressing this disapproval with more than just words.

After this incident, the ANBU ranks were joined by the youngest member in their history. Uchiha Itachi, it seemed, was not inferior in potential to his relative, Shisui.

What also bothered Hiruzen were Danzo's encroachments on the Uchiha clan, even if they seemed to benefit the village.

The Uchiha had been pushed out to live on the outskirts of the village, suspected of controlling the Nine‑Tails. The bijuu had definitely been controlled by an Uchiha, but whether he was actually loyal to the clan was unknown. Danzo was one of those who advocated openly distrusting the clan. Over time, that turned into worse and worse treatment.

Lamenting his own passivity, Hiruzen could only regret this. Over the years, it had eventually led to the discovery of a brewing Uchiha coup.

Sarutobi tried to resolve the matter peacefully, but with little success.

Danzo had managed to persuade Itachi to spy for them—the elders and the Hokage—on clan affairs. Hiruzen wanted to use this for a smoother resolution of the conflict, but the other elders were not so peace‑loving, while Danzo expressed contempt for his actions, saying that a ruler shouldn't be a doormat who lets everyone do as they please, and that such audacity (a planned coup) had to be answered in kind.

Then a solution, it seemed, presented itself. Not the best one… but a solution nonetheless. Uchiha Shisui revealed to the Hokage and the council that his Mangekyo Sharingan could profoundly alter a person's priorities. He also revealed his plan—with his eyes, it would be possible to rewrite the mind of the Uchiha clan head so that he himself would believe the coup was a bad idea and do everything he could to obstruct it from within the clan.

Hiruzen, as always, disliked this partial, yet still very real, murder of a personality. But that sacrifice was acceptable to save hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lives that could be extinguished if the coup happened.

So Hiruzen agreed to the plan and ordered Shisui to act. This, judging by his reactions, did not please Danzo. It was as if he wanted an escalation of the conflict, one that could deal a monstrous blow to the Leaf.

Just recently, Shisui's body had been found in the river, and Hiruzen couldn't help but feel a surge of dark emotions.

Perhaps—just perhaps, Hiruzen thought—someone had taken too much upon himself. Perhaps he didn't understand that his actions could lead Konoha—thousands of people, and possibly far more—to their deaths. After all, after a revolution, the Village would be weakened, which could lead to another war.

But without hard evidence, he couldn't pass judgment. There was a chance that Shisui had failed in his plan and been killed by his own… but the old man's intuition told him otherwise.

For now, all Sarutobi could do was continue his policy of reconciliation, so things wouldn't come to the worst.

Lost in thought, Hiruzen didn't notice that night had fallen.

"!"

"A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A!!!!!"

A wave of very powerful, vicious chakra, as sudden as a bout of diarrhea, nearly launched the old man out of his chair. A heart‑rending scream echoed across all of Konoha.

"N‑Naruto?!" Sarutobi couldn't believe his own senses, unerringly recognizing the chakra as he stepped up to the window.

"You old bastard! I'll wrap your guts around a fucking flag until you howl like a jackal, you bitch!" came the voice of Hiruzen's ward from outside the window.

Boom—a muffled explosion sounded, shaking even the Hokage's residence slightly.

"You think your shitty clone is gonna fool me? I'll shove your airheaded ass into a meat grinder and churn you into paste! Then I'll feed you to a pack of mangy dogs just like you!"

"!!"

An even stronger wave of chakra washed over the Village, making the windows of the Hokage's residence tremble.

"I'll find you, you bitch! I'll shove you in a furnace, then flush your ashes down the shitter! You're fucking dead, Koharu‑u!"

Watching the blond figure rapidly disappear into the distance, the Hokage simply closed his eyes.

So that's what she meant back then, when she said she'd take Naruto's training to a new level, Sarutobi thought, nodding to himself as he sat back down in his chair. Well then, old friend. That was your decision, and you can deal with it yourself.

After that, the old man, as if he hadn't seen or heard a thing, simply went back to sorting through the remaining papers.

Interlude. Utatane Koharu. A little earlier

Late evening wrapped Konoha in a soft blanket of silence. In the modest room of a certain "old hag," a single lamp burned. Its uneven light snatched the elder's focused face from the gloom, along with the glint of thin senbon needles she was methodically arranging on a low table.

She inspected each senbon carefully, checking its balance and sharpness, then gently dabbed its tip in a viscous, almost black liquid from a small ceramic vial.

Lately, her thoughts often revolved around a single figure—Uzumaki Naruto.

The boy. A bundle of contradictions. Insolence bordering on outright impudence and a mind as sharp as a kunai's edge. Self‑confidence and an astonishing, almost frightening capacity for learning. Hiruzen, her old friend and eternal opponent in matters of education and policy, saw in him some sort of messianic destiny, a reflection of his parents' Will of Fire. Koharu, however, long used to looking at the world without rose‑colored glasses, saw above all… potential. Vast, unrefined, like a diamond found in the mud. Potential that could become either Konoha's greatest asset or its ruin if not cut and polished correctly. She preferred to think of him as a tool. Perhaps the most perfect tool that had ever fallen into her hands. But a tool needs a master's hand so it serves its purpose instead of maiming everything around it.

That was her goal and her motive. As an elder and someone whom Tobirama‑sensei himself had entrusted with protecting Konoha, she couldn't ignore Hiruzen's offer to become the jinchuriki's mentor. That would have been irresponsible, weak, and dangerous for the Leaf's future. If she hadn't agreed, Uzumaki could have ended up in other, possibly much worse, hands.

His recent escapade with the puzzles had stirred a complex mix of emotions in Koharu. On one hand, the blatant disregard for the rules, the use of proxies, the manipulations—all of that couldn't help but earn her disapproval as an elder and guardian of order. On the other… she couldn't help but appreciate the brilliant application of the very principles she had taught him. Market analysis, identifying needs (even artificially created ones), exploiting weaknesses (greed, gambling), scaling up with shadow clones, calculated risk and a timely exit with maximum profit. It was an almost perfect sabotage operation, just transplanted into the peacetime economy. The brat had not only absorbed her lessons on tactics and strategy—he'd creatively reworked them and applied them in a completely unexpected field. That spoke of a flexible mind, of an ability to think outside the box. Qualities invaluable for a shinobi of her profile. Hiruzen, of course, lamented the "questionable methods," but Koharu saw in it further proof that her lessons hadn't gone to waste.

However, success in intellectual games and even in controlled spars didn't guarantee survival in the real world. In a world where the enemy wouldn't follow rules, where an attack could come from any direction, at any moment. Naruto was physically strong, his chakra control was growing at an astonishing rate, his mind was sharp. But he lacked… animal instinct. Instincts honed to a shine, reflexes that outpaced thought. He knew what analysis and calculation were. But sometimes there's simply no time for that.

Hiruzen worried about his "soul," his "humanity." Koharu understood that concern. She herself wouldn't have wanted to see a soulless killing machine at her side, no matter what other shinobi thought of her preferences. But she also knew that excessive softness, indecisiveness, the inability to act hard and fast in a critical situation—that was a straight road to the shinobi cemetery. Survival first, philosophy later. That was her principle.

That was precisely why she had decided on this… lesson. Senbon coated in a specially prepared compound. Not lethal, no. Koharu wasn't reckless. But it would cause enough pain to knock all the fake calm out of the boy, all his confidence in controlling the situation. Pain is an excellent teacher—the fastest and the most straightforward. It would force his body to remember that danger can come from where you least expect it. That you can't relax for a single second. That the world is not a safe training ground.

Koharu imagined his reaction. Rage, of course. Possibly a stream of prime curses, which he was famous for in moments of irritation. An attempt to catch up, to take revenge. All of that was predictable. And even useful. Rage could be channeled, turned into fuel for growth. The important thing was not to let it drown him, but to teach him to control that fire.

Koharu's clone was ready. The escape route was planned. There was, of course, a risk. Hiruzen could find out and be extremely displeased. But in such serious matters, Utatane was used to acting out of necessity, not out of fear of someone else's opinion, even if that opinion was the Hokage's. She bore the responsibility for making sure this "tool" was not only powerful, but also reliable. And if, for that, she had to use slightly… unorthodox methods, she was ready.

Tomorrow, Uzumaki Naruto would receive a very important lesson. One that might, one day, save his life. And if he broke from such a "trifle"… well, then Hiruzen had been wrong about his potential. Better to find that out now.

Koharu finished with the last senbon. There was no malice in her eyes, no sadism. Only cold calculation and firm conviction in the rightness of her actions. She didn't enjoy other people's pain.

She was just doing her job.

Sharpening her tool.


Stalking from a great distance, Koharu's Shadow Clone pursued its target. Uzumaki had a monstrous sensory ability at close range and an extremely good one at medium range, but that didn't mean he was omniscient. Far from it; everyone has weaknesses, there's always a way in.

Sitting on one of the high‑rises, Koharu finally waited for Naruto to stop moving. He'd gone into some hole‑in‑the‑wall place with tables under an awning. Only the lower half of his body was visible.

Good enough view.

She took out a senbon, then began to form Wind Release chakra around it.

A fleeting moment of concentration—and the projectile shot forward at immense speed, burying itself halfway into his right buttock.

"!"

"A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A!!!!!"

The mission was almost complete. Now all that was left was to wait for a good moment to disperse, after which the original, currently outside Konoha, would send a letter to the Hokage saying that Utatane was going to visit a certain secret place (without, of course, specifying where in the letter), so she would be absent from the Village of the Leaf for about a week.

For now, she could direct Uzumaki's anger where it needed to go—that is, at Koharu. And maybe, just a tiny bit, mess with him: tell him exactly what kind of poison it was and lecture him that he needed to be more careful.

Uzumaki Naruto's POV

Ugh… fuck, that bony bitch… I was mentally cursing Koharu, limping in the direction of my house while at the same time trying, with a hand on my ass and the help of chakra, to draw out the poison. Feels like Amaterasu, that local goddess from the fairy tales, spat right on my ass…

Thanks to the adrenaline dump, I'd stopped feeling the pain almost as soon as it hit, and right after her words about the pain‑inducing poison, I lunged at Koharu. Real shame it was just a clone, which popped the moment my fist was supposed to knock that cold snake's head off.

Alas, even after that—after I swept the whole damn village with my sensory perception—I still couldn't find her chakra. The Leaf was too crowded to pick out her signature at long range, so I spent about five minutes darting around the Village until the pain reminded me it was still there.

The old hag had apparently accounted for everything and, after altering her signature, was hiding somewhere, so I wouldn't be able to find her even if I really tried.

But whatever. The world's round and Konoha's not that big. If not today, we'll bump into each other in a month…

During my search for the granny, chunin and jonin kept rolling up on me, asking if everything was okay. I barely remember how I, probably not very politely, told them yeah, I couldn't be better, and asked them not to get in the way of me looking for one very bad person.

Right now, using my top‑tier chakra shape‑manipulation skills and, on sheer willpower, forcing a freshly invented medical ninjutsu technique through my whole body, I was making a second technique pull the poison—which had already spread through my bloodstream—back to the entry point, while the first finally extracted it from my body.

Should've learned Suiton… I whined inwardly, not very familiar with Water Release jutsu—same as, honestly, with other elemental jutsu. With Water, it would've been easier to flush this crap out of my system.

With similar thoughts, after walking another two hundred meters, I finally managed to completely get rid of the poison. After that, I headed home normally, along the rooftops.

So what was I thinking about back at that cafe? About the Uchiha. They were on everyone's lips right now because of the death of their genius.

Shisui had seemed like such a good guy, even if he was an asshole sometimes. Shame about him.

This whole mess that the average villager doesn't even see—but it's there. The coup. In theory, I could stick my nose into it, change something.

A bit late for that now, of course. It would've been better to interfere while Shisui was still alive. There would've been more options.

The question was: did I even need this?

I turned over the dubious "pros" in my head—like, say, strengthening Konoha in the long run thanks to a clan with strong genes; maybe, though that was doubtful, the Uchiha's loyalty; and, most importantly, a sane Sasuke, who might grow into a seriously powerful shinobi and help me in a clash with the Otsutsuki… Did I mention these prospects were dubious? Every single bullet point on that list was.

The downsides that would follow me helping resolve the coup were… putting myself on the map and making an enemy out of Danzo—if I remembered right, he was the one who really wanted to shorten all the Uchiha by a head. And then it got even worse: putting myself on the radar of Obito, that masked bastard who fought the old man who used to own this body, killed my mother, a bunch of other people, and almost me along with them. And the old man, by the way, had been far from the weakest Kage. On top of that, there was Black Zetsu lurking somewhere out there, that black goo from hentai cartoons that was supposedly crazy smart and a crazy good manipulator. With all that, getting involved in this coup business looked like a perverted way of committing suicide.

About "putting myself on the map." By that I meant showing that I could be a threat. My chakra flares around the village and my jumps across the rooftops didn't really show much of that threat. Having a shit‑ton of chakra doesn't mean I can actually use it. Shunshin doesn't prove much either. And I hadn't thrown around any techniques even of B‑rank, so there probably wasn't much to worry about yet.

Back to the Uchiha. Even if I completely turned my brain off and decided to barge into this mess, how was I supposed to resolve the coup so that the Uchiha stayed alive—and everyone else in the Village too?

I could try to find irrefutable proof that the Uchiha were being manipulated by a third party (Obito), and that this manipulator was behind the Nine‑Tails' attack and all the tension. Assuming that kind of proof even existed. That'd require insane espionage skills, serious analytical chops, and probably help from people I trusted completely—like ANBU personally loyal to me (which, conveniently, I did not have). I'd need to find Obito's tracks, his motives, his connection to past events…

Maybe some people in Konoha thought I was too full of myself. I didn't see it that way. Sure, I was hot shit, but in an operation like that there was, what, a ninety‑nine percent chance I'd screw up somewhere and get myself killed. And even if everything somehow worked out, Obito would most likely find out about my little investigation and try to take me out. Meanwhile, the evidence itself might be considered unconvincing. Meaning I'd just be putting myself under very serious risk without getting anything good out of it.

Another option—though not exactly less insane than the previous one—was to reveal my whole "transmigrator" deal to the Uchiha head. Genjutsu isn't just about illusions. It's also about suggestion, hypnosis, forcing someone to spill what they subjectively think is the truth. So I could stroll up to Fugaku and ask him to use his Sharingan to make me tell him everything I knew about Obito. Then hand that information over to Konoha's leadership under a Yamanaka technique (or the other way around, the order didn't matter much).

That could shift the focus of anger and distrust from the Uchiha to a common enemy. But again, it was all iffy. Starting with the fact that I considered the Uchiha not quite right in the head, and if I came at them with a request like that, they'd either kill me or pack me up and send me off to a psych ward. An Uzumaki jinchuriki is a rarity these days, after all, and just being a weirdo isn't reason enough to kill one.

I could also be some kind of middleman between the Uchiha and the Village's interests, to drag them both to some compromise. Say, more rights for the Uchiha, more respect, lifting of suspicion; for the Village—guarantees of loyalty, a promise to drop the coup idea. Speaking very roughly. But for that I'd need a reputation, power, and some insane diplomatic skills. And the Hokage was probably already doing that, or would start once he learned about the coup; given his character, he almost definitely would. And if even the old man couldn't pull it off, what business did I have sticking my nose in?

The last option was also as dubious as it sounded: kill Danzo and Fugaku, as the main escalators of the conflict, and scatter evidence pointing to some third, unknown party. And then, whatever happens, happens. That might kill the conflict and unite both sides to take on this mysterious threat—or, on the contrary, speed the coup up. And that was without even getting into how to kill two strong, high‑ranking shinobi in the Village at once. Honestly, that part wasn't even the biggest problem. The real problem was doing it in a way that neither side would suspect the other—and that no suspicion would fall on me either. That was the part that was a real pain.

Summing it all up, it was better for me not to climb into this coup shit at all. Sure, I felt bad for the people—but I felt worse for myself.

By the time I reached my little mansion, I'd finally decided the Uchiha's fate.

As for Sasuke… if I ever actually needed him, I'd grit my teeth and pay for a psychiatrist. Luckily, I had a contact.

For now, again, it was time to focus on my own business. Fuinjutsu, medical ninjutsu, brush up on some elemental jutsu. And I still needed to set up a Terrible Vengeance for Koharu.

So I dove into my own stuff.

And so the days started rolling by again.

The old hag only came back a week later. But when I mirrored her and stuck a senbon with a custom poison of my own into her, she just said it was unoriginal and that I could do better, then dispersed. Clone, obviously.

After that, every few days she'd show up again—only to get ambushed by me. Koharu had been right, I could do better, and I really had to come up with more and more twisted tactics. Shame that every time she sent a clone, while she herself seemed to have moved out of Konoha altogether. Worse yet, those same clones started coming after me on their own, each time with a different poison, making me go through the same very painful sensations several more times.

For a week I couldn't sleep. Even moving my bedroom into a windowless corridor didn't stop her. She'd sneak into my house—since she couldn't hit me from long range—and still manage to stick those damn needles into my poor, sleeping body.

Only after a month did I fully adapt. My soul‑sphere vision helped a lot with that, or so I thought. It felt like my brain was now using it—along with my other senses, to a lesser degree—to monitor danger around me even better, around the clock. By the end of that period, after I'd noticed those abilities in myself, I even risked sleeping next to the windows again. And you can imagine my surprise when I managed—on the second try, but still—to catch Koharu's senbon in my hand, and only then wake up.

After that incident, the elder's attacks started to taper off. They'd just lost their point, since every attempt ended with yet another dispersed clone.

Over time, I even developed a sort of grudging gratitude toward the old woman for hammering those very useful reflexes into me.

Then, another month later, when I was no longer half‑dead and pissed off all the time, she came to make peace. For her, constantly sending out clones just to have me pop them was a hassle. And on top of that, she was an elder—she had duties in the village and all that. Back then, Koharu also explained her motive: that I needed to develop proper shinobi reflexes, for my own safety for the rest of my life.

I agreed not to hunt her anymore, and she, judging by her behavior, only fully believed it another couple of months later.

Our delightful relationship—where we tried to stick the nastiest possible poison into each other—continued in our spars. In off‑hours, though, it stayed one‑sided: only from me, to really lock those reflexes in.

Time started flying by again, business as usual.

Koharu, as I figured, was starting to let her guard down…

And that was exactly what I'd been waiting for…

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

In ten months, she'd regret ever being born…

---

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[Welydora]

About a year—that's how long the preparations for Revenge took overall. I didn't feel like going the crude route: grab Koharu with overwhelming force, drag her down into my basement, pump her full of a poison like the one they used on me, and enjoy her suffering. That would've been boring. And it's not like we were enemies in the full sense. We weren't actually trying to kill each other or torment one another just out of spite. It was just a game… but that didn't mean you shouldn't take it seriously. So… my actual plan was similar to the one I described above, but the nuances were very different.

Most likely, she expected me to hurt her physically. She carefully checked everywhere she stayed or moved through for any trace of poison and was ready for ambushes. How do I know? I'll get to that later. As for her motives, they definitely weren't baseless—after all, I'd tried to set up ambushes for her clones more than once before I finally calmed down and started thinking about a slightly different way to get to her.

Elder Koharu has a certain reputation, and a big part of it rests on her stealth and how she uses it. It's not just Root that does espionage; some of the Hokage's ANBU do it too, plus a kind of personal—but not entirely—ANBU under Utatane's direct command. You could say Konoha has at least three spy services, which isn't that surprising for what is literally a village of spies. Okay, "service" is a bit loud, considering each one probably doesn't have that many people in it. A few squads here, a few more there—that's what I figure from the patterns and facts I've picked up in this world, and that's most likely how it is.

Destroying that reputation would hurt. A lot. On the scale of the whole village, it could lead to major, irreversible consequences. So I wasn't planning to go big. But on a smaller, more personal scale? Oh, absolutely.

Wanting to ruin the old hag on her own turf, I methodically and carefully sent shadow clones to shadow Koharu. Their chakra signatures were altered and muted, and they were filthy—smeared in a special clay with minerals mixed in so that even a Hyūga wouldn't be able to recognize them if it came to that. For months, from as far away as possible, they learned the routes of Koharu, her subordinates, and her subordinates' subordinates. They used the skills she herself had taught me, plus everything I knew about that old mare—her habits, what she paid the most attention to—and also tried out some new tricks to reduce the chance of detection even further. The shadow clones were as careful as possible; there was no point in rushing. So only after several months of prep did the spying start to bear its first fruit.

That's why I knew exactly what Koharu was expecting from me and what she was up to.

I used a lot of fuin. A lot. Placed in key spots, they picked up sound vibrations and recorded, for later analysis, Koharu's orders to her subordinates and the orders given by the top people among those subordinates. Without using chakra—so as not to trip any sensors—tunnels were dug under the meeting and rest areas of shinobi under Utatane's command, as well as under the elder's own house and workplaces.

A few more months gave me even more. On top of the fact the clones kept finding more and more ways to get intel, they documented everything about Koharu's own plans, secret ANBU operations, every mission they managed to learn about, and weaknesses in various security systems—things she was supposed to keep under wraps or keep under control. Over the months, all of that was compiled into several scrolls, which I then memorized and kept only in my head—to minimize the risk of anything leaking and to avoid putting Konoha in danger.

When day X finally came, I created a clone with more than half my chakra and handed it a copy of the encrypted scroll of kompromat, sealed in one of my special bracers with a storage seal that could be triggered to self-destruct its contents.

I myself headed toward the Hokage Residence. I needed to hang around there, as a safe spot, and keep my main clone under control so it wouldn't dispel because of some unforeseen crap. Or, on the contrary, so it would dispel—but only after making damn sure it destroyed whatever was in that storage bracer.

That same shadow clone's POV

The streets of Konoha were warm, but not too hot. A pleasant breeze brushed against my skin, and the birdsong seemed especially nice today.

Practically dancing along to the little tune that had started playing in my head, I walked toward Koharu's workplace.

Entering the strictly furnished building, I moonwalked straight up to the door the elder was behind.

Sliding the door open without a sound, I immediately met Koharu's narrow eyes, absolutely overflowing with suspicion.

Her subordinates had definitely reported my arrival, and of course they hadn't forgotten to mention what mood I was in.

Besides her, there was an ANBU on duty in the corner, and a few more outside the room.

When I came in and sat at the small table across from the old hag, she asked in a "friendly" tone:

"What the hell are you doing here, you insolent brat?"

"You know, today is just one hell of a good day."

Judging by how her face wrinkled up even more, she disagreed.

"Ahem," I coughed, then lazily waved a hand to tell the ANBU on duty to leave. "Don't bother us."

He only listened when the old woman repeated the gesture.

Koharu's face got even darker, with a layer of seriousness on top.

"Don't waste my time. I have a ton of work to do, unlike some people," she said, starting to lose her temper.

In response to her attempt to rush me, I just burst out laughing, loud and long, which pissed her off even more.

Right when it looked like she was about to blow and probably chuck something heavy at me, I stopped dead.

My hand went to the bracer. A pulse of chakra, and a thick book appeared, landing on the table with a loud thump at my gesture.

For a moment, the old hag glanced at the new object, then shifted her gaze to my face, which had gone dark and serious under the shadow that had fallen over it.

"The hour of reckoning has struck. Read."

Dialing the tension down a notch, Koharu reached for the book, opened it, and started checking the sections.

Her eyes immediately landed on a list of codenamed missions she herself was in charge of, sorted by date.

"This…" She stared at me in shock. "You were never supposed to have this information."

Without saying anything else, her gaze jumped to the section listing eleven weaknesses found in the ANBU structure: how information is passed inside the organization and her personal screwups in organizing all the mission processes.

"I'm not in a hurry. Take your time," I said as the elder raised her head, and she immediately dove back into reading.

Over the next ten minutes, her expression cycled from stunned, to frowning, to upset, and finally to pure despair.

"Maybe this isn't all your classified info. Some of your safety measures, I admit, are very good," I began. "Even after a long time, I couldn't get around some of them. And there's probably stuff I couldn't even find a trace of, right?"

The old woman tore her eyes away from the book and stared at me, her lips pressed into a line.

"But even what is here? It's not 'a little'. No. It's a fuckton."

"What do you want?" Koharu asked dryly, and immediately clarified, "For this information to stay right here."

Yeah, of course she figured out I wanted to leak this data. Most likely, only to trusted people—some important jōnin, the other elder, Mitokado Homura, and a hundred percent the Hokage. That would be a brutal blow to her reputation. All those weaknesses in her structure—she was the one who should've foreseen them, prevented them. She's the expert in this field, after all.

Maybe they'd strip her of her authority. Maybe not. Either way, Koharu wouldn't be able to look the people she'd worked with for decades in the eye. Her whole path as a shinobi would be disgraced.

Honestly, it still wasn't the absolute worst. Bad, sure. But Koharu is sharp and pretty inventive. She'd probably already imagined an even worse outcome for herself than anything I could've come up with.

"I'll warn you right away: I'm a shadow clone. The original has all this information stored in his head," I said first, cutting off any bright ideas she might have. Like grabbing me to try and convince me this stuff should only go to her and never, ever be told to anyone else. In response, I just heard a snort.

"And he's most likely hanging around the Hokage Residence," Koharu said, keeping a surprisingly straight face. "So that, if anything happens, he can hand me over immediately and without any trouble."

My smug grin only confirmed her guess.

"And I also know you took every precaution to make sure this"—she lifted the book—"doesn't end up where it shouldn't. We've studied each other well, Uzumaki."

"Exactly. But you know, I'm not without a sense of gratitude. Love for my fellow man. Understanding. We've been through a lot together," I finally started getting to the point. "So I'm offering you two options. First: I tell all this to the Hokage, and only him. You lose all authority only in his eyes…"

"…in the eyes of a man I'll be forced to see very often," Koharu noted reasonably.

"Yeeah…" I drawled, even more pleased.

If the info stayed between just the three of us, things would play out exactly the way she'd just said. Hiruzen would be very unlikely to fire her. She did her job, if not perfectly, then well enough. But for her it'd still turn into an eternal, almost daily shame.

"Second option." From my second bracer I unsealed an hourglass and a syringe filled with dark liquid. Koharu's eyes flashed in recognition. A shadow fell over my face again, making my grin look even nastier. "One thousand five hundred and eleven seconds. I counted every single goddamn second of agony in that month. You're going to inject this yourself and endure it, fully conscious, until the sand runs out. Otherwise, we'll stretch this out into as many sessions as it takes."

I unloaded the items onto the table.

Koharu hesitated, but still reached for the poison.

"Hear that sound, Uzumaki? That's the First Hokage rolling in his grave over all your 'love' and 'understanding'," she said, then, in one sharp motion, drove the needle into herself.

Immediately, clenching her jaw, Koharu toppled back and curled up on the floor. Veins bulged across her forehead from the pain.

Slowly flipping the hourglass, I settled in comfortably to wait.

Soon the old hag's mouth opened and she started breathing hard—ragged, but deep.

It wasn't exactly a pleasant sight. But it did bring a solid dose of satisfaction.

And so, to the sound of Koharu's harsh breathing, her allotted seconds dragged by.

She'd positioned herself so she could see the hourglass. And when the last grains of sand fell, she simply blacked out.

"Hm. Respectable," I admitted, standing up. "Let's see what we've got here…"

I bent over her body to check her condition.

Alive. Teeth cracked to hell from the strain. I couldn't see it myself, but I knew for a fact her central nervous system was fucking… shocked by that kind of stress and only held the body conscious thanks to sheer iron will.

Forming a few hand seals, I started spewing a stream of water from my mouth. The liquid didn't fall—it gathered into an amorphous mass in my hands.

Over the past year, I'd managed to pick up Wind and Water Release—not at a very high level, especially if you compared me to Hiruzen, but still.

"This won't hurt either…" From my leg, a web of fuin started spreading out around Koharu, helping me treat her.

Once I'd built up enough water, I wrapped Koharu's whole body in it. The water seeped into her and began drawing the poison out.

A few minutes later, the same old hag was still lying there soaked, and in my left hand was a ball of water with all the poison inside.

Walking over to the side of the room, I dug out the only bit of luxury in this otherwise ascetic place—a small teapot and a few cups. I poured the poisoned water into the teapot.

"A souvenir," I said, setting the teapot on the table, then left the room.

I had other things to do. I always do.

On that note, Revenge could be considered complete.

I took the book. I'll hand it back when she wakes up. And after something like this, Koharu won't be waking up for a couple of days.

For now, I'll go tell the ANBU to haul her off to the hospital.

Some time later. Utatane Koharu

The Konoha elder came to on a hospital bed in her home village. She recognized the white room right away.

Her whole body ached with that nasty, all-over pain. Recent memories slammed into her skull along with the headache.

"The pain will pass soon… My reputation, though, would've been lost forever," Utatane reminded herself, justifying her decision.

For a few minutes, her face twisted as she remembered a certain blond-haired boy. The "old woman" felt real irritation and humiliation at having been "taught a lesson" like that by a literal child.

"Well… that was seriously done," she couldn't help but admit. The feelings were quickly smothered by pragmatism.

Now the image of the infuriating, way-too-brazen-for-his-size brat—whom Koharu had already respected a little for his effort in realizing his potential and his quick grasp of her teachings—jumped up a solid few points.

"And I suppose I won't be planning any revenge of my own…" Utatane decided sensibly. She understood she wasn't getting any younger, while the sometimes-to-the-point-of-pain irritating Uzumaki, on the contrary, was getting stronger every year. She wasn't afraid, but she understood perfectly well that that was it. She wouldn't keep up. This… insubordinate youth had surpassed her. At least in most professional aspects.

Koharu also wasn't worried he'd pull something as stupid as leaving that book lying on her desk for some subordinate to read. If he had made such a dumb mistake, she would've pulled together every scrap of power she had, found him, and with a whole crowd taught him a lesson even harsher than anything she'd done before. As it was, Utatane knew Uzumaki would keep his word.

When the woman was discharged, she would, of course, get that little book. Then, with all the diligence she had, she'd go over everything: ANBU, her subordinates, the whole organization. She'd do everything she could to close all the weaknesses Uzumaki had found, and she'd try to find new ones. All that would happen a bit later, after her "suddenly initiated inspections." She'd shut down the most critical gaps immediately, but the little stuff could wait.

No need to rush that part. The vulnerabilities Uzumaki had been able to identify were due to a number of solid reasons. They didn't mean that if enemy spies came here, they'd just as easily find everything he did. Her student, first of all, had skills that very, very few spies possess; second, he knew Konoha's shinobi and her personally very well; third, he had huge freedom of movement through the village and, accordingly, better conditions for deeper reconnaissance; and fourth, he had even more options thanks to his unique abilities—like a ridiculous amount of chakra and those shadow clones of his, which, in such large numbers and on a constant basis, probably only the blond could make.

Koharu's workload had definitely gone up, and her problems hadn't shrunk. The Uchiha… a headache. But you could live with that too.

Uzumaki Naruto's POV

When the old hag recovered, I handed her the honestly earned little book, got a thank-you for the tea, and went back to my usual rhythm of life.

Hiruzen grumbled something along the lines of why, after I get involved, an elder had to be dragged to the hospital with nervous shock. I blamed it on our personal relationship and asked him not to interfere and let me sort it out myself. Later, when Koharu had fully recovered, she asked Hiruzen to do exactly what I'd asked for too. The old man respected our personal boundaries and didn't bring it up again.

Koharu, by the way, seemed to really appreciate how carefully I'd looked after her little book. After that, she started treating me with a lot more respect.

Still, in the grand scheme of things, not that much changed.

Training went on.

Life flowed along at its own pace. Month after month.

Just like in the story I knew, the Uchiha massacre happened. It didn't stir much in me. I was focused on my own stuff, especially medicine.

Only occasionally, to blow off some steam and change the scenery, I'd drop by the Academy.

On one of those "visits," I got the chance to show off my basic grasp of psychology.

---

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[Welydora]

On a typical day, I was sitting through yet another lesson at the Academy. Gendai, in his usual, measured manner, was lecturing us on chakra theory—very superficially and in broad strokes, so the kids could get it. The actual lesson wasn't much use to me.

More than a year had passed since I'd enrolled in the Ninja Academy. I was almost eight, and it was early October.

Not much had happened at the Academy during that time, though the personalities of certain characters had definitely revealed themselves.

In the back of the classroom, at the last desks, sat two girls, one with pink hair and the other blonde. Sakura and Ino, obviously.

Exchanging looks that could practically throw off lightning, they kept shooting what they considered loving gazes at the black‑haired kid sitting in front of them—Sasuke.

At the very beginning of our studies, Sakura had been very modest, followed etiquette, and hid her emotions. Ino, on the other hand, was pretty loud‑mouthed, bold, and sometimes a bit too expressive with her feelings. Somehow these two opposites attracted and became friends.

I found out from Hinata that, sometime when I wasn't around, a bunch of little shits, copying each other, started teasing the pink‑haired girl. The blonde stood up for her, and that's what they bonded over. Ino even gave Sakura a red ribbon, which she now ties into a bow on her head. It turned into a very cute little story of friendship and Sakura slowly growing more confident.

That lasted until the recent incident with the Uchiha clan. After the failed coup and the wiping out of almost all the red‑eyes, it just so happened that both girls, as they saw it, fell in love with Sasuke. Now they were rivals and, of course, Great Enemies.

The black‑haired kid himself didn't return their feelings and persevered in his indifference. It wasn't just those two clinging to him, either—almost every girl in the class did. But the Uchiha, again, held the line, doing his best to pretend he saw nothing, that their little fits of passion didn't annoy him or stir anything else up, and kept a stone‑cold face. With very mixed success, but it was enough for my female classmates to buy it… and get even more fired up.

Besides pretending to be a chunk of rock, Sasuke was also killing it in class and was the top student. I don't know how that's supposed to help him get revenge on his big bro, the one who butchered their whole family. But I guess he's got some kind of plan and he's sticking to it.

Another one of my classmates was a kid with a permanently bored expression—Shikamaru. It seemed to me he'd already figured life out. How else do you explain why, instead of listening to hour‑long lectures that you could understand in ten minutes of reading, if not less, he just slept through class? And he went further: outside of class time he also didn't bother loading his limitless brain with useless knowledge, so he couldn't answer the questions Gendai sometimes threw at him. Because of that, despite being from the Nara clan—supposedly tacticians and big‑time brainiacs—Shikamaru trailed somewhere near the bottom of the class rankings.

The next student whose character showed itself pretty clearly was Choji. You know, the one with underwear on his head—though he calls it a headband. A kind‑looking, friendly boy; we'd talked about good food a few times. He's friends with Shikamaru. There was this one incident, though, when some not‑very‑tactful kid called Choji a fatass. I was already in the classroom then and was about to say something. But there was no point. The young Akimichi, like he'd just stuffed himself full of berserker pills, immediately lunged at the offender, yelling that he wasn't fat, just big‑boned.

Kids usually don't really get morality or the consequences of their actions. Choji didn't hold back at all—he flattened the kid like a torpedo and started choking him. I had to break them up, since the teacher was off screwing around somewhere.

The next pair was a little duo made up of Kiba Inuzuka and Shino Aburame. Two opposites again. The first is pretty hot‑headed and doesn't watch his mouth. He doesn't drag his dog around with him yet, unlike in the story I know. Guess Akamaru hasn't been born yet. The second is quiet and almost never talks. His clan techniques are based on interacting with insects that the Aburame carry inside their bodies. The kid seems to enjoy watching them at break, when the little critters amusingly crawl out of the holes in his skin and skitter across his desk. Oh, and yeah, those two aren't friends at all; they more like low‑key dislike each other. But Shino argues with Kiba more than with anyone else and, accordingly, talks to him the most. So there's some kind of connection between them.

Hinata, for her part, showed her shy nature pretty clearly when we met. We kind of talked, but not much. And that was over the whole time I'd been at the Academy. Though, based on my memories, this girl wasn't supposed to be able to string even a few words into a sentence. Turned out that wasn't quite true—her shyness wasn't that all‑consuming. Around me, that trait dulls a bit more. When we sit together, she actually seems more comfortable. And that's… pretty cute and at the same time kind of sad. I get these half‑paternal, half‑big‑brother feelings toward this girl.

I tried a few times to pull her into conversations with our other classmates, to help her build connections and develop some social skills. It only sort of worked with Ino. But Ino's a chatterbox anyway, so I doubted that was mostly my achievement.

There were other kids in the class, but I interacted with them even less than with the ones mentioned above. Unlike the clan kids, those ones tried to keep their distance from me. To be fair, you could see some caution toward me even in people like Ino or Kiba, just to a lesser degree. Choji and Shikamaru, though, didn't give a shit about the general mood. And neither did Hinata.

Anyway, back to the clanless kids. There was another thing about them—a revolving door. They changed pretty often. After a year, half of them had either transferred to another class for whatever reason or dropped out entirely. And, as I found out, this would repeat every year. That's the usual trend at the Academy: there's a core of clan kids who stick it out till the end of the course, while the rest get tossed around.

For different reasons—lots of them get expelled for failing grades. The Academy, if you don't judge it by my standards, is actually pretty prestigious and keeps the bar high, especially compared to some random school. In my opinion it's not on some other level, they don't teach anything particularly hard here, but yeah, the standard's decent. So if you don't keep up and don't have relatives who can slip some cash to cover for their dumbass kid, you can definitely get kicked out.

Another reason for dropping out, usually voluntary, is the high tuition and a lack of talent. With enough effort, you can get a solid education here. But some parents, when they see their kid isn't a genius—in fact, more like the opposite—sensibly decide to send their offspring to some other place where they'll pick up practical skills in a different, more realistic field. Training as a ninja eats a pretty hefty sum of money and a ton of time. If you're not an orphan, the Village isn't going to fund you.

There are other ways to get expelled, but talking about them is boring. And besides those, there are probably a few I don't even know about.

Back to why the clanless kids kept their distance from me. From what I overheard a couple of times, their parents told them to. A couple of times they even said it right in front of me, so, not missing the chance, I'd point at those parents, then spin that same finger at my temple, clearly showing what I thought of them.

Though, to be fair, thanks to the way I introduced myself on the first day, a lot of kids already had plenty of reasons of their own to avoid me. I mean, I'm obviously a psycho. Who else would show up like that? And for some reason my note from the psychiatrist didn't convince them otherwise.

The lesson was drawing to a close, and I shifted my attention to our homeroom teacher. He taught us most of our subjects.

Gendai was a calm and slightly slow guy. Only our first meeting didn't go well—he'd been nervous about something back then. But over time he calmed down.

Our relationship was basically at the level of him thinking, "Ah, fuck it, whatever," about me, and me thinking, "No, dude, you're gonna take my bribe and pass me for the year," about him. Because of my schedule—and the simple fact that, for the most part, the Academy wasn't really necessary for me—I skipped a lot. At first that pissed Gendai off. Some students, like Kiba, Choji, and Shikamaru, even started taking cues from me and skipping classes too, which pissed sensei off even more. But while he could do something about those three, with me—he couldn't.

He tried to find me outside of class, but it didn't work out very often. They wouldn't let him into the hospital's research labs, telling him he was screwing around with bullshit and should stop distracting the esteemed Uzumaki‑san from his important work. They really didn't let him onto the training grounds either, where I did my sparring. Once he managed to corner me when I was with Koharu, but he got chewed out by the elder, who told him that if he kept distracting me from important work, he'd get a stick across the spine. The man decided not to test how sturdy his back was and didn't go near the elder again.

There were also times when Gendai caught me at home or somewhere else when I was alone. That's when he'd start digging into why I was apparently pissing on attendance and all that. In response he got an honest answer: I didn't need the Academy because I already knew a lot. So the teacher ran a little test with questions from the last year's curriculum, which, to his surprise, my humble self answered. But he didn't calm down and started asking questions that weren't from the Academy's program, and got the answer that those weren't in the syllabus. That answer just blew his mind, because apparently not all the teachers even know the curriculum, and here a student does.

Next he decided to check my combat ability, so we went to a training ground. A shinobi's supposed to know how to fight, after all. But it was over in less than a second. One "Sha‑a‑a‑a!" from me, and Gendai was down. That ended our conversation for the day, and the man left me alone for a while.

But soon he started showing up again and pestering me about attendance. This time he remembered my obligations as a student, that I really was required to attend classes. I had nothing to say to that, since my guardian must've signed a contract with clauses like that for me. From that moment I started actively offering Gendai a bribe so that he would:

a) finally leave me the hell alone, because he was distracting,

b) pass me for the year with good grades, since I like pretty numbers, even if not that much,

c) just pass me for the year in general, because I needed it for my further education.

But this "Bear"—going by the meaning of his name—dug his heels in like a rhinoceros. He didn't want to take my money. Normally I deal with bears quickly and harshly, but with this particular specimen I couldn't do that—it doesn't really fit the village philosophy. Anyway, Gendai resisted and resisted, but by the end of the year, and after a whole lot of persuading on my part—he took it. He got in trouble for it later and said he would definitely never take a bribe again. But that was a problem for future me.

In class, the guy doesn't bother me. Every time he asked me a question, I'd start to drone on, answering for several minutes when a ten‑second answer would have been enough. And he knew that I knew the material, so there was no real point in asking.

Aside from that first day at the Academy, I didn't really put on shows, which suited Gendai just fine.

Lost in thought, I didn't notice how the lesson ended. Finishing his lecture, Kumao habitually bolted from the classroom.

The break was short, so some people didn't even get up from their seats, just started chatting.

Most of the girls, of course, immediately swarmed Sasuke, while he, naturally, pretended to be a rock.

I almost felt bad for him. They've been like that pretty much nonstop for over two months now.

At that moment, at the desk next to me and Hinata, Shikamaru woke up and, stretching happily, noticed the crowd.

"No, I still don't get it. Why are they all over him like that?" he asked the air.

"That's a philosophical question," I replied casually. "But psychology can explain it too. I know my way around that field. I showed you my certificate, right?"

"Yeah. I think you were bragging about it in front of everyone," Choji, sitting next to Shikamaru and already rustling open a bag of chips, replied neutrally.

"Well then, I'm glad you asked." I turned to Sasuke. "Sasuke, you mind if I make a few assumptions about you?"

In response, the Uchiha just shot me a cold look.

"I'll take that as a yes. Ladies…?"

Sounds of girls hitting on "Sasuke‑kun"

"They don't give a damn," Shikamaru noted.

"Apparently… Hinata, wanna move closer? If you wanna listen to my brilliant thoughts too, I mean."

We moved over to Choji and Shika's desk.

"So," I began my long speech, "I have conducted a study. You do know that people who've got a paper from a psychiatrist are almost as professional as psychiatrists themselves, right?" A snort came from Shikamaru.

"And, to get closer to the point: Sasuke's popularity is built on a whole range of reasons. For better understanding, I'll be comparing him with another individual. Undoubtedly important, respected, and probably the best person in this world."

"You?" Choji asked calmly. After a bit of time talking to me, he'd started to get how my brain works.

"Exactly." I put on a serious face. "My research has identified four main pillars that hold up, so to speak, our classmate's attractiveness. First and most important: the effect of mystery and emotional tension. Our Sasuke creates, in those around him—especially the girls—what's called affective uncertainty. Simply put, you can't figure him the hell out. He's silent, stares into nowhere, zero emotion. And that, weirdly enough, creates cognitive tension. The brain tries to 'solve' him like a hard puzzle, and for every such effort it gets a microdose of dopamine—the pleasure hormone. Get it? It's like gambling: the less clear the outcome, the more you want to keep playing. Unpredictability is a drug for the brain."

I glanced over my audience. Hinata was paying attention, Choji kept a neutral look, focused on his food, and Shikamaru decided my words would go down better while lying on the desk with his eyes closed.

"My humble self, on the other hand, is understandable and accessible. I don't mind talking to anyone and saying what I think. My behavior is predictable. With me, there's no titillating tension, which means no dopamine roller coaster. That causes way less of that dopaminergic buzz. Especially in young people, who naturally go looking for sharper sensations."

"Your predictability is debatable," Choji remarked.

"Yeah, fair. But if you look at my overall behavior, you get roughly that picture."

"Hmph," Shikamaru grunted, unclear whether in agreement or not. He wasn't asleep yet.

"Second point." I tapped two fingers on the desk. "Might sound like the same thing, but not quite. A deficit of attention. Pure economics. What's scarce is expensive. Sasuke almost never hands out his attention. It's a rare resource. Every crumb of it is valued like a gold bar. My nature tends more toward openness. My attention isn't in short supply, so its value trends toward zero."

"That's not true… Naruto‑kun," Hinata objected quietly. "I value your attention."

"And I value that you value it," I said, smiling at her. She immediately turned away, blushing. "But I'm talking in general terms here. For each individual it applies to a different degree."

I paused for a bit and, making sure no one had any questions, continued:

"Point three: narrative drama. Sasuke has a story. Tragedy, revenge, a dark fate, a lost clan. It's a ready‑made plot for an illustrated scroll. The teenage psyche, which is already full of inner conflict, loves stories like that. It's easy to empathize with a suffering hero, to project your own crap onto him. I, in my current version, am stable and straightforward. I don't have that gripping drama going on. I'm not as interesting to 'dive into' emotionally. Technically speaking, that's narrative transportation—the more tragic the story, the easier it hooks you. And finally, the fourth and last point: gender archetypes. Sasuke fits the 'suffering antihero' archetype perfectly. Strong, silent, broken on the inside. Classic template for romantic fantasies—the kind you want to 'save' and 'warm up.' I, on the other hand, even if I were the most successful in the class, fall into the 'reliable friend' archetype. I can be respected, you can laugh with me, cry into my shoulder, but that rarely sparks romantic passion."

Finishing, I once again looked over my listeners. Hinata was just quietly glancing my way, Choji was staring at an empty bag of chips, deep in thought, and from Shikamaru's direction I could already hear soft snoring.

…

At some point Nara told me that my words sometimes make him sleepier than Gendai's lectures. He also guessed it was because my thoughts are complicated and I throw around too many "fancy" terms. I took that as a compliment. Though yeah, it's a reminder I should probably drone on less.

"Ahem. Put more simply, and outside of the 'research,' there are more reasons. Sasuke's just plain rich, from an ancient clan—that alone adds a bunch of points. I've got a good bloodline too, and probably even more money, but no one believes the second part. And he's also pretty good‑looking."

At that last word, not only Hinata and Choji gave me weird looks, but a few girls behind us as well, who, it turned out, had been half‑listening. And also… out of the corner of my eye I saw the Uchiha's eyes widen a little, and he edged his chair back, a bit farther away from me.

"What? No!" I bellowed immediately. "Looks are an objective metric! Nothing personal."

I whipped around sharply.

"You," I said, pointing at a girl who'd started throwing quick glances between me and Sasuke. "Forget whatever you just came up with. If I see yaoi of me and him anywhere"—I jabbed a thumb at the Uchiha—"you'll be so fucking sick of running around courts your head'll spin. Am I being clear?"

She nodded carefully.

"Excellent," I said—right as the bell rang.

That was the end of my little crash course in psychology for their still‑soft brains. Nodding to Choji and getting a nod in return, Hinata and I headed back to our usual seats.

---

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[Welydora]

"You're gonna take the bribe," I told Gendai, dead certain, sitting across from him at a table, just the two of us in a classroom.

"Nope," he said.

It wasn't a regular classroom. More like the kind of office where adults settled "little problems."

"You're taking the bribe."

End of the school year. I needed my attendance record fixed if I wanted to move up a grade.

"Nope."

"You're taking it."

"Nope."

"Hmph." I crossed my arms and leaned back. "So money's a no-go?"

"Correct," he finally varied his answer. "And I'm not taking anything else either. You're working off those absences on Academy grounds, student-san. Only then do I close the book. We've got twenty trees that need transplanting. Then transplanting back."

...

Silence hung between us.

"Right. See you on the next report card."

I stood up and left.

Poor Gendai had no idea who he was dealing with. The guy genuinely didn't know I was usually pretty good at picking locks—even the human kind.

A few days of tailing him and I had everything I needed. Sensei's weak spot.

A little more time to hire the right people.

Soon enough the make‑up period for academic delinquents rolled around.

"You'd be better off taking cash," I told him again, same seat as before.

"No. I'm not taking anything."

"Sure?"

"Positive."

"M'kay." I nodded, stood, and walked to the door under his puzzled stare. "You're closing my year right now, or everyone finds out."

I slid the door open. Two mature, gorgeous women in kimono stepped into view, slits in the fabric showing off some very serious cleavage.

"Time to face your vices, MILF‑lover."

The women walked in. I walked out.

"What the hell is this?!" came the panicked yelp behind me as Gendai shot up from his chair, face turning nuclear red.

One of the ladies slid the door shut, and I didn't see anything else. I quickly left the Academy.

I still had plenty of things to do. I was finally making some progress in medical ninjutsu, I was getting pretty good at fuinjutsu, and on top of Water and Wind I'd started grinding Fire release.

In the end they passed me, and nobody made me transplant a single damn tree. That was my Plan "W"—for "whore." My clones had found out Kumao was crazy about older women. And that day he just couldn't hold himself back. Or didn't find the strength to resist. Unnecessary details. The only thing that mattered was that, not through any fault of mine, people found out about his little "incident."

Hiruzen summoned me and spent ten full minutes chewing me out, going on about how bringing fallen women into the Academy, the alma mater of shinobi, was very uncultured. When he realized I wasn't feeling particularly repentant, he just asked me nicely not to do it again, and I agreed.

Gendai got fired. Rumor said he tried to pin it all on me. Too bad the one caught in that kind of indecent state on school property was him, not me. So the once‑respected sensei turned into just some pervert chunin nobody really liked.

Next year they brought in fresh meat… or rather, a guy named Umino Iruka.

Some grandpa, basically the senior teacher and sort of vice principal, stood in front of my group introducing an eighteen‑year‑old. Iruka had black hair tied back in a ponytail like Shikamaru's, and a horizontal scar running across the bridge of his nose.

"In connection with… unforeseen circumstances," the old man told us, "Gendai‑sensei will no longer be able to teach your class. However, the Academy administration has promptly found him a worthy replacement. Allow me to introduce your new homeroom teacher—Umino Iruka. Iruka‑sensei is a graduate of our Academy, a chunin of Konoha and, despite his youth, a very responsible and dedicated shinobi. He will help you master all the knowledge and skills you need to become the pride of our village. Please treat him kindly. Iruka‑sensei, the floor is yours."

Iruka then repeated pretty much the same spiel about himself. That he'd take our training seriously and all that.

Funny thing about Gendai. In the anime, Iruka was Naruto's teacher. Somehow, with my own actions, I'd fixed that bit of canon.

I figured canon as a whole would still go straight to hell sooner or later. Probably from the moment when, instead of just focusing on myself, it became more profitable for me to start meddling in big outside affairs. But that was future business.

Classes with him started. Iruka was energetic, often soft, but also often… hm, strict—if yelling his head off at kids skipping class counts as "strict." Except he never yelled at me and didn't even pay attention to my truancy. Though he did throw me questions in class from time to time. Apparently the Academy higher‑ups had changed their policy regarding me and whispered something about me to the new sensei. And when the year came to an end, that's exactly how it turned out. When I came to close the year, Iruka said everything was fine on my end and told me to head home and stop giving the entire Academy a headache.

Time flew: slow because of all the gradual progress in my own research, but fast if you measured it by Academy years.

I still talked to my peers in moderation. The girls started clinging to Sasuke less, so he could finally breathe a little easier.

Sometimes, besides the guys, I started exchanging words with Ino again, and sometimes with Sakura. Ino liked talking about plants, while Sakura liked talking about studying. Over time, taking her friend's example and seeing I wasn't some psycho, Sakura stopped avoiding me, which is why we started talking at all.

When Hinata and I were both already past nine (she's a couple of months younger than me), something really nasty happened to her—some bastard from the Land of Lightning tried to kidnap her.

Peace between the Hidden Leaf and Lightning had only just been established. A delegation from Cloud came to visit us—shinobi from the village in the Land of Lightning. And one of those, no doubt, assholes, decided to snatch the Hyuga heiress at night. Unfortunately for the visitor, Hinata's father quickly caught up to him and killed him on the spot.

For such audacity as killing their subordinate, that brazen mug A—the Raikage, the boss of Cloud—demanded they hand over Hinata's dad, or they'd just keep the war with Konoha going.

Unfortunately for the Hyuga clan, Hiruzen backed down and ordered the white‑eyed bunch to hand over their clan head.

As far as I know, they fudged things so it looked like it wasn't the clan head, but his twin brother, who'd killed A's subordinate, so they handed the brother over instead. Cloud swallowed that and left.

This world might look kinder than my previous one, but there's still nasty shit in it. Hiashi's brother was waiting for death in the Land of Lightning.

It hurt to look at Hinata after that incident. It hit her hard.

For a little over a week I started going to the Academy more often than usual, just to drag her out of that state. We'd also sometimes walk after classes, talking. In the end it gave Hinata strength, and she even got a little more combative, more confident, more energetic.

Interlude. Hyuga Hinata

The clan head's eldest daughter was soft, pensive and vulnerable. She'd inherited her gentle temperament from her mother.

Overall, the girl liked those traits, and she liked being so much like her mother. But her father—strict, firm and, it seemed, unshakable—saw only weakness in them.

Expectations for Hinata within the clan were sky‑high. Her father's training sessions were very harsh, and she almost never got praised for them. No wonder the girl grew up unsure of herself. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how she tore her muscles apart, it was always "not enough."

Over time Hinata only became more convinced of her own helplessness and kept losing heart. Even her cousin Neji didn't see her kindness as a good quality and almost despised her for her weakness.

She couldn't really blame her cousin. His life, like hers, was very hard. He was subjected to even harsher training, and the punishments for failure were many times more brutal.

The Caged Bird Seal. It's put on all members of the branch family to protect the eyes and to make sure the main family doesn't lose its power. All for "stability," according to ancient tradition.

Almost every time Neji did something wrong in training, or flat‑out refused to obey, punishment followed. Hinata's father, who often trained them together, would mercilessly activate the seal and look on without regret as his nephew writhed in pain.

Hinata hardly understood how cruel that was. She was still too young to really get it. But she pitied her cousin, tried to show him care—care he harshly rejected. Her father scared her. Maybe that fear was also part of what pushed Hinata away from developing strength in herself, whether strength of character or strength as a shinobi. But at the same time she admired her father. She wanted to become as strong and unshakable as he was… she just couldn't.

A very important, maybe even turning, day for Hinata was the day she entered the Academy. The appearance of that blond boy, Naruto‑kun, completely stunned her. Spitting on all the rules the clan had hammered into her, the girl couldn't shake one thought: "Wait, you're allowed to just do that?!" and only her upbringing kept her from standing there with her mouth hanging open at the sight.

That day, still under a huge impression, she was quietly walking home. Until three boys blocked her path, latched onto her and started calling her names. And then that same strange boy from the Academy showed up again. To Hinata's surprise, he stood up for her, fearlessly stepping up against three at once. And his move… that "Sh‑a‑a‑a!"… was weird, but the girl listened to his instructions with all the attention she had.

The way he used something so simple but so effective filled Hinata with admiration. And his belief that she'd held herself well—it… warmed her?

And then his words: "Your opinion matters too," hit like a kick in the gut from her cousin. Her opinion? For the first time the girl opened her eyes to the fact that in the clan they only told her what they wanted from her, but never asked what she wanted. Only her mother seemed interested in her and her interests. But the clan was always in first place, and she had to match its standards.

When Naruto‑kun offered to walk her home, she, surprisingly easily, managed to show some initiative. And even… oh, the embarrassment! Take the boy's hand!

The fact she didn't faint on the spot was the greatest act of willpower in her life!

The next day Naruto‑kun sat beside her. He was… rather—no, by her standards he was very energetic. So warm, so caring… A sun that broke through her sometimes cold and cruel world to flood it with warming light.

She wanted to reach for him, to hug him to warm herself… to give him some of her own warmth… But Hinata would probably never allow herself something like that. And he was also like a new reference point, a standard she finally liked. Pushing her forward. So alien, yet strangely fitting her world, she wanted to become like him. Just as strong, so that her father would stop looking at her so coldly.

Naruto‑kun showed her that you could be different. Confident, even cheeky. Say what you think. You could hit back. His world was completely different, and without even knowing it, he cracked open a door into that world for her.

Then came that horrible evening. Fear, the kidnapper's cold hands, despair… and rescue by her father. But after that the world only became colder. Neji pulled away completely; his silence hurt louder than any accusation. He clearly blamed her… the entire main family for what had happened to his father. The looks from the elders she had to see almost every day became heavy. The girl fell back into her quiet gray shell, feeling even weaker and more helpless.

And Naruto‑kun appeared again. He started coming to the Academy more often. He sat next to her, not asking for anything, but his presence was as tangible as the warmth of a campfire on a cold night. Her sun… He dragged her out on walks after class, talked about some strange and not always understandable things—about psychology, about tactics, about flowers, the only topic from all that where the girl really knew her stuff. He didn't try to pity her. He was just there, chasing away her fears with his confidence and strange sense of humor.

His care was nothing like the strict oversight of the clan. It was… warm. Alive. Sincere. And that warmth lit something new inside her. A spark. The desire to become stronger. Not just for the clan or for her father, but for herself. So she wouldn't be that weak girl who needed protecting anymore. So that one day she could stand beside… Naruto‑kun, instead of hiding behind his back.

The girl started training harder, remembering his words and that weird but effective determination of his. Every practiced strike, every drop of sweat was a step away from the old, frightened Hinata. The spirit inside her that had smoldered for so long began, little by little, to flare up.

She was still quiet, still shy. But now, deep in her Byakugan, there was a new light that had never been there before. A light which had been lit, with its rays, by Uzumaki Naruto.

Uzumaki Naruto's POV

Hinata's newfound fire… I'll be remembering that story of hers with pride for a long time.

Something really entertaining happened about a week after the incident with the Hyuga clan.

Apparently, as Hinata later told me, when we were out walking, one of the Hyuga elders noticed us. He shot our little duo a seriously nasty glare, then disappeared.

Could've been nothing. For all I knew the guy had just suddenly popped a hemorrhoid. But the story had a short sequel.

When Hinata got back, that same elder came up to her and pretty much demanded she stop talking to me.

He didn't even try to explain himself properly, and Hinata didn't listen anyway. Because she was suddenly overtaken by a kind of anger she'd never felt before. And then, channeling chakra into her body as much as she could out of sheer rage, she reproduced my "Sh‑a‑a‑a!" The elder didn't have time to react, and after that they even had to call a medical‑nin for him.

Whether the medic‑nin managed to put everything back together, history is silent. Hinata, worried, came to ask me if she'd gone too far or been too cruel. I assured her she'd done everything perfectly. We weren't strangers anymore, and if someone tried to forbid me from talking to her, I'd be really pissed too. I told her she'd definitely done great. And I gave her some advice to keep training, so that if someone came at her again with the same demands, she could hit even harder.

Hinata took my words to heart and probably even wrote them down somewhere.

I also later asked her what her father thought of me. She answered that he never mentioned me at all. She did mention that she talked with me, but Hiashi didn't care. Or he pretended not to care.

That was the end of the elder story. Life moved on at its usual pace.

At the Academy, some new fun got added: classes where kids beat each other's faces in, plus physical training.

In the first kind of class, obviously, I was holding back. A lot. Those were more like warm‑up lessons, just to get the muscles going before heading to the real training hall. I wasn't trying especially hard not to stand out, but I did give my peers a chance to show themselves.

To my surprise, Hinata didn't refuse to fight even against me. She was pretty stiff at first, but that went away over time.

What really shook my group was the "fall of the titan." Sasuke was a pretty talented kid. From old rumors I'd heard, he'd managed to learn a C‑rank jutsu—Great Fireball—in just a week, back when his clan was still alive. Impressive, sure, but compared to me that achievement was tiny. So in our spar, after I'd let him show off enough in my opinion, I stopped dragging the fight out, stopped holding back, and with one precise punch to the jaw sent him flying out of the ring. That's how Uchiha lost to me.

The kid just stared up at the sky for a full minute, not even trying to get up. I guess losing to me was too unexpected for him. I don't know what he thought of me before, but judging from my truancy and so‑so grades, his perception had to be telling him I was anything but a difficult opponent. And after that, massive dissonance kicked in.

What happened to Sasuke's fan club… that was something to see. First they froze, then they were running around Sasuke like a flock of hens with just one egg.

Again to my surprise, the fan club didn't try to mob me. But they did start feeling something weird when they saw me, especially when actually talking to me. It showed most in how Ino and Sakura pulled away from me for a while.

Anyway, those were details. The second class was physical training. That one was taught by a Mizuki. And to be fair, he taught it pretty well. As I later found out, he was also Iruka's childhood friend. At first, and for a while, they honestly stayed friends at the Academy, went places together or whatever—they didn't tell me the details.

But that sincerity didn't last very long.

As promised, Iruka took the job of teaching seriously and handled it great. In our group, as well as in other groups where Umino was teaching but not the main homeroom teacher, the average grades went up. The higher‑ups noticed, started giving Iruka bonuses, and in just a year of work he became Teacher of the Year.

That popularity of Iruka's became the apple of discord in his relationship with Mizuki—or at least, that's how it looked from my pretty sharp observations. Mizuki, on the contrary, started sticking to Umino even more, I figure to grab at least a piece of his glory that way.

My meta‑knowledge from another universe was still with me, and I remembered that Mizuki was something like the first cardboard villain. This is the real world. A real person like this, of course, has his own backstory. It got me interested in digging into that story a bit—and in preemptively removing a dangerous element.

Using my spy skills and clones again, I started watching him. And within the first few days, results started coming in…

---

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[Welydora]

According to the intel from my clones, Mizuki came home one day, started writing reports, and then secretly slipped out past Konoha's perimeter through a little‑known hole in the barrier to bury that very report.

Of course, once Mizuki took off, the clone, not one to be lazy, dug it up and went through the academy teacher's writings.

Turned out he was updating some kind of dossier on talented students and leaking that info up the chain.

After reburying the report, the clone waited for the next person in the chain who was supposed to pick it up. Tracking him, the clone stumbled onto a small informant cell. Digging through their documents, he figured out they were Orochimaru's spies. Orochimaru had several informants inside the village at different trust levels, and Mizuki was the best of them. Not in strength, but in access: to info that really interested Orochimaru—kids who might be excellent talent for recruitment, or not‑so‑important but easy‑to‑snatch talent. Or, another option, someone with a genome worth studying.

As for this cell's level… well, from a shinobi's point of view, it was low. Judging by the movements of both the small‑fry couriers and the local handler, on average they were, at best, on the level of a non‑combat genin. The handler himself was about a combat‑capable genin, and a middling one at that. As for Mizuki, he was roughly on the same level as his handler, even if he wore a chunin vest.

Still, even that level was enough—the cell had been operating for over a year.

Watching all this, I smirked to myself, thinking that this whole "organization" would've been a nice first enemy for me if I'd slacked off on my development and, for some reason, kept growing at the same pace as my classmates in the Academy. But now… it was just laughable.

The clone dug deep into the cell's archives and uncovered the top layer of Mizuki's motivation—why he'd even gotten involved. It all turned out to be painfully mundane: the Great Orochimaru‑sama had promised him power and the glory that came with it. Another spy from the academy—a lower‑tier one who worked as a janitor—had been sniffing around for a long time, looking for an academy teacher he could recruit. This spy was observant and sharp, which is why, after Iruka's rise and Mizuki's reaction to it, he pretty accurately pegged Mizuki as good clay to mold into a future rogue. After that, the cell's handler did his part and successfully recruited the guy, spinning him all kinds of bullshit about how omnipotent Orochimaru was and how he handed out power to everyone.

The clone got all this from the handler's diary/report for Orochimaru, minus some emotional details I had to fill in later.

That left me with the question of how to act next. On one hand, I could practice capturing a weak shinobi—Mizuki—and interrogating him. On the other hand, if I started dealing with all this on my own, Hiruzen would smack me down for it.

Although, honestly, I was going to get smacked anyway. At the very least for sticking my nose into this whole mess. Even if I'd stayed an unknown factor and hadn't put myself or anyone else at risk. And over time, Hiruzen had been getting more tolerant of my antics. Since he still wasn't giving me missions above C‑rank, and for this surveillance‑and‑capture mission—which was moderately tricky but didn't require crazy strength—I'd probably get off lightly, I decided to show some initiative. Experience doesn't just lie around on the street—you have to grind it out. So that's what I started doing.

I rented a little basement out on the edge of Konoha, outside the walls, not far from Mizuki's usual route where he made his drops, and set up a few traps for him there.

I used a simple combo: a short‑acting paralytic fuin and kunai tipped with tranquilizer. The very same setup I'd used in the trap that snared the much more field‑savvy Fumaro.

I could've, no doubt, taken down this next parody of a chunin named Mizuki with brute force. But I just wanted to practice my trap placement against enemies who weren't pro‑level jonin, but this kind of level. I had the theory on how to act, and even some practice with invited, not‑so‑professional chunin. But again, I wanted to test it all in much more real conditions.

The result didn't take long. I had data on how Mizuki moved, his quirks, where he put his limbs, what spots he preferred to land on, all that. So I tweaked the standard trap layout a bit.

The chunin who walked out of Konoha… ran straight into the very first one.

It was evening, and this time I went out on the mission myself. Once I had his unconscious body in my hands, I gave Mizuki an extra dose of tranquilizer so he definitely wouldn't wake up early, and headed to my rented basement. Of course, not before making a clone so he could remove the other twenty‑nine traps and wipe all the traces.


We were in a well‑lit basement. The only things giving away that it was underground were the stone walls and the lack of windows.

"Rise and shine," I said, dumping a bucket of cold water right onto Mizuki's body, his hands tied behind the chair.

"M‑n‑n‑n…" A dull groan of pain escaped him. After spitting out the water, he stared at me with cloudy eyes. "Wh‑what's going on? Who are you?"

"Oh, you don't recognize me? Guess I'm gonna get rich," I said with a smile, then went on. "We know each other, little bird. Think."

He squinted.

"N‑Naruto? What is happening?!" the man blurted.

"An interrogation," I said, my face going serious. "You're sheltering enemies of Konoha. Leaking them information. I know a lot about you guys. But maybe not everything."

He listened to the first half of my words with a blank look. From the second half on, judging by his tiny reactions, he started to get the idea, but kept pretending not to understand.

"What? Why am I shirtless? No, Naruto, this is some kind of nonsense…" Mizuki's face turned friendly, while with my all‑around vision I saw him moving his hands behind his back. "How about you untie me, and we'll just— A‑a‑a‑a‑a!"

He'd tried to form the seals for a Substitution Jutsu, but when he finished, the chakra that moved only caused him pain and leaked out as a faint blue haze.

"The pain didn't tip you off?" I raised an eyebrow. "Y'see, I've got some knowledge of medical ninjutsu, let's say. I damaged the tenketsu in your arms and legs with needles. You won't be able to use ninjutsu for the next few weeks."

In response to my explanation, Mizuki, still wearing that clueless expression, kept up his one‑man show.

"Naruto, this is some misunderstanding. You've definitely mistaken me for someone. Maybe it was a ninja in my guise. Rogues can be very cunning…"

Smack.

I stood up, walked over, and slapped him across the cheek, shutting off the flow of lies.

"Cut the crap, little bird. Not that I expected to crack you right away." Walking behind my chair, I rolled out a small table with some kind of device on it, knobs, and two battery clips.

"You know why I call you 'little bird'?" I asked Mizuki as I rolled the table up to him and fear started to show on his face. "The sound when electricity runs through something—say, a person—sounds like birds singing. You, little bird, are going to sing one way or another. Got it?"

For a couple seconds, his gaze snapped back and forth between me and the device.

"Uzumaki! Stop this immediately! You'll be expelled from the Academy if you don't release me right now!"

"Hah, expelled. That's funny," I nodded. "Dude, even if I straight up killed you right in the Academy, it wouldn't cause any irreversible consequences for me."

"What the hell are you talking about?! Let me go, now!"

"You're a good actor," I admitted. "But the little details give you away. So does your chakra… I've got really good sensitivity. And I was trained to spot lies. Even though you're trying to hide it in your chakra signature, that's not enough against me."

Since he kept playing the innocent teacher, I stopped listening to his babbling.

"All right, you're already wet," I said, poking the still‑babbling man with a clip. "How did it go again… red one on the left nipple, black one on the right? Something like that. The human body's got such convenient little things. It's like it was made for this."

Walking up to the table, I looked over the device, then turned back to Mizuki.

"You don't happen to know how to turn this on?"

"Go to hell! This is your last warning! If you don't let me go—"

"Then blah‑blah‑blah," I cut him off, mocking him, "oh, it'll be so bad for me. Seriously, man, you're so persistent, and you've even got a bit of talent. Plus, your face is pretty decent. You should've gone into acting, you'd be shoveling in cash instead of… all this."

"You…" Mizuki was so pissed the capillaries in his eyes burst. After that he said a lot more, but I focused on what looked like a battery charger in front of me.

Fiddling with the various knobs and flipping switches, I couldn't get the damn contraption to turn on for about a minute. When I finally managed…

"A‑a‑a‑a‑a‑a‑a!!!" Mizuki started screaming as the smell of burning flesh instantly filled the air.

"What a stench…" I started toward the basement door to open it, then went back, changing my mind. If I opened it, I'd break the barrier and the sound would leak outside. "Executioners have it rough."

I shook my head.

"They have to smell all sorts of crap, and on top of that the screaming just blasts their ears."

Meanwhile, Mizuki kept screaming, his whole body jerking.

"But on the other hand, we've got the Yamanaka. Maybe their working conditions are nice. They can read memories straight from your head, after all," I nodded to myself.

"By the way, little bird, looks like I messed something up. There's no birdsong, just humming," I noted, listening to the sound.

"Okay, that's enough," I decided after about a minute had passed. Then I spent another half of that trying to shut this fucking charger off. "There, got it."

I looked at the now‑silent Mizuki.

Judging by how his face was twisted up and he was trying to catch his breath, it had hurt like hell.

"So, what do you have to tell me now?" I asked after settling comfortably back into my chair.

"You're a demon… The Hokage forbade us to talk about it… Said you were the gate that protects us from a terrible beast," Mizuki rasped, sometimes pausing to suck in air. "The Nine‑Tails destroyed the village nine years ago. Because of it… many died. The parents of your classmates… Iruka's parents… There was a rumor in the village that you're not the cage. No, you're the demon's reincarnation. And now I see clearly that it's true! It's true! You're the reincarnation of the Nine‑Tailed Demon Fox!!! Ha‑ha‑ha‑ha! You've seen how many of the kids avoid you! That's because they can feel it! Everyone feels it! You killed their parents. Hundreds of people died because of you! Hundreds of shinobi! It's all your fault! Ha‑ha‑ha‑ha‑ha!.."

"Interesting theory," I noted with a stone‑cold face, then got up and went back to the table. "Let's continue."

Mizuki's hysterical laughter cut off, replaced again by screams of agony.

After one more session of pain, Mizuki cracked.

Watching my methodical detachment, I could feel the tension in him keep building.

Over and over he tried to pressure me, to convince me he was innocent, to slip out of this clean. But every attempt just ran into my brick wall.

He tried, and tried, and tried again. But he couldn't get anywhere.

With every failure, I could feel his confidence getting kicked out from under him.

With my actions, I planted a seed of fear in him, and over time it sprouted into the constricting roots of terror.

No wonder Mizuki broke.

Soon he told me everything. Who else worked for Orochimaru—which turned up a couple more people that weren't mentioned anywhere in the documents. Who, in his opinion, might be working for Orochimaru or just doing criminal shit against Konoha. What pushed him into his current philosophy. Who he was connected to among the non‑spies.

I even played therapist for fun (yeah, without a license), so this little chunin whined to me about how bad his childhood had been. Basically, he got bullied, which made him grow up insecure, which turned into envy and a wish to become the best of the best. So, nothing out of the ordinary.

After writing all that up into a report, I put Mizuki to sleep again, left him there, and sent a clone to the Hokage's residence.

My message made Hiruzen react like he'd just gotten stung in the ass by a hornet. Right away—while telling my clone I'd acted prematurely and recklessly—he quickly organized an ANBU escort. They grabbed Mizuki from the basement, together with me, the original.

After that came cleanup ops—the whole lot of them were captured and interrogated.

What happened to the guilty ones after that, I don't know. What I do know is that Hiruzen chewed me out again over my carelessness. My argument that, during that mission with the bear a few years back, I'd had to be even more careful, was accepted—but grudgingly. He also said I'd done very well, first, by not killing Mizuki, whether by accident or on purpose; second, by not trying to carry out the purge on my own; and third, by ratting out that sensei directly to Hiruzen, and doing it so that no outsiders found out.

I explained it by saying I'd been pretty sane about the whole thing, I wasn't that cruel, and I had no solid reason to kill him. I justified the secrecy by the fact that I'd learned some of the cell's plans and its connection to Orochimaru and didn't want that snake to learn any more about me than necessary.

The Hokage nodded along to all that, then said that my actions, while not reckless, were, in fact, reckless. He thought for a bit, scratched his head, puffed on his pipe, and told me to just be more careful and, if anything, report to him faster instead of… all this.

I, in turn, pointed out that that meant I needed real shinobi experience. Since I'd managed to uncover a spy network and had already gone through years of training, I was ready for something more serious. To that, Hiruzen just started mumbling something barely coherent and nonsensical, then, after promising that once I finished the Academy I'd get everything I wanted, he bailed for some supposedly important business.

I was left with mixed feelings. I wasn't going to see missions above B‑rank, but I also hadn't really gotten smacked down. If anything, my trust limit got expanded, for quietly ratting Mizuki out to the right person. I also got some extra points for almost completely pulling all the data needed for a whole operation to wipe out a spy network.

Oh, and as a little bonus, even though this mission didn't officially get added to my file, they paid me at the upper edge of an A‑rank—one million ryo. The logic was that what I'd done was comparable to the work of a whole team of shinobi on a B‑rank mission, plus I'd prevented a potential S‑rank threat to the village. I still hadn't quite earned a solid, straight‑up S‑rank, unfortunately, so in essence the reward sat somewhere between the high end of A‑rank and the very bottom of S‑rank.

After that, the days just rolled on. I tried a few more times to convince Hiruzen that I was strong and ready for high‑rank missions. In the end he gave in—but not the way I expected.

"Ah, fuck it all," he said. "You want something dangerous? Fine, Naruto. I'm opening you access to all the secret techniques. But there are two buts! You only read them here, in the residence, and with me present. In the future you use everything carefully. And also, I'm asking you, don't set up any more of these dangerous missions for yourself. At least until you finish the Academy."

He handed me a downright royal deal.

This wasn't just a hookup, it was a goddamn jackpot. I was floored.

The words of agreement burst out of my mouth on their own.

After which… Hiruzen started laughing his ass off.

Of course I asked what the hell was so funny… and it turned out I'd been tricked.

The old man had already planned to give me access to those techniques anyway. No point letting them gather dust on a shelf; the potential of young shinobi has to be used. But now he wouldn't have to scratch his head over what my adventure‑seeking brain might come up with next.

That was my reminder that I still wasn't all‑powerful, and that it was actually pretty easy to lead me around by the nose… Okay, not that fucking easy. Not everyone's a Kage, and not everyone can just toss around offers like that… but you get the idea.

I fully intended to keep my word, so Hiruzen was right—there wouldn't be any trouble from me for a while. My schedule filled up again, since I had to learn and drill a lot of techniques. Some of them were really interesting and really hard… But those more than a thousand hours I spent mastering just a part of them… I don't regret them at all.

My daily life got even better and busier. And with that, time went leaping forward again.

---

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[Welydora]

Third Person POV

The greenery was bursting with life in the large field nestled in the middle of a dense forest.

On the training ground, far from the walls of the Leaf Village, there was only a single boy who looked to be around twelve. Sitting on a stone outcropping, he ran his fingers through unruly blond hair, his blue eyes gazing up at a sky of the same pure blue. He wore a simple black jumpsuit that didn't restrict his movements, and under his sleeves were two small bracers with fūin seals. Secured to his back was a scabbard with the hilt of a tanto sticking out. This was Naruto Uzumaki.

The world around him was alive, filled with rustling leaves and the occasional sound of animals from the woods. But the peaceful moment with nature didn't last long. The boy was distracted by two figures who appeared in a swirl of leaves.

The first was a medical-nin in a white uniform, wearing a pleased expression. The second was a tall, slightly hunched man with silver hair sticking out in all directions—now inexplicably damp—wearing a jōnin uniform and a mask that hid half his face, his shinobi headband pulled down over his left eye. His single visible eye looked lazy, even slightly irritated. This was Kakashi Hatake.

In response to their arrival, the boy stood up from the rock, walked closer, and remarked:

"Not late, Hatake-san. Guess the rumors about you were wrong."

"Yep," the man confirmed grumpily, glancing sideways at the medic.

"Yes, isn't it just wonderful how everything worked out?" the medical-nin chimed in cheerfully.

He had, in fact, kicked Kakashi out of the hot springs only a few minutes ago, where the silver-haired man had decided to relax in the middle of his mission. The mission, assigned by the Hokage, was simply to conduct a training spar with some kid.

"Everything's ready here. You know where to find me if I'm needed. Good luck to you both," the medic said with another wave and vanished into the forest with the Body Flicker.

"Well then." Kakashi pulled his favorite little orange book from his pouch—Icha Icha Violence, another volume in what some even called the Great Cycle, authored by Jiraiya. He then said lazily, "Hiruzen-sama asked me to put on something resembling a fight with you. Don't hold back. You can start whenever."

He waved his hand, basically telling the kid to go ahead and try something while a very important ninja was busy with his own business.

"Hmph." The boy was clearly pissed by such disregard. "If I don't hold back, ten medical-nin won't be able to put you back together. Put away that… literature… and at least try to look a little serious."

"Hm?" Kakashi's eye lifted from the page. "What's wrong with the book? I bet you haven't even read it. And those are big words for a little squirt like you. Now, stop distracting me."

And he buried his nose back in the book.

The boy's eye twitched. He looked up at the sky, then back to the man, and sighed.

"Your rival was definitely more pleasant to talk to. Unlike you, he'd actually heard of respect."

"You know Gai?" Kakashi was interested again, tearing his eye away from his book.

"Yeah. I heard from him that you two are supposedly equals as shinobi. I'll check that for myself. Considering the rumors you've been out of the game for a while, it's hard to believe. Getting rusty, are we?"

"You talk too much." The blond's jab made Kakashi's gaze turn annoyed again. "It's all people like you can do, when you're nothing but pathetic nobodies yourselves. Am I supposed to wait here all day?"

The boy snorted.

"No. This will be over in less than ten minutes," he answered, folding his arms in a closed stance, waiting. "Now pull up your headband and, if you can, activate your Mangekyō."

Kakashi was about to retort with something even snarkier when, for him, it was as if the world stood still.

An unseen chill emanated from the boy who'd been introduced to him as Naruto Uzumaki, making Kakashi's heart clench with a fear from his past. Immediately after, a monstrously powerful chakra erupted from the blond, making the air howl and take on a dark blue hue.

Acting on pure instinct, Hatake didn't even realize he had used the Body Flicker to tear across the distance, reappearing at the edge of the training ground. He then raised his headband, and the Mangekyō pattern swirled to life in his revealed eye to immediately trap the boy in a genjutsu.

It all took much less than a second.

"Kushina-sama…" was all Kakashi managed to choke out, stunned, staring at his opponent and breathing heavily. Immediately after, he covered his dōjutsu eye with his hand. Activating the Heavenly Eye had come with great strain and pain, so Hatake decided to use only the basic Sharingan from now on.

That chakra... that power... The man knew it well.

"M-n-gh…"

Uzumaki grimaced, and then another, even more powerful pulse of chakra erupted from him with a roar, causing deep cracks to spiderweb across the ground around him.

"Just a simple paralysis. And what did that woman ever do to you?"

Hatake didn't answer. He just sharply snatched out a smoke tag and threw it at his feet, bursting out of the smokescreen to the side.

Meanwhile, the boy focused a bit more chakra into his eyes, making them glow blue, then grasped the hilt of his tanto with his right hand.

"I've only been using this for two years. Let's see what I've achieved," he said, and upon unsheathing the blade, he immediately clashed with Kakashi's kunai as the man approached from the left.

Several sounds of metal striking metal rang out, ending with a powerful blow to Kakashi's stomach that sent him flying a dozen meters away.

"Weak," Uzumaki noted, before rushing after his opponent.

They closed the distance, and the two were now fighting with two kunai on the silver-haired man's side, and a tanto plus a kunai in the blond's hands.

Despite his Sharingan, Kakashi could barely keep up with the movements of his opponent, who turned out to be much faster than him. In the course of the clash, he couldn't land a single scratch, while he himself was already covered in cuts from his opponent, who even seemed almost careless about it.

Only ten seconds had passed when a powerful punch from the fist clutching the tanto smashed into Kakashi's chest, sending him flying once again.

"No, this won't do at all," came Uzumaki's indifferent voice.

When Kakashi landed, he was about to rush forward again, but a seal spreading across his flak jacket made him pause. When he looked up, he saw a Shadow Clone literally stepping right out of Uzumaki himself. The clone simply dropped to its knees, its back to the boy, and leaned forward slightly.

"You know, back in the day they let me study one difficult but very versatile technique."

Kakashi decided to see what would happen next, not moving from his spot.

"This is its simplest application, but I think it's pretty damn genius," Uzumaki went on, raising his tanto as the clone clapped its hands together, forming a hand seal.

Based on his opponent's actions, Hatake quickly figured out what kind of technique it might be and immediately tried to rip off his vest. But it turned out the spreading seal had latched itself firmly onto his body.

An instant later, with a loud whoosh, space warped, swapping the clone and Kakashi, even their exact poses.

And immediately, the tanto's blade whistled through his neck, the sound drowned out by the thrum of the immense chakra source.

The head fell, and a fountain of blood erupted from the body, soaking the ground in front of it.

The boy casually shoved the headless body down to the ground, then turned his head toward the bushes. They rustled.

Instantly, the "corpse" dispersed into smoke, revealing it was only a clone.

Uzumaki's Shadow Clone, which had been kneeling in the distance, simply and silently dissolved into a blue haze, disappearing.

"Seen enough? I noticed it was just your clone. Come out, Kakashi."

A technique based on the Substitution Jutsu... but also similar to the Hiraishin... The thought flashed through Hatake's mind as he stepped out from the thicket, his headband still raised and his Sharingan active.

He walked slowly, which let him see the blond release the kunai from his left hand, after which it began to glow with a golden light.

Instantly, the boy aimed his hand at the emerging jōnin, and from it, a thick chain—its links more than half a meter in diameter—shot out at incredible speed. Stretching out for nearly a hundred meters, it whipped around to follow the Kakashi who had already started fleeing to the side, smashing through trees with a deafening crash along the way, and finally tore the flimsy body apart, causing another of Hatake's Shadow Clones to disperse. After that, it simply pierced through several more trees and came to a stop, buried deep in the earth.

"I said, come out. No point in using another clone. I saw you leave through the genjutsu," Uzumaki said calmly. After he spoke, the hand from which the chain had emerged flared even brighter.

Just as quickly, the chain jerked sideways into motion again. Hundreds of trees in its path were obliterated, exploding into splinters, until, after sweeping across about a forty-degree arc, it finally stopped and vanished in a flash of light.

The boy kept staring toward the now-mangled forest. And not for nothing. Soon, a completely disheveled man burst from the thicket. With one long leap, he landed ten meters in front of the boy.

Kakashi, breathing heavily, took a step forward. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

"That's… impressive," was all he could say.

"Thanks for the compliment. In this spar, I want to hone my weakest side—close-quarters combat without any run-up," Uzumaki replied, and without giving Hatake a chance to respond, he charged into the clash.

This time, the fight was different. The real Kakashi was faster; his experience was palpable in every move. The steel of the tanto and kunai rang out again, and now the blond had to give it his all.

He was squeezing every last drop of strength from his small body. Thanks to his unprecedented control, his limbs were driven even more by channeled chakra than any other shinobi could manage. But it still wasn't enough. Kakashi was significantly larger, and his more developed body, with its much better-honed natural affinity, could simply generate higher output. Purely due to age, the silver-haired man had to exert far less effort to be superior—at least in terms of explosive speed, which was crucial in a fight like this.

Had Uzumaki fought differently, like his former teacher Shisui—building up speed from mid-range and using the Body Flicker—he would have held the advantage in speed. But this was a different kind of battle.

Kakashi, despite being stronger, still couldn't easily snatch a win. The kid was just incredibly technical—more so than Gai, and in that regard he even surpassed the silver-haired man with his Sharingan.

The scene unfolding between them seemed unreal to Kakashi. How many hundreds of battles must Uzumaki have gone through to reach this level?

The blond himself, time and again, saw his opponent making mistakes, small as they were. A slight delay in reaction, noticeable to the blond even despite his opponent's Sharingan; balance that was just a bit less than perfect; a hand set a little wrong here, a foot there; a barely perceptible stiffness in his movements.

The boy couldn't help but feel a steadily growing irritation toward his opponent, because that rustiness meant he couldn't give an even better fight.

"Hah," Uzumaki tossed out, parrying a kunai strike. "Even without the Gates, Gai would be a serious problem for you right now. You've really let yourself go, Hatake. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Next time I spar with him, I'll make sure to tell him you're losing."

Kakashi could barely suppress his surprise and irritation that his opponent, during an incredibly hard duel, was not only not out of breath but could also talk—and openly laugh at him.

For an elite jōnin, an S-rank ninja, it was deeply humiliating.

Anger flashed in his eyes. He sped up, but his movements became slightly more predictable. This was exactly what the blond had been waiting for. Evading another attack, he simply knocked the kunai from his opponent's hand with a sharp strike, after which both fighters simultaneously leaped back, opening the distance and forming hand seals.

"Fire Style: Great Dragon Fire Jutsu!" they shouted almost in unison.

Two enormous heads of fiery dragons roared as they rushed toward each other. A brilliant flash was momentarily blinding, and the shockwave from the explosion made the earth tremble. When the light subsided, a smoking, ten-meter crater gaped in the center of the clearing.

Kakashi was breathing heavily, peering into the smoke. And in that moment, he heard a whistle. Instinctively jerking to the side, he saw a kunai with characters on its hilt slam into the ground next to him.

"Ruthlessness for the Right to Love"

And then another. And another. A true rain of hundreds of identical kunai began to fall from the sky, peppering the entire battlefield.

"It can't be…" Kakashi whispered, recognizing his sensei's fighting style. "Hiraishin…"

"You would have run out of steam soon anyway. There's no point in this type of spar anymore," the boy's voice echoed from all around. "And I decided beating you through stamina would be way too cliché."

A flash. Uzumaki appeared at the kunai next to Kakashi, without any hand seals, and immediately drove a powerful kick into his stomach.

"Don't zone out. I know you can do better! And that was just a demonstration, like with the chains. Now, show me your ninjutsu…"


The place that was once a simple field in the middle of a forest now looked like something else entirely: craters, a few patches of scorched earth, earthen spikes and walls, and broken trees that had somehow flown here from the slightly mangled forest in the distance.

Only five high-level jutsu—that's how far Hatake had been able to go.

Kakashi, battered, covered in dirt and riddled with cuts, was breathing heavily, sitting with his back against a tree at the edge of the field. A tanto was embedded up to its hilt in the wood, a centimeter from his temple.

"Thanks for the spar, Kakashi," Uzumaki said, walking up to him with a light smirk.

A monster in a child's body.

"Look. One… two… three…" He poked a finger at the three most noticeable tears in his uniform—on his arm, leg, and torso—and added, "For someone in such bad shape, that's a very good result. Hope we meet again."

He pulled out the tanto, shook it off, and sheathed it on his back. Then, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, he gave Kakashi a friendly pat on his now-filthy silver hair and, pushing off the ground, disappeared with a leap somewhere deep in the forest.

Kakashi kept breathing heavily, staring into the emptiness in front of him, his eyes wide with shock. A few seconds later, the medical-nin appeared beside him.

"You and Uzumaki-san really went at it," the medic noted approvingly, before turning his attention to the jōnin's condition. "Alright, what have we here… No broken bones, excellent, excellent. We'll fix up the cuts and bruises. You'll be running around good as new in a day, Hatake-san."

But Kakashi no longer heard him. Only one thought hammered in his mind: Sensei... what kind of monster did you leave behind?

The Hokage had told him about the child, but the jōnin, already in a bad place, had been too crushed by the deaths of the last people close to him—Minato and Kushina. After that, life had been like a mirage. In the time leading up to today, it seemed Kakashi couldn't think about anything at all.

But now, after a shock like this, maybe that would change.

---

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[Welydora]

The silence in the classroom was almost palpable. Only the rustle of paper occasionally tore through it.

Pulling a deliberately stern face, Iruka handed out the last sheets with the graduation exam.

The air was crackling with tension; for most of the kids sitting here, this was one of the most important moments of their lives.

I just lazily took my sheet and skimmed through the questions. The history of Konoha, basic principles of ninjutsu, squad formation tactics, properties of explosive tags… Mm-hm. Like everything else in this dump of a school, it was elementary for me.

Sighing, I picked up my pen and started writing. My hand moved carelessly, putting answers down on paper, while my mind was completely free and, with mild boredom, started analyzing the situation around me.

My gaze snagged on Sasuke, now seated across the aisle.

They'd split us up so the tight-knit little groups that used to sit together wouldn't whisper and cheat off each other.

Anyway. He was frowning hard, eyes boring into some question, fingers nervously twirling his pen. Yeah… A year ago, he would've been sitting there with the look of a king who someone had taken a shit under the crown of, so he couldn't move or the headpiece would slip, the contents would spill out and start stinking. Radiating an aura of superiority and all that. And now… something had changed.

I snorted to myself, remembering that first spar, when this guy's world—where he was the perfect genius—started to crack. That loss rattled him hard. His fan club, of course, thinned out. There were noticeably fewer squeals and adoring sighs. But it seemed to do Sasuke some good. He got more focused, angrier, but that anger went not into stupid grudges, but into training sessions till he was drenched in sweat. He started looking down on everyone less; now, there was more often a sober assessment in his eyes, sizing people up. Just… still not enough. Maybe he'll actually amount to something… if he starts training properly, because so far I haven't really seen much progress. And, of course, if he doesn't break under his obsession with avenging his brother.

My gaze slid on, to Sakura. She was completely absorbed in the test too, biting her lip in concentration. Looked more confident than before.

I let out a satisfied little grunt.

Then I remembered how she'd caught me a few months ago while I was wandering around the Leaf. That move she pulled honestly shocked me. Sakura stepped over herself that day—over her pride and embarrassment, over her… obsession with one guy. There was a straight-up steel determination in her eyes when she asked, "Uzumaki-san… I don't want to be just… a burden anymore. I want to stand beside him, not hide behind his back… Please… point me in the right direction… where do I start if I want to stop being weak?"

Over the year, with every one of Sasuke's losses, it was like her fangirl fanaticism dimmed, leaving room for sober desperation and stubbornness. Sakura realized that just being in love wasn't enough to stand next to people like Sasuke… or me. She wanted to change herself.

That's worthy of respect.

That's how my little "Project: Sakura" started, as I sometimes call it with mixed feelings.

Basically, I'd gotten something like a student. My motivation, apart from the fact that it's just interesting to watch something grow under your commands, was—

You could say I was growing grass… no, that's not it. A plant… a tree. Sakura, yeah.

Back then, still aiming at some kind of ideal, I didn't just "help with training." Our relationship got a lot more complicated.

From time to time we'd meet at the training ground, where either I or a clone would run her through simple exercises so she wouldn't wreck her still-weak body, and give her advice on what to read. But my real help wasn't just that. At almost every meeting I methodically knocked some sense into her, talking about how baseless her feelings were. My words were softer and more vague, but if you strip it down, my thoughts boiled down to: for Sasuke she was, if he needed her at all, only useful as an incubator for reviving the clan. That Sakura had turned herself into a thing that would get used and then tossed once he got bored. And that all of that, actually, was not healthy at all. And even if everything magically worked out for her—I don't know, the stars lined up in a heart shape and she started dating Sasuke—in the end it would only lead to the girl suffering. Because, from what I've seen, an Uchiha and the concept of a healthy relationship just don't mix.

Cruel? Maybe.

But it's like surgery. Sometimes you have to cut off the infected part to save the whole. In her case—cut off that blind dependency to save her personality.

My lessons were yielding results, visible to both of us. Especially in terms of her growing stronger. Mentally, she still didn't completely believe me, but tiny seeds of doubt had already sprouted. And those were probably the only reasons she kept hanging around me, putting up with my "lectures." And that progress only made it more interesting for me—what would grow in the end.

My gaze lazily swept over the rest of the class.

A lot had changed over the years.

Ino and Sakura now competed more in grades and skills than for Sasuke's attention, though old habits sometimes kicked back in. They'd also somehow gotten closer again, if not like they were at the start of their friendship.

Shikamaru… I looked at his desk. That Nara didn't look like he'd ever change. Arms folded on the table, he was peacefully snoring away. Thank god. His laziness was a kind of constant in this world of chaos.

Choji next to him, as always, was quietly rustling a bag of chips, hiding behind a scroll. Reliable rear guard. Knows how to set priorities—food first, exam later.

Hinata…

My gaze softened for a split second.

She'd gotten braver. She'd started conversations herself more often and actually kept them going. After that incident with the elder, something in her broke—but in a good way. She clearly understood that she could and should hit back.

The rest of the classmates… still the same. With some, things were neutral, but a lot of them kept their distance. That thing that used to be close to fear—or rather, a kind of cold detachment from me—had eased up in their eyes. The rest, especially among the non-clan kids, had shuffled around a lot. I mean literally: some got expelled, some did other crap, and new kids got transferred in. Their looks were more cautious, with curiosity and confusion mixed in. For them, I had the reputation of some kind of puzzle. A weird, strong psycho with a certificate, who technically studied in their class but in reality was off wandering around most of the time.

That distant attitude from the non-clan side suited me. They're new every year anyway. Easier to keep my distance.

I put my pen down on the desk. Ten minutes. The test was done. I'd written just a bit more than what was needed to pass—no point stressing and writing more.

With my sphere-sight, I glanced at Hinata's paper. Attagirl, she's handling it.

Took a look at Sakura's sheet. Oh, I had no doubts about her either.

I raised my eyes and met Iruka's gaze.

I smiled, and he rolled his eyes and looked away.

After that I deliberately put my head down on my crossed arms and closed my eyes. Let the others sweat. I was going to catch a nap.


After crashing during the written part, I was dragged along with my classmates out to the Academy training ground. Why they even bothered hauling me out there wasn't exactly clear. But the air was fresher, which I liked. My classmates, full of nerves and anticipation, weren't in the mood to enjoy little things like that.

For them, this was the most important part—the demonstration of real skills. For me, it was just another formality. I felt like yawning and lying down somewhere.

First up was ninjutsu. One by one, we were called to the center of the field. Transformation Technique… Without much enthusiasm, I turned into an exact copy of Hiruzen, down to the wrinkles around his eyes and that faint fruity smell he sometimes carried. That got a surprised cough out of Iruka-sensei and a top score.

Next—the Illusionary Clone Technique. I watched as some of the non-clan kids huffed and puffed, creating pale, half-transparent copies that could barely stay on their feet.

When my turn came, I did it by the book—well, by the scroll, technically. I formed the seal and, putting in the bare minimum of chakra, created three perfect illusionary clones next to me. They were indistinguishable from me, without a single flaw.

"Excellent, Uzumaki-san! Full marks!" Iruka noted, scribbling something on his clipboard.

I nodded, dispelled the clones and went back to contemplating the weather. I only watched closely when it was the turn of people I knew well—or not so well—to see how they did. Every one of them passed.

And finally, taijutsu. The last spars. Iruka, just like I expected, left the most interesting for the end.

"Final match! Uzumaki Naruto! Uchiha Sasuke! To the center!"

A ripple of excited noise ran through the crowd of students. Judging by the reaction, this was what pretty much everyone had been waiting for. Our unspoken duel for the title of strongest in the class had been going on for more than a year. Well, "going on." The Uchiha had always—like, seriously, always—lost to me. So the picture never really changed.

But now, apparently, the brats around me were thinking something might be different.

Sasuke stepped into the circle, his face a stone mask. As always. But there was a grim resolve burning in his black eyes. For him, this wasn't just an exam. It was a chance to prove something to himself after a string of humiliating defeats in our rare but brutal training spars.

We stood facing each other.

"Begin!" Iruka commanded.

Sasuke launched himself forward. His speed was… not great. In my opinion, he was using his potential pretty damn poorly. But compared to the rest of our age group—impressive. Each of his strikes, basically, was sharp, polished and packed with aggression. He was showing off a perfect academy style, boosted by Uchiha talent.

A series of punches, a feint, a sudden kick…

I just moved. Calm, economical, almost lazy. I dodged, shifted, redirected his blows with light taps, using his own momentum so he'd keep swinging into thin air. Sasuke attacked, I defended. From the outside it probably looked like an even fight, but I saw every one of his mistakes, every gap in his guard he left in the heat of attacking.

He got angrier, his movements faster, but more and more desperate. And there it was—the moment. The Uchiha put everything into a powerful straight right, hoping to smash through my defense.

I made a short, almost invisible sidestep. His fist whistled past a centimeter from my ear. In that same instant, before he could recover his balance, I stepped in, right into his "dead zone." My hand didn't clench into a fist. Instead, with an open palm, I landed a short, whipping strike right under his floating ribs.

"Hhhk!" came out of Sasuke.

The sound was almost inaudible, but the effect was instant.

Sasuke's body froze. His eyes, until then burning with rage, went wide with shock and pain.

The air wheezed out of his lungs. He tried to inhale but couldn't—his paralyzed diaphragm just wouldn't cooperate.

The Uchiha folded in half, clutching his side, and dropped to one knee.

The fight was over.

A dead silence hung over the crowd of students. I calmly lowered my hand and looked at my fallen opponent with a neutral expression.

Quick and clean. Let the opponent show what he could do and finished it without lasting damage.

"The winner—Uzumaki Naruto!" Iruka finally announced, with a bit of a delay, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened.


That same day, literally fifteen minutes after the spars ended, Iruka came back to our classroom and read out the list of students who passed, telling them to come forward right away to receive their headbands.

While Iruka was handling the ninjutsu checks and spars, the other teachers were grading our written tests and updating the records as the numbers came in. That way, graduation day was basically on a conveyor belt and got organized pretty efficiently—in a single day.

All the people I knew passed, along with nine others I barely talked to. Seven were sent to repeat the course.

The mood was strange. We moved to another classroom. The tension bled away once the ones who hadn't passed were gone.

"The top graduate, who showed the best combined results across all years of study, is… Uchiha Sasuke!"

Iruka handed Sasuke a brand-new forehead protector with the Konoha symbol. He took it silently and, yup, with that stone face, tied it around his head.

For the Uchiha, this announcement was an empty formality. In the eyes of the whole class, he'd lost. And Sasuke knew it.

A full-on fallen-hero drama was playing out right in front of me.

He threw a quick, complicated look my way, with old anger, stubborn rivalry and, unless I imagined it, a shadow of reluctant acknowledgment all mixed together.

I got my headband one of the next. I couldn't care less about rankings and combined subject scores. Why bother when they're going to hand it to you anyway? Perfect numbers are nice and all, but not when they cost serious effort.

I smirked a little as I took the protector, drawing yet another heavy sigh from Iruka. My strength couldn't be measured by the grades in his scroll. Umino, who'd marked me absent more times than he could count, didn't like that much. But we both knew I didn't really belong in this building, and that those grades were clearly not being given to someone unworthy of them. So he swallowed it and barely complained.

After we got the headbands, they took us up to the roof of the Hokage's Residence to take ID photos. I wasn't feeling particularly energetic today, but I scraped together enough effort to make the picture come out a bit better.

Then they cut us loose until the next day, when the team assignments were going to happen.

Later. One floor below. Hokage's Office

The old man—definitely old, if you asked most people—was, as usual, shuffling through papers at his desk.

A knock sounded, and the Hokage chuckled.

The guest he'd summoned was behind the door.

At his permission, Hatake Kakashi stepped into the office. In one piece, in a fresh, equally intact uniform.

"Long time no see, Kakashi. How've you been?"

The silver-haired man's shoulders twitched as he remembered something.

"I've been better," he replied, then added in a pained tone, "Is it that time again?"

"Yes, time to take on a new genin team," Hiruzen nodded calmly and set one of the folders in front of him. "But first. How did the spar with Naruto-kun go? I heard you ended up in the hospital."

"M-mm." Kakashi chewed his lip and averted his single visible eye. "I'd prefer not to run into him again."

"Really? You did figure out who his parents are? Or rather, remembered?"

"M-hm." Hatake looked even more uncomfortable. "I did… But I think he's better off living the way he has been. I'd only get in the way."

"That's too harsh on yourself. You blame yourself too much sometimes, Kakashi. It's not healthy and it does no good, neither for you nor for those still trying to drag you out of your depression."

Kakashi pulled another face, unable to say anything back.

Gai, Kurenai, Asuma, some of the ANBU he often worked with—he couldn't really call them friends.

Or rather, he barely admitted it to himself, but he didn't want to. Because the people he called friends or anything close to it had a habit of dying way too fast…

"But I can also see you've become a bit more alive," Hiruzen went on. "That spar definitely did you some good."

"Maybe," Kakashi admitted with a sigh, his shoulders slumping. "But please, don't set something like that up for me again, Hokage-sama."

"Hm." Sarutobi leaned back in his chair. "Alright, I won't set anything like that up again."

Then he tapped the folder with his fingertips, hinting for the jonin to look it over.

Stepping closer, Kakashi opened it. Inside, just as he'd thought, were the files of his future genin.

"Oh, an Uchiha," Hatake murmured, reading through the profile and nodding, impressed. "Good potential."

Right under the Uchiha's file was the file of some pink-haired kunoichi. Kakashi lifted it to read as well—but as soon as that sheet left the folder, his eye caught on the page beneath…

There was a file with a photo of a very memorable blond, who, striking some rocker pose with his hand under his chin, was staring into the camera with a grin and his tongue sticking out.

"N-no," Kakashi quickly shook his head.

"From now on, arranging those kinds of spars will be your job," Hiruzen said, his smile spreading. "This team isn't going to fail your test, heh."

"N-no!" The realization finally hit Kakashi fully.

"Just, you know, make sure you survive," Hiruzen added, and waved his hand, signaling the conversation was over.

Shinobi Academy. Uzumaki Naruto's POV

The next day, the atmosphere in the classroom was completely different. The emotional fever had been replaced by a trembling anticipation. Today decided our future lives as shinobi. Team assignments.

I sat in my usual seat next to Hinata and lazily watched the commotion.

Iruka-sensei stood in front of us with his clipboard, his face serious, but there were sparks in his eyes—he was clearly enjoying the moment.

"Alright, graduates, congratulations once again!" he began. "Today you stop being just students and become genin teams under the leadership of experienced jonin. I'll read out the team lineups. Listen carefully."

He started reading. Team Three… Team Five… I let the names go in one ear and out the other, running potential combinations in my head. Who would I be effective with? No, what a dumb thought… Obviously, with a tight-knit squad of elite jonin. But there aren't any of those here.

Given the options we had: Shikamaru is smart but lazy. Shino is reliable but secretive. Sasuke… Sasuke is a problem case, and in my opinion, sometimes just plain not right in the head.

"…Team Ten: Yamanaka Ino, Nara Shikamaru, Akimichi Choji!"

An indignant huff from Ino and a tired groan from Shikamaru sounded. Choji, predictably, just crunched his chips, unbothered. Classic. And their sensei is classic too—Sarutobi Asuma. Hiruzen's prodigal son came back, made peace with daddy and is now in the Leaf again.

"…Team Eight: Hyuga Hinata…"

I felt the girl next to me tense up. Me too.

Our eyes met for half a second.

There was hope in hers; something similar flickered in mine, along with curiosity.

But when Iruka went on, it became clear it wasn't meant to be.

"…Inuzuka Kiba, Aburame Shino!"

Hinata and I exchanged another look, this time with clear disappointment in her eyes, and I felt a faint pang of annoyance.

Real shame. It's comfortable being around her, and… sigh…

But at least she'll be with familiar faces. Kiba's loud, but overall not a bad guy. Shino's quiet and, again, reliable. Not a bad lineup for her—a tracker team.

"Your commander," Iruka continued, "will be the jonin-tracker, Yamashiro Aoba."

My eyebrows climbed up. Not Kurenai? Well, damn. Interesting… So my influence is already changing the layout of power and fates.

Probably should've seen that coming.

Though it's kind of depressing that this is reality and not some story in a book. If it were, maybe I could've dug up all the dirt. As it is, I don't know canon completely, I don't have all the facts, which makes building any kind of theory way harder—and pointless. A fleeting bout of curiosity isn't worth hours of clone labor.

"And lastly, Team Seven…" Iruka made a dramatic pause. "Uchiha Sasuke."

I saw Sasuke, who'd been sitting there with a stone face, tense up slightly. His back instantly straightened, and there was hope in his eyes—for strong teammates who wouldn't hold him back.

"…Uzumaki Naruto."

Sasuke's shoulders slumped. He slowly tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling with a look that screamed he was asking all the gods at once, "Why? What did I do wrong?"

"…and Haruno Sakura!"

Right then, Sakura's joyful, almost hysterical shriek tore through the classroom, followed by, "I'm on the same team as Sasuke-ku-u-un!"

Sasuke, hearing that, hunched over sharply, like the weight of the whole world had just been dumped on him. I could practically read his thoughts: "Guess my last five reincarnations were total sinners. And I'm the one stuck paying for all of them," the Uchiha was thinking.

A heavy sigh escaped me.

An emotionally unstable avenger and his fangirl, who's going through rehab under my supervision.

"Thanks, fate, if you even exist," flashed through my head, dripping sarcasm.

Well, at least it probably won't be boring.

I caught Iruka's eye, and he seemed to get everything without a word, just shook his head sympathetically. Lately we'd gotten pretty good at understanding each other. Shame we wouldn't be seeing each other much anymore.

As the teams started leaving with their new instructors, I walked over to the girl who'd basically become a good friend.

"Good luck, Hinata," I said and, before she could react, pulled her into a short but tight hug. She froze for a moment, then hesitantly hugged me back. "We'll definitely keep in touch and see each other. Practice my 'move.'"

I stepped back, gave her a wink, and after getting a similar, if more awkward, line from her, I went back to my new "team."

The rest of my ex-classmates were pretty quickly picked up by their instructors. We said some slightly sad goodbyes and split up.

In the end, only our trio was left in the room.

Sakura was trying to say something to Sasuke; he grimly ignored her, staring at the wall. I just sat on top of a desk and waited.

Five minutes passed. Ten.

Sakura started pacing nervously around the room. Sasuke sank into even darker silence. I was getting frankly bored.

Fifteen minutes.

That was it. My patience was gone.

I jumped off the desk.

"Naruto-kun, where are you going?" Sakura asked in surprise. "Our sensei could show up any minute!"

"Home," I tossed over my shoulder, heading for the door. "My time's worth more than his punctuality. Tell sensei I waited exactly fifteen minutes. And that he's going to have to pay for that…"

Without waiting for an answer, I slid the door open and walked out, leaving behind a stunned Sakura and, unless I was seeing things, a faintly smirking Sasuke, who apparently appreciated my attitude.


A note from your kind author-san.

I want to briefly explain for readers why events aren't lining up exactly with canon. It'd be hard and not really necessary to spell this out inside the story itself, but if there are canon super-nerds among you, this note is for you.

In the original story: Hinata was very soft and weak for an heiress. Her father, Hiashi, was disappointed in her. The turning point was a fight where Hinata lost to her younger sister, Hanabi. After that, Hiashi basically "handed" her over to Kurenai, seeing his daughter as feeble and seeing no future clan head in her.

In this story: Because of Naruto's constant influence (his support, his example of confidence, and his "lectures"), Hinata started to change. Slowly—but over the years, water wears down stone. She began training harder and gained more confidence, which you saw in the incident with the elder. That incident didn't just show it to you, it also showed it to Hiashi—he found out about it.

As a result, by the time a fight with Hanabi could have happened, Hinata had become much stronger. Hiashi, being a pragmatist, understood that the outcome was obvious—this time Hanabi would lose. So a showy "duel for the inheritance" wasn't even considered; it would've been pointless. On top of that, Hiashi could see his heiress changing, becoming more resilient, so he couldn't write her off as completely incapable of being a leader.

So Hiashi had no reason to "get rid of" Hinata by passing her off to Kurenai. Without that close bond between them that formed in canon, Kurenai never became Team 8's instructor. Instead, a jonin more suited to a sensor-type squad was assigned. The synergy's pretty clear: the Inuzuka's dog nose, the Aburame's chakra-tracking bugs, and Hinata's Byakugan, which already sees pretty far—and will only see farther, plus through obstacles, in the future.

 

[Welydora]

Several hours later

After a good training session in the gym, I was in a big, bright room of the mansion with floor‑to‑ceiling windows and a large balcony. This room basically split the second floor into two wings, each with two bedrooms, and every bedroom had its own bathroom and walk‑in closet.

Sitting on a black leather couch in the middle of the room, I had a coffee table with apples in front of me. A nearly peeled apple was in my left hand, and the knife I was using to peel it was in my right.

It wasn't the first fruit I'd eaten, and I would've kept going if my mid‑range sensing hadn't picked up one cocky mug that, a moment later, showed up on my balcony in a whirl of leaves.

Hatake Kakashi—of course it was him—looked awkward, his face tense and nervous.

He shifted from foot to foot, then uncertainly set a big bag down in front of me… with the logo of my favorite pastry shop on it.

"Uh, hey, so…" He gave a little wave. "And, uh, forgive me. I'm late. A black cat crossed my path, and I had to walk around it in a circle… But then the same cat showed up again, can you believe it? And then I had to walk an old lady home, she'd gotten lost. And then this one thing happened, you won't believe it…"

Listening to him, my face made it very clear I thought he was talking crap and I didn't believe a word. At the same time I was deliberately eating my apple as slowly as possible.

When he got to his third excuse, I stopped him with a raised hand still holding the knife, and Kakashi froze.

"You seriously expect me to take this crap at face value?" My eyebrow went up as I set the apple and knife on the table and reached into the bag. "You think I'll forgive you being late just for this big chocolate cake?" I set the cake aside and dug in deeper. "You think I'll take this gorgeous cake with white icing and strawberries… as a bribe?" I put that one on the table too and reached in again. "Or do you figure I'll get all emotional and forget everything the second I see this caramel‑nut meringue cake?" I pulled out the last one and gave him a squint.

After a beat, Kakashi shrugged.

"Well, yeah."

"You're damn right," I told him in a completely serious tone, then relaxed fully and leaned back against the couch. "So how'd meeting our team go?"

"Fine."

Kakashi flinched at my mood shift. It was obvious he was uncomfortable being here—or rather, being in this position.

"Come on, unclench, it's fine," I said, trying to ease the mood, and patted the couch next to me.

He took the offer and sat down.

"Hm. The Hokage‑sama was right," he noted, watching me unwrap the chocolate cake.

"Oh, you talked to the old man about me?" I asked, interested, then sharply smacked Kakashi's hands when they reached for my cakes. "Hands off. Mine."

"M‑my… Yeah, we exchanged a few words." He put his hands on his own knees. "He mentioned you can be… vindictive. And now I see it."

"Vindictive? Really?" I asked, pulling a plate and some cutlery out of the seals on my wristbands. He shot me a look that clearly said, Dude, you seriously use expensive fūinjutsu bracelets just to carry that around?, but I ignored it and went on, "Maybe Koharu might've said something like that. And maybe Gendai. And Mizuki too. But other than that, I'm very kind."

Judging by the way Kakashi grimaced, he obviously didn't believe me.

"An avenger and a fangirl," he added a bit more detail. "But that's… workable. Can I ask you a favor?"

Munch, munch—I was already eating the cake. "Depends on the favor," I clarified.

"You know commanders give their genin a test first, right? And only then take them on as students."

I nodded.

"So. Could you personally not take part tomorrow? And, say, act as their tactician instead?"

"Hm‑m…" I tore myself away from the cake. "Two more."

"Two what?"

"You know." Another piece of cake went into my mouth.

"…Fine. I'll take care of it right now." He stood up and was already about to leave in a Shunshin, but…

"Hold up." I stopped him. I put the plate aside, and Chakra Threads burst from my hands and shot off deeper into the house. "Here. Clean up."

The threads pushed a broom and dustpan into Hatake's hands, and once he accepted them with a sigh, pointed at the leaves his Shunshin had blown all over the place, then dissolved into the air.

I went back to my sweets. Watching someone else work made the food taste even better.

The next day. Third person POV

One of the Hidden Leaf's many training grounds sat in the forest beside a running stream. It wasn't the same one where Naruto and Kakashi had sparred recently. In the middle of the field, three massive wooden posts were driven into the ground, and in the distance there was one of the stone memorials engraved with the names of Konoha civilians and shinobi killed in action.

Right now there were two people on the training ground: a black‑haired boy of about twelve in a blue shirt and white shorts. Lying back in the grass, he was staring sullenly into the greenery in front of him.

A short distance away sat a pink‑haired girl of the same age, in a red qipao‑style dress and tight dark‑green shorts. The really observant would notice her headband was on her belt, while the same red ribbon her old friend had given her was still on her long hair at the crown of her head. Now the bow was under her hair instead of on top of it, but that's not exactly vital detail…

You couldn't really call what was between them an idyll. In fact you couldn't call it that at all. The two teenagers were sitting apart from each other, looking tired and bored.

These were Sasuke and Sakura.

It probably would've stayed like that for quite a while, until a blond—Uzumaki Naruto—suddenly appeared in the clearing.

"Naruto!" Haruno jumped to her feet at once. "You're late!"

"Hi to you too." He greeted the girl, glanced up at the sun for a second, then nodded to the boy who had gotten up and come over. "Eleven‑thirty. I got here fifteen minutes early."

"But we were told to be here at five in the morning!"

"And I was told to be here in ten minutes." At the blond's words the girl's mouth fell open, and the black‑haired boy went thoughtful. "Looks like you got lied to," he confirmed.

"How could he…" The girl's eyes went glassy. "He's an elite jōnin… We haven't eaten anything since morning… And…"

She was cut off by a pat on the shoulder from the blond.

"Don't stress about it. And hey, Sasuke," he turned to the other boy, "stop glaring at the grass like it murdered your family. It didn't do anything to you."

"But how could he?" Sakura asked. "He's supposed to be a responsible shinobi."

Suppressing a chuckle, Naruto gave her an awkward smile.

"Well, it's good to believe in the best, but it's not always like that. Balance, Sakura—there are slackers among people too."

"M‑mm," was all that came out of her.

The black‑haired boy, after thinking about something, started staring at the blond with suspicion.

"No, you're wrong, Sasuke. I'm not in cahoots with that jōnin. Even if we did agree on a couple things…" Uchiha's stare got even more suspicious.

Sasuke usually didn't need words to get his opinion across very clearly. Naruto just rolled his eyes at it and pulled two white balls about fist‑sized from the seal on his bracers, handing them to his teammates.

"The test for genin before a jōnin takes you on as students. I knew about it, a lot of instructors do it. I also figured Kakashi might try to stick you in a bad spot with something like this. Bon appétit."

"Hm…" Sasuke made his first sound after taking the ball. "Did you two agree you'd poison them?"

Uchiha's suspicious eyes were about to narrow at Uzumaki, but then caught on Sakura, frozen in place. She'd already taken three quick bites and stopped on the fourth with her mouth still open.

Everything he thought about her flickered across Sasuke's face, while Naruto just rolled his eyes again.

"They're fast‑absorbing, high‑carb food pills. The point is to give you a quick hit of energy. Like I said, I planned ahead a bit."

"And…" the black‑haired boy pushed him to go on.

"We agreed I wouldn't participate in this test directly. Nothing more. I've crossed blades with Kakashi before, and I figure he wants to check your skills, not mine. And yeah, it benefits me if you're in shape and actually pass this test. Because as a teacher, that jōnin suits me."

"You sparred with Kakashi?" Sasuke clarified and, after giving the ball a pretty hostile look, finally took a bite. Sakura, who had been glancing between us, just kept eating.

"Yeah, I told you already. Pretty so‑so fight, honestly. Hatake was really slowing down sometimes."

Sasuke was about to ask something else, to get a better feel for who we might all end up working with, when the subject of the conversation himself cut in.

"He even showed up early," the blond nodded in surprise that, for once, someone wasn't late.

"U‑uh… Yo, how's it going?" the silver‑haired man said, not immediately getting his bearings. He had two pre‑packed bentō boxes tucked under one arm.

In response, two pairs of very pissed‑off eyes fixed on him.

Kakashi noticed they were already finishing off some kind of balls, and that knocked him off balance.

"Uh… I did say not to eat anything…"

…

…

He couldn't say he heard a single word. But their faces made the message perfectly clear: Screw you.

Kakashi waited in silence, expression blank, until they finished.

"R‑right… Anyway, Naruto probably already told you we agreed on a couple things. So…"

Setting the bentō on a handy stump nearby, he showed them two bells on strings.

"Your goal, you two, is to take these from me. If you can't, all three of you go back to the Academy. If you can, then two genin will stay on a team with me—whoever you decide to leave the bells with. The third still goes back to the Academy either way…" Kakashi was going to keep talking, but noticed a raised hand. "Yeah, Naruto?"

"He's lying," Uzumaki ratted the jōnin out without a shred of guilt.

"Are you sure?" Sakura asked, as she and Sasuke turned toward him.

"Y—" Naruto started to confirm, then caught Hatake's two‑finger gesture.

Following their teammate's gaze, the two not‑yet‑genin looked the same way, only to see Kakashi lifting his head with an annoyed expression, like he'd just been nodding to himself.

"No, I'm not sure. Rumor just said something a bit different," Uzumaki lied just as shamelessly, who'd be getting five more cakes today.

It's not like that lie was going to hurt his teammates. And with that clearly inflated price, he was also quietly getting some payback from "one‑eye" on their behalf.

"R‑right, well," Hatake showed off his eloquence. "Anyway, you two have to take the bells from me before noon. Or you don't get any food…" He nodded at the bentō, then shot a disgruntled look at Uzumaki. "Though I guess that doesn't matter to you anymore. Naruto, like we agreed, will be your tactician. He won't lay hands on me—no touching the bells, my face, my stomach or even my spine. Same goes for his feet."

The blond flashed an OK sign while his teammates glanced between him and their future teacher.

"So will all three of us pass, or just two?" Sakura asked.

Hatake just folded his arms, already having the bells hooked to his belt.

"That… you'll find out when the test is over. You can start. Oh, and yeah, don't hold back. Attack with intent to kill." Saying that last part with special seriousness, he then casually reached into his pouch, pulled out his favorite little orange book, and hid from the world behind it.

Sasuke didn't like that gesture; he took it as an insult and was already about to go at the jōnin who clearly thought too much of himself. But he was stopped by Uzumaki's hand on his shoulder.

"Too early. Fall back, I've got a few ideas."

After a short pause, the genin moved off to the edge of the training ground, something Kakashi watched with mild surprise.

It wasn't the first time in his memory that fresh shinobi graduates decided to put together at least some kind of plan first. Though… that had never ended well, but that was another story. What surprised him more was that the Uchiha actually backed off from what he wanted and listened to his teammate.

After that… Kakashi couldn't keep his eyes on the page. His gaze kept drifting toward the new team he'd been handed.

It was some kind of alien, unnatural sight… which only made it more fascinating.

Graduates who had just become genin… were… making a tactic? Like, for real?

Hatake watched with growing amazement as the two of them listened closely to the blond who had turned his back to the silver‑haired man—and they didn't even seem to be arguing? For more than a minute? And nobody had started yelling, jabbing a thumb at themselves, insisting they were the one who should be in charge?

He didn't really believe what he was seeing… And on top of that… the other two were even clarifying things, while Uzumaki calmly gave them more instructions!

No way. No fucking way. That can't be real.

Kakashi could more or less understand the blond's behavior. He was an exception, one of the craziest prodigies out there—Kakashi's ribs remembered that very well. But those two as well?! Did they actually amount to something too?

At that moment Kakashi raised his hand to get the trio's attention.

The real goal of this test was to check their ability to work as a team. And there were already enough signs they were capable of it.

"You guys…" Hatake cut himself off. "Carry on."

And waved for them not to get distracted.

No… now the jōnin was actually curious—very curious—how this would turn out.

He managed to get his eyes back on the book.

Kakashi was, of course, starting to have certain hopes for these three. But they were still just Academy graduates… Not the little monster Minato‑sensei had left behind, but ordinary genin. He'd read their files, which meant taking them too seriously would be… overkill.

Although…

Hatake looked up from the book again and glanced at the genin.

Uzumaki's file was full of crap too. As if he were just a regular genin. But…

No, nonsense. All three of them couldn't be like that.

Now properly calming himself down, the man went back to his book.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the field—

"Sasuke, your job is frontal pressure. You're our anvil. Use everything you've got: taijutsu, shuriken, wire, fireballs. Your goal isn't to beat him, it's to make him move and use Substitution. Make him believe you're the main threat," Uzumaki said methodically.

"Sakura, you're, like, our hammer. You're faster, more mobile… No, Sasuke, don't stare at me like that, I know what I'm talking about. Anyway, Sakura. Your job is to keep changing position, using the trees and, if you have to, the water. You'll be hitting from the flanks and from behind, but only on my command. Don't get pulled into a drawn‑out fight."

He looked at both of them, thinking for a moment.

Sakura really had made progress in a few areas thanks to Uzumaki's training. At the very least she'd learned to walk up vertical surfaces and on water, strengthen her body with chakra better, and even use the Body Flicker Technique—frankly, at a pretty mediocre level, but still—and a couple of weak (for her level, decent) genjutsu. Turned out Haruno had a serious knack for chakra control, so all that came to her relatively easily.

But in Academy spars those skills weren't as important as certain others. She lost to Sasuke in close‑quarters and short bursts of speed—same way Naruto lost to Kakashi there. On top of that, her fighting style was far from good. Because of all that she could easily seem weaker than Sasuke back in the Academy. Still, each of Naruto's teammates had their own advantages. If Sakura's were listed above, then Sasuke's were much stronger close combat—he was stronger and more technical. He threw and fought with kunai really well, was good with shuriken and with wire. And on top of that he had a decent amount of strong chakra he could turn into not‑many‑but‑effective fire techniques.

The girl looked energetic now—the pill she'd eaten was already kicking in, and her eyes were darting a little restlessly between the guys and their surroundings—but she was also a bit nervous because of how important what they were about to do was. Sasuke, having also topped up his energy, had no trouble brooding. He didn't like listening to anyone. But since this "someone" beat him down on a pretty regular basis, he had to admit it was worth listening.

Shaking off his thoughts, Uzumaki went on:

"I know what each of you can do on your own, but you don't know each other's strengths. You need to trust me and trust that your teammate will do their job. I'll coordinate you using a Mind Link Technique—the Hokage gave me the scroll. With permission from the Yamanaka clan, if anyone cares," he added, looking at Sakura, who seemed way too tense. "Sakura, drop the emotions. Don't think about not letting Sasuke down. Think about getting your job done."

Both of them felt something touch from inside their skulls. An invisible, very thin thread of chakra.

"Listen carefully," Naruto's voice sounded in their heads. "Kakashi might be a lazy ass, but he's careful. He's already prepped logs and other objects with his chakra for convenient Substitution Jutsu. One's in that hollow in the old oak. Second's under the roots of the willow by the stream. Third's disguised as that rock over there. Our job is to drive him through the sequence of substitutions we want. The plan has three stages and it's flexible…"

For several minutes Naruto shared his experience dealing with Kakashi's movements and behavior in general. He also explained the common plan and, for each of them, about a dozen possible ways it could branch out. Once he was sure they got it, he finished:

"That's it. My voice'll be in your heads. I believe in you, and I'm right here."

The three of them traded looks.

Sasuke's face was set in grim resolve; Sakura's showed about the same. Naruto was smirking, a bit encouraging.

A heartbeat later, Sakura shot off into the trees.

Seeing Kakashi react to that movement, the blond grinned, dragged his thumb across his throat and pointed at the jōnin, then also vanished into the forest, leaving Kakashi one‑on‑one with Sasuke.

Stage One: Predictable Threat.

Things started fast and sharp.

Sasuke went in with an aggressive attack. First shuriken, then closing the distance with strikes, trying to tie his opponent up with wire.

Without lifting his eye from the book, Kakashi easily knocked aside every flying projectile and slipped past every attack, as if he were playing with a kitten.

His eye wasn't even really on the Uchiha. He was expecting something from the side, some kind of trick. Uzumaki wouldn't make a gesture like that for nothing, right? Or… was it just a distraction?

The jōnin kept scanning the area and at one point, to an experienced shinobi's eye, left himself very nicely open to an attack from the black‑haired boy.

Right then a voice rang in Uchiha's head: "Sasuke, break off to seven o'clock! Mid‑range! Great Fireball Technique! Aim right at him!"

The black‑haired boy immediately broke off, leaping in the direction Naruto gave, and quickly formed the seals.

A huge fireball, crackling and sucking in the air, roared toward the jōnin.

Now that was more serious.

Kakashi showed he hadn't actually been completely distracted and, still without looking up from his book, simply vanished with a soft clap, leaving a log in his place.

The clearing shook when the fireball hit. A patch several meters across went up at once, like someone had poured gasoline there and lit it. The log was definitely going to burn…

Kakashi himself appeared on a branch of the old oak—exactly where Naruto had said he would.

"Not bad, Sasuke‑kun," he commented lazily, but loud enough for everyone to hear, turning a page. "But it's not reaching me."

Apparently Uzumaki's throat‑slitting gesture had been a distraction for this. To make Kakashi focus more on his surroundings and neglect the Uchiha.

Kakashi waited for the next move. Usually after a display like that, genin either ran out of steam or started attacking without thinking.

Given the Uchiha's strength, it would probably be the second.

Stage Two: Mobile Threat.

"Sakura, your position is the tree right above him. He's not paying attention, your Chakra Concealment will be enough. Wait. Now!" came the command in the pink‑haired girl's head.

She was already in position, holding her breath. Her hiding skills, polished under Naruto's guidance, had let her sneak up unnoticed.

Her chakra‑strengthened legs tensed.

On command she dropped silently.

Kakashi, still expecting something more from the Uchiha, noticed her only at the last second.

A shadow flashed from above.

Her speed and stealth surprised him, but an elite jōnin's reactions were more than enough to get clear.

Another pop of a Substitution, and he was already by the stream next to the willow. Open ground.

"Not bad," he drawled, noting out of the corner of his eye how the girl landed softly and immediately melted back into the leaves.

Kakashi still didn't feel a real threat—more like mild surprise that these kids were definitely better than average, but… still kids.

Stage Three: Perfect Trap.

"Sasuke, distract him with fire from the stream side! Sakura, come in from the flank and hit him with genjutsu! Drive him toward the rocks!"

Sasuke, almost at the right position already, sent out a spread of Phoenix Flower Jutsu. The fireballs streaked toward Kakashi. At the same time, Sakura slipped in from the side and, forming a simple seal, cast her weak but distracting genjutsu—an illusion of shuriken flying at him from the opposite direction.

Kakashi clicked his tongue. Two threats from different directions. Dealing with both was more hassle than it was worth. Easier to use his last prepared Substitution.

He formed the seal again.

He appeared beside a pile of rocks, bracing for the next attack. Right where Haruno was waiting close by.

"Sakura, now!"

A shower of real kunai flew at Kakashi—easier to dodge than to knock aside. The man tried to do just that…

But his foot caught on something thin and almost invisible.

Wire.

He tried to step out of it to keep his balance, but…

The briefest hitch was enough.

The girl, whose weapons were only cover to let her close in, lunged forward, using her best Shunshin.

Time seemed to slow.

Kakashi, losing his balance, saw her coming and tried to move, but his body was busy trying not to fall.

Sakura was already flying in.

At that moment Naruto's threatening gesture flashed through Kakashi's mind and, on reflex, the man covered his vital spots, hoping to either block the blow or catch her outright. He was still a strong jōnin; his strength should've been enough.

But instead of a strike, the girl's hand darted to his belt and tore off the two small, jingling bells.

The only sound was the soft thump of the book falling from his hands into the grass.

Kakashi finally straightened and stared in surprise at Sakura, who was braced on her knees, gulping air… all so she could triumphantly lift the bells in her hand and—

"Yeeees!" she shrieked with joy, throwing her arm up. "Now I get to be with Sasuke‑kun!!!"

Sasuke came out of the bushes right as she yelled, immediately shooting her an irritated look. But when he noticed what she was holding, he blinked, then gave a short, understanding nod.

Naruto dropped lightly from a nearby tree.

"Plan complete. Time: one minute twelve seconds. Not bad for a first run."

Kakashi slowly lowered his gaze to his book, picked it up, and slid it into his pouch. He looked at Naruto, then at the ecstatic Sakura, then at the brooding Sasuke.

Hatake's eye showed genuine shock…

"Professionally laid wire. That wasn't here before…" he muttered.

"We weren't planning to kill you," the blond shrugged, then spread his arms with satisfaction. "It's called misdirection."

Naruto smirked even wider.

Shisui would probably have called Sakura's Shunshin "barely acceptable" at best—if he weren't in his grave—but even that level of execution had been enough. Kakashi, sure, hadn't been going all out, but even so… for brand‑new genin, this was more than impressive.

"You passed… all three of you."

"Hmph," Sasuke grunted.

"Yeeees!" Obvious who that was, yelling again.

"Great," Uzumaki nodded. "In honor of that, I suggest…" He turned to Hatake. "Kakashi‑san, you kept my teammates starving for almost seven hours. Don't you think you should at least pay for our celebration?"

Hatake's eye popped a little at the blond.

"Yeah, that's right! That was really mean, Kakashi‑sensei!" Sakura jumped in before he could object.

"But I…" the silver‑haired man started, tilting his head toward the stump with the two bentō.

"I agree," Sasuke added. "You're our senior now. It'd be the responsible thing to do."

The jōnin looked this trio over, tossing an especially sour glance at the blond. This team… had suddenly turned into some kind of financial black hole.

"…Fine," he agreed with a sigh.

"Perfect," Uzumaki said, earning a look from Kakashi like he was the most brazen pickpocket in existence, who'd just walked up, stuck his hand in the man's pocket, and grabbed as much money as he wanted.

After that they agreed on a time for the evening and went their separate ways… At the very least, Kakashi had to head to the Akimichi clan and reserve a table.

And the blond had a couple of things to take care of himself.

---

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[Welydora]

Uzumaki Naruto's POV

I liked that test, I thought as I lazily hopped between Konoha's trees. At the very least, I scored a free meal this morning, and I'm gonna be eating for free again tonight.

But that was an evening problem. I'd handed my bento to my teammates—the rice balls wouldn't have lasted them long anyway. And, honestly, they weren't as hopeless as they'd seemed at first.

Right now I was heading toward another training ground, where Hinata's team was supposed to be taking a similar test. I was curious what kind of jonin they had. And whether I could help my old acquaintances and squeeze their sensei for some cash too.

I showed up right on time. Half‑assedly hiding myself in the thick foliage and suppressing my chakra to a bare minimum, I saw Team 8 standing in the middle of a clearing in front of a jonin I didn't recognize. They looked tired, but not exhausted. The test was clearly wrapping up.

I studied their faces. From left to right, from where I was: Hinata in a cream‑colored jacket with fur along the bottom and a hood; Shino in a gray jacket with a high collar and his usual black glasses; and Kiba, also in a gray jacket, but with fur on the hood, which was up. Most importantly, on Inuzuka's head there was a small white mutt with long brown‑tipped ears just sprawled out. Aside from the dog, everyone was dressed in standard shinobi gear.

"…and that is precisely why," their jonin was saying in a calm, even voice, "you failed the main objective, but passed the test."

He was a black‑haired man who looked to be around thirty, but he was pretty short—about a meter and a half, taller only than the dog among us. He wore standard Konoha shinobi clothes.

I pricked up my ears.

"I gave you a simple objective, on the surface: find and give me this scroll," he said, showing them a small scroll he'd just pulled from behind his back. "But besides this one, there was another identical scroll here. I didn't hide it, didn't use any techniques, didn't set any traps. I just left it in plain sight, on that stump over there. You, however, split up and spent three hours combing the forest. Kiba, you used your nose to find me and take the scroll. Shino, your kikaichū searched for my chakra. Hinata, I assume you were scanning the area with your Byakugan to find me. You were all looking for an enemy, not the objective."

He paused, sweeping his gaze over them.

…Guess every genin team has its own weird habits.

"A shinobi's objective isn't always a fight. Sometimes it's more important to complete the mission with minimal cost by showing some observation and brains. You acted according to a standard combat template. But," his voice warmed, "after some time, when you realized you couldn't find me, you didn't start arguing. You regrouped, exchanged information and worked out a single search strategy, splitting the area into sectors. You started acting like a team. And that was the real goal of this test. Compared to mutual understanding, skills are much easier to build up. Sometimes so much so that genin become hopeless… But you showed that you have a foundation, which means you can become real ninja. Congratulations, you passed."

A test not about pushing back against brute force, but about attention and thinking outside the box. Yeah, just what sensors need. The second half of his speech seemed a bit over the top to me, but whatever.

At that moment Kiba, who'd been listening closely, suddenly twitched his nose and snapped his head in my direction.

"Naruto?" he asked the empty space, surprised.

Next to him, Hinata, hearing my name, instantly activated her Byakugan without any hand seals. The veins around her eyes bulged and in a heartbeat she found me in the leaves.

Well, no point hiding anymore. With a light sigh, I kicked off from the branch and a moment later landed beside them.

"Hey," I waved at them and then, putting on an awkward face, scratched the back of my head. "Sorry for eavesdropping. Didn't mean to butt in. But seriously—congrats on passing."

I hadn't used any scent‑masking powder and had just slapped together some quick camouflage. No surprise they found me.

"Naruto‑kun!" Hinata blushed a little, deactivating her dōjutsu.

"I knew it was you, ha‑ha! You can't fool my nose!" Kiba declared proudly, and little Akamaru on his head barked in agreement. Shino just gave me a silent nod in greeting.

"Uzumaki Naruto," the jonin instructor stepped forward, looking me over with curiosity. I felt his chakra shift into a sensory mode to get a better read on me. But apparently, not feeling anything bad, he simply introduced himself: "I'm Yamashiro Aoba. Former vice‑captain of Ro in ANBU."

"Oh, so you know Kakashi," I noted. I'd seen in some papers that Hatake had been captain of that team.

"Kakashi‑taichō," he corrected me, with a hint of respect in his voice. "Yes, we served together. I heard from some acquaintances that he had an… interesting spar. Thank you."

"For what?" I raised an eyebrow.

"He hasn't been that… alive in a long time. Looks like you shook him up pretty well. Please, keep an eye on my senpai. Sometimes he gets too lost in his own head," Aoba asked.

Alive, huh?.. It's not like that's exactly how he seemed to me. But I guess I hadn't seen enough of Hatake to compare him to the past.

"No problem," I nodded. "And yeah, if you ever feel like working out, swing by the training ground. I can keep you company."

Aoba smirked.

"I'll pass. I'm a sensor, not a fighter. Taijutsu's not my field."

"Sensors can be good fighters too," I pointed out. "But if you don't want to, I won't force you."

I turned to his team.

"By the way, our sensei is treating us to dinner to celebrate."

The three genin looked at their instructor with silent hope. Aoba hesitated for a second, looked at their pleading faces, then at me, and sighed.

"Well, I guess we've earned a little celebration too. My treat."

"Woof!" Akamaru yapped happily, and Kiba threw a triumphant fist in the air. I just smiled in satisfaction, catching Hinata's grateful look.

Managed to take another jonin for a ride financially.

After that, I invited Hinata, with a couple of quick hand gestures so she wouldn't get embarrassed in front of the others, to celebrate separately sometime—and got her agreement. We said our goodbyes and their team headed off one way while I went the other.


The evening at the Akimichi clan's barbecue place turned out… pricey. For Kakashi, of course. He sat there with the face of a martyr while Sasuke, Sakura and I methodically shoveled down meat by the kilo.

As the one who ate the most, I was completely satisfied. Pigging out on someone else's dime after a successful operation—what could be better?

Team Seven was officially formed. And in a couple of days, according to Kakashi, our first D‑rank mission was waiting for us. Well, we'd see what that was like.


Our first mission as Team Seven turned out to be a real piece of crap. Maybe the height of humiliation, specially designed to break any ambitious shinobi's spirit.

"Help with cleaning a large merchant warehouse." The title already stank, even if it sounded harmless. In reality, it meant diving into a den of century‑old dust, rotting crates and rats the size of small cats, brazen from never getting punished.

Felt like a certain gray‑haired geezer had picked out the absolute worst thing he could for us.

Sasuke, wearing the expression of an aristocrat forced to muck out stables, silently hauled heavy crates from one end of the warehouse to the other. His face was unreadable, but I saw his eyebrows twitch every time another cloud of dust settled on his dark hair.

Sakura, to my pleasant surprise, didn't whine. This time she took on the role of organizer, trying to systematize the chaos—deciding what to toss and what to put on the shelves. And of course, she was doing that work herself at the same time.

Meanwhile, our valiant sensei, Hatake Kakashi, had found the cleanest corner, sat down on an upturned crate, pulled out his little orange book and dove into reading, occasionally giving out "valuable" instructions: "Sasuke‑kun, don't drop that so hard, it might be fragile. Sakura‑chan, that corner needs a more thorough wipe‑down."

I watched this little show while working for exactly five minutes. Five minutes during which Kakashi didn't move an inch.

Apparently the rats weren't the only ones who'd gotten too bold around here, I thought. The sensei gets his cut of the mission pay. And I was going to make sure he earned every last ryō of it.

I walked up to him without a word. Just stood next to him and stared. Piercing. Judging. Without blinking.

At first, he tried to ignore me, pretending to be completely absorbed in the plot.

Soon his one visible eye started to twitch. He turned a page. Then another, a little too fast.

Finally, he snapped. With the most tragic sigh he could muster, Kakashi shut the book with a loud clap, stuffed it back into his pouch and got to his feet.

"Alright, alright, I get it," he muttered, grabbing a nearby mop with the air of a great martyr. "No respect for veterans."

He just kept grumbling.

Only by almost nightfall was the mission finished. The four of us, tired and covered in a layer of grime, were walking along a path in the evening park toward our homes.

Sasuke and Sakura were silent, digesting their first official "combat" experience. I was thinking how boring and, more importantly, useless this mission had been. Next time I was definitely sending a clone.

But for now, I had other plans.

I stopped.

"Mission complete," I said, turning to Kakashi. "Now for training. What's on the program?"

"Program?" Kakashi's eye curved in a lazy smile. "Today's program is rest. You're all dismissed."

With that, he was about to vanish in a Body Flicker. But at that exact moment a kunai with a Flying Raijin formula wrapped around it slammed into the ground right in front of his foot.

"You're not going anywhere, 'sensei'," I said, already standing in front of him. "We wasted a lot of time today. But I can see you're not tired at all," I went on, not letting him get a word in. "And we're genin, full of energy. The earlier we start training, the faster we'll get stronger. Let's give today at least some meaning."

Kakashi realized that caving again would be a bad idea—otherwise they might make him work his ass off next time too. His tone got firmer.

"No. I've decided there won't be any training today. Besides, your teammates are tired." He nodded toward Sasuke and Sakura, who were watching our argument in surprise.

"Fine," I agreed, way too easily from his point of view. "They don't have to train if they don't want to. But training your genin is a jonin's duty. You're obligated to train me."

"I'm in charge here, Naruto," Kakashi tried to lean on authority. "And I said no. As a genin, you follow your commander's orders."

I went silent for a second. I knew something cold and nasty flashed in my eyes. Then I just snorted.

"I see. So you're not going to give me what I'm owed willingly. In that case…"

I took a short breath.

"I'll take it by force."

Without giving him even a fraction of a second to prepare, I lunged forward. My chakra‑boosted body blurred with speed. The goal wasn't to maim Hatake. Just… call it convincing him.

Kakashi threw up a block on reflex, his Sharingan already spinning, reading my movements. He caught on fast that I wasn't kidding. And he was forced to actually fight, just so he wouldn't get his ass kicked in front of his own students.

Sasuke and Sakura froze off to the side, watching in complete shock as their teammate, a fresh Academy graduate, attacked a jonin without a hint of hesitation… in close quarters… And even after several seconds still wasn't planted face‑first into the ground. No, it actually looked like the two of us were fighting on equal terms.

After a bit, we drifted deeper into the park.

A short exchange of blows, I grab him by the vest.

A flash—and we appear at a training ground far outside Konoha.

At the same time. Hokage Residence. Sarutobi Hiruzen's POV

The well‑lit, all‑too‑familiar office.

The Third Hokage stared into his crystal ball with a stoic expression. In it, his ward, Naruto, was methodically beating the crap out of an elite jonin… Not that that had been rare lately. But this time Hatake, apparently, wasn't exactly thrilled about taking hits to everything Uzumaki could reach.

With a sigh, the old man just shook his head, dispelled the Telescope Technique and set the ball aside.

This wasn't the worst thing Uzumaki had done. Besides, once he found out what mission Kakashi had picked, Hiruzen could even understand the kid. Though, technically, the latter was already an adult shinobi…

Eh… how time flies…

Back to Naruto. Sarutobi remembered the Mizuki incident. Hiruzen hadn't immediately found out that the chunin had been tortured, even if… in that way. But the report about it had almost driven him into a white‑hot rage… He hadn't expected that from Naruto… though he probably should have.

But Hiruzen had promised to look after him. And that care included spiritual guidance, too. Torture… wasn't something the old man wanted to be teaching Naruto. What if the boy later went on to do something much worse? How would he be able to look his parents in the eyes in the Pure Land?

At the time, all wound up before his next meeting with his ward, the Hokage had decided to try a certain device people had recommended to him more than once. For calming down—nerves never helped anyone.

And so, after heating the right side and doing bubble‑bubble‑bubble‑bubble‑bubble for a couple of minutes, the old man realized that actually, everything was fine. Why stress? Naruto hadn't killed anyone—in a way, he'd even interrogated him gently. He'd shown mercy. Not every criminal ends up with the Yamanaka; that privilege costs good money. More often, they had to pay a particular specialist from Ibiki's Torture and Interrogation unit and find everything out the old‑fashioned way. Hiruzen didn't approve of that, but in essence, Mizuki could have ended up much worse. Right now he was just sitting in prison, his nipples probably healed by now.

Naruto, on the other hand… He was a medic, and unfortunately he'd had to do things that could mess with your head even more.

Sarutobi was slowly admitting that because of how close they were, he'd started to coddle Naruto too much. That was why the old man had gone for that little, let's say, trick with access to secret techniques. Hiruzen had wanted to protect the child for just a few more years from the darkness outside the Leaf's walls. And it had worked.

But now he was a shinobi… A shinobi who could stand up for himself. Careful enough not to stick his nose where he'd get killed. And Hiruzen shouldn't get in his way on the path to whatever he was aiming for.

Another sigh echoed in the office.

The old man glanced over the finished paperwork and drummed his fingers on the desk.

When Sarutobi raised his eyes, they caught on Tobirama's portrait. The image of their last mission with the Second, which had ended in the latter's death… and in a forced retreat for Hiruzen's team and Danzo's team, immediately flashed through his mind. Their commander had held the enemy back while they'd had no choice but to run.

Slowly, his thoughts shifted to Danzo, and Sarutobi's expression darkened.

On the night of the Uchiha massacre, when the Hokage came for yet another round of negotiations, all he found were houses full of corpses and blood. The former Sharingan wielders had had their dōjutsu torn out… When ANBU carried out the investigation, Hiruzen compared it with earlier intel and came to an almost certain conclusion that Danzo was involved. They had been in the Uchiha district together that night, and the Third had chosen to take the risk and lean on the elder… And the bastard had had the nerve not only to admit it, but to start convincing Sarutobi that what he'd done—sending Itachi to wipe out his own clan—was all for Konoha's sake.

They had a brief but extremely unpleasant argument which ended with Shimura no longer being an elder, and Root being disbanded… at least, the part he'd officially disbanded for the Hokage's benefit. The old man suspected that Root hadn't been completely shut down, and that his long‑time, paranoid rival still had a few secret bases where some operatives remained. But in any case, Danzo's power had been chopped down hard, and his "take‑the‑initiative" crap that led to so many deaths posed much less of a threat to the Leaf. Which meant Hiruzen could afford to stop paying attention to it.

He believed that his long‑time… not friend, but good and trusted acquaintance, had realized his mistake and would change.

That night hadn't ended there. Later, while Hiruzen was dealing with the many consequences of the massacre, its perpetrator had shown up at his residence… Another lost shinobi in whom, despite everything, the Will of Fire hadn't gone out.

They talked on the roof of the residence, away from other shinobi's eyes.

Itachi really was sorry for what he'd done. But he was convinced that with that act he'd saved the most lives… Sarutobi thought otherwise, but what was done was done.

Their conversation once again confirmed Danzo's guilt: he was the one who had convinced Itachi a coup was inevitable and given him an ultimatum—either Itachi destroyed the Uchiha and could spare his brother… or every last Uchiha would be wiped out.

Unfortunately, in Hiruzen's opinion, this not‑very‑far‑sighted, overly sharp, but strong child had gone along with it and done everything by the script. Thinking he was doing good, he took a step into darkness…

Maybe that was exactly what had pushed Sarutobi to shelter Naruto even more. The boy was even younger, but—small problem here—if anything, even stronger than Itachi. If the blond ever went outside the village and listened to someone like Danzo, how many bodies would they have to dig out from under the rubble this time? So—better to train him and keep him away from shady types for a while. Until he started showing a lot more common sense than that same Itachi.

But back to the Uchiha. The first thing they'd discussed back then was the older brother's access to Sasuke. Hiruzen had promised, and of course kept his promise, that Konoha's barrier wouldn't be changed and Itachi would be able to visit his little brother. And that Sasuke would graduate from the Academy and become a Leaf shinobi.

Then the darker details had started…

It turned out that Itachi hadn't carried out the massacre alone, but with another Uchiha who called himself "Madara."

Back then both of them had agreed it was quite possible this "Madara" wasn't the same Madara who had once fought Hashirama. But given his power and the fact he had a Mangekyō Sharingan, they were almost sure he'd been behind the Kyūbi attack.

Itachi couldn't help but hate him. Basically, this "Madara" had led the clan to this coup, and had then personally taken part in the slaughter. But he was also too dangerous. He could do even more damage to the Leaf. That was why Itachi had agreed to his offer and joined a certain organization—Akatsuki.

Hiruzen had heard of that organization before, but it hadn't been very influential and operated mostly in the Land of Rain. Now though, with this apparently new shadow leader, "Madara," it had started transforming into something else entirely.

That transformation, as they figured, would take many years. But Itachi had become a spy inside that organization—a member who, when he got the chance, would erase the clan's last mistake: "Madara."

With those memories swirling, Hiruzen once again felt like smoking.

He focused his gaze on his own now‑wrinkled hands. And sighed.

Already not young at all… Sarutobi understood that the world kept moving forward. But his aging body was binding him more and more, not letting him act.

Soon enough, the old man felt, his end would come…

A successor. He'd thought about that for a long, very long time. He'd often even catch himself thinking he'd almost finished raising one… But that one was still too young.

Yagura's age hadn't stopped him from becoming the Kage of the Mist… Hiruzen's thoughts drifted. But that hadn't ended well either…

The old man remembered reading the report on the failed coup led by one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist—Momochi Zabuza. Karatachi's policies had been very harsh, and the old man regretted that their neighbors hadn't managed to topple the tyrant. But he couldn't help them.

Sarutobi shook his head.

A successor… He went back to that thought. A more suitable candidate had, after all, recently started to come back…

Finally picking up his pipe, Hiruzen puffed out smoke and started thinking about the future.

---

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[Welydora]

Uzumaki Naruto's POV

Another sparring session turned out to be… not bad. Kakashi still didn't really satisfy me as a sparring partner, but it was better than nothing. And the white‑haired bastard was slowly getting back into shape, so it was becoming less boring.

Showing off Hiraishin to my curious teammates, who'd decided that watching me and Kakashi beat on each other was a good idea, also went over pretty well. I get it; it really is interesting. Just like I get why, the next time we met at the bridge before our mission, Sasuke's face was so dark it looked like he had diarrhea and constipation at the same time.

He'd known I was holding back back in the Academy when I sparred with him. But once he understood exactly what technique I was capable of using, the Uchiha realized the full depth of his own insignificance. At least, that's what his face said.

I didn't bother telling him he was only like that in comparison to me, and maybe a few especially gifted geniuses. Knowing Sasuke's character, he'd just take it as pity—which he wouldn't accept from anyone—and spiral even harder.

Sakura, on the other hand, in her open—or, as some call it, screechy‑and‑annoying—manner, asked, "How'd you do that?" and "Can I do that too?"

Seeing her initiative, I calmly reminded the kunoichi that she had some very strong points in the form of chakra control, but physically she didn't impress. And in theory, yeah, she could. Just not now, and not even in a couple of years. With an untrained body, she wouldn't be able to use the technique properly in close combat like I do.

She nodded with a "smart" look, promised she'd try harder, and lit up with even more determination. I even found it kind of cute. A lot of people found her particular way of asking questions annoying—and to a small extent, so did I. But with Sakura I also appreciated her diligence and how seriously she took training and study, which, in my opinion, outweighed her flaws.

After Haruno's little speech, Sasuke—who'd been staring at her with open contempt—just snorted and turned away, as if to show exactly what he thought of her "success."

At that, the girl, as if snapping out of it and interpreting the Uchiha's reaction in her own special way, started making excuses, insisting there was nothing between me and her. That Sasuke should see: look, she was getting stronger under my guidance. And it was all just for him.

It looked… honestly? Pathetic.

This kind of performance wasn't new; I'd seen it more than once. And, as always, Sasuke—who didn't give a shit—would turn away and just stare off into the distance like an idiot, while Sakura talked basically to herself.

This time, though, it didn't drag on like the first couple times. After about three minutes, realizing she was being ignored just like always, Sakura's shoulders slumped, she shut up, and her expression turned gloomy.

I watched all of it with mixed feelings, but a calm face. I wanted to snort, but that would've been overkill.

Naive little Konoha idiot… And in the future, one of the most brilliant minds in medicine, or in fuinjutsu, or genjutsu, or something else—Sakura really did have potential, and a lot of it she could actually realize. Over the time I'd spent working with her, I'd picked up another reason to bother training the girl. She could turn into a useful person in my hands, since her own willpower is pretty questionable. Maybe Haruno doesn't realize it yet, but she's already in my clutches. Mu‑ha‑ha‑ha‑ha! What a villain I am!

After that, life rolled along at a more relaxed pace.

Before that mission, by the way, I managed to go out with Hinata and celebrate us getting our rank.

Afterwards, Kakashi stopped taking such insane missions.

My team—now including my clone—was still working a fair amount; missions aren't always easy, even if you cherry‑pick them. As for Kakashi himself, he actually kind of tried to fulfill his obligations… but as a teacher he turned out to be, putting it mildly, pretty meh. Not counting me, but taking into account the average level of his other genin, he tried to explain something about genjutsu and completely failed to do it in a sane way.

The result of those "lessons" was Sasuke saying he'd keep training according to his own program, and that with his "sensei"—he stressed the word like some bloated king talking about the help—he'd just double‑check details when needed. Sakura, of course, followed the dream of her entire life, i.e. the Uchiha, and also "stuck to self‑study"…

Mm‑hmm. Self‑study. Right. Totally, absolutely without my involvement—which she somehow forgot to mention. Still, at least sometimes, when Sasuke's around, she tries not to bring it up. No need to say what a circus I see in all of this.

In general, over time I started to feel like my psychological mentoring of Sakura was producing way more dubious results than the physical training. She was seriously stuck on the Uchiha, and she was getting over it painfully slowly.

Maybe the very fact that the Uchiha was right there was the problem. Maybe she needed a shake‑up.

The first… could be removed. Same with arranging the second. But that, in my opinion, would be a bit too cruel. One way or another, I'd grown attached to this girl; we've known each other for quite a while. My wish for her to have a better life already clashed with some of the stuff I'd told her early on. You know, the things that led to the conclusion she'd at best end up as an Uchiha incubator, but never get the love she imagined. And I'm still sure I was right about that. But at least there are some results with her. She's growing—she is. Which means measures like breaking her personality and other nasty crap aren't necessary. Let the girl get over it slower, but with less pain. I'm not a monster, whatever some people may think.

And so, time rushed on. I kept working on my fighting style, studying some techniques. But lately I'd been focusing more and more on that body‑enhancement project of mine. Everything was going great until I ran into a dead end. I should probably dig into that in more detail.

The latest dead end was the most fundamental and the most annoying. I had gone through every scroll and book available, including a good number of forbidden high‑rank techniques that helped deepen my understanding of manipulating living matter. I'd spent almost half the fortune I'd earned on puzzles on building the most advanced bioengineering lab in the world. My basement had long since stopped being just a basement; it had turned into a whole underground complex of several sterile rooms stuffed with insanely expensive equipment, ordered through a shell company from all over the world. Hybrids of tech and fuinjutsu: insanely complex scanning seals I'd designed myself, working in tandem with microscopes, centrifuges, and bioreactors, sometimes built to my blueprints, sometimes not.

Hundreds of different specialists had worked with me personally at one time or another, putting the essence of their experience into the project to make it even better—sometimes hired by me, sometimes on their own initiative. And if you count the people who assembled all that gear for me…

A whole empire was working for me!

Well… okay, I'm exaggerating. But the amount of people involved to get to the current result really was huge. Thankfully, organizing all of it wasn't that hard for Shadow Clones.

But that still wasn't enough—my chakra control had reached insane heights. I could perform most jutsu without hand seals—spit fire or other elements just because I felt like it. Use Shadow Clones that didn't pop out in a cloud of smoke but came straight out of my body—no problem, that was a simple tweak. Use S‑rank techniques other shinobi couldn't even dream of pulling off. The same Hiraishin, which I now used casually on my own, could only be replicated by three people—and even then it was a crippled version, with all sorts of crutches, and only if all three focused on the technique at the same time.

My control… was anomalous. So high it was scary. Only my affinity really held me back. I could pull off original jutsu with ridiculous mastery, could create insanely complex sealing arrays. But my physical reinforcement still wasn't that far beyond jonin who were only about twice my age. It's probably because of that unstable affinity that I wasn't the strongest shinobi in the world… Yet. For now it's just something that might happen someday, and I need to live in the present.

And here, one step away from the culmination of where my abilities had led me, I should probably mention what underlies that control. Thanks to a few experiments, I finally had at least an approximate answer.

When I started, for good reasons, measuring my own brain activity, I uncovered some very curious information. In the void, my soul—or rather, I, as the conscious part of that soul—could somehow think. Before, that was just a theory, but now, after several months of tests, I'm more than ninety percent sure my brain and soul work in tandem.

Originally I'd assumed the soul had taken over most of the mental workload, while the brain was mostly just a transmitter for what needed to be sent to the body. Commands to move, for example. That fit nicely with the fact that even before I was born I could think. But no: the brain of this body, at least a bit over a year ago when I started this testing, was developing very well, fully.

Soul and brain working together—two minds as one. I think that's the key to why my control and overall computational ability grew so much faster and further than other people's usually do. And that's not even counting the insane control potential I already had, which I've of course been realizing and keep pushing forward at a slow but steady pace. Because there are two intellects, I think my progress in control didn't slow down as much as it should have. In other words, my progress is faster because my soul woke up.

The soul is a very interesting direction. Thanks to it, my special vision still works, but it doesn't let me see through chakra. People's insides, for example. Luckily, for that I have insanely powerful fuin‑analyzers that project a shit‑ton of information in different spectra directly into my brain. That's how, thanks to them, I was able to really figure out the brain—and a lot more. The soul needs to be studied; I'm itching to learn everything about it. Maybe it hides a much higher potential than I think. But for now there's no material… Along with most of the chakra and the chakra pathway system, after the body dies the soul goes to the Pure Land… Or maybe the soul doesn't go to the Pure Land, only the chakra network does… I don't know. The point is, I had to focus on what I could study. Namely, on corpses, which are pretty crappy research material. And my control played no small role in that.

That same precision control, boosted by an auxiliary fuin‑analyzer, let me look deeper than anyone ever had. Not the Hyūga, not, I suspect, even Mangekyō users. I studied every system of the human body, every cell, even dug into the structure of the genome and found tools capable of influencing it.

A lot of things in the body are interconnected. And thanks to numerous experiments I managed, roughly speaking, to learn about a thousand "words" from a "dictionary" of property sets which, when projected, let me order the body to start this or that change. In the end, it got to the point where I could almost fully program how the body would change, and even, in a sense, the chakra pathway system. I even managed to study and force myself to reproduce—though clumsily and very inefficiently—the segments of the chakra system responsible for chakra‑development potential. Basically, make the dendritic vessels of chakra expansion even wider, deeper, farther. Compute, again crudely, some vectors of development for them. Most of my time still didn't go into that, though. Those parts of the chakra system are still too complex for me, and all these years my mind's been processing what it can.

My goal wasn't just power‑up, but a total, all‑round improvement of the body. A jump of millions of years in evolution, creating something far more perfect than a human. With this project I'd create the "foundation" for dealing with future threats and for survival itself.

My options and abilities were so great that guys like Tobirama or Orochimaru could only—yeah, the phrase is overused—cough up blood. And when you look at what I was working with, the end result stops being all that surprising.

And then, when all the theory was ready, when nearly all the formulas were calculated, I hit a wall again. I was once more missing the most important thing—living material for experiments. Studying corpses had given me everything it could. But dead tissue, while it reacts, doesn't adapt the same way. Even if you temporarily turn it "alive" using a certain not‑very‑ethical forbidden technique. Without tests on a living body that can regenerate and respond, all my calculations were just barely‑supported theory.

I trusted my math, but overkill safety wasn't just desirable, it was necessary. But where was I supposed to get this "living material"? Kidnap Konoha citizens? Out of the question. That would go directly against my rule of not touching people who don't touch me. And it's not even rational—having a population is what drives progress and gives me resources.

The project had stalled because of "stupid" ethics. I remembered Mizuki with annoyance. His crimes—finding kids and helping kidnap them—made him a perfect candidate. But he was who‑knows‑where now, most likely rotting in some prison, and I hadn't even bothered to find out which. His partners had also vanished, cleaned up by ANBU. To my joy or misfortune, no one else in Konoha wanted to sell me like a piece of meat to some shady international criminal like Orochimaru. Which meant they hadn't lost what little pity I could still feel for them.

It's not like I was just sitting around waiting. No, I was still pulling a lot of useful data out of corpses. But over time, there were simply fewer and fewer of them.

So only a few days separated the local criminal element—whom I'd chosen as the best target for a deal with my conscience—from something close to genocide. But it just so happened that things lined up in a way where I didn't even have to go looking for that "criminal element":

"Meet at the bridge in an hour," Kakashi tossed out lazily, gathering us after another boring but not too difficult mission. "We've got a new assignment."

Sasuke and Sakura, already used to the D‑rank grind, didn't show much enthusiasm. My clone just nodded.

An hour later, we were on the bridge. Next to us stood our client: an older, short guy in glasses with a towel on his head, who reeked of sake. He was trying to tell us something, but for me‑clone, watching the water flowing under the bridge was more interesting. Only later did I half‑listen to what Hatake was droning on about.

"Team Seven," Kakashi began formally. "Our first C‑rank mission. Escorting bridge builder Tazuna‑san to the Land of Waves. Then defending the bridge construction until it's completed."

Sakura and Sasuke perked right up. C‑rank! That meant leaving the village, a chance to fight a real enemy instead of weeds and rats.

Me, at first I just felt a stab of boredom. Escort some old man? A drunk one at that. But then… the word "old man"… "bridge builder"… something clicked deep in my memory.

"Escort an old man? An old man… An old man?!!"

And then it hit me.

Land of Waves… Gato… mercenaries… Demon Zabuza and… his femboy Haku…

My eyes, which had been lazily watching the river, flared for a moment with a wild researcher's fire, then went cold, icy.

When I turned to my team and met the old man's eyes, he shuddered.

Here it was, the push to the next step. This wasn't just a mission, but also… a source of "living material." Bandits. Nukenin. People who would come to threaten the life of my client, my teammates… and me. On top of that, perfect test subjects: they're from a small, isolated country, and no one's going to seriously investigate their disappearance.

Perfect…

I gave Kakashi a calm nod, accepting the mission. But inside, a plan was already forming. That dead end in my research… I might be breaking through it soon. Mu‑ha‑ha‑ha‑ha!

Around noon. Original Uzumaki Naruto's POV

We were standing at Konoha's gate. This time, after getting information from the clone that made me wary, I'd come in person.

Tazuna was loudly going on about how important his bridge was, Sakura and Sasuke were listening with serious faces, and Kakashi was pretending to listen too. I was looking at the road stretching off into the distance, beyond the village. I'm sure a predatory, anticipatory smile flashed across my face—one no one likely noticed. Except maybe Kakashi, if he hadn't been so into his book.

"Well then," I thought, feeling a rush of excitement spread through my veins. "Since such a chance fell into my lap, time to push science forward."

Snapping fully back to reality, I turned to Tazuna.

"Hey, old man."

"I'm not an old man!" he blurted out right away.

"Yeah, yeah," I went on, my expression showing exactly how little I gave a damn about his correction. "I don't feel like dragging myself all the way to your shitty country. So turn your back to me and get ready for transport."

"Huh?" Tazuna didn't get it.

"Naruto," Kakashi rolled his visible eye in weary resignation. "You can't talk to a client like that. It reflects badly on the village's reputation."

"Yeah, you brat! For your information, I—"

The geezer was going to keep ranting, but my tanto at his throat shut him up.

"Watch your mouth, you worthless piece of trash."

My mind dipped for a second into the memories the clone had brought back. He hadn't listened that closely, focused on his own thoughts. But when this old man had first shown up, he'd immediately started bitching about how in "his" ninja team there was only one real ninja. Why he had to go with, as he called us, "brats," and why there was even a girl among us. Straight‑up ageism and sexism. That alone was enough reason not to feel any respect for him—he was clearly not respecting us. On top of that, he reeked of booze like one of the worst of that already disgusting tribe of drunks, and he was dressed like some totally shameless bum. And even that wasn't all!

My meta‑knowledge also says that this parody of an educated man, thanks to his shortsightedness and, again, ignorance of some basic things in this world, is leading us straight toward a criminal cartel that definitely has chakra‑users in its ranks. That alone is enough reason to bump the mission up to at least B‑rank. Meanwhile he ordered it as a C‑rank mission. Which means he's leading a team that isn't meant for this shit—and even himself—straight into mortal danger.

"Is everything okay here?" a gate guard came over, eyeing my blade.

I slid the tanto back into its sheath.

"Just a dumb client. Don't mind him."

He stared at me for a second, then nodded and walked off.

I remember this guy. In, I think, seven of our spars I beat the crap out of him. He was a pretty decent partner. I figure he's got his own opinion of me, and that's what kept him from saying something like, "Don't ever let me see that again," or otherwise escalating it.

Just in case, Tazuna followed both my instructions, sweating as he turned his back to me.

Immediately, fuin characters crawled out from my leg, ran along the ground, and climbed up onto the bridge builder.

"You're nasty today, Naruto," Sakura noted, having been watching the Hiraishin mark spread with a strange look.

"That's just how I am. You guys get over here too."

"You can handle four?" Kakashi raised an eyebrow.

"I can handle more. Relax, your head's staying on your shoulders this time."

Grimacing and rubbing his neck, Hatake turned his back to me.

"Why this formation specifically?" Sakura asked, also doing as she was told.

Sasuke, meanwhile, took his place as well.

"So you don't puke on me."

"…Huh?" was all the bridge builder managed to ask before we vanished in a white flash.

An instant later, we were standing at the gate of some town. It was fairly close to the Land of Waves.

"…" Sasuke swayed, then straightened.

Sakura reacted the same way, while Kakashi didn't seem affected by the technique at all.

The old man, though, immediately greeted our arrival with the sound of a rainbow eruption. The stream blasted straight ahead, so nobody got splashed.

While we were in town, I sent a Shadow Clone into the Land of Waves to plant a Hiraishin mark. And less than an hour later, we were already there.

Our first C‑rank mission had entered its active phase.

---

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[Welydora]

In a flash, we found ourselves on a wide street by a river in a small town. Small by the standards of the Land of Fire, anyway. From what I knew from the rather sparse info in the textbooks about this area, this was the second-biggest city in the Land of Waves. It was closest to the mainland of the nearest country on the continent—the Land of Fire—and it was a trade hub. There was another similar city on the other side of the country, to the east, toward the Land of Water. But since the Land of Water was farther away and this city had the better location, this one ended up being the largest.

It was evening; we'd already completed a D-rank mission that day, so it was getting late.

We looked around and spotted two old folks a short distance away, who recoiled when we popped in. Their faces went wide with surprise, and when they noticed Tazuna among us, once again bent over like a pretzel, their jaws dropped even more.

"Is this the right place?" Sakura asked curiously, looking around. "There are no tall buildings at all and… wooden buildings with sloping roofs?"

Sasuke was looking around too, his gaze so contemptuous you'd think the buildings were made of shit.

"Exactly," I confirmed. "This is the merchant quarter. See that tower on the river, the one with part of its floor collapsed into the water? That's city hall. But in the locals' defense, it's not all bad. It doesn't reek here, which is already an achievement. I've been to some port towns in the Land of Fire. Our countrymen could learn a thing or two."

"Also…" Tazuna finally straightened up and added heavily, "the Land of Waves is famous for its mangrove forests, haaah."

"Yeah, because we've never seen a forest in Konoha," I turned to the old man. "Lead us to your house. We'll start organizing your protection."

Nodding, he led us to the place. The walk wasn't very long, but the whole time, walking in front, the old man tried to stay close to Kakashi and as far from me as possible. He kept shooting me side‑eye, too.

Tazuna's house turned out to be pretty big, even if it was shabby and looked poor. The wings of the house spread maybe twenty meters across, and part of the building jutted out over the Kanzoku Sea, making a good spot to sit and stare at the water on the horizon.

Soon a woman with dark blue hair in a pink dress came out to meet us. Waving a hand, she walked up and bowed in greeting.

"Welcome to our home. Are you the shinobi protecting my father?"

She nodded toward the old man and got a nod back from him. Even though she'd asked us, yeah.

"Good day," our jonin began, a bit formally. "I am Kakashi Hatake, the team commander. That is correct. May I ask—"

"Oh, forgive me. My name is Tsunami," she covered her mouth for a second, looking us over. "Shall we go inside? We were expecting you later, so the meal after your trip isn't ready. But I'll think of something."

"Don't worry about it," Kakashi kept the conversation going. "We used a space–time technique, so the journey took less than an hour."

"Wow… Shinobi can do things like that?"

While those two were talking, I gave Hatake a fresh look. Turns out he can talk without all his "M‑ma, M‑yeah, A‑aaah, E‑eeeh," and the rest of the "master orator" phrasebook.

As for Tsunami… I liked the client's daughter way more than the client himself. In a whole minute of talking she hadn't insulted us even once. Plus, she was polite.

Soon we went inside. In the hallway we ran into a dark‑haired kid in a fisherman's hat. He looked gloomy.

"Inari, say hello to these people. They're the ninja who are protecting your grandfather."

"Why?" he turned to his mother—Tsunami, apparently. "They're just going to die soon anyway."

"Now that's some fatalism," I noted, focusing on him. "Care to explain your reasoning?"

"Gato. Don't you know? He runs everything here… And if you try to stand up to him, you'll die. Just like the people before you…"

"Hmph." I gave him a skeptical look and, just in case, once again proved who the biggest smartass in the room was. "Your assertion lacks empirical support and is derived not from observable facts, but from subjective a priori assumptions. Since your argumentation is built on biased premises and a cognitively limited perception, any further continuation of this discourse on your part appears irrational. Refrain from making assertions that can't withstand elementary logical scrutiny."

"…What?" He didn't get it.

"I'm saying I doubt you know enough about me and my team to be drawing conclusions. So don't spread doom and gloom for no reason. Go mind your own business. Go beat some nettles with a stick, or whatever it is you do."

Throwing me a disgruntled look, the kid walked out of the house and headed for the pier.

"Please… forgive Inari. He doesn't mean any harm," Tsunami started.

"Kids." I waved it off so she wouldn't think I was offended or waste brain cells on it. She gave me a strange look in return.

Soon we were settled into different rooms—turns out this Tazuna was quite the rich guy by local standards, with a really not‑small house. After that, the locals left my team alone in the main hall.

"Well, I propose we discuss our information‑gathering strategy," I began, sitting in the center of the room across from Kakashi, with Sasuke on my left and Sakura on my right. "For now it'd be smart to interrogate Tsunami and Tazuna. After that, we can split up: Sasuke and Sakura, staying together for safety, will question the locals. Kakashi and I will handle deeper recon and separately infiltrate places where the enemy's concentrated. We'll regroup in the evening and build a plan…"

Kakashi cut me off with a raised hand.

"Naruto, none of that is necessary right now," he waved his hand dismissively, and my eyebrow twitched. "Well, it is necessary. But you'll do it tomorrow. Consider it training."

My eyes went wide at the balls on that masked bastard, who had basically just said he wouldn't be doing any recon. Like… what? That went against everything I'd been taught.

If you've got a chance to scout in a dangerous situation, you take it. Information is what can give you a huge edge over the enemy. And this guy… this guy… if only Koharu were here to see him—spouting such crap!

Tomorrow… he says. When we might not have the advantage anymore, and they might already know about us… That's bullshit.

I tried to lay all that out, but Hatake just waved his hands again, like I was worrying too much.

"It's already evening. Questioning the locals won't get you anything now; everyone's already gone home."

"If we hurry, it could still give us a lot," I pointed out.

"Or it might not," he spread his hands. "You'll get up tomorrow and start working on it. It's just a C‑rank mission, after all."

"Don't play dumb, Kakashi. You know about Gato. And that he could easily have hired shinobi."

While we argued, Sakura just moved her head back and forth between us, while Sasuke sat there with his eyes closed, looking all mysterious and wise.

"M‑ma," he looked away. "Yeah, I know. The local shipping monopolist, a fairly wealthy guy. Maybe he did hire shinobi, but don't bother your head with that. It's unlikely to be anyone even at genin level. Hiring strong shinobi on a permanent basis for shady work is not easy at all, you know. Naruto, you think too much. Go get some sleep."

"So we're just supposed to sit here and wait until we get attacked?" I clarified, my face clearly showing what I thought of that plan.

But he just waved his hand again.

"If something extraordinary does happen," Kakashi drawled sarcastically, already tired of this conversation, "the two of us can handle it."

"Hn," was Uchiha's contribution.

"I agree with Sasuke. And yeah. If you're so smart, you're going in first if something does happen."

"Deal," Kakashi said irritably, folding his arms across his chest. "But this conversation isn't over yet. Naruto, I decided to ignore it before, but I'll say it now. What you did at the gate was a gross violation of shinobi protocol. I'll mention it in my report and file a complaint against you."

"Hah," I snorted. "Be my guest. Write it in triplicate if you want. You're not getting anything out of it anyway."

"That was highly irresponsible."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. It would've been better if I'd started threatening Tazuna outside the village? When he was completely dependent on us?"

"…That's not what I meant. But yeah, that would have been better. For now, I suggest we wrap this up."

"Good idea. You, 'Kakashi‑sensei,' could use some sleep too, before your head turns completely to mush."

"Mngh." He showed me the middle finger, and I cheerfully returned the gesture. Then he left the room.

"Sakura, Sasuke. What do you think of my ideas?" I asked the two who were left.

"According to my regimen, I've got evening training," the boy said, then got up and left too.

"…"

"…"

Sakura and I watched Uchiha's back disappear.

Apparently my authority isn't that high, hmm. Then again, I didn't use any heavy leverage to make them do what I want.

"Sakura, be a sweetheart, please. Interrogate Tazuna and Tsunami according to the A6 structure and give me an oral report in two hours."

She sighed, dragging her gaze away from the door Sasuke had vanished through.

"Fine."

"Thanks." I gave her a warm smile, patted her on the shoulder, and stood up. "My mark is on you. I really doubt you'll be in any danger. But if something unforeseen happens, just release your chakra and I'll show up right away. For now I'm going to do some recon…"

"Naruto…"

"Hm?" I'd already reached the doorway.

"I just wanted to ask: what do the words on your kunai mean?" She looked away, like she'd asked something inappropriate. "And on the markers… 'Ruthlessness,' 'Right,' 'Love.'"

"Oh…" I leaned against the doorframe, slowly spinning a kunai with three characters on it between my fingers. "'Ruthlessness for the Right to Love,' if you want the full version. I'm afraid this might turn into a bit of a long monologue."

She nodded silently, showing she was ready to listen.

"Life is a cruel thing," I started anyway. "It's filled with light, sure. But you need strength if you want to be able to fight for what matters to you… I guess I should've told you this after you talked with Tazuna and Tsunami, but whatever, this works too. Let's back up a little: did you see the people on the street?"

The girl nodded carefully.

"Dirty. And under those sackcloth rags you couldn't see it, but they were hungry too. They had the right to a life—maybe not a rich one, but a good one. I'm sure there are plenty of skilled people here; they could be providing for themselves and for their country. But you saw how the buildings on the street were all wrecked. That's because this Gato showed up with his cartel and took away their right to a normal life. He robs them and does far worse things, because he's stronger, and with that strength he just hands himself that right. All those rights are worth nothing if you can't protect them. The world isn't the Academy. Hardly anyone out here is gonna listen to your arguments. The strong devour the weak and take their rights. That's the law. There's almost no third option.

"Ruthlessness is what I have to pay for strength. It's the readiness to do what others can't, or are afraid to do, to protect what you believe in. For years now I've been working hard, digging through corpses… Can't say it's all that hard on me. But it's what I have to do to move forward. To get stronger and at least try to earn the right to live the rest of my life the way I want. For years I've worked so that now, knowing we're up against a danger hundreds of people couldn't overcome… I can just sit here calmly talking to you. And know we'll be fine.

"Right now… I have to go do something else cruel. So that in the future, my loved ones and I will again have the chance to just smirk in the face of a threat. Even if that threat becomes way bigger than this one. That's the path… By walking it, I keep the abyss away."

When I finished, I only then noticed my eyes had gone unfocused and I was just staring straight ahead with a glassy look. Snapping out of it, I looked at Sakura and saw her gaze was practically bursting with mixed emotions: surprise, pity, sympathy, sadness… and a bit of understanding?

"So… that wasn't just you being a jerk? You just wanted to—" she started, then cut herself off.

"..?" My face made it clear I was interested and she could go on.

"No… nothing. Thank you… I don't have any more questions. G‑good luck… out there."

It was obvious Sakura suddenly really wanted to be alone.

"Thanks… And hey, about my request for the interrogation…" I was about to say she didn't have to do it, but she interrupted.

"It's fine."

I don't believe you.

"I'll do it."

"…," I stared at her for a moment, then just nodded in thanks.

Leaving the room, I headed for the exit. I wasn't going to get much sleep tonight.


After creating a few dozen clones, we got to work.

Finding the main hideout of this "Gato" was easy. I walked up to the first local I saw and made sure it was that building on that island. The entire Land of Waves basically consisted of about two dozen such islands, with rivers flowing between them.

When I reached the round three‑story building, I didn't even have to go inside. Taking on the appearance of some unremarkable guy, I slipped into a nearby bar and calmly drank juice while the whole HQ lay open to me like it was in my hand, thanks to my soul Sphere‑Sight.

Fifteen minutes later I had all their paperwork, an approximate headcount for the cartel, their concentrations, and Gato's plans in my head. Reading texts that aren't visible to normal sight with Sphere‑Sight is an obvious application for me. But reading separate sheets of text pressed right up against each other—that was a skill I'd only developed less than a year ago, and it took some work.

Gato himself, as you'd guess from the reports and his record, was one corrupt… ahem. Also rotten, cruel, and greedy bastard, ready to do anything for his business. Short but stocky, with medium‑length spiky brown hair. Black suit, yellow shirt, purple tie.

Once I had the basic info, I pushed it through our link—to the clones. A plan started putting itself together in my head. The main goal was to herd all these rats into one place, so we wouldn't have to run around hunting them down.

The plan had several points…

And the clones started carrying each one out in parallel.


On the roof next to yet another bar, an invisible figure sat lazily, legs dangling over the edge. Slowly turning his head from side to side, he watched the conversations of the already tipsy crowd.

This bar was where one of Gato's closest associates was hanging out. While he drank, he was talking about some shinobi that had shown up in one of the Land of Waves' towns.

"It's all bullshit, guys," a muscular man with a bare, scarred torso went on. This was him, one of Gato's deputies. "There are three kids and only one real shinobi."

His words set the whole bar roaring with laughter.

"Our little demon will carve 'em up like a butcher carves a…" He snapped his fingers.

"A cabbage?" one of the guys laughing the loudest prompted—and immediately got smacked on the back of the head.

"What fucking cabbage, you idiot? You a sheep or what?"

The bar exploded in laughter again. No one noticed the black Bingo Book—where all wanted shinobi are listed with info on them—appear out of nowhere on one of the tables. But when it slid off and hit the floor, opening to one of the pages, one of the regulars, a tall man, finally noticed.

"What's this?" he bent down for the little book. What he saw inside froze him for a few seconds. "Boss!!"

He screeched it, jabbing a finger at the book.

"Shut the hell up, you bolt, before I strip your threads. Say what you're yelling about."

"S‑rank shinobi! It's him! Our guys saw him!"

"Wha…" The book was in the "boss's" hands almost instantly. "Yeah, we're screwed."

Gato's deputy—whose name, by the way, was Shinto—chewed on his lip.

"Fucking hell!" he repeated his favorite word and turned to his subordinates. "Alright, you disgraceful bastards. I'm going to the boss. There better be booze left for me, or I'll, you know… and you'll, you know. Got it?!"

"Yes, boss!" came the ragged chorus.

"That's more like it." Flashing a gap‑toothed grin, he swaggered proudly out of the bar.

The rumor about how strong the new shinobi were had been planted.

At the same time. On another island

Another bar. Me—one of the other clones—really liked manipulating drunk people.

Such pliable material.

An invisible thread latched onto one of the local gang members. The local boss wasn't that expressive; the real ringleader here wasn't him but some random thug.

The thread, slowly and imperceptibly feeding chakra into him, kept planting more and more fake images and thoughts—ones I wanted said out loud.

After a few minutes of work, we got the result we needed:

"And that demon swordsman… Did you see how bandaged up he is? That Mist scum… Why do you think he needs all those bandages? I heard someone saw him limping…"

"Definitely got wounded back in Kiri," a voice came from the back.

"Exactly!" the local loudmouth agreed, then went on babbling nonsense.

But that didn't matter anymore. Gato's attentive but silent associate remembered everything and was going to bring it up with his boss.

The rumor that Zabuza might not be all that invincible was successfully set loose.

Another island, again

One more of the gang's, so to speak, local governors, and another of Gato's deputies, wasn't in a bar or any other fun place. But the role he was meant to play was the most important…

A skinny man with cunning, but currently relaxed, eyes was just getting ready for bed. He lived alone, but with good security outside by local standards. So he didn't worry about anything.

But when he walked out of the shower in his robe into the dark room, he didn't even make it to the light switch before a steel grip clamped around his throat.

He was forced to his knees.

The horror that hit him was so strong he couldn't even twitch, never mind make some futile attempt to scream.

There was nothing to see in the darkness in front of him—until two blue spotlights lit up out of it.

"The pirates from the Land of Noodles found out about the bridge and Gato's money. Word is they're going to attack and take it all for themselves while everyone's busy dealing with the ninja," the blue light spread, screwing itself into his head. "In four hours your scouts will report this to you. You'll go straight to your boss and tell him he needs to hurry. As for me, you'll forget…"

The grip loosened, and the man's body dropped to the floor.

Like a wind‑up toy, he repeated what he'd been ordered.

"Excellent…"

A green, healing light flooded the thug's vision. When it faded, the blue spotlights were gone.

The man, without a single mark on his neck, simply got up and headed for his bed. The toy had been wound, and soon it would wake again to do exactly what had been programmed into it.

This rumor would force Gato to move. And more importantly, it would force him to gather his forces into a single fist so that, taking the previous rumors into account, he'd quickly stage a fight between the arriving shinobi and the Demon Zabuza. The newcomers might be too dangerous to deal with separately, and then he could finish off whoever lost. Zabuza might be wounded and weak, and there was a good chance he'd lose to the arrivals. But against worn‑out and most likely injured shinobi, Gato's combined army would handle it. And he wouldn't even have to pay for an elite shinobi's services—profit everywhere.

All so that afterward, according to plan, he could just as quickly move on the southern port, on the side where the Land of Noodles lies. Luckily, that wasn't far from the first position, and organizing it wouldn't be too hard.

And a light genjutsu suggestion, if needed, would definitely help him make the decision I wanted.

---

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[Welydora]

Morning. Original Uzumaki Naruto's POV

Stretching, satisfied and actually rested for once, I walked into the big kitchen, where everyone but me had already gathered.

Sitting down at the table, I greeted everyone, thanked them for the food, and dug in.

Last night I'd managed to shove a small wad of cash into Tsunami's hands so our whole pack could actually be fed properly. On top of that, I'd slipped some money to a local merchant so he'd drag some pre-marinated meat over here by morning. So breakfast turned out pretty damn good. Could've been even better if the woman hadn't fought off my offer to help with the cooking so fiercely—but it was still very good.

See, I "wasn't supposed" to be doing any of that—paying for groceries and all—since she's the one running the house, I'm the guest, plus a couple other excuses. In the end, the only help she couldn't refuse was my clone doing an evening run through the market, since I wasn't sleeping anyway. As for her trying to talk me into sleeping in a bit longer in the morning—fine, I gave in.

And it was worth it. Even though I'd farmed the work out to my clones so everything would go smoothly, I still had to stay up late. But six hours of sleep was more than enough for my body.

Not everyone at the table was in a good mood, though. Sakura sure as hell wasn't. After grilling Tazuna and Tsunami and really diving into what life is like for people under a crime cartel's heel, she wasn't exactly feeling upbeat. She'd been pretty down yesterday when she gave me her report.

It was actually important overall; it helped me tweak my strategy for manipulating the cartel, and gave me a few key details for manipulating Gato himself—stuff that came out of his personality and the people around him. He was especially scared of the pirates from the Land of Noodles—who really do exist out here, even if the reports don't show it, since they haven't made direct contact yet. That made it easier and safer for me to push him into making sure what's about to happen… happens.

As for Sakura herself, well, she couldn't sleep last night. I really am sorry I let her see how brutal the world can be. But on the other hand, that's what'll make her stronger.

Breakfast wrapped up soon enough. My team and Tazuna were just about to head to the bridge when one of the few guards from the construction-materials warehouse came running up.

"Tazuna-sama!"

The old man was almost bowled over by a kid of about fifteen, right as we were heading out from the living room.

"The Demon Swordsman! He's on the bridge, ha—" The guy bent over, unable to get it all out in one breath. "He said… if the shinobi don't hand you over, he'll start slaughtering civilians."

Tazuna went pale.

Tsunami, walking behind us, brought her hands to her face in fear.

I turned my head toward Kakashi, who'd been acting all indifferent till now. My face was screaming "I told you so" so loud they could've heard it back in the Leaf.

Yeah, I set this up. But all I really did was speed things up. They'd have reacted to us anyway. And with Gato's personality, things could easily have played out almost the same.

We quickly questioned the kid, and from his description our silver-haired sensei guessed, based on the weapon and appearance, that this might be a certain Momochi Zabuza, one of the former Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist.

Hatake's expression darkened.

"This just got very serious," he said.

"Yeah, who could've seen that coming," I said, slightly sarcastic. "Alright. We've 'waited' long enough. Let's go to the bridge."

Two clones popped out of me right away, one of them immediately taking on Tazuna's appearance.

"Old man, hide in the house with your family. My clone'll protect you." Then I turned to the kid who looked older than me. "You wait here too. We'll be back."

Leaving the extras somewhere safe, our little group headed for the bridge.

Sasuke looked as gloomy as always. Sakura looked similar, but also tired, and there was a clear flicker of anxiety on her face.

We moved at a brisk pace so the "ordinary person" in the form of "Tazuna" could still keep up.

"Remember our deal, Kakashi?"

"What are you talking about?"

"That you're the one who goes in first. Mister Wait-and-See."

He grimaced.

"Yeah. I'll do that."

As we approached the bridge, we noticed the surroundings getting more and more choked with mist.

"The Hidden Mist's signature technique. Their shinobi can navigate this fog just fine; it's saturated with their chakra," Kakashi warned us.

I nodded to confirm it.

Soon we were out on the bridge itself, stretching out for dozens of meters ahead and wide enough that forty people could walk side by side without bumping into each other.

The mist thickened until visibility dropped to maybe seven meters.

Farther off, we saw the silhouette of a massive sword, close to two meters long, stuck into the bridge. Perched in a crouch on its guard was the silhouette of a big man, the tails of his headband slowly fluttering behind his head.

"The Kubikiribōchō," Kakashi immediately recognized one of the Legendary Swords of the Mist as we stopped. "Momochi Zabuza, I presume?"

"So it is you," a rough voice came, and the figure jumped down. With a smooth motion he grabbed the long hilt, ripped the sword out of the bridge, and slung it over his shoulder. "The Copy Ninja, Hatake Kakashi."

When the man came closer, we could finally see him clearly: short black buzz cut, tall and heavily muscled. Blue pants with vertical blue stripes, camo-print arm guards, bare torso, and bandages covering half his face.

"Go on, hero," I patted Kakashi on the shoulder and pointed at the swordsman.

Zabuza focused his gaze on the trembling "Tazuna." The clone was playing the role perfectly, even matching his chakra to Tazuna's. The identical face went without saying.

"I don't know what you let your genin pull," Zabuza said, getting straight to the point as he threw me a look. "But I need the bridge builder. Hand him over and we can all walk away."

Kakashi also shot me a very unhappy look, then stepped forward and answered:

"Unfortunately, we'll have to fight."

"Hmph, really?" Zabuza rumbled from his chest, lifting his head and looking, as if from above, past Kakashi at the rest of us. "You'd rather drag them down with you?"

"Protect the client," Kakashi ordered instead of replying, and drew a kunai.

The swordsman's face twisted into a crazed grin under the bandages.

"So be it," Zabuza said—and a powerful violet aura erupted from him.

I felt my teammates flinch. The clone collapsed to the ground, still acting his part.

The air filled with killing intent.

"Watch closely, you slugs. I'm about to tear your commander apart. Then I'll start on you."

With that, the swordsman lunged forward. Kakashi mirrored him.

Sasuke and Sakura stared, spellbound, as two shinobi of elite jōnin strength clashed.

Which is why they didn't react when ice senbon nearly reached their necks.

One quick movement, and a spray of shuriken from my hands knocked down more than a dozen senbon aimed at them, me, and "Tazuna."

"Hey. Don't listen to the enemy," I said after the ring of metal on metal, my words finally snapping my teammates out of it. "Enemy at nine o'clock."

Seeing my shuriken lying near him, Sasuke moved the way I'd pointed.

"He's mine."

"Wait, Sasuke-kun… We're a team," Sakura cut in, having come back to her senses.

The Uchiha was about to snap something back, but I cut him off:

"You'd better listen to Sakura."

His teeth ground.

She's faster than you and smarter about movement. You're better in a straight-up clash. Use your strengths instead of measuring your egos. Otherwise you'll both die, my voice sounded in their heads.

Sasuke's face darkened, but he still nodded.

A silhouette appeared in the mist: a slim figure in a Mist Hunter-nin mask and a green haori. His name was Haku.

"I don't want to kill you," came a soft, almost musical voice. "But you're not getting past here."

"We'll see," Sasuke growled, and, not waiting for any order, rushed in, sending a fan of shuriken flying.

Sakura, come in from the right! I ordered mentally.

To her credit, Haruno had a great sense of space. She could dive deep into the fog and pop out exactly where she needed to.

While the two of them were starting their own fight, the main bout was already in full swing. Kakashi had clashed with Zabuza in a vicious melee. The air rang with steel—Kakashi's kunai against the enormous Kubikiribōchō. Their movements were so fast Sasuke and Sakura probably couldn't follow them at all.

Kakashi, to my surprise, was being pretty damn cocky—no Sharingan, and he was sticking to close combat. Only from time to time did he and Momochi trade Water Style techniques.

Zabuza was strong—a veteran of the Mist's blood-soaked wars, a master of silent killing. And he handled that giant sword expertly. Both of them hit hard. The bridge under their feet cracked from the force of the blows.

At one point, after batting Hatake away with a swing of his sword, Zabuza formed hand seals.

"Water Style: Water Clone Jutsu!"

His exact copy rose out of a puddle beside him. Kakashi frowned, bracing to fight two at once. Both Zabuzas rushed in from different sides. The fight got even nastier. Kakashi had to give it everything just to parry attacks from both of them.

From the very start Hatake hadn't activated his Sharingan and never took the free advantage. Now they weren't just keeping him from getting that edge—they were starting to dominate him.

Finally, Kakashi spotted an opening in one of the Zabuzas' defenses. Throwing a feint, he slipped past the sword swing and drove his kunai into "Zabuza."

The clone burst into water. It was a trap.

"Idiot," the real Zabuza's voice came from right behind him.

Kakashi didn't have time to turn. Strong arms grabbed him, and a dense sphere of water snapped into place around him—the Water Prison Technique.

Standing next to "Tazuna," I just rolled my eyes.

What the hell, man?

"Got you, Copy Ninja," Zabuza sneered, holding Kakashi in the prison with one hand. "Your famous Sharingan didn't save you. And you're pathetic as hell if you fall for such a basic textbook trick."

Not true. To be fair to Hatake, that's far from the simplest trick. But yeah, yeah, keep talking, blowhard…

I turned my head toward Kakashi, and when our eyes met, my own flared with chakra. My genjutsu. Through it I told Kakashi I was handing this fight over to Sasuke and Sakura so they'd grow more as shinobi. That I'd pull them out if things crossed into lethal territory. That he needed to listen to me and follow my orders on intel work and tactics. That I could handle Zabuza. And, last of all, that sitting in this bubble was his punishment—so he could sit there and think about what he'd done.

Zabuza didn't notice this quick information dump, or the way Kakashi suddenly really wanted to tell me to go to hell but couldn't. The swordsman threw me a meaningful look instead, his widening grin still clearly visible through the bandages, then turned away.

"Haku!" he shouted toward the second fight. "Quit playing with those runts! I want you to show them what happens when you cross Momochi Zabuza! Take them out!"

Right then, the fight between Sasuke and Sakura shifted. Hearing the order, Haku stopped holding back.

He didn't hesitate—he immediately attacked with a hail of senbon. Sasuke, already used to the rhythm of the fight, knocked them aside with his kunai, while Sakura used Shunshin to dart away and swing around the flank again.

"Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!" Sasuke yelled, exhaling a huge ball of flame to light up the mist and box Haku in.

Haku, moving a bit faster than before, slipped out of the line of fire. At that moment, Sakura came in from the side with a chakra-charged kick. Haku caught it on his arm at an angle, parried it, but still had to retreat a few steps.

A short clash followed, during which Sakura quickly switched places with Sasuke, forcing Haku even farther back.

They worked in sync, making him constantly move. But it still wasn't enough.

"Time to stop playing," Haku's voice went cold as he formed special one-handed seals. "Ice Style: Demonic Ice Mirrors!"

Around Sasuke, massive ice mirrors instantly formed from the moisture in the air, growing into a deadly cage around him.

Sakura, left on the outside, ran straight up and started hammering on the ice in desperation.

"Sasuke-kun!"

From inside came the ring of steel and Sasuke's cries of pain.

Haku's image appeared in every mirror at once. He began to move rapidly between them, driving senbon into the Uchiha from all angles. Sasuke was too slow to dodge them all. The storm of senbon from Haku, flickering between mirrors, tore into him mercilessly.

"Sakura! Break them from outside!" Sasuke shouted, dodging another attack.

Haruno stopped. She drew back her right fist, while her left hand formed a concentration seal, packing more chakra into her right arm.

She struck, and with a burst of Sakura's chakra the mirror webbed with cracks.

Haku, noticing, appeared in one of the mirrors near the girl, ready to throw needles at her.

Sasuke saw it. This was his chance.

"Stay out of it, Sakura!" he shouted.

To the side! my voice sounded in the girl's head at that same moment.

She hesitated, hit by two different orders at once, trying to grasp what exactly the Uchiha wanted from her.

Holy shit… Instead of warning Haruno about the attack, Sasuke had just distracted her with some vague command. Then he calmly focused chakra inside himself for a technique, as long as the needles weren't flying at him.

So what, he decided to use her as bait? Or is he just an idiot? You don't pull that crap in the middle of a fight…

While Haku was aiming at Sakura, Sasuke exhaled a powerful Fire Dragon Flame Jutsu straight at that mirror.

Haku was forced to shift position, but his attack had already been released. A dozen senbon shot straight toward Sakura, frozen in place by the Uchiha's yell.

She didn't react in time. The needles slammed into her body, and she crumpled to the bridge without a sound. Her last look—full of shock and betrayal—was fixed on the ice prison holding Sasuke.

Yeah… Maybe I should've just teleported her after all. But the senbon trajectories shouldn't have hit anything vital… And this is their fight. Better she learns the important lessons while I'm right here and it's still safe.

"SAKURA!"

Seeing her fall and realizing what he'd just done, Sasuke roared with rage and guilt. Crimson light flared in his eyes, and two tomoe in each eye spun in a sinister dance. The Sharingan had awakened, and now the Uchiha could track Haku's movements. Rage gave him strength; Sasuke started batting the needles away, and his speed spiked.

But it was just the lead‑up to his loss. His attacks lost all strategy and turned into pure blind fury. Haku, perfectly calm, just waited. The ice ninja let Sasuke burn himself out, drain his last reserves. When the Uchiha finally slowed for a moment, panting hard, Haku struck. A series of precise senbon hits—and Sasuke, like Sakura before him, went stiff and collapsed, unconscious.

Silence. Haku stepped out of the mirrors, which were already starting to melt away before our eyes, and looked down at the two defeated genin. The fight was over.

I traded a look with Zabuza.

Kakashi was already out cold inside the water prison.

"You're next," the swordsman said, almost savoring it.

Only a tired sigh came out of me as Haku moved toward me.

Three clones burst out of me at once, sprinting off along three different paths—two curving around toward my teammates, one heading straight for Zabuza.

Head snapping back and forth, still closing in on me, Haku tried to keep track of me and the copies. I didn't even bother turning his way.

When the distance was perfect for a senbon throw and his arm had already come up, it was a huge shock to Haku how fast the previously-shaking old man suddenly moved at him. He barely managed to twitch aside before a brutal blow to the head shattered his mask to bits. The frail little body slammed into the bridge, sending tiny cracks out through the concrete.

The clone, having used the scraps of chakra left in the original Tazuna's reserves, just dissolved into the air.

At the same time, the two clones who hadn't yet reached their targets skidded to a stop. The enemy was down, the distraction had worked, and they could drop the extra caution.

They just teleported hundreds of kilometers away—to Konoha's hospital—while a second later, a stream of blue chakra appeared straight from the sky above my teammates. The mist pulled back a few meters from two points at once.

A flash—and in place of Sakura and Sasuke, two clones appeared. One immediately dispersed into the air, this time dumping its remaining chakra back into me, the original. The second teleported away to the hospital—he had people to look after.

At the same time, the last clone, now in close with the swordsman, slipped in on Zabuza's flank. Zabuza had already whipped the water sphere with Kakashi around in front of himself as a shield.

He was forced to drop the prison immediately and bring up the Kubikiribōchō to block the tanto.

The tanto's blade flared with chakra, transferring a sealing formula onto the other blade. In a suicidal attack, the clone reached out and touched Momochi, leaving another seal script on him before dispersing—so I wouldn't feel the pain of Zabuza's kunai, which had nearly gutted him.

Another clone stepped out of me, right in front of me.

A flash—and Kakashi's body was suddenly in my arms, while the clone that appeared next to Zabuza drove a heavy blow into his chest.

Momochi spun through the air, flying several meters before he managed to slow himself, digging his huge sword into the bridge. I lowered Kakashi and sent him sliding along the wet bridge deck a good ten meters back behind me.

"…What the hell is this?!" a wild‑haired Zabuza roared. In all his experience, he'd never been in a fight like this.

"Preparation," I said coldly. "And it's finished."

Another clone stepped out in front of me.

A flash—and Zabuza's sword vanished right out of his hands, while the newly appeared clone beside him struck again, knocking him back.

I grabbed the hilt of the Kubikiribōchō that had appeared by me. Looking over the hilt—where most of the sealwork was layered—I snorted.

My hands slid up to the base of the blade.

Tension.

Already getting back to his feet, Momochi stared in shock as I snapped the blade in my bare hands.

Crack.

"Don't need this," I said, lazily tossing the heavy chunk of metal aside. It hit the bridge with a loud clang. With my other hand I brought the remaining part of the sword up to my bracer and sealed it away.

"Who the hell are you…?"

Disarmed, Zabuza tensed up.

Yin and Yang ground together, and a powerful blue wave of chakra burst out of me, blowing the mist back for dozens of meters.

The air vibrated, filled with a low hum. The wind that had been blowing across the bridge shifted direction—now it only blew from me.

Zabuza's tension cranked up even more.

"Still can't guess?" I raised my hand, and the pressure spiked.

The bridge shuddered, and the water beneath it rippled.

Momochi started to say something, but the humming in the air suddenly cut off.

Instead of the hum, a high note bored into the ears and rolled out across the world—like the echo of a quiet moan from a thousand doomed throats.

Then the world turned red.

The spreading seeds of terror were reflected in the swordsman's eyes… This was the strongest killing intent he had ever felt.

"No…" I turned my head away. The world's colors snapped back to normal. The rush of wind filled my ears again. "There's too much I can squeeze out of you. So you're staying alive."

Zabuza hunched over and let out a sharp, shaky breath.

My raised hand closed around my tanto's hilt.

"You… You're just like Him."

"The Mizukage? I think I'm worse."

The swordsman only had time to blink before he saw a clone step out of me. He didn't even get to brace for the next strike—because in the flash, it turned out he was the one who'd been moved.

Held horizontal, the blade rammed into Momochi's back and out through his gut, and then I lifted his body like it weighed nothing.

Seventy‑two kilos? That's it? Don't make me laugh.

Chakra rushed down the blade without delay. An instant later, lightning wrapped the swordsman's entire body.

"A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A‑A!!!" A scream of agony tore across the bridge.

The all‑encompassing torture went on for about twenty seconds before Zabuza finally went limp and passed out.

Lowering the blade, I watched without much interest as the charred body slid off it and hit the bridge.

"Didn't even have to go all out. Again," I sighed. "That's what happens when you play to your strengths."

I pressed my chakra back down and noted how the hum around me faded.

Still… this is only the first act of the play.

I looked around.

They're dragging their feet… Guess I'll start patching Zabuza up. He's not gonna bleed out from the burns, but his body definitely isn't feeling great right now.

After that, I'll deal with the ones who are just getting here.

---

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[Welydora]

Twenty minutes later, the mist, no longer sustained by a jutsu, dissipated pretty fast.

In that time, I'd managed to patch up Zabuza, then heal Haku, and even send Shadow Clones to transport them, along with Kakashi, to the Konoha hospital. There, our special guests would get an equally special reception, and they wouldn't be able to run.

Now I was standing at the start of the bridge, watching as an entire mob approached me. There were nearly three hundred of them.

Stopping about ten meters away from me, this united army started to spread out, surrounding me to cut off any route of retreat.

After a bit, out of the crowd that was just standing there staring at me, a short man with a cane shoved his way forward, yelling at people to let him through. That was Gato.

"You, brat!" he poked at me with his cane. "Where are the others? Answer me!"

Folding my arms, I narrowed my eyes.

"I don't like canes," I remarked. My face went melancholic, my head tilting up to the sky as if on its own. "Though it doesn't matter. You came here to kill me. And I'm going to take everything from you."

Gato shouted something, but his words were drowned out by the roar of chakra spilling out of me. A golden aura flared up around me.

And right away, dozens of Adamantine Chains burst from my back, clanking as they arced up into the sky.

The mob flinched at my chakra, then stared in shock as the thick chains formed something like the outline of a dome around them.

A few seconds later, loud, booming thuds started coming from all sides, like something heavy was being driven deep into the ground, hard enough to make it tremble. At the same time, there were loud explosions out on the water behind me.

Then, suddenly, between the chains, a barrier glowing red flared to life. The bandits had no idea what it was. Not knowing just made them even more nervous.

"Neither by land, nor above it," I slowly enunciated each word as I started walking toward Gato. The chains behind me rang with every step. His underlings, still in shock, didn't even move to shield him. "Neither by water, nor above it. No one's getting away from me. You're all doomed."

Stopping halfway to Gato, I finally saw the people in front of me snap out of it. Fear and horror were written all over their faces.

"Waste the little bastard!" he shrieked hysterically, pushing his way back between the ranks of his bandits. "We'll figure out how to get rid of this shit later!"

That was the last thing he managed to yell before disappearing.

The mob still didn't dare move forward. I went on:

"You dug up information on the Copy Ninja, and fear started smoldering in your minds. You found out about Zabuza's weakness and lit up with greed. You gathered almost your entire force here. All of this, only because I let you."

My eyes searched the crowd. I picked out Shinto's face and a few of Gato's other lieutenants I knew. But even they… not even they dared to step forward.

And really… who here was there to move against me? Ragged, filthy. Whatever random weapons they could grab. Talking about armor would be a joke. That was enough to keep this tiny-ass country under control. But for them, everything was going to change today.

"Every one of you is just a puppet in my hands. But the show is over." I raised a hand in front of me. "And when the puppeteer hangs up his property, the puppets come together in one last, chaotic dance."

My hand clenched, and a much stronger torrent of chakra burst out of me.

The world, already red from the light passing through the barrier, went fully crimson. The air seemed filled with the smell of metal, and once again, a quiet moan of agony spread through it.

Everyone froze, unable to even breathe. Then, like a wave, a low murmur filled with animal terror rolled through the crowd.

People who a moment ago had been all fired up to fight me were methodically crushed by me mentally, until they scattered in panicked chaos, sprinting the pathetic hundred meters toward the edge of the barrier.

What they had just seen had made their hearts clench for endless seconds. The most terrifying scenes. The cruelest executions—with themselves as the victims. For some, the phantom pain was so strong and so real that they dropped to the ground in convulsions, unable to stand back up.

Unhurriedly, I started moving forward again. The clanking of the chains still echoed with my steps, but it was barely audible over the deafening screams of the crowd.

The bandits soon reached the barrier and started hammering at it with their fists, their blades, hammers, anything they could get their hands on. Completely pointless. Even if you put a couple of Nine-Tails in here, they wouldn't be getting out of this barrier. Just regular people, plus a handful of… samurai and some bargain‑bin knockoffs of shinobi? Not even funny.

They could literally feel me getting closer. Once they realized how futile it all was, they just bolted to the sides like terrified rats, just to be a little farther away.

But some of them were so terrified they couldn't run anymore. Gato was one of those.

When I appeared in front of him, he just dropped to his knees, unable to look away.

Only when my hand, one finger extended, moved toward his forehead did Gato start to shake.

Chakra lit up along a couple of joints of my finger. With a hiss and the spreading stench of burnt flesh, I drew a single horizontal line on his forehead. Ichi.

Tears of pain rolled from his eyes. But he still couldn't move.

"Your name is now 'Test Subject Number One,'" I said calmly, after drawing the number "one." "Or just 'the First.'"

All that came from him in response was a pitiful sob.

The capture had begun.


The roundup of the test subjects went fast. Especially after I made some clones to help. Knock them out, seal them away—basic routine.

After that, grabbing a couple more people that a clone had snatched at Tazuna's house, I headed for the southern port, where the rest of the crowd had gathered. Some of them had even come from the far end of the country, waiting for the boss to finish his business with the ninja.

A couple of small manipulations, a false alarm—and they all gathered on a pier that was just perfect for me.

Another barrier, more clones. And my stock got topped up with another hundred numbers.

I didn't get any enjoyment out of it, though I tried to when I was taking Gato's group. Guess I'm not that much of a sadist after all. The feeling of power, of absolute authority, and… how badass the image was—that's what really got the blood pumping. The terror on people's faces—that's just boring, even if it's necessary.

Looking at their fear, at their shaking hands, at the pleading in their eyes… I felt nothing. No satisfaction, no pity. It was… again, boring. Their reaction was predictable, animal. No complexity in it, no game, like in a match with Koharu or Kakashi. This wasn't a fight, it was just… pest control. And realizing that left me feeling a bit empty.

The moment I burned the number "one" into Gato's forehead, he changed in my eyes. He no longer had a past, a personality, a will, or a name. Now he, like the rest of his buddies, was just a test subject I'd use when I needed to… But even that didn't stir anything in me. If anything, it cut my sympathy off even more.

It was more of a ritual for me. And yeah, in that persona, that crushing pressure under the dome made sense.

Once I finished cleaning up the Land of Waves, I only briefly went back to the town where the bridge was being built.

After the thugs had stormed through, then some kind of earthquake had started, then some weird thing appeared off in the distance—it took several minutes after it all stopped before the locals finally began slowly coming out of their homes.

My ruthlessness was already bearing its first fruits, turning into freedom for a lot more people.

After watching for a bit, I warped over to the hospital. By then, my teammates should've been patched up. And I didn't mind waiting for them to wake up.

Interlude. Haruno Sakura

Smell was the first thing to return to her. The sharp, sterile stink of medicine, mixed with the faint scent of clean linen.

Then came a dull, nagging pain spreading across her back and shoulders, and a feeling of all‑consuming weakness.

Sakura slowly opened her eyes. White ceiling. White walls. She was in the Konoha hospital.

Her memory didn't come back all at once, but in torn, jagged flashes.

The thick, damp fog on the unfinished bridge. The cold radiating from the ice mirrors closing in around Sasuke‑kun. The desperate, useless blows of her fists against the smooth, unbreakable surface. The sound of steel, and Sasuke's short, pain‑filled cry.

And then… that one moment, frozen in her mind like an insect in amber. His desperate shout: "Stay out of my way, Sakura!" The sharp, piercing pain of dozens of senbon driving into her body. And the last thing she saw before her consciousness went dark—the cold, indifferent ice.

Her heart clenched, but not from fear for herself. Her first instinctive thought was of him.

Sasuke‑kun… is he okay?

The door to the room slid open quietly, and an elderly medic‑nin walked in. His face was calm and kind. He went over without a word and sat down on the chair by Sakura's bed.

"It's good you're awake," the medic said gently. "You're in the Konoha hospital. Everything's fine, your wounds weren't fatal, just unpleasant."

"Sasuke‑kun…? Kakashi‑sensei…?" the girl's voice was weak and hoarse. "Naruto…?"

"Everyone's alive, don't worry," the medic‑nin reassured her. "Uchiha‑san is in the next room, he's already coming around. Hatake‑san is here too. And Uzumaki‑san… he brought all of you here, and he's perfectly fine. I saw him in the hospital not long ago."

The girl nodded silently. The fight was over. And Naruto was the one who'd finished it.

After making sure his patient was stable, the doctor left soon after, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Free of the fog of unconsciousness, they all came crashing down on her at once.

Sakura replayed that moment on the bridge over and over in her head. "Stay out of my way." Those words, thrown at her with cold fury, drilled into her skull harder than any sound.

When she tried to help him, he just said, "Stay out of my way." He hadn't protected her. He'd used her as a tool to help him get out, then tossed her aside as a useless obstacle. The moment that ninja apparently got distracted by Sakura, she turned into something in Sasuke's way. And he'd been ready to sacrifice her…

And then, like a corrosive poison, Naruto's harsh, prophetic words rose up in her memory. "He'll use you," "you're just a thing to him, like everyone else around him," "at best an incubator for his clan." Before, she'd taken that as cruel, cynical mockery.

But during that talk about what Naruto's mark meant… Sakura had decided it was just his clumsy exaggeration, just a way to push her to get stronger and give her a chance to live how she wanted. That had honestly warmed her, even if the way he'd put it… wasn't perfect.

Now, though… it looked like bitter, naked truth. Her beautiful, idealized image of Sasuke as a suffering, tragic hero, which had already started to crack around the edges thanks to his indifference, contempt, and Naruto's words, split down the middle like glass in a frame, shattering and giving way to the portrait of an egotist, blinded and consumed by his revenge.

And Naruto? She remembered his monologue. "Ruthlessness for the Right to Love." His strange, frightening words about "digging through corpses," about "the abyss," about his desperate wish to protect "his close ones." Back then, they'd shocked her. Naruto had always seemed unreal to her—too strong, too confident… like he couldn't have problems, like he physically couldn't be defenseless. But that evening, he'd shown that he could be vulnerable too—and that he was carrying a huge, invisible weight just to keep that vulnerability from ever showing. He was paying a horrible price for his strength.

Now, after Sakura had seen the despair and fear in the eyes of the people of the Land of Waves, she fully understood what Naruto had been talking about. Structure A6—that was a protocol, one of the framework plans you followed to build an interrogation in a specific set of situations. And by following it, the kunoichi, besides compiling the intel her team needed for their next moves as shinobi, had also learned a whole lot of other things about the Land of Waves. Robbery, plain daylight robbery, and public executions of anyone who spoke out. Tsunami's second husband had just been grabbed and executed right there in the street because he stood up to Gato and his cartel. The locals were helpless, doomed to just suffer grief after grief.

And on top of that, the cartel had an entire list of other extremes and crimes they kept committing every single day. There really was a "tumor" in this world that had to be "cut out." With a fast, precise, doubtless stroke.

The strength Naruto had tried to give her, the strength she'd once so desperately wanted just to win Sasuke over… in Sakura's mind it had become something way more valuable and almost sacred than just a way to make an impression.

Sakura compared them. Sasuke, who wanted to destroy a single man for personal revenge, willing to sacrifice a teammate—her—for it. And Naruto, who was ready to be ruthless for the sake of protecting others. And with crushing clarity, she saw who of them was truly strong, and who was simply broken and obsessed.

"We'll be fine." That phrase surfaced in her memory, and her heart clenched painfully. Naruto had included her in his circle of "close ones." He, who always seemed so strange—one moment open and energetic, the next distant and sharp‑tongued—actually cared about her. Not just cared—he'd saved her. If she was here, in the hospital, alive and in one piece, that meant he had taken good care of her.

Sakura looked down at her hands—hands she'd trained to exhaustion to make stronger. But why? To impress Sasuke‑kun? To make him notice her? Suddenly, all that motivation seemed so pathetic, so small, so… childish.

Naruto had used his strength to try and save an entire country pretty much on his own. And her?…

Naruto's philosophy was becoming her new reference point.

What am I willing to fight for? What price am I willing to pay?

Sakura no longer wanted to be "Sasuke's girl." Like she once had, she wanted to be a strong kunoichi. Someone who could protect, not be dead weight. Someone who deserved to be in Naruto's "inner circle" not because she was in love with him, but because she respected him and wanted to be just as strong and reliable.

The door to the room slid open quietly again. The blond she'd just been thinking about walked in. He looked a little awkward.

Coming in, Naruto gave a hesitant little wave in greeting and tried to smile encouragingly, but the smile came out a bit crooked.

"How are you feeling, Sakura?"

As he walked over to the chair beside the bed, Sakura looked at the one who had warned her. The one who had taught her. The one who had saved all of them. And the one who had called her "close."

The whole weight of her realization, the sharp pain of Sasuke's betrayal, and the overwhelming wave of gratitude to Naruto all crashed down on her at once.

The self‑control Sakura had been clinging to fell apart. Her eyes instantly filled with tears. But they weren't tears of weakness—they were tears of understanding and relief.

Before the boy could say anything else, she jerked upright in the bed and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face into his shoulder. By then, he was already sitting beside her, so she could reach him easily. She wasn't just crying—she was sobbing, pouring out all the pain, all the disappointment, all the pent‑up tension, her whole body shaking in his arms.

Naruto froze for a moment, clearly stunned by such an outburst. Then, a little awkwardly but steadily, he put a hand on Sakura's back and started gently stroking her hair, letting her cry it all out, silently giving her the support she needed more than anything else in the world right now.

Uzumaki Naruto's POV

With a mix of surprise and sympathy, I stared straight ahead, absent‑mindedly stroking Sakura's head. By now she'd calmed down and seemed to be starting to doze off.

Yeah… she really had a lot built up. I don't know exactly what triggered that kind of reaction, but I'd put, say, eighty percent on Sasuke's not‑so‑brilliant tactical decision that ended with Sakura catching Haku's senbon. At the very least, back then her look toward the ice, toward where Uchiha was, had been really miserable. And it looked like that might have grown into some resentment. Given Sakura's habit of overthinking and turning everything into drama… I'm honestly scared to imagine what she might have cooked up in her head. Because judging by that reaction, this is definitely not some "he's only mean because he likes me" crap.

Well, time will tell.

The girl had fallen asleep. And maybe it'd be nice to stay with her, but… considering how things are between us, that'd be a bit weird. Besides, I still have a few things to do, even if they're not exactly urgent.

So I left a big, fancy fruit basket I'd brought in a storage seal on the nightstand on the far side of her bed. And also a sheet of paper with the words "Get well soon" and a smiling face. At the bottom, in smaller handwriting: "Unfortunately, I've got things to do, and our mission hasn't been canceled, heh‑heh. If you need me, or when you're fully recovered, tear this paper.

P.S. You look really cute when you're sleeping."

After that, I left her.

---

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[Welydora]

The next person my illustrious self decided to grace with a visit was Kakashi. A few doors down the hallway and I was at the right one.

I opened it and saw the same old white‑haired mug lying in the bed, jonin vest missing. A second ago he'd been staring into his little orange book; right now he was staring at me.

"How's life, 'Captain'?" I leaned against the doorjamb, putting some extra sarcasm into the last word.

"M-mm… I've been better. What do you want, Naruto?"

"Just decided to check on your health. What's the big deal?"

"Plenty," he said flatly. "I've landed in the hospital more than once because of you. But this is the first time you've ever visited."

That last part came out a bit annoyed.

"Oh, give me a break," I waved a hand at him. "You should be thanking me for dragging your soggy ass out of danger."

He set the book down on his legs and folded his arms.

"Actually, I wanted to say that I'm deeply insulted and offended. Got it? You should have pulled me out right away."

"You were supposed to do a lot of things too," I pointed out, and Kakashi looked away. "So how about you don't start. Or I might forget I've already taken my revenge and decide to do it again."

Hatake's eye snapped back to me.

"So you did do it on purpose! I've already brought you a ton of cakes, and you still made us pay for dinner. Naruto, you're just…"

"Irresistible? I know."

Kakashi fell silent and started glancing around, clearly looking for something heavy to throw at me.

"About you being offended and not doing your job as captain. You're the one who filed those complaints on me, right?"

Hatake finally stopped fussing around; his visible eye curved into a nasty smile.

"Yep. Hokage-sama is waiting for you at the Residence. Today."

"Mhm-hm." I nodded. "That's manageable. Anyway, back to your screw‑ups. Someone else will be dropping by to see you today too."

Kakashi's face went sour again.

"It would've been better if you'd just quietly brought some fruit. Kids these days," he started to grumble.

"You didn't earn it," I said, stepping away from the door. "Alright, I've got other things to do. See you… when are you getting discharged?"

"In three days," he grumbled and waved his hand to shoo me out faster. "Alright, get out of here. You interrupted me at the best part."

He picked his book back up and covered his face with it.

"You didn't even have any serious injuries… Ah, screw it, enjoy lying around. Have a nice vacation."

I finished that last line with a tone that made it impossible to tell if I was being sincere or not, then closed the door.


"'Sup, you big lug?" I walked in on Sasuke, who raised an eyebrow slightly at the greeting. "Congrats on awakening the Sharingan."

I came closer and, in honor of the occasion, handed him a banana.

With a weird look on his face, the Uchiha accepted the fruit.

"By the way," my face went serious, "I'd have a few things to discuss with you about your actions in battle. But I figure I'll let Kakashi handle that. He's, like, our captain, after all. So just rest."

With Sasuke silently staring after me, I simply walked out.

For him, that was enough attention from me.


"How's life, Hokage-sama?" I walked into the old man's office and dropped into the chair across from him.

"Ah, Naruto, I was just waiting for you," Hiruzen lifted his gaze from his papers. For once he didn't have his pipe in his mouth, but he was still wearing the hat of the village leader. "Kakashi has already filed his report on the mission. It was… unexpected. He also filed three separate complaints against you. Care to elaborate on what happened?"

So I gave him the short version: the client had kinda… screwed us over, and it turned out the head of the local cartel sicced a Swordsman of the Mist on us.

Sarutobi nodded, and for now we shelved that topic and moved on to the complaints against me. The first was for the forced sparring sessions with Kakashi; apparently, he doesn't enjoy getting his ass kicked after missions. I wouldn't enjoy it either, but who told him to agree to lead a genin team? Someone probably did. But it sure as hell wasn't me.

The second, written in tiny cramped handwriting, was all about how I crudely violate every possible ninja protocol. Subordination. And how I, you know, threatened the client at the gate.

And in the third he described in vivid detail how I threw my poor captain and slightly‑less‑poor teammates into battle while I stood off to the side with the "client" and just watched. How my inaction put everyone in danger, blah blah blah.

He let me read through the papers, and while I was reading I did note there was a certain logic to it, and the facts more or less lined up with reality, but mostly it just made me snort.

The whole "three separate complaints" thing had actually been a joke. But he really went and wrote them.

"Regarding the first point," I began, "it's a necessity. Kakashi has only sparred with me voluntarily once. And that was on your orders."

"Perhaps that's because you two already spar so much?"

"Probably. But Hatake is about as much a 'sensei' as a chocolate eye is a Sharingan," I started bitching. "Seriously. If he does teach my teammates anything, it'll be basics at best. And even that will be because we'll figure out what to do ourselves, not because we understand his 'explanations'… Well, okay, maybe now he'll actually teach Sasuke something. But only if Sasuke turns his Sharingan on. Otherwise? Don't see it happening."

"Hmm." Hiruzen stroked his little beard. "In that case, your actions look more justified. What about the rest of the report?"

"Well. So I threatened the client. So what? Happens to the best of us." I shrugged carelessly. "He was way too cocky from the start. And then he set us up like that. I regret not smacking him in the face a couple of times… But there's still time to fix that."

"Ahem, ahem," Hiruzen cleared his throat. "I think that would be excessive."

"As for the third complaint, I didn't put anyone in danger. Koharu taught me along the same lines: let them feel pain, make mistakes, but don't put them in mortal danger. I would've pulled them out if it came to that. And by doing what I did, I gave them a chance to grow as shinobi."

"Your logic is clear, Naruto," the old man sighed. "And you're right, in a way. Experience is the best teacher. But your 'punishment' for Kakashi… keeping him in a Water Prison… that was excessive."

"Nope," I cut him off. "Not excessive. That 'elite jonin' has been acting like he couldn't give a shit from the very beginning. He ignored my request for reconnaissance, called it 'unnecessary,' and because of his laziness we walked into an ambush we weren't ready for. He's the one who put not only himself but his genin in danger. Keeping him in the water for a few minutes so he could think about his behavior was the mildest thing I could've done. But it's fine, I already came up with another way to get back at him…"

Hiruzen froze for a moment, then just waved his hand, cosmic weariness all over his face. Looked like little things like that really didn't get to him anymore.

"Alright, alright, I get it. Let's leave Kakashi. Please, continue. How did you manage to deal with Zabuza and his partner? And where is the Kubikiribocho? Kakashi mentioned in his report that the swordsman had it with him."

"Dealt with it easy," I answered shortly. "Evacuated the injured, took care of the threat. The sword… uh, I broke it. The important fuin are on the hilt, so the blade was just in the way. And... maybe I wanted to humiliate Zabuza a little. Although, for the record, that bandaged guy was more decent than the client. He insulted us less."

"A-and that's… all?" Hiruzen raised a skeptical eyebrow. "'Took care of the threat'? Naruto, we're talking about one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist."

"Yeah. That's it." I shrugged, not planning to go into the details of "disinfestation" and "test subjects."

Hiruzen narrowed his eyes shrewdly, leaning back in his chair. Ah, crap, there he is, the old fox. He's guessing something.

"You know, Kakashi suggested something… He's convinced you ran that reconnaissance at night after all. You wanted it so badly. And therefore," the old man smiled, "I'm ninety‑nine percent sure you have more to tell me about the Land of Waves. And maybe to share your future plans for that region."

Hmph, right on target.

"The Gato problem is solved. Completely," I finally said, letting him know he was right and that the topic was closed.

"I see…" After a few seconds Hiruzen nodded and fell silent, thinking. Then he looked off to the side, like he was remembering something, sighed, and decided not to dig for the sharpest details. "Alright, Naruto. I see the mission was… a success. But still, given your personality… what are your plans for the Land of Waves?"

Man, he really latched onto that. Though to be fair, I really did have some plans…

"Let's just say I'll be getting some benefits out of them. But if we're talking about benefits…" I took the perfect chance to change the subject. "Zabuza is the former leader of Kiri's revolutionary movement. And a Legendary Swordsman. Konoha has a lot of ways to use him. And I'll be waiting for my cut for making those possibilities exist for Konoha in the first place."

Another sigh came from Hiruzen. He leaned on the desk and thought for about ten seconds.

"There are some ideas. But you'll have to return the sword."

"M'kay. Later, after I've studied it in more detail."

"Don't be in a hurry, Naruto. Things like that don't get settled quickly."

That was where our conversation ended. I liked that Hiruzen didn't pry into pointless details, and that he trusted me.

Leaving the Residence, I just shook my head disapprovingly at the "bubble-bubble-bubble-bubble-bubble" that started up in the Hokage's office. Still, it's probably better than alcohol. And the Third doesn't go on drunken rampages, so it's fine, right?

After that I headed for the Land of Waves. I really did have some plans for that country. And now, some time after I'd finished with the bandits, when the locals had had time to check everything and realize something had happened to Gato, it was a pretty convenient moment for me to put a bit of pressure on them.


The situation turned out even better than I'd thought. The daimyo had come to the town where Tazuna lives and where the bridge is being built. On paper, he's also the ruler of the country. He'd brought a few officials with him, supposedly important ones.

The citizens of Waves, of course, were happy the cartel was gone, but that just made them probably shit themselves even harder over the fact that this same cartel had just been erased, just like that. They'd definitely seen the domes of my barriers and they definitely understood where they came from. Ninja from Konoha show up, early in the morning Gato mobilizes his forces, late in the morning weird domes appear over the concentration points of those forces, and when the domes vanish, no one ever sees Gato's men again. Hell of a coincidence, right? And scary as shit to look at.

That's why the daimyo himself dragged his ass over here—to start bending his back before such valiant Konoha shinobi, if necessary. Wouldn't want them to take it as an insult if he didn't come to say thanks.

That's more or less how the town's mayor told it, practically groveling every four words.

When I ordered him to gather this whole "important" crowd in the square in half an hour, he assured me everything would be done in the best possible way and ran off to comply.

Half an hour later I was in that same square. It was already packed, even though I'd clearly asked for fewer people. But whatever, it would do.

The residents—who had already managed to send riders out and confirm that Gato's posts were really empty—stood silently, a mix of fear, hope, and awe on their faces. In the center of the crowd, surrounded by a few terrified officials, stood the daimyo of the Land of Waves himself—an older, but still sturdy man in rich, if slightly rumpled, clothes.

I showed up silently, dropping down from the roof of the nearest building. The crowd gasped and parted, forming a living corridor.

"People of the Land of Waves," I began, my voice loud enough for everyone to hear, but lazy. "I'm pleased to inform you that Gato's tyranny has come to an end. His cartel no longer exists. You can freely finish your bridge, trade, live. In short, you're free again."

A murmur swept across the square, rising into joyful, if still uncertain, shouts. Now they had official confirmation. I gave them a few seconds to celebrate, then raised my hand, calling for silence.

"Daimyo, officials, I like that you're keeping quiet instead of praising me for hours. And that while you're listening, I can get straight to business," I said as I reached the center of the circle and turned to them.

The ruler and his entourage traded glances and hurried to bow in greeting. What made me chuckle in satisfaction was that they understood they didn't need to open their mouths.

"I'm no Good Samaritan," I went on once they'd straightened. "And I'm not happy. Your citizen, the bridge builder Tazuna, hired my team for a C‑rank mission. Escort duty. But instead of a handful of bandits, we ran into an armed cartel, hired samurai, and, most importantly, an S‑class nukenin, one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist."

The officials' and the daimyo's faces went pale. The local ruler looked like he was about to say something, but I cut him off.

"The task we ended up completing—that's not even just an S‑rank mission. It's an operation that costs more than what you're building. But," I paused, sweeping them with my gaze, "I understand the Land of Waves is at rock bottom right now. And it's not going to recover from Gato's rule anytime soon. Still, debts have to be paid."

I watched them all tensely waiting for my verdict.

"So, as an investment, so to speak, I'm leaving you all of Gato's assets. His ships, warehouses, accounts, goods. You can nationalize his business. That'll be enough to lift the country off its knees. Everything… except for one thing. His mansion on this island. From this moment on, it belongs to me." I turned my head to the mayor, who was standing nearby. "Until my mission to protect Tazuna is over, and maybe sometimes after that, I'll be using it. Find trustworthy people to look after it. And I want a full cleaning done there by the time I arrive in three or four days. Replace the beds, the plumbing. And the wallpaper, if it's ugly."

The mayor and, for some reason, the visiting officials all bobbed their heads hastily.

"Back to the country's business," I continued, "and your debt to me. My… financial consultant will go over the details with you."

Next to me, without smoke or noise, my shadow clone appeared, dressed in a perfectly tailored business suit, a black briefcase in hand. He adjusted his illusory glasses and looked at the daimyo with a businesslike air.

"In seven years," the clone began in a professional tone, "when your economy has recovered, over the following three years the Land of Waves will be required to repay me a debt of forty‑five million ryo. For a country of this size, with competent governance, that's not an overly burdensome sum."

The clone paused, letting them process the terms.

"However, if you can't manage it…" my voice went quiet again as I looked the daimyo right in the eye, "or if you start milking the citizens to get rid of the debt faster… then the Land of Waves will have to ask the Land of Fire for help hiring competent officials and managers. I don't need to explain what I mean by that, do I?"

The daimyo and his advisors quickly, fearfully shook their heads.

"Excellent," I nodded. "And one last thing. You're not to spread it around that it was Konoha shinobi who saved you. I know you won't keep it completely secret. But you'll at least try. And now you know where to turn if something like this happens again."

I turned, making it clear I was leaving, and vanished in a flash of Hiraishin. The clone in the suit stayed behind to take care of all the paperwork. My terms had been stated, which meant they'd been accepted. The Land of Waves was free. Well, in a way. And now it was also a little bit… mine. Heh.

The clone, of course, would hash out a lot of details. To make sure, for example, that Tazuna didn't get "accidentally" executed. He'd explain that the debt would be paid specifically to me, because, in practice, I was the one who wiped out Gato's organization. He'd tell them how I'd be sending inspections of their officials' work—cheap C‑rank missions that would let me keep my finger on the pulse of the Land of Waves using Konoha specialists. And of course, he'd go over a whole bunch of other stuff.

All in all, it worked out pretty conveniently. Gato had a lot of different property worth serious money. But in terms of actual cash, numbers on paper, or other securities, he didn't have that much, relatively speaking. Liquidating Gato's business would've been a bit of a hassle and taken a long time. This way, I just did this little country a royal favor, and later they'll pay me even more than I could've squeezed out of it in the near future.

For now I'm done with the Land of Waves, and while my teammates are laid up, I can, for example, drop by and relax with Hinata. I've got a lot of work ahead of me—I've got a ton of new material, and I need to process it. But before that, it'd be great to rest up and recharge. That's what I'll do—tomorrow. Right now, I need to take my revenge...

---

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