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Sarutobi Asuma had lived a life that many envied.
The son of the Third Hokage.
Genin at nine.
Chūnin at twelve.
Jōnin at sixteen.
One hundred and fifty A-rank missions completed.
Eighteen S-rank missions successful.
It was a glittering résumé, enough to command awe and respect from anyone. Yet, none of it mattered when your father was the Professor, Hiruzen Sarutobi—the legend of Konoha.
And so, despite his accolades, despite his achievements, Asuma left the village five years after the Kyūbi attack. The reason? A petty argument. His father had chosen his older brother to be the head of the Sarutobi clan. That decision, that one slight, had been the final straw in a string of frustrations. Without so much as a backward glance, Asuma stormed out of Konoha to join the Twelve Guardian Ninja, the elite bodyguards of the Fire Daimyō.
Life outside the village had brought him fame and hardship in equal measure. It was thrilling. Grueling. Dangerous. He was recognized, feared, respected. His bounty on the black market soared to thirty-five million ryō—a price tag he considered a badge of honor.
But the glory came at a cost.
When ten of the Twelve Guardians were killed in a single assassination attempt, Asuma was left standing amidst the aftermath, wondering what the hell he was doing.
When the time came to select the new leader of the Guardians, he was the obvious choice.
But he turned it down.
What good was all the fame, all the danger, all the riches, if he couldn't enjoy any of it?
And so, after years away, he returned to Konoha.
Coming back wasn't what Asuma had imagined. He expected warmth, camaraderie, maybe a drink or two with old friends. Instead, he got the cold shoulder. Shinobi whispered behind his back. Others avoided him altogether.
Why wouldn't they? He had left without a word, abandoning his responsibilities, his family, his friends. The world hadn't stopped turning just because Asuma needed to find himself.
The first meeting with his father had been the worst.
Hiruzen greeted him stiffly in the Hokage's office, his expression unreadable beneath the lines of age. Asuma shifted awkwardly on his feet, suddenly feeling like a boy again.
"I see you've bought your own apartment," his father said finally, his tone neutral.
Asuma scratched the back of his head. "Yeah… I didn't want to, uh, burden the clan's staff."
"Whatever you say, Asuma."
The words stung.
Years ago, Hiruzen had been so overprotective after Asuma's mother died during the Kyūbi attack that he wouldn't even let his sons move out of the compound. That suffocating care had been one of the many reasons for their falling out. Yet now, the Third Hokage was suddenly indifferent.
The conversation ended with Hiruzen extending an invitation.
"Are you free this evening? Your nephew would love to meet you."
A family dinner? Asuma forced a grin. "Sorry, I can't. I've got plans tonight."
It was a lie.
There was no party, no friends waiting for him, no drinks to share.
He spent that night alone in his apartment, staring at the ceiling as the hard truth settled over him.
Konoha had moved on.
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The months that followed were no easier.
Asuma tried to adapt to his new reality, taking on solo jōnin missions, but it all felt meaningless. He was good—damn good—but what was the point of being one of Konoha's strongest if there was no one to share it with?
Desperate for connection, he reached out to his old teammates, Raido and Kurenai.
Raido was polite but distant. They had never been close, and that hadn't changed.
Kurenai, though… Kurenai was different.
She had always been different.
Asuma had nursed a quiet crush on her for years, one that had lingered even during his time away. She was sharp, confident, and beautiful—everything he admired in a kunoichi. He had hoped, prayed, that she might not have moved on. That she might still see him as he once was.
But when he saw her again, it wasn't the reunion he had envisioned.
It happened a month later in the Hokage Tower, where Hiruzen was announcing her promotion to jōnin. She stood at the center of the room, radiant and surrounded by friends. They laughed, congratulated her, celebrated her achievement.
Asuma watched from the sidelines, his mouth dry, unable to find the words to approach her.
He left without saying a word.
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The next day, Asuma decided enough was enough.
He wasn't a ladies' man by any stretch of the imagination. Sure, his rugged looks and solid build had earned him attention during his years with the Guardians, but that was different. Those were fleeting, meaningless encounters.
What he wanted now was substance—a real connection.
And he was determined to find it with Kurenai.
Asuma prepped himself like a shinobi preparing for a mission.
First, he ditched the cigarette and bought the strongest breath mints he could find. He was not about to approach Kurenai reeking of smoke.
Second, he spruced himself up. He trimmed his beard, slicked back his hair, and even splashed on some cologne—not too much, just enough to leave a subtle, confident impression.
Lastly, he rehearsed what he was going to say. He didn't want to come off as desperate, but he also didn't want to be too casual. He needed the perfect balance.
With everything set, he marched into the jōnin lounge, his chest puffed out, his shoulders broad, his gait steady.
He looked like a man on a mission.
And in many ways, he was.
The lounge was mostly empty now, quiet except for the low murmur of voices and the occasional clink of glass.
Asuma approached Kurenai, his steps steady—though his heart wasn't.
"Hey, Red Eyes," he said casually. "Did you unlock your Sharingan yet?"
The same joke. The same line he'd used when they were fresh-faced genin so many years ago.
Kurenai looked up, startled, her crimson eyes widening slightly. "Asuma… you're back?"
The surprise in her voice stung more than Asuma cared to admit. He forced a smile, ignoring the twinge of bitterness that crept in.
Guess no one told her, he thought grimly. Of course, they didn't. I'm the outcast now, right? The guy who abandoned the village to go 'find himself.' Why would anyone bother telling her I came back?
But he pushed those thoughts aside. "Of course, I'm back," he said. "And this time, I'm here to stay."
"Why?"
Asuma paused, the bluntness of the question catching him off guard.
Don't tell me… he thought, his stomach sinking. She's giving me the cold shoulder too.
He shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Well, this is my home, right?"
Kurenai looked away, her expression unreadable.
Asuma scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, then forced himself to push forward. "Look," he began, "let me make it up to you. A drink? Maybe some food? Let's catch up. I've been dying to know why you became a genjutsu specialist, of all things."
Kurenai hesitated, her polite smile not quite reaching her eyes. "I don't know, Asuma. I'm really busy right now, preparing for this year's genin graduation…"
Her words were polite, but the tone behind them was distant.
Asuma felt the rejection like a punch to the gut. He masked it well, though—years of dealing with nobles in the Daimyō's court had taught him how to keep his face calm, even when he felt like crumbling inside.
"Well," he said after a beat, "why don't we discuss it together? I was actually thinking about becoming a jōnin instructor myself."
That was a lie.
Asuma couldn't picture himself teaching a team of green, hyperactive genin. He was a man who loved his lazy afternoons, a simple life with the occasional mission to keep things interesting. The thought of wrangling three brats day in and day out was enough to make him want to light another cigarette right then and there.
But he couldn't say that. Not now.
Kurenai tilted her head slightly, her gaze unreadable as she studied him. "What were you saying about a drink?"
Asuma's heart jumped, but he kept his cool, only allowing the corners of his mouth to lift into a small smile.
"Let's go," he said.
The Fire Bop Club was alive with noise and energy. It was one of the most popular bars in Konoha, known for its wide selection of drinks from across the Elemental Nations. Shinobi and civilians mingled, their laughter and conversations mixing with the soft hum of music in the background.
Asuma led Kurenai to a quieter corner, ordering a couple of light drinks as they began to talk. They caught up on what they had been doing over the past seven years, trading stories about missions and experiences. For a while, Asuma let himself believe that things might finally be normal again.
But halfway through the evening, some of Kurenai's friends called her over to join them at another table. She gave him an apologetic smile before leaving, disappearing into a crowd that seemed to welcome her like family.
Asuma stayed behind, nursing his drink. He glanced over at her occasionally, watching as her laughter lit up the room, her smile easy and genuine as she spoke with her friends.
And in that moment, it hit him.
He didn't belong here.
He had left Konoha to find himself, and now that he was back, there was no place for him. Not with his father, not with his colleagues, not even with Kurenai.
He paid the tab quietly and slipped out of the bar without saying goodbye.
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Asuma wandered through the streets of Konoha aimlessly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The quiet hum of the village at night was both comforting and isolating—a sharp reminder of how much he'd missed and how much had changed.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking when he heard a familiar voice.
"Asuma?"
He looked up and froze. Standing before him was a woman holding a bag of groceries.
"Long time no see, huh?"
It was his sister-in-law, Sarutobi Akari.
Akari was striking in a quiet way, her features sharp but elegant. She wore a simple navy yukata, her jōnin vest folded over her arm, the sleeves of her shirt rolled up to reveal the faint scars of an experienced shinobi. Her sharp brown eyes softened slightly as she looked at him.
"Maybe it would've been sooner if you bothered to come," she said, her tone teasing but not unkind.
"I didn't know how to approach my brother after what I said," Asuma admitted. There was no point in lying—Akari was an elite jōnin, an ANBU member no less. She'd see through him in a heartbeat.
Akari's gaze didn't waver. "Take the first step, Asuma," she said simply. "You might be surprised what happens next."
Before Asuma could respond, a loud, excited voice interrupted them.
"Mom, look what I found!"
Asuma turned to see a young boy running toward them, cradling a small, squirming cat in his arms.
"Konohamaru," Akari said with a sigh, "what did I tell you about picking up random animals?"
The boy pouted. "That I can't because they belong in the wild."
"Exactly," Akari said, taking the cat from his arms and setting it down gently. "Now, let's go home. Dinner's waiting."
Konohamaru's face lit up. "Can I help you make the food, Mom?"
Asuma watched the scene unfold, a small smile tugging at his lips. It didn't take him long to piece it together—the boy, with his messy hair and bright, eager eyes, could only be his nephew.
"Hello there, little guy," Asuma said, crouching slightly to meet Konohamaru's gaze.
"Who are you, suspiciously bearded man?"
Asuma sweatdropped at those adjectives, taking a deep breath before exhaling. A small flame serpent formed in the air between them, curling and twisting like a living thing. It was a trick he had picked up in the Fire Daimyō's court, and it worked like a charm.
"Whoa! That's so cool!"
Akari chuckled. "Would you like to join us for dinner, Asuma?"
He hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "If you don't mind me intruding."
"Of course not," Akari said, turning to Konohamaru. "What do you think, Konohamaru?"
"This dinner is gonna be awesome!" the boy exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "We've got everyone in the family coming!"
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Dinner was nothing short of amazing. Asuma couldn't remember the last time he'd sat at a family table like this, with the comforting clatter of dishes, the smell of home-cooked food, and the warmth of shared company. His sister-in-law, Akari, was an exceptional cook, and her efforts hadn't gone unnoticed.
To his left, Akari was trying—unsuccessfully—to make Konohamaru eat his vegetables. The six-year-old had puffed up his cheeks in defiance, claiming he was "too full" after his third serving of rice.
Across from him, Hiruzen sat at the head of the table, unusually relaxed, a faint smile on his lips as he sipped his tea.
But it was the man seated at the other end of the table that caught Asuma's attention.
Sarutobi Hikaru.
His older brother was a man who carried himself with quiet authority. His features were sharp but refined, with the same intelligent eyes their father had, though his gaze often held an edge of sternness. His dark brown hair was neatly tied into a short ponytail, and his beard was trimmed with precision. Unlike Asuma's rugged, laid-back appearance, Hikaru had the polished look of a man who commanded respect wherever he went.
Hikaru's demeanor had always been calm, measured—a man of logic and control. But as their gazes met across the table, there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"You really are something else, Asuma," Hikaru said, setting down his chopsticks.
"Thanks," Asuma replied, though his voice was tinged with surprise. For years, he had assumed Hikaru hated him—resented him, even—for the way he had stormed out of Konoha, for the angry words they had exchanged before he left.
Back then, Asuma had shouted, accused Hikaru of stealing the title of clan head that he had deserved. He expected hostility now, not… this.
"Did hanging out with nobles make you dense or something? You've been running from everything your whole life."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, don't give me that look," Hikaru said, firm. "You ran from home. You ran from your responsibilities here. Then you ran from the Fire Guardians when things got tough. What's next?"
Asuma's hand curled into a fist under the table, his anger simmering just below the surface. "I came back, didn't I? Shouldn't you be glad that I'm alive?"
The tension in the room rose sharply, the air heavy with unspoken words. Asuma's chakra flared slightly, a subtle warning of the frustration building within him. Hikaru's chakra spiked in response, his own irritation evident.
Before things could escalate further, Hiruzen's presence filled the room, his chakra washing over both of them like an iron grip. The sheer weight of it forced both brothers to still, their tempers immediately quelled.
"Enough," Hiruzen said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "Akari, take Konohamaru to bed."
"Yes, Father," Akari replied without hesitation.
Asuma turned to see that she had already placed Konohamaru in a light genjutsu, the boy fast asleep in her arms. She gave both brothers a sharp look before leaving the room, her presence lingering like a reprimand.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Hiruzen coughed lightly, breaking the tension. "Now then, you two. Stop acting like children and talk it out properly."
Both Asuma and Hikaru opened their mouths to protest, but Hiruzen's glare silenced them instantly. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a small shōgi board, setting it on the table between them.
"You will play one round," Hiruzen said. "One round, and as you play, you will talk. No interruptions, no yelling. Understood?"
"You want us to settle this with shōgi?"
"Correct. Asuma will play black, so he moves first."
Asuma sighed but leaned forward, picking up his first piece. "What's your problem with me?"
Hikaru mirrored his movement, placing his own piece. "My problem is that you think you can just stroll back into Konoha and act like nothing's happened."
Asuma's jaw tightened. He moved another piece. "Don't you think I know that? Every damn day since I came back, people have been treating me like I'm a traitor. So excuse me for trying to see the good side of things instead of just running away again."
Hikaru's expression didn't soften. "Then why didn't you come back sooner? Why did it take you so long to even visit your family?"
Asuma froze for a moment, his fingers hovering over the next piece. Because I didn't see the point.
"I said a lot of things before I left… and I didn't think I could take them back. I'm sorry for that."
"Doesn't matter. The past is the past." Hikaru paused, his fingers lightly tapping his piece before he moved it. "I kept up with your exploits as a Fire Guardian, you know. You had everything you wanted there—fame, money, power. So why come back?"
"Because none of it meant anything. I got older. I got closer to death. And I realized something: what's the point of having everything if there's no one to share it with?"
At that, the game slowed, both brothers holding their pieces but not placing them.
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"And yet you came back to Konoha, knowing people wouldn't welcome you. Knowing how they'd see you. Why?"
Asuma gave him a lopsided smile, lighting a cigarette as he spoke. "What, were you hoping I'd just stay gone?"
"You idiot," Hikaru said. "I'm worried about you. Konoha is built on the Will of Fire—on loyalty, on honoring it. You dishonored that by leaving. People won't forgive you easily."
Asuma exhaled a stream of smoke, his grin widening. "Good. That just means I've got a new hurdle to overcome."
"Well said, Asuma. I know you're strong enough to handle it."
Hikaru shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "So, what's next? What's your plan now?"
"I'm thinking about becoming a jōnin instructor."
For the first time that night, Hikaru laughed, shaking his head. "You? A teacher? Those kids don't know what they're in for."
"We'll see," Asuma said with a smirk. "I might surprise you."
And for the first time in years, the Sarutobi brothers shared a moment of understanding.
A few months after settling back in Konoha, life had started to feel… lighter for Asuma. He made a point of visiting his family on weekends, often babysitting Konohamaru when Akari and Hikaru were busy with clan duties or ANBU missions. The little brat had grown on him fast, especially with his endless energy and unfiltered honesty. It was nice—really nice—to feel like he was a part of the Sarutobi household again.
Meanwhile, his reputation in the village had begun to recover. Successful missions stacked up under his belt, and slowly but surely, people were beginning to look at him with less suspicion.
But there was one problem he hadn't quite solved yet: Kurenai.
To catch Kurenai's attention, Asuma finally committed to the idea of becoming a jōnin instructor. And luck, it seemed, was on his side—he was assigned the Ino-Shika-Chō trio of the current generation.
Three clan heirs. Three shinobi who had been raised since birth to work as a team. Three kids whose families had likely prepped them so thoroughly that Asuma could afford to take it easy as their instructor.
An easy life as a jōnin instructor. That was the plan.
Of course, he quickly learned that while Shikamaru was the laziest brat he'd ever met and Chōji was sweet and harmless, Ino was… spirited, to put it mildly. Managing her relentless energy and constant nitpicking of her teammates wasn't as easy as he'd hoped. Still, the trio grew on him. He found himself genuinely enjoying their sessions, even if he wouldn't admit it outright.
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A few days after the academy's graduation exams, Asuma found himself walking back to his apartment after another mind-numbing D-rank mission. Escorting an old man with a cart of cabbages hadn't exactly been thrilling, but he wasn't in the mood for anything too taxing today.
The evening was quiet, the streets painted in warm orange hues as the sun dipped below the horizon. He was halfway to his place when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.
Kakashi Hatake was leaning against the railing of a nearby staircase, engrossed in his infamous orange book. Asuma did a double take. It wasn't every day you casually ran into one of Konoha's strongest shinobi.
"Good to see you again, Kakashi."
Kakashi didn't look up from his book. Instead, he gave a slight nod, his eye crinkling in what could have been a smile.
"Want to come in?"
"Well," Kakashi drawled, finally closing his book with a snap, "I do have something we could discuss over something to drink."
"Come on, then. I've got some coffee the Fire Daimyō gave me."
"Didn't know you liked coffee."
"I don't," Asuma replied. "But when the Fire Daimyō gives you a gift, you take it. No questions asked."
Asuma's apartment was simple yet comfortable, reflecting the quiet, no-frills lifestyle he had adopted since his return. Traditional tatami mats covered the floors, and the furniture was minimal—a low wooden table with cushions for seating, a few shelves lined with books and small trinkets from his travels, and a kotatsu in the corner for colder nights. The walls were adorned with subtle touches of Sarutobi clan heritage: a framed calligraphy scroll bearing the kanji for Will of Fire and a few weapons hung neatly on display.
Asuma set about preparing the coffee, the rich aroma filling the air as Kakashi took a seat on one of the cushions.
"So," Kakashi began, "how's life as a jōnin instructor treating you?"
"Easier than I thought," Asuma replied, pouring the coffee into two cups. "What about you? I heard you finally passed a team."
"They're doing well. I think they're shaping up to be a great team."
Asuma handed Kakashi a cup. "Not that I mind you dropping by, but you and I were never exactly close. So, what's this about?"
Kakashi let out a mock sigh, slumping back dramatically. "I thought we were as close as two peas in a pod."
"Right," Asuma deadpanned. "You're really selling it with that smut book of yours."
Kakashi chuckled, clearly having fun. "Fine, fine. You caught me. I need a favor."
"What kind of favor?"
"I want you to train my student in Wind Style."
"You want me to train one of your brats in elemental manipulation? Why? You've got more jutsu in your arsenal than anyone I know."
"Wind Style isn't the issue that I'm facing. It's something more unique—something your team can help me with."
"My team?"
Kakashi nodded. "The student I'm talking about is Naruto Uzumaki."
That gave Asuma pause. The name hit him like a stone dropping into a still pond, the ripples of understanding spreading quickly.
"…Oh," he murmured after a moment, the pieces clicking together in his mind. "This is about building trust, isn't it? You want the Jinchūriki to have more friends in Konoha."
Tenten. That's why Kakashi involved her in Naruto's kenjutsu training.
He could've taught Naruto himself. The basics of kenjutsu, wind-style techniques—none of it would have been difficult for him to pass on. But that wasn't the priority. Not now.
This came directly from the Hokage. Naruto is losing faith.
The words rang in his mind, heavy with an urgency he couldn't ignore. Naruto, the loud, stubborn boy who once declared to the world that he'd be Hokage, was losing that fire. His ambition, his dreams—they were fading.
The Will of Fire, the very thing that held this village together, no longer resonated with him.
And that was dangerous.
If Naruto didn't feel tied to Konoha—if he didn't have genuine bonds of friendship, of loyalty—the consequences were unthinkable. He wouldn't just be another lost child. He was Konoha's Jinchūriki. He carried an untapped power that no one fully understood, and if he ever turned against the village…
Kakashi clenched his jaw. I won't let that happen.
He wouldn't fail him. He wouldn't fail Minato-sensei or Kushina-san. If he ever met them in the afterlife, he wanted to be able to look them in the eyes and tell them their son had people who stood by him—not because they were told to, but because they wanted to.
That's why he chose Tenten.
Yūgao would have been an excellent instructor. A skilled kenjutsu master, experienced and disciplined. But that wasn't what Naruto needed. He didn't need another teacher keeping him at arm's length, another shinobi fulfilling a duty.
He needed real allies. People his own age. People who would fight with him, laugh with him, challenge him, and trust him.
Pretending wasn't enough.
Kakashi knew better than anyone how much genuine bonds mattered. He knew what it meant to lose them. He wouldn't let Naruto walk that same path.
He exhaled softly, his resolve hardening.
He would make sure Naruto had those bonds. No matter what it takes.
Asuma let out a long sigh, leaning back against the wall as he mulled over the situation. "I don't know…" he admitted finally. "Maybe we should start with something simpler, like joint training exercises between our teams. That way, he gets the interaction without too much pressure."
"That's not a bad idea," Kakashi acknowledged. "But that's just the other extreme—too much social pressure too quickly. Inoichi suggested that we ease him into the social environment. Give him time to gain allies naturally, without forcing it."
The words clicked in Asuma's mind immediately. Inoichi? A social environment? That combination of words alone told him just how delicate the situation was.
"What is this really about, Kakashi?" Asuma asked. "Is the Jinchūriki compromised?"
Kakashi's expression didn't change, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. "We have evidence to believe so. Will you do it?"
Asuma sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was hoping for an easy jōnin instructor life."
"Don't worry. I'm passing on the headache that is Naruto Uzumaki to you."
Asuma exhaled heavily, glancing down at his cup of coffee. He swirled the dark liquid thoughtfully before taking another sip. It was rich, bold, and unexpectedly good. Maybe he should start drinking more coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need it.
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Shikamaru blinked, his eyes heavy with fatigue. Okay, more tired than usual. He stretched his arms lazily, staring down at the shogi board in front of him. His mind wasn't on the game, though. It kept replaying his graduation day, over and over, trying to piece together something he couldn't quite pin down.
Naruto acting… not like Naruto.
"Checkmate," came his father's calm voice, dragging Shikamaru back to reality.
"Your game today was a mess," Shikaku said bluntly, his sharp gaze making Shikamaru feel like he was under a microscope.
Shikamaru yawned and scratched the back of his head. "Troublesome," he muttered, already preparing to dismiss the conversation.
Shikaku Nara, ever the epitome of calm, watched him with an unreadable expression. His spiky ponytail and goatee made him look deceptively laid-back, but the scars on the side of his face hinted at the experience of a man who had seen far too much. His dark eyes, however, were sharp as ever.
"A Nara with an interest is a dangerous thing."
Shikamaru stiffened slightly. Of course, his dad would pick up on his distracted state. The man was too damn perceptive for his own good.
"Not thinking about anything important," Shikamaru mumbled, trying to play it off, even though his brain was screaming at him about Naruto's strange behavior. Should he bring it up? It might be a mistake. Shikaku wasn't just his dad—he was the head of the Jōnin Council. If Shikamaru said something even remotely suspicious, it could turn into a village-wide headache.
Did he really want to invite that kind of trouble?
...Nah. Too much effort.
"You look like you're about to fall asleep," Shikaku said, narrowing his eyes. "Try not to think too much about it. Overthinking—it's not the Nara way."
"Oh no," came a stern voice from behind. "He should think about it."
Shikamaru sighed inwardly.
His mother, Yoshino Nara, stepped into the room holding a tray of green tea and cups. Her sharp gaze landed on her son, and Shikamaru immediately felt like he was five years old again and being scolded for not cleaning his room. She set the tray down with precision, her long brown hair tied neatly in a ponytail, strands framing her serious expression.
"What are you talking about, woman?"
"You know exactly what I mean," Yoshino shot back, hands on her hips.
"You think it's a girl, don't you?"
"Of course, it's a girl!" Yoshino said with absolute certainty. "Why else would our lazy son look so troubled? It's either a girl, or the apocalypse is coming."
Shikaku smirked. "Makes sense. I mean, I was young once too. And you did occupy my mind for a while back then."
Yoshino blushed, a rare moment of softness crossing her stern face. "I was the beauty that stayed in the mind of the great Shikaku Nara," she said, smiling faintly.
Shikamaru rolled his eyes. Here it comes…
"More like a pain in my butt," Shikaku added dryly, sipping his tea.
"What did you just say, you bastard!?" Yoshino shouted, slamming her hands on the table.
Shikamaru sighed, standing up slowly.
"Don't you dare walk out while I'm yelling at your father, young man!"
"I'm just getting some air," Shikamaru said lazily, waving a hand behind him.
Yoshino huffed but softened. "Well, if you need any advice about the girl on your mind, you know you can always come to your mom."
Shikamaru froze in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. "It's not a girl, Mom."
"Of course it's a girl," Yoshino said, ignoring him completely. "Just bring her home sometime, alright? I'll make dinner—something impressive. You know, gotta show your future wife we're a good family."
Shikamaru's groan deepened, and he quickly stepped outside, letting the door close behind him.
It's not a girl, it's Naruto.
Behind him, his parents' voices drifted out, loud and clear through the walls.
"You're impossible, Shikaku!"
"And yet, here we are, happily married!"
"Happily? You—"
Shikamaru sighed heavily, picking up his pace. "Yeah, definitely worse. One headache is enough."
Shikamaru arrived at Training Ground 10, the perfect place for an afternoon nap. The lush green field was surrounded by towering trees whose leaves rustled gently in the breeze.
At the center of the field stood a small pavilion. Its curved, tiled roof rose in graceful tiers, supported by weathered wooden beams painted a deep vermilion. The stone floor was smooth and cool, with long benches and a central table that seemed perfect for quiet reflection—or, in Shikamaru's case, uninterrupted naps.
Shikamaru stretched out, resting his head on the table. The cool stone against his cheek was soothing, and he closed his eyes, letting himself drift into half-consciousness. The faint hum of nature filled the air—birds chirping, wind in the trees. It was peaceful, almost perfect.
Then he heard it.
A deep rumbling sound in the distance.
He lazily opened one eye, too relaxed to react fully. Turning his head just enough to see, he caught sight of something rolling toward him—fast. It was a massive sphere, tearing through the field like an oversized boulder.
Shikamaru blinked, unfazed, as the ball came to a screeching halt and exploded in a puff of white smoke. When the dust cleared, there stood Chōji, holding a bag of beef jerky in one hand and grinning triumphantly.
Chōji Akimichi looked bigger than ever—mostly in his weight. His friend's face was rounder, and his limbs carried a noticeable layer of fat. Shikamaru didn't comment, of course. He valued his life too much for that.
"How's training going?"
"Look at the gains!" Chōji said, flexing his arm proudly. Beneath the soft layers of fat, there was muscle, but it was buried deep. Shikamaru didn't comment, though. He knew this was all part of the Akimichi's unique jutsu—turning stored calories into raw chakra power.
It wasn't hard to figure out why Chōji had been training so hard, either.
Naruto.
Naruto's killer intent had left an impression on Chōji—and had lit a fire under the boy, pushing him to bulk up as quickly as possible. In just four days, he'd gained almost twenty kilograms.
"You're going to be rolling everywhere soon if you keep this up."
Chōji grinned, unbothered. "That's the point."
Before Shikamaru could reply, another voice broke through the calm.
"Fashionably late, as always."
Ino Yamanaka strutted into the training ground, holding a small bag of leftovers. She tossed the bag to Chōji, who caught it easily and immediately began digging through it.
Ino's presence was as bright as ever, though Shikamaru had noticed some changes in her recently. She was more serious than she used to be, ditching her Sasuke-obsessed antics in favor of focusing on her Yamanaka clan techniques. But despite her progress as a shinobi, she still carried herself with the same confidence that had defined her since childhood.
"You bring snacks for him and nothing for me?"
"You don't need it. Besides, you'd just complain that it's too much work to eat."
Chōji chuckled through a mouthful of food, and Shikamaru rolled his eyes. The three of them fell into their usual rhythm—Shikamaru lounging on the bench, Chōji munching away, and Ino sitting cross-legged on the grass, soaking up the sun.
The calm didn't last long, though.
A swirl of leaves caught their attention as Asuma Sarutobi appeared in the center of the training ground, his ever-present cigarette dangling from his lips.
Asuma was the picture of laid-back authority. His spiky black hair and scruffy beard gave him a rugged look, and the rolled-up sleeves of his jōnin vest added to his relaxed demeanor. But the sharpness in his eyes betrayed his true nature—this was a man who didn't miss much.
"Sensei," Ino said, stretching her arms dramatically. "What boring mission do you have for us today?"
Asuma exhaled a puff of smoke, smiling faintly. "No mission today. A friend of mine asked me to do him a favor. We're going to help one of his students with elemental jutsu training."
Ino perked up immediately. "Oh! Are we going to meet one of our senpai? Is he handsome?"
"Not exactly. It's one of your classmates."
The trio exchanged confused glances.
"Sensei," Ino began, "elemental jutsu training doesn't usually start until at least a year after graduation. It's only been four days."
"That's Kakashi's choice. I'm just here to help out. Besides, I get to cash in a favor."
"Kakashi? As in the Kakashi? Team 7's sensei?" Shikamaru asked, sitting up slightly.
"Yeah," Asuma replied, taking another drag of his cigarette.
Ino clapped her hands, grinning. "It's gotta be Sasuke-kun! We're going to train with Sasuke-kun!" She practically squealed with excitement.
Before Asuma could respond, another swirl of leaves announced the arrival of Kakashi. But it wasn't Sasuke standing beside him.
It was Naruto.
The air changed instantly.
Shikamaru stiffened, his mind snapping to attention. Ino froze mid-smile, her face falling as she instinctively moved closer to Chōji. But it was Chōji's reaction that caught Asuma's attention.
Chōji, who usually wouldn't hurt a fly unless he absolutely had to, clenched his fists. His fingers trembled halfway through the motion before stopping altogether, his body paralyzed by a fear so primal it was as if he were staring down a demon.
"Are you three okay?" Asuma asked, his tone sharp. This reaction was… unnatural.
Ino snapped out of it first, rushing to Chōji's side. She grabbed his arm, whispering to him urgently, trying to pull him back. Shikamaru stayed rooted in place, gripping the edge of the stone table so hard his knuckles turned white.
Asuma watched his students leave, slightly concerned, before turning his attention back to Kakashi and the blond genin beside him.
"Asuma, is everything alright with your team?"
"I think so. Maybe it's because you arrived early," Asuma joked, subtly telling Kakashi that he'd handle it.
"I am a clone," Kakashi replied, subtly telling Asuma that he was, in fact, a clone.
"Of course you are," Asuma said, turning his attention to Naruto. "So, you must be Naruto Uzumaki. Heard a lot about you from your sensei. The name's Asuma."
"Nice to meet you, bearded man."
Asuma sweatdropped. "Bearded man?"
"Yeah," Naruto said with a shrug. "You've got a beard. What else am I supposed to call you?"
"How about Asuma-sensei?"
"Nah, you have to teach me something first before I call you sensei. Otherwise, you're just a bearded guy."
"I'm not sure that's much better," Asuma muttered under his breath.
"I'll leave you to it," Kakashi said before disappearing in a puff of smoke.
"Alright, kid. What do you know about wind chakra?"
Naruto immediately perked up. "It's one of the five chakra natures, and I have it. So, what jutsu are you gonna teach me?"
"Hold your horses. Before we jump into jutsu, you need to learn how to use your chakra nature first. Otherwise, it's like trying to swing a sword without knowing how to sharpen it."
"Alright, so what's the first step?"
Asuma pulled out his cigarette, holding it loosely between his fingers. "Let me show you something." He filled his fingertip with normal chakra and flicked the cigarette. The lit end exploded, scattering ash and tobacco everywhere.
"That's what happens when I use regular chakra," Asuma said. He pulled out another cigarette and flicked it again—this time, using wind chakra. The result was precise and clean. The cigarette's lit end was sliced clean off, leaving the bud with a perfectly sharp edge.
"Whoa, you sharpened your chakra?"
"Not exactly," Asuma said. "What I did was change my chakra into wind nature. Wind chakra is sharp and precise—meant for cutting. From the look in your eyes, I think you're getting the point."
Naruto nodded slowly. "So… I need to learn how to change my chakra before I even think about learning a jutsu?"
"Exactly," Asuma said with an approving nod. "Any questions?"
Naruto scratched his head. "Yeah. What happens if I try to learn a wind jutsu before I figure out how to change my chakra?"
In response, Asuma reached into his pouch and pulled out a pair of trench knives. "These are made from chakra metal," he explained, holding the blades up for Naruto to see. "They're designed to absorb and amplify the user's chakra. Here, give it a shot."
[ Item: Custom Trench Knife ]
[ Weapon Type: Dagger ]
[ Attack Type: Magic ]
[ Description: A weapon created using a special iron sand only found in the deserts of the Land of Wind. A very expensive weapon that excels in mid- and short-range combat. ]
Naruto raised an eyebrow at the Attack Type line in the system's description. Magic? Remembering Asuma's words, he quickly concluded that the system was lumping chakra into the same category as magic.
His mind started racing. Could he channel his pyromancy or divine energy into the knives? That'd be insane. His excitement, however, was quickly dampened as he remembered the chakra paper incident—the unsettling moment when his pyromancy flame turned the paper into something… unnatural.
I don't think I wanna see what happens if I use the pyromancy flame on a weapon. Last thing I need is a demonic knife in my hand. He shuddered at the thought. That would probably ruin the knife too.
"Say," Naruto asked, holding up one of the trench knives, "how expensive are these, anyway?"
"About 10 million ryo each," Asuma said casually, as if he were talking about the weather.
Naruto froze, his mind blank for a second as the weight of that number hit him.
"WHAT?!" he finally shouted. "You're loaded, bearded man!"
"Not rich, kid," Asuma said, smirking. "Just lived long enough to save up and invest in the right gear."
Naruto hummed in thought, watching as Asuma channeled his chakra into the knife. The blade began to glow with a sharp, steady light, the edges shimmering faintly with power.
Naruto attempted the same, focusing his chakra into the knife. The metal started to glow faintly, but the light flickered erratically, wobbling like an unsteady flame.
"Now," Asuma said, "throw it."
Both of them hurled their trench knives at a nearby tree. Naruto's knife stuck in the bark, quivering slightly. Asuma's, however, sliced straight through the tree, embedding itself in the ground on the other side.
"Whoa… It's like a hot knife through butter!"
Asuma retrieved his knife and gestured to the tree. "See the difference? A jutsu is only as strong as the chakra nature behind it. If I gave you a powerful wind jutsu right now—say, an A-rank one—it'd barely register as a C-rank because you haven't learned the basics."
"So… you're saying I gotta walk before I can run, huh?"
"Exactly," Asuma said with a grin. "Glad you're catching on."
"So, what do I do now?"
"Go grab a leaf. Hold it flat between your palms and try to split it using your chakra. The goal is to focus your chakra into a thin, sharp edge, like a blade."
Naruto grinned. "Got it." Then, without missing a beat, he formed the cross-shaped hand sign.
"Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
A dozen Naruto clones popped into existence, each one immediately grabbing a leaf and getting to work.
"Well, that's one way to speed up training."
----------------------------------------
[ An Hour Later ]
"Bearded sensei, can you ask them to stop glaring at me?"
Asuma followed Naruto's gaze toward his team. Shikamaru was lying on his back, arms behind his head, staring at the clouds. Ino was using her mirror to fix her hair, though she kept sneaking glances at Naruto. And Chōji, well… Chōji wasn't even pretending to be subtle. He was glaring at Naruto, fists clenched, his usual easygoing demeanor nowhere to be seen.
"Naruto, did you do something to my team?"
"No! Nothing!" Naruto said quickly, shaking his head. "I mean, I skipped a few classes with Shikamaru and Chōji back in the academy, but I never even talked to Ino! I swear."
Asuma hummed.
"Uh-huh. And what about recently? Did anything happen that might've upset them?"
"No!" Naruto groaned. "Well… maybe… there was this thing with Kiba."
Asuma blinked. "Kiba?"
"Yeah, that jerk insulted my master, so I defended his honor." Naruto crossed his arms, frowning. "I don't care if he wants to call me names, but I draw the line at him throwing dirt on Oscar's name."
"Care to tell me what happened?" Asuma asked, keeping his tone light. He wasn't sure how much Naruto would open up, but it didn't hurt to try. To his surprise, Naruto launched into a word-for-word recounting of his fight with Kiba, complete with exaggerated hand gestures and sound effects.
Asuma nodded along, filing away the relevant details. The kid was refreshingly honest—almost too honest, really.
"Well, Naruto," Asuma said once the story ended, "I think you did the right thing."
"You do?"
Asuma smiled. "I mean it. Sticking up for your teacher? That's not easy to do. Not everyone has the guts to stand up for what they believe in."
Naruto beamed at him. "Thanks, Asuma-sensei!"
"Don't mention it," Asuma said. "I'll talk to my team. You keep at it with the leaf."
"Got it!" Naruto gave him a thumbs-up and went back to his training, his clones working alongside him.
Asuma made his way over to where his team sat under the shade of a tree. Shikamaru hadn't moved, still lying back with his eyes half-closed. Ino was fiddling with her hair again, and Choji was still glaring at Naruto, though his fists had unclenched.
"Alright, Team 10," Asuma said, crossing his arms. "What's going on?"
The trio stayed silent.
"Look, if there's a problem, I can help. But I can't do anything if you won't talk to me."
Still nothing. Asuma sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "At least stop glaring at the kid while he's here, alright? He's my student today, and I don't need you three making things weird."
"I've got better things to do," Shikamaru muttered, closing his eyes.
"Uh-huh," Asuma said dryly. "Like lying here doing nothing?"
"It's called cloud-watching," Shikamaru shot back lazily. "It's productive in its own way."
Asuma rolled his eyes and turned to Ino. "What about you?"
Ino shrugged. "I wasn't glaring. I mean, now that I really think about it, he's not bad-looking. That awful orange jumpsuit was doing him no favors, but with that armor… he might actually be kind of cute. Sasuke's still way better, though."
Shikamaru cracked an eye open and gave her a look. "Ino…"
"What?" Ino said, smirking. "I'm just saying. Not that it matters. I've got standards, y'know."
Asuma groaned and turned to Choji. "Alright, big guy. What's your deal?"
The big guy stayed silent.
"Come on, Choji. I'll take us to Yakiniku Q after this."
Choji glanced at him, then slowly leaned back against the tree. "Fine."
Shikamaru reached out and fist-bumped him. Ino rolled her eyes and went back to her mirror, though Asuma noticed she was still glancing at Naruto every so often.
"Seriously," he muttered to himself, lighting another cigarette. "I'm supposed to be the adult here. Why do I feel like I'm babysitting a bunch of five-year-olds?"
"Because you are."
Asuma raised an eyebrow. "Careful, Shikamaru. I know your weaknesses."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Hard Work."
Shikamaru groaned, muttering something about life being a drag, while Ino burst into laughter. Choji even cracked a small smile, though he tried to hide it.
Asuma sighed again, but this time, there was a hint of fondness in his expression. Teenagers, he thought again. What a pain.
Naruto had been at it for what felt like hours, holding the leaf between his palms, pouring chakra into it, trying to split it as Asuma had instructed. His clones were scattered around, each working furiously on their own leaves, but none of them had succeeded yet. Naruto gritted his teeth, feeling frustration bubble up inside him.
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "Asuma-sensei, can you give me some tips? The stupid leaf isn't splitting!"
"Alright, kid. How are you visualizing your chakra?"
Naruto frowned. "Like a gust of wind tearing through the leaf! You know, like… whoosh! Just ripping it apart!"
"There's your problem." Asuma pushed himself off the tree and walked over. "You're thinking too brute force, Naruto. Wind chakra isn't about tearing through. It's about precision. You've got to imagine splitting your chakra into two streams and grinding them against each other—sharply and finely. That's the trick."
"Grinding them? Like… what, sharpening a blade?"
"Exactly. Think of it like honing the edge of a knife. You're not smashing it; you're sharpening it." Asuma tapped his cigarette, letting the ash fall. "Give that a shot."
Naruto's eyes lit up with determination. "Got it!" He turned back to his clones, clapping his hands together. "Alright, you guys heard him! Let's grind this chakra like we're sharpening kunai!"
"Yes, boss!" one of his clones shouted, and they all went back to work with renewed energy.
Finally, as the sun began to set, a loud cry rang out. Naruto's voice echoed across the training ground, and his clones all shouted in unison, "Yatta!"
Asuma stood, raising an eyebrow as he saw Naruto and his clones tossing their split leaves into the air like confetti. He smirked and started clapping. "Well done, Naruto. You've just completed something that takes most ninja months to figure out."
"Wait, months? Are you serious?!"
"Completely," Asuma said with a grin. "That's no small feat, kid. You should be proud."
Naruto puffed up his chest. "I am awesome, aren't I?"
Asuma chuckled, ruffling Naruto's hair. "That you are. And since you've worked so hard, I think it's time to celebrate. What do you say we head to Yakiniku Q?"
Naruto's jaw dropped. "You mean the fancy barbecue place?!"
Asuma nodded. "Yep. My treat."
"Wait… wait… we have to share Yakiniku Q?" Chōji said, looking almost betrayed.
"C'mon, big man," Asuma said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "It's a celebration. Food tastes better when you share it, trust me."
Chōji grumbled under his breath but didn't argue further.
Asuma had a feeling the warm, inviting atmosphere of the barbecue restaurant might help ease whatever lingering tension there was between Naruto and his team. The sizzling plates of meat, the clatter of chopsticks, and the hum of lighthearted conversation created the perfect backdrop for breaking down walls. He'd rather not have Konoha's future shinobi at odds over something petty—especially when Naruto needed allies now more than ever.