Chapter no.5 Graduating Class

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Morning had come slowly, and for once, Hiruzen was grateful. After last night's chaos, a slow morning was more than welcome. He sat at his desk, surrounded by the ever-growing mountain of paperwork that seemed to taunt him with its endlessness. But today, his task was simple: going through the genin registration forms and finalizing the candidates for the jonin to choose from. A small smile crept onto his face as he reviewed the names, each one representing a future leaf of the village.

He could have let his team handle it.

They were more than capable of combing through those forms. Kami knew how much he relied on them to keep up with all the paperwork in Konoha. It wasn't that he couldn't do it himself, but it ate away at his time—time he wished he had more of.

Then, as he reached the final registration form, his smile faltered, replaced by a frown. There was no form for Naruto.

Of course. How could he forget? Naruto hadn't properly graduated.

What do I do now? he mused, rubbing his temples. He couldn't just have the boy repeat the year like a failure or let him rot away in the genin reserves. But how could he make it happen without it seeming forced or showing blatant favoritism?

"Cat," he called, his voice more stern than intended.

In an instant, the Anbu operative appeared in front of his desk, her presence as silent as a shadow. The purple hair, the cat-like porcelain mask, and the katana on her hip—her most distinct features that spoke of her identity.

"Bring me Naruto Uzumaki," he ordered, watching her bow before disappearing in a whirl of leaves and reappearing moments later with…with something he wasn't prepared to see.

There he stood—Naruto Uzumaki—but not the Naruto Hiruzen was expecting.

The boy wore armor, not just any armor, but an ensemble of metal that encased him from head to toe, gleaming in the soft morning light. A broken sword hung at his hip, and a beautiful shield rested on his back, looking as though they belonged to the armory of a royal samurai rather than to a twelve-year-old shinobi.

Hiruzen felt his breath hitch, his mind momentarily thrown into chaos. The sheer quality of his armor and weapons… He'd seen a lifetime's worth of steel in the Great Shinobi Wars and in countless diplomatic missions to faraway lands, yet this was different. Better. This wasn't something forged in their hidden village, nor by any blacksmith in the Land of Fire.

Steel of this caliber—he couldn't help but wonder if even the samurai of the Land of Iron could create such a masterpiece.

"Naruto?" he finally managed to say, his voice cracking slightly, betraying his shock.

How did this boy—a boy who could barely manage to keep his own clothes intact—end up with such equipment?

Hiruzen's mind raced with questions, jumping to thoughts he shouldn't entertain. If all of Konoha could be equipped with armor like this… The tactical advantage, the protection it could provide… His imagination started to run wild, but he knew better. He forced that line of thought to stop before it reached its conclusion.

It was dangerous to think that way—to let greed seep into the core of his responsibilities as Hokage.

He took a breath and steadied himself. Right now, it wasn't about Konoha's military strength or potential armament.

It was about Naruto.

It was always about Naruto, wasn't it?

"Yes," Naruto said, taking off his helmet.

Hiruzen tried to hide his surprise, keeping his voice calm as he said, "That's some unique...equipment for a ninja." He was hoping Naruto might offer more—maybe an explanation, maybe a story about where he got it.

"Yes, Hokage-sama," Naruto replied stiffly, his tone formal and distant, like he was trying to play a role he wasn't quite comfortable with.

Hiruzen felt a pang in his chest. The way Naruto said "Hokage-sama," the way he stood there—rigid, like he was imitating someone else's idea of a soldier—didn't fit him at all. Naruto's usual energy, his vibrant spirit, was buried under this new demeanor. He looked like a boy trying to wear a mask that didn't belong to him, trying to be someone he thought he should be.

It was unsettling, but Hiruzen remembered what Inoichi had told him, the words echoing in his mind: Naruto needs time to himself, to think and understand his own emotions. Give him a week before trying to reconnect.

A week. Kami, Hiruzen wasn't sure if he could last that long without trying to fix whatever was broken between them, to find the old Naruto hiding behind that armor. But he had to respect Naruto's process. The boy needed to come to terms with everything in his own way.

So, despite the questions burning inside him—questions he knew Naruto must have too—Hiruzen just said, "I don't think that equipment is good for being a ninja."

"Why not?!" Naruto snapped back, his eyes narrowing.

The intensity in his voice took Hiruzen by surprise, like he'd struck a nerve he didn't even know was there. Why was Naruto so defensive about this armor? Whoever gave it to him, whatever it meant to him, Hiruzen realized it held a deeper significance—a history he wasn't privy to. It wasn't just about the armor; it was about something—or someone—that he didn't know.

"Well, the armor is too heavy to be functional for a ninja," Hiruzen said, trying to keep his tone even, to avoid triggering that defensive wall Naruto had put up.

"I have no problem fighting with it," Naruto said flatly, his voice laced with a kind of certainty that suggested experience.

Experience? That word stuck in Hiruzen's mind. What had Naruto been through?

"Can you move around for me?" Hiruzen asked. Naruto obliged, jumping to the side and running a short distance.

"Naruto," Hiruzen said, his brow furrowing, "why are you using chakra enhancement?"

He almost didn't expect the question to come out of his mouth, but the realization hit him hard. Chakra enhancement was a basic technique—channeling chakra into your muscles to increase speed and strength. So basic, in fact, that it wasn't even considered a jutsu. Any child who'd mastered the leaf-sticking exercise could do it, but it wasn't something you did constantly. It was draining, even for skilled jonin. For Naruto to do it for something as basic as moving in heavy armor was...

"Isn't that how you're supposed to move?" Naruto asked, genuine confusion on his face.

"Naruto," Hiruzen asked, his voice steady, "how often do you use chakra enhancement like this?"

"All the time," Naruto said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I just don't use it when I'm sleeping."

And in that moment, everything fell into place.

Hiruzen finally understood.

The reason why Naruto was able to perform his pranks and escape the chunin so easily—the reason why he was always one step ahead of everyone in those moments. It wasn't luck or sheer stubbornness; it was because he lived in a constant state of chakra enhancement. While most shinobi could barely sustain it for a few minutes, Naruto—this boy with a chakra pool so vast it rivaled the best of them—could use it without even thinking.

Hiruzen swallowed hard, the weight of this realization settling over him. Naruto had been walking around with this untapped potential, this incredible reservoir of strength, and he didn't even know how extraordinary it was.

And yet, Hiruzen couldn't shake the feeling that he'd only scratched the surface of the changes happening to the boy standing before him.

"Who taught you this?" Hiruzen asked, his throat dry, each word sticking like sandpaper.

"The academy teachers," Naruto replied with a casual shrug, and Hiruzen felt the blood drain from his face.

He took a deep breath, struggling to contain the storm of emotions swirling inside him. The people he trusted—his own shinobi, the very educators he had handpicked to shape the next generation—had gone behind his back.

They taught Naruto incorrectly but did it in such a subtle way that they technically weren't wrong. Chakra enhancement like Naruto's was possible, sure, but nobody did it, even if they had the chakra reserves or control for it. Why? Because it was counterproductive, harmful even.

Using chakra enhancement all the time would limit the natural growth of the body, making it dependent on chakra instead of building real muscle strength. It would stunt his potential in the long run, and that thought sent a chill down Hiruzen's spine.

How much more had Naruto been taught incorrectly? Hiruzen wondered. How many more cracks were hidden in the foundation of his training, left there by those who were supposed to be guiding him?

He had to fix this. Somehow.

Hiruzen weighed his options. He could keep Naruto in the academy for another year, send in proper teachers to undo the damage, and rebuild what had been broken. Or he could let Naruto graduate, place him under the care of a skilled jonin sensei who could fix those flaws, who could guide him the way he deserved to be guided. The latter seemed more favorable—not just for his growth as a ninja, but because Naruto needed connection. He needed teammates his own age, people he could relate to, trust, and maybe, in time, he could trust Hiruzen again too.

"Naruto," Hiruzen said, steadying his voice, "remove your chakra enhancement."

Naruto blinked at him, a bit confused, but then obeyed. The second he did, Hiruzen watched as the boy's knees almost buckled, the floorboards beneath him creaking under the sudden shift of weight.

How heavy is that armor? Hiruzen wondered, his eyes narrowing at the sight. This wasn't ordinary gear. It felt like it was designed to fight something far more dangerous than human foes, like it was made for battles beyond their world.

He shook his head, forcing himself back to the matter at hand. Hiruzen offered Naruto a reassuring smile, even though his mind was racing. "See? Try to wear lighter armor. It would be better for you on missions."

"Can't I just use chakra enhancement?" Naruto argued, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

"There are people who can sense chakra," Hiruzen said calmly. "Sensors who could detect you from a mile away if your entire body is enhanced."

Naruto clicked his tongue in annoyance, but before Hiruzen could say more, the boy threw a smoke bomb to the ground. Where did he even pull that out from? The room filled with smoke, but it was hardly enough to blind Hiruzen. He watched, his senses on high alert, as Naruto's pants and shield seemed to vanish right before his eyes. And then, just as quickly, Naruto reappeared, dressed in a completely different set of clothes.

He changed his outfit in a second. A literal second. It was like he'd clicked a button and his entire gear had switched.

Space-time ninjutsu? Hiruzen thought, his mind reeling. How in Kami's name had Naruto—Naruto of all people—stumbled upon something so advanced? In two days, the boy had given him more headaches than Danzo did in a year.

Hiruzen felt a creeping unease settle in his gut. Was Danzo somehow involved in this? Was he training Naruto in secret? No, no. Hiruzen dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it formed. Danzo was too careful, too paranoid to leave any trace of himself if he were meddling in this.

But the question remained, and it nagged at Hiruzen like a wound he couldn't heal: What had Naruto been doing to get all these new abilities? Where had he learned them? And what else was he hiding beneath that armor and that stiff, soldier-like demeanor?

Naruto Uzumaki, the boy Hiruzen thought he knew, was becoming a puzzle he wasn't sure how to solve. And for the first time in a long while, he was terrified that he didn't have the answers.

Naruto was able to move faster now, but still, it was slow compared to other genin. Better, but...

"Do you want me to fight naked or something?" Naruto blurted out before immediately realizing his mistake and bowing slightly. That was a first. The boy's humility took Hiruzen by surprise, though it didn't last long.

"No," Hiruzen said, trying to hide his amusement. "Just wear lighter clothing."

"But what if I wanted to wear this armor, Hokage-sama?" Naruto asked, looking at Hiruzen with those determined eyes. He was still seeking guidance, even through his frustration and resentment.

Hiruzen couldn't help but feel a small flicker of hope. Even if Naruto was upset, he still asked for guidance—that had to be a good sign, right? Small steps, Hiruzen told himself. Small steps to regain Naruto's trust.

"Well, another way without jeopardizing yourself on the battlefield would be to try weighted training," Hiruzen suggested.

"What?"

"Weighted training," Hiruzen explained. "You introduce weight onto your body to force it to grow and adapt. The idea is to make your body accustomed to the extra weight so that when you finally remove it, you'll be much faster and stronger."

Naruto's eyes seemed to light up at the concept. Before Hiruzen could say another word, Naruto threw a smoke bomb to the ground. When the smoke cleared, he was back in his full armor, completely suited up.

"Why?"

"Weighted training," Naruto replied with a smirk, moving around in his heavy armor. His movements were slow, clunky, but Hiruzen could already see the potential in the plan. Naruto might not be training at the level of Rock Lee or Might Guy, but this was a step in the right direction.

"Why am I here?"

"Oh, well, I almost forgot," Hiruzen said with a chuckle, but before he could continue, the door to his office flew open, and he let out a groan as he saw who barged in.

Konohamaru, Hiruzen's grandson, stood there, all six years of him, with his brown hair, blue eyes, and that small chip in his tooth. He wore that ridiculous grey helmet with a hole at the top for his hair to stick out, along with his grey shorts, a long blue scarf, and that yellow shirt with the red Konoha symbol on it.

"Incoming! On guard, ol' man!" Konohamaru shouted, brandishing a shuriken as if he were ready to charge. But then, as if the universe itself couldn't bear to see him succeed in his little assault, he tripped over his scarf and landed face-first on the floor.

Hiruzen closed his eyes, taking a long, deep puff from his smoking pipe. It was all he could do not to let out a tired sigh.

"I get it, it's a trap!" Konohamaru mumbled, rubbing his forehead and looking around suspiciously.

Another voice interrupted, more anxious and frantic than the last. "A-Are you alright, Honorable Grandson? And for the record, there are no traps."

Ebisu, Konohamaru's overly devoted tutor, burst into the room. His dark hair, brown eyes, and ever-present sunglasses made him look like a ninja who'd never quite left his teaching persona behind. He was in the standard Konoha shinobi outfit, lacking only the flak jacket.

When did my office become a playground?

Then, to top off this circus, Konohamaru pointed an accusing finger at Naruto. "Aha, so you tripped me! It was you! Right?!"

Naruto, not missing a beat, responded with a flick to Konohamaru's forehead. "You fell over that stupid scarf," he said plainly, his voice carrying a hint of irritation.

Hiruzen could only shake his head, fighting the urge to laugh.

Konohamaru rubbed the spot on his forehead, looking like he was on the verge of tears. Naruto didn't seem to realize that those gauntlets of his packed quite a punch. Hiruzen sighed inwardly, seeing the situation escalate, especially when Ebisu burst out, "How dare you harm the honorable grandson of the Third Hokage!"

Hiruzen groaned at those words. He really disliked it when people measured someone's worth based on their bloodline. The way Ebisu said it, as if Konohamaru's value was solely tied to being Hiruzen's grandson, grated on his nerves. And then there was Konohamaru's smug little smirk—the one that clearly said he expected Naruto to apologize. It made Hiruzen realize the boy needed a lesson in humility.

"Hey, apologize to me!" Konohamaru demanded, puffing out his chest like a little rooster in front of Naruto.

Hiruzen watched closely, half-expecting Naruto to get mad and blurt out something in that blunt way of his. But instead, Naruto calmly said, "Fuck off."

Hiruzen almost had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from reacting. Okay, so maybe Naruto was still Naruto after all. It was... oddly reassuring. Ebisu and Konohamaru looked absolutely stunned, their mouths hanging open like fish out of water.

"But... but I am the honorable grandson!" Konohamaru stuttered, his sense of entitlement dripping from every word.

"And I am the Squire of Oscar," Naruto shot back with pride, and that's when Hiruzen felt his heart skip a beat.

What? Squire of Oscar? What was he talking about? Hiruzen didn't even know who Oscar was or why Naruto would claim such a title. The words didn't sound like they came from their language, and the look of utter confusion on Konohamaru's face showed he didn't know how to respond either.

"Ha! What's that? Something lame?" Konohamaru blurted out, his unfiltered six-year-old mind doing what it does best—cutting straight to the heart of things.

Hiruzen saw Naruto's eyes darken at that. The next thing he knew, Naruto swung his fist and knocked Konohamaru clean on the head, the force of the blow sending the boy crumpling to the floor.

"Honorable grandson!" Ebisu screeched, ready to leap at Naruto in outrage, but Hiruzen stopped him with a mere tap of his finger.

"Yes, Hokage-sama," Ebisu said, barely containing his fury as he lowered his gaze in respect.

"Take Konohamaru out of my office," Hiruzen said, his voice firm.

"But—"

Hiruzen pointed at Konohamaru, who was already starting to wake up. His helmet, the one Hiruzen had personally crafted with a barrier fuinjutsu to protect him from physical harm, had a visible crack. That helmet was supposed to withstand even a chunin's blow without breaking, yet Naruto's fist had done the impossible. The crack spoke volumes about the force Naruto had used. It made Hiruzen wonder—was Naruto so angry about Konohamaru's insult that he didn't hold back, even against a child?

Questions bombarded Hiruzen's mind. Who was this Oscar? Why was Naruto suddenly throwing around titles and speaking as if he came from another culture? Was this armor connected to that name somehow? When did all this happen?

Before Hiruzen could dive deeper into his spiraling thoughts, a knock on the door drew his attention.

Iruka stood there, looking like he'd just woken up from a night of drinking—his face pale and eyes bloodshot. He clearly had a hangover.

"Hokage-sama, may I come in?" Iruka said, his voice carrying a hint of embarrassment as he eyed Ebisu, who was helping Konohamaru to his feet. But Konohamaru didn't let the moment pass; he scrambled to Naruto's side, eyes wide with admiration.

"Teach me your skills, and I'll become your disciple!"

Hiruzen blinked, and so did everyone else in the room. Naruto's expression didn't change. It was like watching a stone face come to life for a brief moment, only to harden again.

"No," Naruto said, as blunt and straightforward as ever.

"But I need to become the 5th Hokage!"

Hiruzen held his breath, waiting to see how Naruto would respond, hoping to see some flicker of the boy who used to shout about his dreams of becoming Hokage, who wore his ambition on his sleeve like a badge of honor.

Naruto looked straight into Konohamaru's eyes, enough to make the boy flinch.

"I don't care."

Konohamaru's face twisted in frustration, and with a defeated sigh, he motioned for Ebisu to guide him away.

Hiruzen watched them leave, his heart sinking. One thing was clear now—Naruto didn't care about being Hokage anymore. That dream, the one that used to light up his eyes with so much passion, was gone. And that realization hurt more than he cared to admit.

What had happened to the Naruto I once knew?

The silence settled in the room as Konohamaru and Ebisu finally left. Hiruzen turned his attention back to Naruto, who, as patient as he could be, stood waiting while Iruka focused on reading some sort of paper.

"Chunin Iruka, what are you doing here?" Hiruzen asked, already feeling the pull to return his focus to Naruto. There was so much to address.

"Oh, yes, Hokage-sama," Iruka began, his voice carrying a hint of formality that spoke to his hangover. "This is my letter of recommendation for Naruto Uzumaki to be graduated into a genin." He reread the letter one more time, as if trying to perfect every word, before placing it on Hiruzen's desk.

Hiruzen glanced at the paper but quickly looked back at Naruto. The boy looked surprised, and Hiruzen couldn't help but smile.

"Well, another reason to graduate Naruto."

"Another?" Naruto and Iruka both asked in unison.

Hiruzen nodded. "Well, normally graduation is just a formality to show that someone is ready to be in the field. And last night, Naruto demonstrated everything we look for: espionage, by breaking into the building and taking the Forbidden Scroll and..."

Hiruzen coughed, as did Naruto, while Iruka looked a bit perplexed. The old man quickly continued, not wanting to dwell on that particular detail.

"...Successfully making it to a rendezvous point, and even being able to eliminate a chunin-level ninja. If that doesn't qualify you for being a genin, I don't know what will."

Hiruzen watched Naruto blush at the praise. The sight warmed his old heart.

Reaching for the headband he had prepared for the boy, Hiruzen paused. He had been waiting for this moment—for the day Naruto would finally become a genin.

"Hokage-sama, may I?" Iruka asked, his voice softer now, more personal.

Hiruzen chuckled. "You're going to file for a replacement?"

Iruka looked at the headband Hiruzen held and said, "Well, you do have one in your hand."

"That I do," Hiruzen replied, stepping back and motioning for Iruka to continue. It felt right—Iruka had been there for Naruto, had been more than just a teacher to him. This moment belonged to them.

Iruka knelt on one knee, smiling at Naruto, and removed his own headband. Without saying much, he stretched it out toward Naruto. Actions spoke louder than words, after all. Naruto's reaction—his wide, genuine smile—was all Hiruzen needed to see. Naruto eagerly leaned forward, allowing Iruka to tie the headband around his forehead.

"Naruto," Iruka said, his voice filled with pride, "you are a genin now."

Naruto nodded, grinning ear to ear. "So now, don't sneak into my house at night and scribble lines on my face," Iruka said with a deadpan look.

"What? I thought you loved that orange book," Naruto teased, grinning wider.

For a moment, Hiruzen thought Iruka was going to hit Naruto over the head, and he couldn't help but smile again.

Hiruzen cleared his throat as Iruka straightened up, his posture becoming more formal.

"Well, congratulations on your graduation, genin Naruto. I just need you to submit your graduation form."

"Hokage-sama," Iruka responded, handing over Naruto's documents with a sense of pride.

Hiruzen glanced at the papers, making sure everything was in order. Iruka stepped back and gave Naruto a thumbs up.

"Looks like everything's in order," Hiruzen nodded. "You're free to leave, Naruto."

"Ahem, Hokage-sama," Naruto's voice suddenly became respectful.

"Is there, like, a prize for last night's mission?"

Hiruzen raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What did you have in mind?"

"Some kind of jutsu that won't get me killed, like the substitution jutsu," Naruto said with directness. Hiruzen couldn't help but admire the boy's clear thought process. He'd clearly put some consideration into it.

"Naruto, the substitution jutsu was designed to be one of the three essential jutsu a genin needs," Iruka interjected, but Naruto shot him a look that clearly asked, Really? Are you serious?

Hiruzen couldn't blame the boy.

"Iruka, you're wrong," Hiruzen said firmly. The shock on Iruka's face was unmistakable.

The truth wasn't easy, even for Hiruzen to acknowledge. "The three basic jutsu were designed during the First Great Ninja War, meant to graduate genin quickly and send them to the frontlines."

Iruka's jaw practically dropped, while Naruto's face became serious in a way Hiruzen hadn't seen before.

"But... why are we still keeping that standard?" Iruka asked, disbelief evident in his tone.

"Tradition," Hiruzen muttered, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over him. The explanation sounded hollow, even to him, when spoken out loud.

"Seems like a stupid tradition," Naruto said bluntly. Even though the boy had struggled with the current standard, he had a valid point. They weren't at war anymore, so why hadn't the bar been raised?

Hiruzen couldn't deny the truth in Naruto's words. The standard did need to be reevaluated, but that was a discussion for another time. Right now, Naruto had asked for a jutsu, and Hiruzen owed him that much.

"Iruka, do you know the Shunshin no Jutsu?"

"Of course," Iruka responded, though his voice trailed off as he seemed to realize what Hiruzen was implying. "You want me to teach that to Naruto?"

Hiruzen nodded, watching as Naruto's face lit up with excitement. The boy practically jumped from his seat, the weight of his armor clinking with every movement.

"Come on, Iruka-sensei!"

"Guess he's still Naruto," Iruka remarked with a soft smile.

"And that's for the best," Hiruzen replied quietly.

"Hokage-sama, what about tallying the scores, the graduation list, and..." Iruka's voice trailed off as he turned back to Hiruzen.

"Don't worry about that," the old man dismissed his concerns with a wave of his hand. "I'll have it handled. Just go and teach."

Then came the unmistakable thud—Naruto had clearly tripped or collided with something. No words were necessary; it was just... Naruto.

"Go and teach," Iruka muttered, bowing to Hiruzen before running after his student.

Hiruzen leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he took a deep, slow puff from his smoking pipe. The familiar taste of the tobacco filled his lungs, calming him for just a moment. A fleeting moment. The warmth spread through his chest, offering a brief escape from the mounting pressure that he knew was on its way.

It was always like this. The pipe had become more than just a habit; it was his brief respite before the inevitable headache. As Hokage, peace never lasted long.

He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl and drift lazily through the air. Anbu guards always watched over him—his invisible protectors, his arms, his eyes. He handpicked them all, every one of them, with trust that ran deeper than blood. He even made sure they watched over Naruto when the boy was in the orphanage. That's the level of trust he had in them. They listened to every word in his office, they knew what had to be done before he even asked.

The faint click of the office door closing pulled him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see Cat standing there, silent as always, a couple of files in her hands. She didn't need to say anything—never was one for words. Her actions spoke volumes.

She placed the files neatly on his desk, each one a small piece of a puzzle he was only beginning to understand. He nodded, taking the files from her. One was a list of all the teachers who had taught Naruto, another his attendance records, and lastly, the teacher class assignment record.

"Good job, Cat," Hiruzen said, though his voice lacked the usual warmth. His mind was already somewhere else, turning over the implications of what lay before him.

Was all this his fault? Was it because he had been too soft, too lenient in his leadership? Had he let the boy slip through the cracks of the system he had built? Or was this part of something larger, a scheme woven by someone else? Danzo? No... He had shut down that line of thinking. But still, the possibilities gnawed at him.

Maybe this was revenge. Revenge from someone who saw Naruto as a threat or as a symbol of the pain the village had suffered. Whatever the reason, Hiruzen knew one thing: he had failed Naruto, failed to see the cracks forming in his education, in his life.

But no more. He wouldn't let this go unchecked. He planned to get to the bottom of it, no matter how deep the rot went. He owed Naruto that much.

He tapped his pipe against the edge of the desk, the soft clink of the ash falling into the tray signaling the end of his brief moment of peace.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The real work was just beginning.

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So, this is an official training ground, huh?

Naruto glanced around, taking in the open field surrounded by trees that stretched as far as the eye could see. The grass was still a little wet beneath his feet, and the wind rustled through the leaves, bringing with it the fresh, earthy scent of the forest. The sun was shining, casting long shadows across the ground, and there, not far from him, stood a line of training dummies.

He breathed in deeply, feeling a sense of freedom that he hadn't felt in... well, forever.

Back at the academy, it was always different. There were always restrictions, always someone watching, telling him he couldn't use the training grounds because he'd pull some prank or mess around too much. "He won't take it seriously," they'd say. It was frustrating, beyond frustrating. He hated it. Hated feeling like he had to prove himself over and over again, just for the chance to be taken seriously.

But now? Now, standing here, in this actual field, there was no one to stop him. No one to say he didn't belong or that he didn't deserve to use this place. He wasn't here to play or prove anything. He was here to train. To get stronger.

And damn, it felt good.

Iruka-sensei stood a few feet away from him, focused and serious, which brought Naruto back to the task at hand.

They were there to train.

Iruka was explaining the Shunshin no Jutsu, comparing it to the Substitution Jutsu. Apparently, both of them worked by releasing chakra from the ankles, causing a burst of movement.

Naruto scratched his head, trying to follow along. "Sensei, what's the difference between the Substitution and Shunshin?"

"Well, Naruto," Iruka started, "the differences are in the hand signs and the execution."

Naruto tilted his head to the side, thinking that over. Didn't sound too complicated.

Iruka performed the hand signs—half tiger, then ram—and just like that, his body flickered and he disappeared, reappearing 30 feet away. Naruto's eyes widened. That was awesome.

"Oh, I get it!" Naruto said, surprising himself and apparently Iruka too. "So the difference is that the Substitution Jutsu leaves behind a log and has a shorter range... and it's faster?" He hesitated on that last part, not sure if he was right.

Iruka blinked at him, clearly surprised. "Wow, when did you get so smart?"

Naruto grinned. "I've always been the smartest, Iruka-sensei!" Yeah, right. But hey, it felt good to say it.

"Sure, Naruto," Iruka said with a chuckle. "And to answer your question, yes, Substitution is faster in the short term."

"Huh?" Naruto said, not fully understanding.

"Have you ever dropped a rock into a lake?" Iruka asked. "You've seen how it creates ripples, right? What happens when those ripples combine?"

"They get bigger?" Naruto said, though he wasn't entirely sure.

"Exactly," Iruka said. "Shunshin works on that principle. The chakra built up in the ankles releases in waves, and after each wave, the speed gets faster and faster. That's why it's mostly used for long-distance travel."

Naruto frowned; that wasn't what he wanted to hear. "What about combat?" That's what he really needed to know.

"Well," Iruka said, "the Shunshin is mostly used for dodges and evasion, in the same way as the Substitution Jutsu, by high-ranking chunin and jonin."

Naruto bit his lip. "Why not direct combat?"

"The thing is, Shunshin suffers from the same problem as Substitution—it gives you tunnel vision at high speeds. That's why it's used for quick evasions or travel rather than direct combat," Iruka explained.

"So, it's impossible to fight using Shunshin?" Naruto asked, feeling a little disappointed.

"Normally, yes," Iruka said. "But years ago, there was a very powerful ninja who used the high speeds of Shunshin to create afterimages that looked like clones. He was so fast that people compared him to the Fourth Hokage."

Naruto blinked, his heart racing a bit. "Whoa, who was this cool guy?"

"Shunshin no Shisui," Iruka said, his voice carrying a hint of respect. "I met him a few times. Really nice guy, but unfortunately, he died a few years back."

Naruto paused, feeling a pang in his chest. He didn't know Shisui, but still, he felt like he should pay his respects. He bowed his head for a second in silent prayer. Then, an idea sparked in his mind. What if I could combine Shunshin with the Way of Focality? Maybe, just maybe, he could become the next Shunshin no Shisui... No, even better. Shunshin no Naruto!

A grin spread across Naruto's face.

"Let's do this, sensei!"

----------------------------------------

Teuchi Ichiraku had never been much of a fighter. He didn't like violence, not one bit. He had always been a more passive man, a man with a passion for food. His family—well, they weren't shinobi. They had been one of the first non-fighting immigrants to cross Konoha's borders after the great shinobi clans had settled there. They were the first generation of civilians.

It was a revolutionary move by the Second Hokage. Before, during the Warring States Era, civilians like them had no place among shinobi unless they were nobles. But with the creation of shinobi villages and the population boom, even ninja needed someone to provide for their families, to take care of the mundane tasks. That's where civilian families came in—farmers, artisans, craftsmen, traders. They formed the backbone of Konoha's economy, the lifeblood that kept the village running. Civilians and shinobi, side by side, in a kind of harmony that Teuchi had come to love.

The early morning was still dark, a deep blue sky hanging overhead. Teuchi had always appreciated the peace of the quiet night just before dawn. It was the best time of day, in his opinion. The village still asleep, the air cool and crisp.

His family had originally come from the Shina province of the Fire Nation, bringing with them the recipe for shina soba. But as time passed, new spices, new flavors, and new ingredients had transformed shina soba into something else—ramen. Teuchi's ramen.

He got ready for the day, following the same routine he had for years. He rolled out of bed, stretched the kinks out of his back, and splashed some cold water on his face to shake off the last bits of sleep. The room smelled of wood and the faint remnants of yesterday's cooking. He grabbed his chef's uniform—a simple white tunic with a red apron tied around his waist—and tucked a cloth headband across his forehead. His hair, what was left of it, was now a dark gray. He didn't mind it. He had earned these years.

"Ayame-chan, time to wake up!" he called up the stairs.

She wasn't his biological daughter, but that didn't matter. He had found her during the Kyuubi attack, just a little four-year-old lost in the chaos when the civilians fled for safety. Her parents hadn't made it, and somehow, Teuchi had ended up with her in his arms. She didn't remember any of it—Teuchi guessed that was a blessing in disguise. The mind had a way of sealing away the worst of things.

He could hear her grumbling as she shuffled downstairs, her dark brown hair a mess, her eyes still half-closed. Ayame always looked a bit disheveled when she first woke up—her fair skin a little flushed from sleep, her large black eyes blinking away the last bits of her dreams. She was a slender girl now, growing up faster than Teuchi liked, but to him, she would always be his little girl.

"Go wash up, we've got work to do, kiddo."

"Can't we change the timing so I can sleep more?" she asked, her voice muffled by the yawn she was trying to hide.

"The early bird gets the worm," Teuchi replied, slipping into his sandals and heading downstairs. It was the same response every morning.

Once he reached the kitchen, the quiet calm of the early morning wrapped around him. It was peaceful, just the sound of his own footsteps and the creaking of the wooden floors. He started setting up—grabbing the noodles, the broth, the pork belly. Everything had its place, and he made sure it was where it belonged. The small restaurant, their home and workplace, could only seat six people, so most customers grabbed their ramen to-go.

The prep work was familiar, soothing even. Boiling water for the noodles, stirring the broth until the aroma filled the air, slicing the pork just right. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables, the soft simmer of the soup, the occasional hiss of the stove as the heat hit the metal pot. Teuchi breathed it all in. This was his life, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

Running a ramen shop wasn't glamorous, but it was honest work. It was about providing something warm, something filling. A bowl of ramen could be a simple thing, but to someone who was hungry, it was a lifeline. In a way, Teuchi had always seen his work as helping to nourish Konoha, just like the shinobi protected it. They all played their part.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, checking the broth one last time. "Ready for another day."

Ayame would be down any minute, and soon the early risers would start trickling in. Another day, another chance to serve up bowls of ramen to a village that had become his family.

And honestly, Teuchi couldn't ask for more.

Teuchi waited for the first customer of the day. It was always Naruto. Like clockwork, the boy would come in, rain or shine, for his breakfast—a bowl of Tonkotsu ramen before heading off to the academy. Teuchi always made sure to use the freshest ingredients for him. That kid, he needed all the nutrients he could get.

He remembered the first time Naruto had come in, six years ago. It was a rainy day, no customers around. Then there he was, a little blonde boy, soaked to the bone, holding a few coins in his small hands. Teuchi had been scared at first, unsure of what to expect. The rumors, the whispers—they made him hesitate. But when he saw Naruto's eyes, hungry and desperate, something inside Teuchi shifted. That wasn't a demon standing in front of him. That was a hungry child. And since then, Naruto had become his most loyal customer.

The curtains rustled, and Teuchi was about to greet him like he always did, but the words caught in his throat when he saw who walked in.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Teuchi said, his eyes scanning the beautiful patterns on the shield slung across the customer's back. That was gold—real gold. Whoever this was had to be someone important.

Then he heard the voice, tired and exhausted, like the person had pulled an all-nighter.

"Oji-san, why are you talking to me like that?"

Teuchi froze. He knew that voice anywhere.

"Naruto?" Teuchi said, disbelief coloring his voice. Ayame walked in from the back, tying her apron, and echoed the same question.

"Yeah," Naruto said, and in the blink of an eye, the helmet was gone. Like it was never there. Some kind of jutsu, Teuchi guessed. Ayame, of course, had stars in her eyes.

"You look..." Teuchi started, but his voice trailed off. Naruto's face was covered in sweat, grime, and dirt. He looked like he hadn't cleaned up in days.

"Dirty. Come to the back and wash up," Ayame cut in, giving Naruto a pointed look. Teuchi shot her a glance that said, Don't even think about tricking him into doing the dishes for more ramen. Ayame always had a knack for using Naruto as her guinea pig to try out new ramen flavors. She loved cooking just as much as Teuchi did, but she always dragged the poor kid into her experiments.

"So, Naruto, how did yesterday go?" Teuchi asked as he started making a few bowls of Naruto's favorite ramen.

Naruto pointed his thumb at his forehead, and suddenly, the ninja headband appeared. It was like magic. Teuchi still couldn't wrap his head around it.

"Hey, teach me that jutsu," Ayame chimed in, turning on the tap, her hands working quickly. "That way, I don't have to bother putting on my clothes every morning."

Naruto chuckled nervously. "Sorry, Ayame Nee-chan, but I can't."

Ayame looked deflated, and Teuchi couldn't help but chuckle himself. As Naruto cleaned his face, Ayame gave him a once-over.

"So, you're a ninja now, huh?" she asked, glancing at the headband.

"One step to being Hokage."

Naruto froze at the statement. He splashed his face again, like he was trying to avoid the idea, the dream.

Teuchi and Ayame exchanged a look. That wasn't like him. Something was off.

"Did something happen?" Teuchi asked gently, setting down a bowl of ramen in front of Naruto. Naruto quickly sat down, his heavy armor making the stool creak under the weight. Then, without much hesitation, he spoke.

"I found out about the fox," Naruto said, right before diving into the ramen.

Teuchi's hand froze mid-pour as he worked on another bowl. The broth almost spilled as he processed Naruto's words. He knew. He knew about the Kyuubi.

And then, Naruto's eyes—those eyes that Teuchi had seen so many times, hungry and desperate, full of life—looked at him differently. Naruto wanted to confirm something. He wanted to see if Teuchi and Ayame were like the other civilians, the ones who whispered behind his back, who treated him like he was the demon itself.

Teuchi didn't have to guess what Naruto was thinking. The fear in the boy's eyes told him everything. Naruto was afraid that they would treat him differently.

Teuchi looked at Naruto, inhaling the ramen like it was his lifeline, and his heart broke a little.

Teuchi finished making the bowl as quickly as he could and placed it down in front of Naruto.

"A bowl for Naruto Uzumaki," he said with a smile.

"Not for the fox," Naruto whispered, his voice barely audible, filled with hesitation and fear.

"No, it's for the champion of last year's ramen-eating competition."

The transformation was immediate.

That smile—Naruto's smile—lit up his face, so bright it could chase away the darkest clouds. He took the first bite, and for a second, Teuchi thought the boy was going to cry. Then, just like always, Naruto grabbed the bowl with both hands and shoveled the ramen into his mouth like he wanted to hide his tears behind the bowl.

Teuchi chuckled, watching the boy, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ayame standing there, looking confused.

"What are you talking about?"

Naruto put the bowl down, and Teuchi saw the hesitation in his movements. Naruto wanted to tell her, that much was clear. The pull to stop keeping secrets from people he cared about was written all over his face. But Teuchi placed some water in front of him and shook his head ever so slightly, signaling to keep quiet.

Ayame, not one to be left in the dark, frowned and turned to her father. "Dad, what's going on?"

Teuchi gave her his best smile, the one he had used to calm her when she was little. "Ayame, can you go to my room and bring my journal? I want to give something to Naruto."

She shrugged, still puzzled, but headed off to fetch it. Teuchi turned back to Naruto, his expression softening. The boy needed to hear this.

"Sometimes, Naruto, some things are better left unsaid," Teuchi told him, his voice low and gentle.

"Wouldn't that be lying?"

"Sometimes lying is good," Teuchi said, hating how true the words felt. "I know you think Ayame deserves to know, but... please, the Kyuubi attack was the worst day of her life. She doesn't deserve to be reminded of that pain, okay?"

Naruto looked down again, this time at the empty bowl, but he nodded. Teuchi could see the conflict in his eyes.

As the ramen chief started making him another bowl, Naruto asked the question that Teuchi honestly wished wasn't asked.

"Would Ayame Nee-chan see me as the fox?"

"No," Teuchi said, his voice firm. But even as he said it, he could see that Naruto didn't believe him.

Suddenly the chief placed a fishcake in Naruto's bowl, one that Ayame had specially made. It was shaped like the young Uzumaki.

"Ayame made this for you," Teuchi said softly. "A special ingredient to congratulate you on your graduation."

Naruto's face lit up again, his eyes a little watery as he smiled at the fishcake. Teuchi could see it, just for a moment—the boy was finally starting to accept that he would always be Naruto Uzumaki, their number one customer at Ichiraku Ramen, nothing more, nothing less.

Ayame came back in, and just as Naruto held up the fishcake, he said, "Thanks, Ayame Nee-chan."

She looked at her father, shock and betrayal written all over her face, and Teuchi couldn't help but chuckle.

"Sorry," he said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Well, I'm going to give you your present now," Ayame said, pulling out a small piece of paper from the journal. She placed it in front of Naruto with a triumphant smile.

"A coupon for 100 free bowls of ramen," she declared proudly, giving her father a smug look, as if she had just won the title of best-gift-giver.

Naruto held the coupon in one hand and the fishcake in the other, staring down at them like they were treasures. He whispered a soft, "Thank you..." and though it was quiet, it felt like it filled the whole room. Ayame ruffled his hair affectionately, like the big sister she always was, and Teuchi placed another steaming bowl of ramen in front of him.

"Eat up, champ," Teuchi said, his heart full as he watched Naruto. "You need to show the world who The Great Naruto Uzumaki really is."

----------------------------------------

After eight years of being surrounded by the weak and the sycophantic, of enduring pointless conversations and meaningless praise, Sasuke Uchiha's ambition was finally beginning to take shape. The thought should've filled him with pride—being the strongest among his peers—but it didn't. It only fueled the constant reminder of how far he still had to go.

Compared to his older brother… no, he refused to even think of him as that anymore. Itachi was his enemy, nothing more. Compared to Itachi, Sasuke felt weak, insignificant. Itachi was already an Anbu captain at his age, while Sasuke was sitting here as a mere genin. The gap between them felt like a gaping chasm, one that he couldn't close fast enough.

Sasuke sat at his desk near the window, the sunlight slanting through the glass, illuminating his thoughts as he glared at the rest of his so-called classmates. The incompetent, the weak. None of them deserved to pass. They'd just die on the battlefield, leaving behind crying parents, sobbing families. He snorted. It wasn't like he cared for them, but the thought of others experiencing the kind of pain he went through, the loss of everything… he wouldn't wish that on anyone.

But then, the shrill voices hit his ears.

"Sasuke-kun!"

The girls. Every day, it was the same thing. Their pointless giggling, their desperate waves, their pathetic attempts to catch his attention. If anyone deserved to die, it was them. Annoying pests. He wouldn't mourn them.

He turned his head toward the window, tuning them out as he always did, letting the noise fade into the background. What did it matter? He had more important things to think about. He closed his eyes, his mind wandering to what he should train today. Ninjutsu? Taijutsu?

But then… silence. Why was it suddenly so quiet?

He opened his eyes just in time to hear a loud thud beside him.

Some guy, fully dressed in battle armor, sat down next to him. The chair wobbled under the guy's weight, the suit clinking with every movement. Sasuke's gaze immediately locked onto the insignia on his shield—a lion.

A clan symbol. But one he didn't recognize.

Who was this guy?

He glanced around the room. Everyone was staring at him, as confused as he was. Why was he here? Why was he in the graduating class?

Sasuke didn't like this. Not one bit.

----------------------------------------

Naruto felt like a bottle about to burst, completely full and ready to overflow. Guess that's what he deserved after eating 25 bowls of ramen. New record! He rubbed his stomach, grinning to himself—until he noticed something was off. The class was way quieter than usual.

"Hey, do I have something on my nose?" Naruto asked, looking around, confused by the silence. As soon as he spoke, everyone's jaws practically hit the floor.

"Naruto?!" a few students gasped.

He removed his helmet manually, not by unequipping it—he still needed to breathe, after all.

"Yeah?" Naruto replied, wiping away some sweat. He couldn't help but wonder, How did Oscar manage to stay in that armor for so long without getting all sweaty? Seriously, that guy must have been built differently.

Then, of course, someone had to pipe up. "You know this is a class for graduating students, not failures."

Some jerk in the back thought he was funny. Naruto huffed, his hand instinctively reaching for his headband. Should I get this helmet engraved or something? This is getting really annoying.

Just as he was about to show them his headband, he heard it—Kiba's voice cutting through the room like nails on a chalkboard.

"Hey, don't bully that loser. He probably thinks wearing some stolen armor is gonna make him Hokage."

A bunch of the class laughed. Too many for Naruto's liking. His glare shot straight to the source—Kiba Inuzuka. Messy brown hair, sharp black eyes with those weird slit pupils, and that stupid smug grin on his face. He had those red fang markings on his cheeks like all the Inuzuka, and he was decked out in his usual dark pants and that fur-lined coat.

Naruto didn't steal anything.

"I didn't steal nothing, Dog Breath," he growled, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "This armor is from my master."

Kiba… Kiba was complicated. There were times they'd skip class together, pulling pranks and causing trouble like a couple of idiots. But for some reason, Kiba always had this need to put Naruto down, like he had something to prove. Normally, Naruto would laugh it off, maybe prank him right back, but today? Today, Kiba's words cut deeper than usual, and Naruto couldn't shake off the anger bubbling up inside him.

This armor represented that he was the Squire of Oscar.

Naruto clenched his fists, the rough metal of the gauntlets digging into his skin. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, the familiar burn of frustration trying to take over. He wasn't about to lose control, not here, not in front of these idiots. He'd just show his headband, prove them wrong, and shut them all up.

But Kiba wasn't done. He never knew when to stop.

"What master? You've always been the dead-last loser. But seeing that stupid piece of crap armor…"

Kiba's laugh echoed in the room, but it felt hollow, and for once, no one joined in. The rest of the classmates weren't laughing. They were watching Naruto, their eyes wide, like they were seeing something different for the first time. Naruto could feel their stares, but he didn't care. All he could focus on were Kiba's words, repeating over and over in his head, cutting deeper each time.

Naruto's fists clenched harder.

"And I think your master is just as big of a loser as you are," Kiba added, his voice dripping with arrogance.

Naruto heard the words, but they didn't register at first. It was like his brain was trying to process what had just been said, like a delayed explosion. He could feel the anger shifting into something sharper, colder.

Oscar… Kiba insulted Oscar.

Naruto's body went still, his mind narrowing in on Kiba. Everyone else faded into the background. Naruto didn't care about them. The only thing that mattered was shutting Kiba up.

But of course, Kiba didn't stop there. He never knew when to stop.

"Oi, couldn't find a better sword to go with your stupid costume? You know what, I'll be generous. Why don't I give you a proper dagger, better than that broken, crappy sword you probably took off a beggar—"

That was it. Naruto could barely hear the rest of Kiba's sentence because the blood was pounding in his ears, his vision narrowing until all he saw was his fist connecting with Kiba's face with a satisfying crunch.

Kiba didn't even get to finish his insult before he was sent flying out of his seat.

Coincidentally, the door of the classroom swung open just as Kiba went flying through it. Sakura and Ino, mid-argument, barely had time to duck as Kiba soared over them, crashing into the hallway with a resounding thud.

"Hey, what the—" Sakura began, but her words caught in her throat the moment she locked eyes with Naruto. Her face paled, and before she could comprehend it, her legs gave out from under her. She hit the floor hard, trembling uncontrollably, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Sweat beaded across her forehead, her entire body frozen in place.

The entire class felt it.

A suffocating, overpowering force filled the room, pressing down on them like an invisible weight. It wasn't just fear—this was something darker, something far more sinister than they had ever felt before. It was as if they were standing before a monstrous entity, far beyond the realm of anything they could understand. Their instincts screamed at them to run, to escape, but their bodies were paralyzed, locked in place by a terror so primal it clawed at the edges of their sanity.

Naruto's chakra—unbeknownst to him—had changed. After absorbing the soul of the Asylum Demon, the yin traces of that unholy presence had seeped into his chakra. Now, with his anger flaring, his killer intent created an illusion so powerful that the entire class could see it: the dark, oppressive image of the Northern Asylum, and more terrifyingly, the looming presence of the Stray Demon.

None of them, least of all the genin in the room, had ever encountered anything like this before.

Except for one boy in the back of the class.

Naruto pulled his chakra back, stopping the flare of killer intent, allowing the class to breathe again, though they still remained frozen from the experience. He concentrated the remaining chakra into his ankles, just like Iruka-sensei had taught him.

"You bastard!" Kiba roared, his voice feral as he took a stance. Blood dripped from his broken nose, his eyes wild with fury.

Gijū Ninpō: Shikyaku no Jutsu!

His chakra surged, and his nails and fangs grew longer, more animal-like. In an instant, he lunged at Naruto, looking like he wanted to rip him apart.

Naruto's body flickered—Shunshin no Jutsu. The wind whipped through the hallway, rustling Sakura and Ino's hair behind him.

Before Kiba even realized what was happening, Naruto was right in front of him. The moment his body flickered, everything around him blurred—just a tunnel of light and shadow as the distance between them disappeared in an instant. Naruto's fist shot upward with all the momentum he'd built, the force driving straight into Kiba's jaw. He could feel the bone crack under his knuckles, the shock of impact vibrating up his arm.

Kiba's head snapped back, his eyes wide in shock as his body lifted off the ground from the sheer force of the uppercut. His tooth flew out in a slow arc, spinning through the air like time had slowed down just to show the full effect of the hit.

Naruto didn't stop.

He was on Kiba in a heartbeat, pinning his hands under his knees. His breath came out harsh and ragged, his chest rising and falling as he towered over Kiba, looking down at his bloodied face. Rage pulsed through him like a tidal wave—too strong, too wild. His hand shot into his inventory without thinking, and before he knew it, his hand axe was there, heavy in his grip.

He raised it high above his head, the blade gleaming. His vision blurred with red—anger so intense that it clouded everything. Naruto didn't care about the class, about the gasps he could faintly hear. He didn't care about Kiba.

He insulted Oscar.

He insulted Oscar's sword.

Naruto could recite the precepts of a knight, tell himself it was about honor, but no...this wasn't about precepts. This was personal. Oscar meant something to him—more than he even realized until now—and Kiba's insult wasn't just words. It cut deep, deeper than Naruto could've imagined. This wasn't about some stupid rivalry. This was about Oscar's honor, and he saw nothing but red.

He brought the axe down, intent on making sure Kiba felt every ounce of his rage.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed Naruto's wrist, stopping the blade inches from Kiba's face. He blinked, the red haze clearing just enough for him to recognize the chakra surging through the hallway.

Iruka-sensei.

He wasn't shouting, wasn't angry. His voice was calm, but there was something heavy in it.

"Naruto," Iruka said, not looking at Kiba, but directly at Naruto. "Please stop this."

Naruto looked at Iruka's hand on his wrist, then down at Kiba, his face a mess of blood and fear. His breath caught in his throat. What...what had he almost done?

He pushed himself off Kiba, standing up slowly, his hand still gripping the axe.

The room was silent. No one dared to speak, but Naruto could feel their eyes on him. Did he care? Hell no. Let them think what they wanted. Did he regret what he did to Kiba?

Not one bit.

As far as Naruto was concerned, it was justified. Kiba could talk all the crap he wanted about him, but the moment he insulted Oscar? That's when he crossed the line.

Naruto sat back down at his desk, feeling the weight of the room pressing in on him. He didn't care. He'd defend Oscar's honor a thousand times over if he had to.

As he sat down, his heart still pounding in his chest, Naruto felt something else. A gaze, stronger than the others. He turned to see Sasuke, his eyes locked on him, intense and unblinking.

Wait...what the hell?

"Why are your eyes red, teme?"

----------------------------------------

A graduating class should have been buzzing with excitement, youthful energy filling the air as they anticipated the next chapter of their lives. Instead, an eerie silence hung over the room, heavy and oppressive. The only sounds were the occasional grunts from Kiba, who sat stubbornly as Iruka—working with his limited knowledge of first aid—tried to tend to him. Kiba was too prideful to go to the nurse's office, even though he clearly needed medical attention.

Around them, the rest of the class appeared dazed, their gazes distant as they stared blankly at their desks. The usual chatter and laughter were absent, replaced by a palpable tension that none of them could shake.

Among the older ninja, there was a saying: a genin becomes a true shinobi when they have experienced killer intent and made their first kill. Both experiences were unforgettable, searing themselves into the memory of any who lived through them.

But Naruto's killer intent had been something else entirely—stronger even than that of shinobi who had been through war. A normal killer intent was made from slight traces of yin chakra, a residual of the soul. Naruto, however, had absorbed fully intact souls, and the weight of that power bore down on his classmates. His killer intent was so potent that the genin class had experienced their first true taste of death.

This was evident in Sasuke Uchiha. His body had instinctively awakened the Sharingan, perceiving itself to be near death. The one tomoe in his eyes spun slowly as he processed what had happened.

The civilian students were traumatized, some trembling, others unable to lift their heads. The clan children, while shaken, grappled with mixed emotions.

Shikamaru Nara sat at his desk, staring ahead but not really seeing anything. His usual bored expression was gone, replaced with one of deep thought. His mind buzzed with questions he didn't want to think about.

Why did things have to be so complicated?

Naruto's armor… it wasn't stolen.

That much was clear just by the way it fit him. It wasn't like some random set he'd grabbed off a merchant. That meant Naruto was telling the truth—he really had a master. But when had that happened? How long had Naruto had a master for? And how rich was this guy if he could afford to commission armor like that?

And then there was the bigger question: if Naruto had a master, and one who could give him that kind of gear, why was he still the dead-last? It didn't add up. It was like they had been seeing one version of Naruto for years, and now they were realizing that version might be fake.

But why?

Why would Naruto hide all of that?

This was so troublesome. Shikamaru didn't want to think about it, but his brain wouldn't let him ignore it. His mind refused to let go of the questions, even though he wanted nothing more than to just lie down and take a nap.

But no, he was stuck here, thinking about Naruto of all people.

So troublesome.

He glanced over at Chōji. His friend looked like he was about to cry, and Shikamaru knew why. Naruto's killer intent had done something to all of them, but for Chōji, it was worse. It had triggered his fight-or-flight response, and for Chōji, that meant his appetite was suppressed. No appetite for chips? Yeah, that was rough for him.

Shikamaru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

This whole thing was such a drag.

But he couldn't stop his mind from circling back to Naruto. Naruto had defeated Kiba like it was nothing. Kiba might be a loudmouth and not great in class, but physically? He was one of the strongest in their year. And Naruto had taken him down effortlessly. That wasn't the Naruto they'd known for years. That was someone else entirely.

So what gave? Why hide his real strength?

It was like they had all been fooled, and Shikamaru didn't like it. But more than that, he didn't understand it. If Naruto had been playing the fool all this time, what was his endgame?

Shikamaru sighed again, louder this time, resting his head on his arms. He could already feel the headache forming. All these questions, and no clear answers. He really hated when things got complicated like this.

Why couldn't anything just be simple?

Shikamaru sighed softly.

"You'll be hungry soon, Chōji," he murmured, offering a comforting pat on his friend's shoulder.

Across the room, other students grappled with their own reactions, each processing what they had just witnessed in their own way.

Hinata Hyūga was the most shaken of all. Her slender frame trembled slightly, her pale lavender eyes—the hallmark of her Byakugan—wide with fear and disbelief. Always shy and reserved, she now looked even smaller, retreating into herself as her mind desperately tried to process what had just happened.

This is all a nightmare, she thought, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within her. Her fingers clenched tightly in her lap, the knuckles turning white. The scene replayed in her mind over and over again—the rage in Naruto's eyes, the overwhelming killer intent that had filled the room like a suffocating wave.

That wasn't my Naruto-kun, she told herself, her heart aching at the thought. Naruto was never violent, never cruel. He was always kind, always determined, always the boy who refused to give up no matter how hard life pushed him down.

That was the Naruto she admired—the one who had inspired her time and time again to keep going.

But now… now, he had seemed like a monster. Something so terrifying that even the elders of her clan, with all their rigid discipline and power, would pale in comparison.

Her mind clung to the image she had of him, the bright, hopeful boy she cared for so deeply. She couldn't—wouldn't—let go of it.

That's not him. That's not Naruto-kun, she repeated in her head, as if saying it enough times would make the memory of his violent outburst fade away.

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On the other side of the room, Ino Yamanaka was doing her best to process what had just happened. Naruto... what the hell? Her hands were shaking, and she had to press them against her thighs to stop the trembling. She couldn't stop thinking about that killer intent he'd just unleashed. It wasn't controlled, either—no, it had just burst out of him, pure and raw. That wasn't something you could fake, something you could just shrug off as a bad mood.

Killer intent meant something. Her father had always told her that. It wasn't just about intimidation or fear—it was a reflection of a person's experiences. Of what they'd done. Killer intent didn't come from nowhere; it came from killing. It came from death, from seeing and causing it over and over again. And Naruto? His was so strong, so solid, that it felt like a wall, like she was staring straight at a demon.

But what was the story behind that kind of killer intent? What had he done to have it?

Her father had always said that every killer intent told a story, a dark one. So what the hell was Naruto's story? What had he done that could lead to that? Ino swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest as she forced herself to think it through. He couldn't have killed people, right? He was the dead last of the class, the idiot everyone laughed at. There's no way.

Unless… unless Naruto had been out there, fighting something else. Something not human. Her mind flashed back to that overwhelming pressure, the way it felt more like a beast, more like a demon. Was that what his victims had seen? Had Naruto been hunting monsters all this time?

Ino almost snorted out loud at the thought. Yeah right, girl. You're making Naruto way cooler than he is.

But then... what other explanation was there? She frowned, trying to piece it together. He couldn't have been a simple genin. Maybe, just maybe, he was some kind of sleeper agent. A secret operative for the Anbu, hidden in plain sight. The thought made her heart race faster. Was he planted here to play the fool, only to be activated when the time was right? Had he been pretending to be weak, waiting for the moment when he'd show his true strength?

But... why had the sleeper agent been activated now? What had triggered him to show off that side of himself in front of everyone?

Ino's head spun as the possibilities raced through her mind, each one more outlandish than the last. But as much as she tried to calm down, as much as she tried to tell herself that she was overthinking it, one thing was clear: she didn't know Naruto at all. None of them did.

Her heart pounded in her chest, curiosity mingled with fear. This wasn't just the same old Naruto anymore, the class clown they all knew and ignored.

So who was Naruto, really? What was he hiding behind that mask of idiocy? What was his real story?

Ino bit her lip, feeling her pulse quicken. Naruto... you just became the most interesting person in this entire village, and someone I want to know more.

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Sakura Haruno moved her long pink hair behind her ear, trying to focus on her desk, but her mind was utterly blank. The world around her felt distant, muffled, like she was seeing everything through a fog. She couldn't properly register what had just happened—couldn't comprehend how the dead-last loudmouth boy who always asked her out, who annoyed her endlessly, had become the person who now sat beside Sasuke.

That... that thing couldn't be Naruto. It couldn't.

Her body was trembling, and despite her best efforts, she couldn't stop it. A deep shame welled up inside her as she glanced down at her red qipao dress, slightly stained where she had... No. She didn't want to think about it, didn't want to acknowledge it, but the truth was undeniable. The killer intent that had poured out of Naruto had scared her so much that she had lost control, and the dampness between her legs was proof of it.

She prayed, hoped, that no one had noticed. Everyone else seemed too lost in their own thoughts, too consumed by the raw fear still lingering in the air. She needed to go to the bathroom, needed to change before anyone realized what had happened, but her legs wouldn't cooperate. They felt like jelly, shaking uncontrollably beneath her, too weak to carry her out of the classroom.

Move, she told herself, but the fear still gripped her, refusing to let go.

In the corner, one of the quietest students, Shino Aburame, sat perfectly still, though inside, he was struggling to keep his calm. His usual composed exterior—dark, round sunglasses and his high-collared, sea-green jacket—hid the chaos buzzing beneath the surface. It wasn't just him that was affected by Naruto's killer intent. His insects, the very core of his being, were behaving in a way that made no sense. They were restless, buzzing frantically inside him as if something was pulling them toward Naruto.

Shino tightened his grip on the desk, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. His kikaichū—normally so obedient—were chanting in unison, a quiet hum that only he could hear: Fire of life, fire of life.

What was this fire? What had Naruto become to make his insects act like moths drawn to a flame? Shino had encountered many powerful chakra signatures before, but never had his insects reacted like this. The killer intent was terrifying, yes, but it was their strange behavior that unsettled him most.

Across the room, another boy was watching Naruto with far less visible concern, though his thoughts were anything but calm. Sai, a Root ANBU agent on a covert mission, observed the events with an expressionless face. His short black hair and pale skin made him blend into the background of the classroom, an almost invisible presence.

Sai's mission was clear: spy on Naruto Uzumaki, learn about him, and report back. But what he had just witnessed... this killer intent, this aura of raw, terrifying power—it made his hand tremble slightly as he continued to draw small doodles on his notepad, each disguised with hidden Root codes. His mask of indifference slipped for just a moment as his fingers shook.

Sai's black eyes flickered toward Naruto, and for the briefest moment, a hint of something cold passed over his face. What could I create with you, Uzumaki? What would you look like torn apart, deconstructed, put back together in the ink of my brush?

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Iruka glanced at Kiba one last time, making sure the bandages were secure. With a sigh, he turned back to the class, feeling the weight of the silence.

The room looked deader than him during the morning when he hadn't had his coffee.

And Naruto? He didn't look guilty at all. Not even a hint of remorse on his face.

Iruka couldn't help but wonder—was this change in behavior due to Naruto's first kill? Maybe. He had seen it before in other shinobi, but this felt… different. He made a mental note to submit a form so that Naruto could get some psychological help. Something was off, and Iruka didn't want to ignore it.

But for now, he had a job to do. He had to wake these kids up, shake them out of whatever fog Naruto had thrown them into. They needed to be ready for what was coming next.

Iruka straightened up, his voice cutting through the room like a whip. "You're shinobi now!"

A few of the genin jumped in their seats, startled. Good. At least they were paying attention again.

"This headband you gained," Iruka continued, "is merely the first step. Yesterday, you had a rank, a standing, a score that placed you among your peers. Today, you are nothing but genin."

He paused, letting that sink in. They needed to understand—really understand—what that meant.

"Whether you were first or last yesterday has no bearing on who you are today. You are nothing but genin. Yesterday, you were the oldest and the strongest of the Academy. Today, you are the youngest and the weakest. You are nothing but genin."

Iruka looked around the room, scanning their faces. Finally, he could see some life in their eyes again. They were listening.

"You can be proud to have passed the Academy, but remember—there is still much more to learn. Remember that you're stepping out of school into the vast world. Do not doubt the skills you acquired here, but do not become arrogant, for today, you are nothing but genin."

He watched as most of them looked down, as if something had hit them. Reaffirmed something they needed to hear. But something still felt off. Why did they look so... deflated? Did Naruto do something before he came in? Iruka couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than he realized, but he pushed it aside for now. He had teams to announce.

"Team Ten under Asuma Sarutobi: Ino Yamanaka, Choji Akimichi, and Shikamaru Nara."

The Yamanaka, Nara, and Akimichi always teamed up. That trio was so famous for their teamwork that even Hashirama Senju himself once said there was nothing like it. It was tradition, one that Iruka didn't expect to change anytime soon.

He cleared his throat, half-expecting Ino to cry out in disappointment over not being with Sasuke. But… nothing. The girl was deep in thought, not a word from her. That was strange.

"Team Eight under Kurenai Yūhi: Kiba Inuzuka, Shino Aburame, and Hinata Hyūga," Iruka called out, a little puzzled himself. It looked like an ideal tracker team, but Kurenai was famous for her genjutsu expertise. So why was she making a tracker team? He shrugged it off—Kurenai knew what she was doing, he hoped.

Then came the big one. "Team Seven under Kakashi Hatake: Sasuke Uchiha, Sakura Haruno…"

Iruka paused for a moment, fully expecting Sakura to cheer. And right on cue, she did, as if this was the greatest moment of her life. Honestly, it was almost impressive, this infatuation she had with Sasuke. If only it weren't so… foolish. But hey, that kind of passion had its place, Iruka supposed.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what came next. "Naruto Uzumaki."

Sakura froze mid-cheer. Naruto? He just looked… bored. Like he couldn't care less. And Sasuke? He was still preoccupied with checking out his new Sharingan in the reflection of the window, but he seemed pleased enough with the teammates he was assigned.

Iruka almost laughed but held it in. Kakashi, you unlucky bastard, he thought. I'll pray for you and this dysfunctional team.