The bleating of goats echoed across the back mountain farm.
Nine-Tails padded out of the wooden cabin's kitchen, drawn by the commotion. His ears flattened against his skull as he spotted five massive trees toppling in sequence, each severed cleanly at the trunk by Naruto's shuriken.
The miniaturized fox leaped onto one of the fallen logs and peered down, his single visible tail lashing in irritation.
A goat lay pinned beneath the timber, bleating frantically.
"Naruto!" Nine-Tails planted his paws on his hips, glaring at the blonde boy. "What are you doing? You just crushed one of my breeding rams! How am I supposed to expand the flock now?"
Naruto froze, shuriken still in hand. He'd been so focused on showing off his precision throwing for Sasuke that he hadn't considered where the trees would land. "Sorry, Nine-Tails. I wasn't paying attention."
He'd recently handed over more farm management duties to Nine-Tails, including the sheep breeding program. The fox had been meticulously selecting prime rams for breeding stock, and apparently this goat had been one of them.
"Hmph. Let's hope this one's salvageable." Nine-Tails hopped down and kicked the fallen tree trunk, rolling it aside with a pulse of chakra.
The ram scrambled to its feet immediately—then listed to one side. Its right hind leg hung at an awkward angle, clearly broken.
Nine-Tails' shoulders sagged. "Well, that's that. Can't use him for breeding now. He's too short with that leg injured, won't be able to mount the ewes properly. Plus, the uneven weight distribution would stress the females." The fox's voice took on a matter-of-fact tone. "Guess he's going on today's lunch menu instead."
The ram's eyes went wide with panic. Just yesterday, it had been celebrating its selection as breeding stock—a life of leisure, food, and female company. Paradise for a goat.
Now that dream lay shattered, all because of the blonde demon.
The ram gathered itself, rage overcoming fear, and charged at Naruto with its one good hind leg.
Naruto's palm caught it square on the forehead. The goat's eyes rolled back, and it collapsed in a peaceful heap.
Sasuke watched the entire scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. "Your farm has interesting drama."
"Every day." Naruto dusted off his hands and turned serious. "But speaking of drama—Sasuke, I've been thinking. There's a way I can help you improve your body and spirit. The question is whether you can handle the pain."
After his demonstration in the Academy, Naruto had been reflecting on the gap between civilian ninja and clan heirs. The threshold to become a ninja was surprisingly low: basic history, adequate kunai throwing, and the three fundamental jutsu—Transformation, Substitution, and Clone. Pass those, and you could technically accept missions.
But that was a death sentence.
Low-level ninjutsu wasn't enough for real combat. The powerful ninja, the survivors, all had unique techniques passed down through their families. Civilian ninja who made it to that level had worked themselves to the bone just to reach the starting line where clan heirs began.
Some of those civilian ninja then had the audacity to claim there was no unfairness, that everything came down to hard work.
But Sasuke wasn't a civilian. He had the Sharingan, the Uchiha techniques. What he lacked was the foundation—the physical and mental conditioning that Naruto had built through two years of brutal training.
That, Naruto could provide.
Sasuke's expression hardened with determination. "I'm not afraid of hard work."
The words came out flat, absolute. After the massacre, after watching his brother slaughter their clan, after the nightmares—pain meant nothing. Everything was secondary to his goal.
Revenge required power. He'd endure anything for that.
"Good." Naruto nodded. "Let me prepare some medicine after lunch. Then we'll start."
After their midday meal—Nine-Tails had prepared grilled lamb from the unfortunate ram, which Sasuke ate with grim appreciation—Naruto gathered herbs from the stream near the training grounds and ground them into the familiar green paste.
He led Sasuke to a shaded corner of the yard. Summer had arrived in full force, and even Naruto preferred to avoid the afternoon sun when possible.
"Ready?" Naruto asked, holding up a flexible vine he'd stripped from a nearby tree.
Sasuke squared his shoulders. "Yes."
"Take off your shirt."
Sasuke blinked. "What?"
"Take off your shirt, Sasuke." Naruto's expression remained completely serious. "If you want to get stronger, you need to do this properly."
Confused but trusting, Sasuke began removing his clothes. When he got down to just his underwear and started to continue, Naruto held up a hand.
"Stop there. Keep those on. What do you think this is?"
Sasuke's face flushed. "Right. Sorry."
He stood bare-chested in the dappled shade, the Uchiha crest on his discarded shirt seeming to watch. "I'm ready."
"Good." Naruto raised the vine. "Brace yourself."
Crack. Crack. Crack.
The vine whistled through the air in controlled arcs. Naruto's strikes were measured, precise—hard enough to sting and redden the skin, but not enough to break it. No blood, no lasting damage. Just the right amount of pain to begin the conditioning process.
Within minutes, sweat poured down Sasuke's face. Red welts crisscrossed his back and chest in a dense pattern.
"This is how I trained," Naruto said, maintaining the steady rhythm. "Two years ago, when I was five. I started with bamboo stick, moved to wooden rods. Six months for skin conditioning, six months for muscle conditioning."
Crack.
"The ointment comes after. It'll hurt worse than the beating, but it accelerates healing. Your body remembers the pain, adapts, grows tougher."
Crack.
Sasuke's jaw clenched, but he didn't cry out. If Naruto had endured this at age five, if he'd built his incredible strength through this torture, then Sasuke could handle it at seven.
He was an Uchiha. He had to handle it.
"The key is consistency," Naruto continued. Crack. "Every day, gradually increasing intensity. Your skin toughens first, then your muscles, then deeper tissue. Eventually, blades bounce off."
Crack. Crack. Crack.
An hour passed. Sasuke's entire torso glowed angry red, the color of a boiled lobster. His face remained unmarked—Naruto had deliberately avoided it—and certain sensitive areas had been spared. But everything else bore the lattice of welts.
Naruto prepared to call a halt when—
"NARUTO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO SASUKE-KUN?!"
He jerked his head up.
Sakura and Ino stood frozen at the courtyard gate, matching expressions of horror on their faces.
Before Naruto could respond, Sakura exploded into motion. She stormed forward and ripped the vine from his hand, her face flushed with rage. "How could you hit Sasuke-kun like this?!"
Ino rushed to Sasuke's side, spreading her arms protectively between him and Naruto. "This is terrible! You can't treat him this way!"
Naruto's mind went blank. Oh no. This looks really bad.
He glanced desperately at Sasuke for help.
Sasuke, to his credit, immediately spoke up. "Sakura, Ino—I asked Naruto to do this."
Both girls' eyes went wide.
Sakura's mouth opened and closed several times. Her face went through several shades of red before settling on mortified pink. "Sasuke-kun, you... you can't be... you're not that kind of person, are you?"
She shook her head violently, pigtails whipping. "No. No, Sasuke-kun would never—"
Ino understood exactly what Sakura was implying. They'd shared enough forbidden manga to recognize certain scenarios. Her gaze darted between Naruto holding the vine and Sasuke's welted, shirtless form.
Her worldview cracked and splintered.
"What are you two talking about?" Naruto looked utterly baffled by their reactions.
He ignored the girls' stammering and pulled Sasuke aside, reaching for the jar of green ointment. "Come on, Sasuke. Time for the medicine. This is the most important part—if we skip this step, the conditioning won't work properly."
Sakura and Ino watched in stunned silence as Naruto began methodically applying the paste to Sasuke's welts.
Their faces suggested they weren't sure whether to be relieved or more concerned.