I'm a year and a half old. They showed me where the calendar was and explained when I was born, so now I know. During this time, I've been moved again, and now they drag me off for the whole day to be with kids who are nothing like the drooling vegetables I was used to. The children here… well, I'm no expert, but it seems to me they're developing way too fast. Either that, or I've landed in some kind of prodigy group. After all, they, much like me, are capable of primitive conversation! In my opinion, that's a terrifying accomplishment for this age.
Having gotten used to my situation, I started looking at things more positively. Instead of beating myself up, I looked for fun in my surroundings. For instance:
"What you doing?" I pestered a boy one day, who was building some lumpy, squarish thing in the sandbox that looked a lot like piles of dung.
"A fortress," he answered immediately, not looking up from his task.
I watched him work for a few seconds. Then I proclaimed:
"It fall down."
He froze, then turned to me.
"I know death. Existence finite," I said, glancing at his structure. "Sand fall to dust. You die. Because you build bad fortress."
For about fifteen seconds, you could practically hear the gears grinding in the boy's head as he tried to understand what I'd said. Then horror dawned on his face.
"How fall? Good fortress! Don't wanna die!"
"Fortress—bad!" I declared, maintaining the most serious expression I could muster on my chubby toddler face. "Wall crooked. Tower tilted. Sand… wet? Ew!"
I poked one of the "towers" with my finger, and it collapsed with a sad splat.
"You… you broke it!" The boy's eyes filled with tears. "My fortress."
"Fortress is dead," I stated, nodding my head like a wise old sage. "You dead too. Soon."
The boy sniffled, staring at me with wide eyes.
"But… but I don't wanna die!" he repeated, starting to sob. "I… I'll build good fortress!"
He immediately began scooping sand with renewed enthusiasm, trying to give it shape.
I moved closer, leaned in, and whispered conspiratorially:
"You know what else dies?"
The boy froze, afraid to look up at me.
"What?" he whimpered.
"Relax. I joke," I said, patting him on the shoulder, which only brought a look of confusion to his already tear-streaked face. "You not die if fortress die. Not connected. Gotcha." I gave him an apologetic smile.
"Y-you," he stammered, realization dawning. "Bad joke!"
Strange, but the kids never got my humor right away. At first, they even disliked me… However, I knew when to stop, even if not always on time. Which eventually let me blend into the group. So they probably didn't think I was insane, just… "special." Ahem.
Time passed; everything moved forward. My development was multifaceted. Right now, I'm listening to a fairy tale with the other one-year-olds… for the second time, the same one. It wasn't very entertaining. So I kind of tuned out, sinking into my thoughts.
My progress in mastering chakra and soul energy hadn't stalled either, even if it was proceeding at a rather measured, calm pace.
The flow of chakra was becoming much easier to control. My reserve itself had grown by about one and a half times, even though I wasn't really spending much energy. My main activity with chakra involved moving it along its natural pathways (channels) and honing minor manipulations that wouldn't leave any traces.
At this point, I had polished the "adhesion" skill using chakra, and from that, the Chakra Threads. At less than a year old, while also developing my hand motor skills, I tried to kind of hook the chakra in the pads of one hand's fingers onto the other, and then do the same using chakra in both hands. Strangely enough, I managed it pretty quickly back then, after which I began to build my mastery of this skill.
After some more time, I started learning to concentrate and stretch out chakra. First between my palms, creating balls of blue energy that spat out blue flares. Then I'd lengthen it, manipulating it like a Chakra Thread. Or rather, an actual thread, visible thanks to the concentration of energy. After that came practicing the trick in all sorts of variations: more threads; greater dissipation—to make them invisible; forming them into different shapes, like with soul energy; and whatever else came to mind. Chakra was harder to control, but its power was impressive and mesmerizing. Even though I never used it for mass destruction. But it felt like something inside me, in a barely audible whisper, was telling me that I could. Oh, I definitely could. This world will yet feel my hatred! Mwahahaha! Okay, that last part was extra.
There was progress with my soul energy, too. My control had grown significantly. I'd pushed it to two techniques.
First: by twisting and contorting my mind in every way possible, I managed to make soul energy interact with the real world. To do this, I had to really strain myself, forcing the energy to shift… into something I'd felt out, and then, for example, the tendrils could actually touch and move things. The only problem was that these tendrils had very little strength. At this point, having developed this ability quite a bit, I could maybe lift a couple of mugs.
The second ability could basically be counted as two. By moving in another something… that I don't understand, I somehow managed to stick my soul's arm out of my physical arm! Thankfully, by returning the limb to its place and, after some mental huffing and puffing, I got everything back to normal. It was a prospect… the possibility of leaving my body. But I had no intention of using it. One, there was no guarantee I wouldn't go straight to reincarnation after something like that. Two, there was no guarantee I'd be able to possess another body. Three, I was already starting to like this body with its powerful chakra; I was used to it, so I wasn't going to change it.
And… with these thoughts, I came up with another motivation for not doing that. In fact, it was a reason to do the opposite—to stay and "grind" like ten gym bros combined. This world will soon have, if it doesn't already, an organization called Akatsuki. They want to gather all the Tailed Beasts to resurrect the Ten-Tails and plunge the world into an eternal genjutsu with its help. Of course, they have their reasons for it. But the truth is, if I remain Naruto and stay weak, then I'll likely face a fate possibly worse than death. I'll be taken, half-dead, to the vessel of the Ten-Tails, and they'll drain all my chakra into it.
Chakra is said to be composed of Yin and Yang, where Yang is physical energy and Yin is spiritual energy… And frankly, I find that statement dubious. I can more or less clearly feel these two energies in my core, and I can combine them to create chakra. It's an extremely natural process, barely perceptible to my consciousness. In contrast to separating the two components, which I've never been able to do, though I tried hard. But my soul energy is different from Yin, which I also feel quite clearly. From this, I can vaguely surmise that having my chakra extracted isn't a mandatory death sentence for my soul… But that's a hypothesis, not a certainty. Everything needs to be double-checked. With stakes as high as my very existence, it's better to assume the worst. Which means, to avoid kicking the bucket, I have to grind.
I also considered the option of taking the risk and switching bodies. But that's even worse: this body, I assume, would die without a soul. It's not like everyone has one for no reason. Or it would become… not right. Or I'd simply hand control of the body over to my doppelgänger… In short, the idea already stinks. But it gets worse. Let's say this body dies. The world will be left without a shinobi who could have become very strong—considering this chakra core. Meanwhile, let's say I successfully possess an adult body to make life more convenient. Would I be able to become just as strong in another body to stand against the same Akatsuki? I don't know; it's doubtful. If not, then the Akatsuki capture the bijuu, after which they cast the eternal genjutsu. Every inhabitant of the planet, including me, becomes fertilizer for the tree that drains chakra. Quite possibly, along with the soul.
For the same reason, I can't just possess a body and hide out on another continent—death awaits everywhere if I don't grind. Therefore, I have to grind.
Still, not everything is as bad as it might seem at first glance. No, it's all crap. Just not the worst kind.
Self-improvement is something you can get used to. Moreover, you can even enjoy it. I've been convinced of that since my past life—my trips to the gym will confirm that. So this life might not be so bad after all. Which means there's no point in inventing things to worry about.
"One day, on the darkest of nights, when the fog was especially thick, a stranger infiltrated the village. He was a shinobi from another land, known for his cruelty and thirst for power…" one of the caretakers continued. I returned to the real world. Another bout of introspection was over, so I'd have to alleviate my boredom some other way.
Putting on my most dignified expression, I discreetly separated my soul's arm from my physical one. It was invisible to others.
"His name was Kazuki, and he had come to seize the spring and use its power for his evil purposes…"
All just so its finger could end up in my nose and start casually digging around. Of course, in a way that made it feel like a foreign object was in there.
Yeah, this was exactly what the technique was worth mastering.
Interlude: Sarutobi Hiruzen
A year and a half had passed since the Kyuubi incident. Sitting in his office, the Hokage was taking stock.
A great deal had been done in that time. In minutes, the Fox had destroyed numerous buildings that needed to be rebuilt. Almost through the center of the village, albeit at an angle, there had swept the strongest technique of the Tailed Beasts—a sphere, the bijuudama. The Fourth, of course, had managed to teleport it away with his technique, preventing it from detonating within the village. But the kilometer-long gash of obliterated structures had only been partially restored by now. All efforts were first directed at rebuilding the most essential buildings. Even so, only now had the Ninja Academy itself been rebuilt.
There was, of course, some good in this period. Simply in the fact that it wasn't as tense as the years of the Great Ninja War… Things were, for the most part, a little quiet. Relatively.
Konoha had recently been shaken by the case of a certain Might Duy. A very, extremely persistent ninja. To think, he became a junior shinobi, a genin, at three and a half years old. Though he remained a genin three decades later, the man had shown the highest valor and courage in March of the previous year. Using a forbidden technique, fatal to the user, he protected the team entrusted to him, which included his son, from an elite squad of Hidden Mist ninja. The Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist were effectively disbanded, as four of them were killed by a Konoha shinobi.
Thankfully, there had been no more shocks for the Leaf. The same couldn't be said for the Mist, where a year later, just days ago, a child not yet a genin had slaughtered all the academy graduates. Hiruzen deeply disapproved of Kiri's customs. A caste system reigned there, where members of the lowest—the third—were forced to kill their comrades upon graduation.
But no matter how much Sarutobi disliked the shinobi world and its particular quirks, there was little he could change. Especially in a land as distant as the Land of Water. Likewise, as Hokage, he had to focus on the affairs of the village he led.
Undoubtedly, the greatest tragedy for the aging man was the Leaf's casualties. In a mere few minutes of the Fox's rampage, hundreds of shinobi had laid down their lives… Time had scabbed over the wounds. They no longer hurt, but they remained visible. The Kage did everything in his power so the residents of Konoha could live at least as they had before. Even if not everything went as he would have liked.
Remembering those events, images of the child he had promised to care for often flashed through the Hokage's mind. Uzumaki Naruto—that was the name recorded in the documents, so as not to expose him to his father's many enemies. Despite the Fourth Hokage's young age, Hiruzen found it difficult to say with whom the Fourth hadn't yet gone to war and, accordingly, managed to build friendly relations. Therefore, it was forbidden for anyone to speak of Naruto's parents. An unnecessary risk would be… unnecessary.
Little remained of the couple's property, including Uzumaki Kushina's. Unfortunately, their house had been almost in the center of Konoha, slightly to the west. Right where the bijuu's technique had flown. And all that was left there was a huge bald patch of land with the rubble of hundreds of homes. Of course, Minato, as Sarutobi knew, had secret safe houses. But Hiruzen didn't know where they were. They were secret, after all. The parents had left their son only their techniques and a small apartment Konoha had issued to his father back in his student days.
Many shinobi who survived the fight with the Kyuubi were unwilling to simply let go of their losses. Hiruzen could understand them, he truly could; he had lost his wife then. But to start blaming everything on the child who became the beast's vessel was absurd. An absurdity that, due to spreading rumors, became reality.
The Hokage passed a law forbidding anyone from saying that Naruto was the jinchuriki of the Nine-Tails. Especially to the younger generation. The man didn't know who exactly had spread the word about the jinchuriki's appearance: one of the ninja who helped during the attack; some medical-nin who easily sensed the bijuu's constantly leaking chakra; or some overly perceptive, gossip-mongering cleaning lady who, based on the "fox whiskers," correctly guessed everything. Sarutobi was sure of only one thing: someone didn't have the brains to keep their mouth shut about it. And Hiruzen had been irritated by this for some time. So irritated that he enacted the law and punished its violation harshly. He was disgusted that some would spit on the Village's principles. To hell with the term "village weapon," they were, first and foremost, willing to harm a resident of Konoha! It was outrageous!
Catching himself on these negative thoughts, Hiruzen stopped abruptly. He reflexively reached for his pipe, lit the tobacco, and took a deep drag of smoke. Calm returned as quickly as it had vanished.
Time will pass… and things won't be so bad. Naruto is only in the hospital for now, nothing threatens him there, and he won't be able to feel the villagers' hatred. By the time he enters the outside world, they will have calmed down.
Naruto is a year and a half now, right? It's been over six months since the ANBU stopped watching him. That incident with the bloodlust in the hospital wasn't ignored. But a completely quiet year, without a single need for shinobi surveillance, led to the watch being called off.
Sarutobi occasionally, not often, looked at the reports on Naruto. He was almost immediately placed in the group of children with the highest potential. Unsurprising, considering how strong his parents were. More importantly, he should already be able to speak a little…
Hiruzen glanced at his desk. Empty; all the papers had been reviewed and processed. He turned around and saw the yellowing evening sky.
"Just the right opportunity," the man noted, rising from his chair. "I made a promise, and my words are not empty. It's time to meet Naruto in person. And while I'm at it, tell him that I'm his…"
Uzumaki Naruto's POV
Sitting in my room, I was habitually stretching chakra threads between my fingers and forming them into various shapes. Completely by accident, and sometimes not at all, they would form into something indecent.
Evening, as one could tell from the view out the window. It would have been no different from any other, if not for a familiar old man in spacious white and red robes who appeared in my sphere-like vision, which had grown to almost seven meters. White and red, specifically. By shifting my perception in a similar way, I was able to perceive colors, though not as well as with my eyes.
A slight tension came over me. I was about to have a more conscious meeting with the leader of the entire village, who… as I recalled from my meta-knowledge, was supposed to be a reasonable old man. Well, within the bounds of an unreasonable world with magic energy and perpetual wars… Recalling fanfiction, I imagined some kind of evil schemer who was probably here to bring me another dose of arsenic, just to make sure life wasn't too sweet. On the other hand… I didn't remember anything like that from the source material, and more importantly, in my entire life here, I had never once been "mistreated" by the local staff. They didn't even whip me or send me to the galleys. Which meant I shouldn't see him as someone bad just yet. And I definitely shouldn't worry. Especially considering the fact that, while I'd feel bad for Kushina, I could try to separate from my body and just bail from this world.
The arguments seemed sound. However, I couldn't completely shake the jitters. Which resulted in some strange actions:
Out of a subconscious, unthinking desire not to "reveal" my abilities, I immediately stopped my chakra manipulations and put on my dumbest expression. Then I jumped off the bed (from which the "bars" had been removed) and walked over to the wall to stare at it.
The door opened, and the old man with hints of gray in his hair froze in the doorway.
"…What are you doing?"
"Wall is pretty." I turned around. "Should knock. I training."
"Training?" he asked again.
"Yes. Stare at wall and think how to conquer world."
The Hokage was speechless for a moment.
"A-ahem… And how is that going?"
"Bad. No money, no army, no plan. But I working on it," I declared with the utmost seriousness.
Meanwhile, my evil inner troll rubbed its belly in satisfaction. It was pleased with its work. Hiding anxiety behind absurd humor was a good tactic, and if necessary, I wouldn't hesitate to use it.
"…May I come in?"
"Be my guest," I shrugged calmly, walking closer.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked as he entered, his eyes scanning the moderately furnished room. Quality, though sparse, furniture: a bed, a wardrobe, and a small table made to my height with two cushions by it. Excellent finishing, light tones, soft light from the lamp.
"Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiru-pzen," I nodded importantly, ignoring the mistakes in my speech. It was still a bit difficult for me, and now, being nervous, even more so. "Uzumaki Naruto."
I introduced myself, and Hiruzen's gaze softened for a moment, but then he returned to what he had just heard:
"…Do you really think about conquering the world? Where did you even learn such words?"
"Books. In library. Lots of villains there want conquer world," I shrugged. "I can too. But I do better."
The Hokage paused for a second, clearly trying to decide if this was a joke or not, and finally let out a heavy sigh.
"Listen, Naruto… You wouldn't be teasing a poor, feeble old Hokage, would you?"
Emotions jumped inside me, and the old man let out a small huff of a laugh. Uh-oh, he saw through me. But! Maintain composure!
My face became important, and I looked Sarutobi over with an equally important gaze.
"My peers not able to understand my jokes. Now I see why you are Hokage." I gave him a thumbs-up and finished with, "When I rule world, you be my deputy?"
"…"
Did I break him?
"Khm-khm," oh, he's alive.
"So… let's change the subject," he finally said.
"Let's."
"I actually just came to meet you. And also, I am… your guardian…"
"O-o-oh…" I was genuinely surprised. "Officially?"
"That's right, Naruto."
"That's good! Means I live with you? You will cover me from tax agency?"
"What…? N-no!"
"A shame. You look kind. Could be fun with you. Then just from tax agency, yes?"
"No, you don't understand." Hiruzen was clearly out of his element, as if he'd stumbled into some den of chaos. He tiredly rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "I'm sorry… I would like to take proper care of you, but I am the Hokage. I'm truly sorry, but I have to leave you here… There are caretakers here, other children. You'll be better off here."
"O-oh…"
"As for the tax agency. Where did you even hear about it? Taxes? Isn't it a bit early to be telling children about such things?" He was already speaking more to the air than to me. But I cut in.
"They didn't tell me. It's also from books."
"Oh-h… Such a smart child. We will be seeing each other more often now. You don't mind, do you?"
I shook my head no.
"Good… I'm sorry, but I don't have much time."
"Yes… It was nice to meet you, Hokage-sama."
"Yes, be well, Naruto."
Finishing his sentence, Hiruzen calmly left the room and closed the door. Then, thinking no one could see him, he exhaled with his whole chest, even bending over, and wiped his forehead with his hand. Only after straightening up and finding his pipe in his robes did he move away from my room, nervously but quickly.
Yeah… He probably won't be visiting me again anytime soon. An amusing, easily flustered old man, as I already mentioned. So innocent, as if he still sees something wrong with covering for people and blatant nepotism. A strange politician. Or maybe I just shouldn't have read so many different publics and forums that dump shit on everyone, because people aren't as bad as they might seem. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'll see what kind of person he is over time. A first impression is good, but it can only reveal a part of a personality. It'll take a long time to paint the full picture of who Hiruzen is.
My regret that I wouldn't be living with him was genuine. It seemed like it would be fun to spend time with him, and he didn't seem like a bad person after all. I'm a little bored here; life is quite monotonous. Of course, I'm used to it, but the routine… Also, I shouldn't forget my mercenary desires. The Hokage himself would surely have things to teach, as well as a whole library on chakra. A shame I won't get access to it. For now… But later, I must try to fix that…
Walking over to the bed, I sat down and, with an innocent face, began to think about how I could grab as much as possible for myself. Techniques, for example.
As I know, shinobi can sense lies. Worming my way into his trust on a lie won't work. And I'm not good at that anyway. So… I just have to do it sincerely. Sounds like a good idea. As for the plan… I need groundwork to build it on. And since there's no groundwork, there's no point in racking my brain over it.
Ugh… What a villain I am. Thinking directly about personal gain, without the prism of the common good. I must have grown up in a bad society, a society that imposed the idea of the individual's insignificance before the collective of the same kind. If only I could remember more details… And why I always put myself first. But that's probably not destined to happen.
However, the extent of my "villainy" is debatable. Because to the same extent, I feel that I can look down from the pedestal of my own importance and see other pedestals—pretty high ones too… And why am I justifying myself, telling myself I'm not that much of a stale loaf of bread? Remembering how and why I had a meltdown during the events of my birth, it's crystal clear that's not true. Oh, right, I heard somewhere that this kind of introspection promotes self-discovery and can give you a lot of positive things I've already forgotten about. Or drive you into depression. Or it's all nonsense?
Okay… Considering where these thoughts are heading, I should stop. I was practicing chakra shape manipulation before, so I'll just continue with that.
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