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Even during the New Year—a season synonymous with family reunions and heavy feasting—Might Guy remained a whirlwind of kinetic energy. For him, the "Vigor of Youth" recognized no holidays and accepted no excuses.
"Even in the heart of winter, the flames of effort must not flicker!" he roared to the empty air, throwing a punch that snapped like a whip.
However, the logistics of the holiday proved problematic. The public training grounds were swarming with children playing in the snow, their laughter a joyful barrier to his usual high-impact drills. Furthermore, his favorite ritual—speed-running the village perimeter—was out of the question. With the influx of New Year merchant caravans, the border security was at a high-alert status to prevent the infiltration of foreign spies. If an elite Jonin like Guy were to move at high-velocity patterns along the walls, he would likely trigger an alarm or disrupt the delicate sensor nets.
Settling for a less intrusive burn, he remained in the small clearing before his modest residence, cycling through a series of "perverse" push-ups and squats that would have crippled an ordinary man.
Naruto approached the scene with a calculated, steady pace. In his left hand, he carried the meticulously arranged bouquet from the Yamanaka shop; in his right, a beautifully wrapped cream cake.
Guy, mid-push-up, caught a blur of blond hair out of the corner of his eye. His heart skipped. In a display of speed that left actual afterimages, he finished his set, fumbled into his pocket, and slapped on the comical fake mustache. Only then did he turn, forcing his voice into a hoarse, "mysterious" register.
"Ah! Naruto! You've come to see Cheng Dai-sensei?"
"Happy Birthday, Guy-sensei," Naruto said, his voice ringing with absolute sincerity. He stepped forward and presented the gifts.
The "mysterious master" froze. The synthetic mustache actually curled at the edge as Guy's jaw dropped. "How... how did you know it was my birthday?"
Ever since his father, Might Duy, had sacrificed himself to save Guy and his comrades, Guy had viewed his birthday not as a celebration of himself, but as a day of mourning and renewed commitment. He hadn't celebrated in a very, very long time.
"Grandpa Sandaime told me," Naruto answered, his blue eyes clear and honest.
The Hokage-sama knows? The realization hit Guy like a physical blow. If the Hokage had sanctioned this, the clumsy theater of "Cheng Dai" was no longer necessary. He reached up and slowly peeled away the fake mustache, revealing his true face—a face now wet with sudden, uncontrollable tears that carved tracks through the sweat on his cheeks.
This boy... he worked, he saved... just for me?
"Naruto..." he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "You are... truly so youthful!"
Naruto widened his eyes in a flawless display of shock. "What? Cheng Dai-sensei... you... you're actually Uncle Might Guy?!"
Guy didn't answer with words. He took the cake and flowers with hands that trembled slightly, placing them on the stone steps of his porch as if they were sacred artifacts of the Sage himself. Then, he spun around and enveloped Naruto in a crushing, bone-snapping embrace.
"WAAAAH!!! THIS IS... THIS IS THE PEAK OF PASSIONATE YOUTH!!!"
The shout echoed across the rooftops of Konoha, a thunderous proclamation of a Jonin's heart being won. As Naruto felt his ribs groan under the pressure, a cold, clinical thought flickered through his mind: It's done.
This hug was the bridge. It represented an unreserved acceptance into Guy's inner circle. Naruto knew that the ultimate prize—the Eight Gates Formation, the technique that could shatter the limits of gods—was now within his reach.
Guy finally released him, vigorously wiping his face of tears and snot. He led Naruto into his small, sparse home, which contained little furniture but was packed with training equipment. He placed the gifts on the only table in the center of the room.
"You have truly moved me, Naruto!" Guy's voice still carried the tremor of his outburst. He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a thick stack of banknotes—far more than Naruto had spent—and tried to press them into the boy's hand. "I have received your heartfelt will! But you are young, with no income. This gift is too extravagant. Keep your money for now. When you are a Great Shinobi earning your own way, then we shall celebrate even more fervently!"
Naruto did not reach for the money. Instead, he straightened his posture, his gaze hardening into something firm and ancient. He shook his head.
"No, Guy-sensei. If I truly understand the meaning of youth, I cannot take that back."
He took a deep breath, integrating his "Little Sun" persona with his genuine tactical philosophy. "In a person's life, there are many paths. Isn't true youth about recognizing the path you've chosen and advancing with unwavering determination? Even if the wind and snow are heavy enough to make you stumble, you must keep moving until you burn out."
His voice rose, his cerulean eyes burning with a cold, internal fire. "Just like my dream of becoming Hokage. Even if thousands doubt me, even if the world mocks me, I will do as you taught me: I will burn my life to reach that seat. And I do it so I can protect those who guided me. I do it to protect you, sensei. This is my choice. Please, do not refuse it."
Guy was completely shaken. The "Hokage" dream, the "Will of Fire," and the "Power of Youth" had just been woven into a single, unbreakable cord. He slowly withdrew the money, looking at Naruto with a level of respect he usually reserved for the Hokage himself.
"I understand," Guy said, his voice devoid of all exaggeration. It was the sober recognition of one warrior to another.
But a second later, the passion erupted anew. He clenched his fists, his chakra flaring so intensely it seemed to create a visible glow. "WOOOOOH!!! WHAT AN ULTIMATELY YOUTHFUL STATEMENT! You are sprinting ahead of me, Naruto! As your teacher, I must work a hundred times harder! I will not let my youth be left behind by my own disciple!!"
The house practically shook with the intensity of his soaring spirit.
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