The hour-long training session came to a grueling close. Might Guy, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, collapsed flat on his back. He lay there, utterly drained, the grass beneath him damp from the sheer effort he'd exerted.
Training the Eight Gates was unlike any other physical training—it didn't just tire the body, it tore through both chakra and spirit. Opening a gate meant forcibly overriding the body's natural limits, and the chakra required to impact the Sixth Gate was intense. Since chakra is the fusion of physical and spiritual energy, the constant strain of trying to break through that barrier drained both at once.
Now, even Guy's vibrant fighting spirit had dimmed a little.
But then—he felt it.
A pressure. A chakra signature so powerful that it instantly commanded attention.
Eyes wide, he turned toward Ryosuke, and what he saw made his breath hitch.
Steam was rising from Ryosuke's body—but it had changed. It was no longer the standard green. It was now a radiant blue, glowing faintly in the afternoon light.
The aura around him pulsed with life, strength, and heat. It was even more intense than before.
Did he break through to the Sixth Gate? Guy wondered, shocked.
But just as quickly as the chakra surged, it began to fade. Ryosuke abruptly deactivated the Eight Gates technique and fell to one knee, his face contorted in visible pain.
Concerned, Guy forced his tired body up and stumbled over to him.
"Ryosuke! Are you alright?" he asked, placing a steadying hand on the young Uchiha's shoulder.
It took Ryosuke a few moments before he managed to respond, his breath ragged.
"Barely," he muttered. "I… rushed it."
He winced.
Truthfully, he had been overconfident. He thought that with his superhuman physique, he could brute-force his way through the Sixth Gate. And he had managed to break it open. But the pain that followed—the sudden shock of it—had been far worse than he'd anticipated.
The agony had exploded down his spine like lightning. For a brief moment, he feared he had damaged something crucial—his spinal cord, no less. And that was not something even his enhanced body could heal easily.
Recklessness would only get him killed. Or worse, paralyzed.
He clenched his fists. No matter how powerful I become, I can't afford to be arrogant about the Eight Gates.
Guy nodded solemnly, clearly understanding what had happened.
"You forced it open," he said. "That's why the pain hit you so hard. You need to take it slower, Ryosuke. This isn't a path for shortcuts."
"I know," Ryosuke replied, still kneeling. "Lesson learned."
He was shaken, not just from the pain but from the realization of how close he'd come to permanent damage. The spine was a fragile thing—even the smallest injury there could lead to partial paralysis.
Even for someone like him.
The thought sent a chill down his spine (no pun intended).
Guy finally stood up straight, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I think that's enough training for today. I've got no chakra left anyway."
Ryosuke nodded in agreement. His body still ached, and pushing further now would be reckless. He was close to safely unlocking the Sixth Gate—it was just a matter of patience now. No need to gamble his body on an early breakthrough.
After saying goodbye to Guy, Ryosuke decided to go replenish his energy the best way he knew how—Ichiraku Ramen.
If you're in Konoha, and you want to treat your body and soul? You go to Ichiraku. It was practically a rite of passage.
As he headed toward the shop, he massaged his lower back gently, stretching to make sure there was no residual pain. Once satisfied that his spine was intact, he picked up the pace.
Meanwhile, at Ichiraku Ramen, a familiar scene unfolded.
A small boy with spiky blond hair was devouring a bowl of ramen like it was the greatest meal in the world—which, to him, it was. That boy was Naruto Uzumaki.
This wasn't just dinner to him. This was warmth. Belonging. Comfort. Something more than survival—it was kindness.
He didn't have to pay, either.
Thanks to a generous older "brother" figure, his meals at Ichiraku had been prepaid. Naruto never questioned it, but he appreciated it with all his heart. Someone in this village had looked past the "demon fox" rumors and seen him for who he truly was.
Even more importantly, that person had once told him the truth—that he wasn't some cursed orphan, but the son of a hero. That his parents had been great shinobi who had died protecting the village.
Not like that old man Hokage, who always avoided telling him anything meaningful.
Sure, Hiruzen gave him pocket money and vague reassurances, but he always danced around the one thing Naruto really wanted to know: Who were my parents?
Naruto was smart. He didn't push—but the questions burned inside him like a quiet flame.
After polishing off his first bowl, Naruto looked up at Teuchi, the owner.
"Hey, old man! One more bowl, please!"
Teuchi blinked in surprise. "You sure, Naruto? That's a lot for a growing kid. Don't want to hurt your tummy, do you?"
Naruto grinned. "Nah, I'm still hungry! That hit the spot but I need more!"
Teuchi chuckled, not bothering to argue. He liked Naruto—how could he not? The boy appreciated every bite, and his smile was infectious. This time, Teuchi added a bit more side dishes, just to spoil the kid a little.
Naruto's eyes lit up. "Whoa! More toppings? Thanks, old man!"
He dug in with gusto, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, happiness radiating from him in waves. For a moment, everything was perfect.
Until it wasn't.
As Naruto walked out of the ramen shop, stomach full and spirit high, he didn't notice the kids lurking nearby.
He hadn't gone far when—THWACK—a small rock slammed into his side.
He yelped, clutching his ribs, and spun around.
Across the street stood three older boys. One of them was a full head taller than Naruto.
He rubbed the sore spot, glaring. "Hey! Why'd you throw that rock?!"
The kids didn't even flinch.
"We're hitting the monster," one sneered.
"You think you can live better than us?" the tall one snarled. "Getting free ramen every day like you're some kind of prince?"
It turned out, the boys had tried Ichiraku ramen once. They loved it—but their parents couldn't afford it regularly. Maybe once a week, if that. And yet this "village pariah" ate it daily.
The bitterness in their hearts turned into anger. Why should a monster get better treatment than us?
Enraged, they picked up more stones.
Naruto dodged the next volley, then retaliated—hurling a rock of his own. It hit the shortest kid square in the leg, making him howl in pain.
"You jerk! That hurt!" the boy cried.
The older boys grew more furious.
Now it wasn't just about hatred—it was about revenge.
The biggest one spotted a much larger stone nearby. He picked it up, eyes gleaming.
If I throw this, he won't be able to fight back again.
He hurled it with everything he had.
Naruto saw it coming.
His instincts screamed at him to dodge—but he wasn't fast enough.
CRACK.
The stone slammed into his forehead, blood immediately gushing down his face. He stumbled, screamed, and collapsed to the ground, crying out in pain.
The world blurred. His vision spun. His head throbbed violently as warm blood trickled down his cheek.
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