Time took off at a gallop again, and I didn't even notice another year go by. Now I was two years and… almost nine months old. The days flew by just as fast, but they were also getting more monotonous, which slowly started to put me in a bit of a funk.
Right now I was sitting in my room, waiting for Hiruzen. He'd dropped by a few times over this period; we'd talk a little, and that was it. To my disappointment, the amusing old geezer had quickly developed an immunity to my behavior. Making his brain freeze from pure absurdity was getting harder and harder. Today, though, he was supposed to tell me something important, or so he said.
In the time that had passed, I'd made a bit of progress in controlling my energies, but not much more than that. Training was getting more and more monotonous and, it seemed to me, way too limited. With each passing day, that unpleasant feeling of falling behind kept growing.
Ever since birth, I'd been sneaky whenever I used my energies. Even I don't really know why; I just had this gut feeling that not hiding it would be dangerous. It seemed like it'd be extremely weird if someone found an infant practicing techniques. My imagination would then happily draw pictures of me being hauled off to some dark basement, where a bunch of blond-haired "mind‑scramblers" would install a whole stack of mental backdoors for loyalty to every boss in the Leaf. As far as I remembered, Konoha had the Yamanaka clan, specialists in mental techniques. I also remembered a lot of stories and write‑ups about them where the Yamanaka were portrayed as the guard dogs of the "evil" advisors and the Hokage, brainwashing absolutely everyone in Konoha into loyalty.
Back then, right after I was born, a whole mess of images about this world got jumbled together in my head, and it wasn't clear which one was actually true.
Of course, I didn't remember ever actually being in any basements. There were only paranoid thoughts that if I showed myself to be even a little "off," that's where I'd end up. But now all those assumptions were collapsing like a house of cards. The local caretakers did, of course, read us fairy tales about various heroes who sacrificed their lives for their country/village or whatever. But that, as far as I was concerned, was within the usual bounds of building people's moral compass, not aggressive propaganda. No one ever told us straight up, "You must die for the Leaf!" And they didn't treat us—the little kids—badly either. They weren't training fighters from birth. Technically, instilling any principles is propaganda. But when it's aimed at kids my age, it's called "upbringing." It just helps you function in society.
And that was not the picture all the stuff I'd read had taught me to expect… Hiruzen himself didn't seem like some villain at all. Judging by how he reacted to my various suggestions for shady schemes, he was damn near a saint. Or an insanely good actor—which I doubted.
So yeah, what I'm getting at is that maybe I don't really need to hide anymore. Or more like, considering how much my progress has slowed, I almost can't afford to. The Akatsuki… Every day brings me closer to meeting them. And as long as I'm not strong enough to stand up to them, there's this constant little drip of anxiety in the back of my mind that never goes away.
What's much worse… I watched Boruto. Or rather, I know about the threat of the Otsutsuki clan. Aliens who might end up stronger than the strongest shinobi in history. Thoughts about them even keep me from sleeping sometimes. But to deal with all of that…
Let's say I reveal some of my chakra‑control tricks to Hiruzen. By his own words, I'm already old enough for some Serious Talk or whatever, which means they're unlikely to find anything too suspicious in what I know. And since Hiruzen is my guardian, then after I show him, maybe—guided by the simple "don't waste talent" principle—he'll get me some teachers, most likely give me access to some kind of training ground, and I'll be able to develop properly. I'm guessing it'll be many times faster than now. So I figure this upcoming conversation is a good chance to steer things that way.
Hiruzen and I were walking through the streets of Konoha. It was the first time I'd ever left the hospital‑slash‑daycare they kept me in.
The village's main landmark was the massive cliff with the four Hokage faces carved into it. Although, from the books I'd read, I knew that obviously wasn't the only thing here. The village, as far as I knew, was pretty big. The population was definitely over a hundred thousand if you counted civilians.
Most people here seemed to go for dark tops—black, blue, that sort of thing—and usually green‑ish bottoms. Well, at least that applied to shinobi—the guys wearing the metal forehead protector with the village symbol. A lot of them also had this habit of wrapping their lower legs in bandages, which seemed weird and uncomfortable to me. My pants, for example, had an elastic band at the bottom, so I didn't have to keep wrapping fabric around my legs all the time.
My own outfit didn't stand out at all—just a simple, comfortable black jumpsuit.
We were walking down a medium‑wide street where ten people could easily pass side by side. The buildings here were packed in tight. There were a lot of them—some pretty low, others towering more than ten stories above the street. Sometimes you could see bridges connecting buildings right over our heads. Huge signs with kanji or pictures trying to lure in customers were everywhere. The buildings themselves often looked clunky, archaic, like they'd been put up by architects from different schools who, at those same schools, clearly never got more than a C at best. Looking at the roofs of some houses or their plumbing really made me want to spit out a couple of unprintable words.
On the other hand, maybe I was being too harsh. This world had gone down a different development path. The tech here was similar, but not the same. The streets were pretty clean, it didn't stink. And that alone was a huge plus.
"Impressive?" the Hokage asked as we walked, watching me out of the corner of his eye as I twisted my head around, taking everything in.
"Not quite what I was expecting," I answered honestly, still walking. "I saw some of the landmarks in textbooks. They looked more… organic. But here… Architecture as a field isn't really popular around here, huh?"
Over time and with a lot of practice, my speech had lost its childish mistakes. And after talking with Hiruzen for so long, I'd stopped getting nervous around him and had become much more open.
"The people who built this often had no formal education. Many buildings are only still standing because they were reinforced with shinobi techniques…" the old man explained lazily, starting to look around with a hint of nostalgia. "This place reminds me of my childhood. I remember how every year I walked through here, it changed. It's only in the last twenty years that they've stopped putting up new buildings."
"Interesting…"
We kept walking wherever it was we were heading. Once I'd finished inspecting the buildings, my gaze switched to the passersby. A lot of them kept throwing glances at Hiruzen and me, often bowing to him and stepping aside to let us pass. The old man was clearly respected.
What was kind of strange was that I didn't feel any of those "hateful" glares aimed at me. A few people did widen their eyes when they looked specifically at me, but almost immediately, once they noticed the Hokage, they either gave him another little bow or just turned away.
"This is one of the better spots. Naruto, want some ramen? My treat." We suddenly stopped in front of what looked like a tiny open‑fronted eatery. Kind of like a garage, only instead of a roll‑up door there were fabric flaps with "Ramen" written on them, and inside you could see a counter with stools.
"I've never tried it. I'd be grateful."
We went inside and were greeted by a man with a somewhat gaunt face, wearing a white chef's hat and an apron. That was the cook. He greeted Hiruzen respectfully and asked what we'd be having.
They helped me climb up onto a stool, and I picked a standard beef ramen. This was that ramen shop—the one the original Naruto used to eat at all the time. I recognized it by the cook—Teuchi. It was a legendary place in its own way, and I didn't want to ruin my first impression with something weird. The Hokage, for his part, ordered ramen with some kind of seaweed and sardine fish balls. To my past‑life palate that had been spoiled by European cuisine, his food had to taste… strange. But hey, to each their own.
"What I want to tell you is very important, Naruto."
Sluuuurp—I noisily sucked the noodles into my mouth and then nodded with great seriousness.
"Ahem… Your nindo. Have they told you about it?"
Gulp.
"Yeah. The ninja way."
"It's a ninja's way of life, their motto, their convictions or… their dream," he began, ticking them off. "Nindo can be anything. Even something society doesn't really accept. Every shinobi has their own nindo."
"M‑hm…"
"It doesn't have to be something rigid. Shinobi often follow two or more nindo. Different shinobi can also follow the same nindo. Right now I want to tell you about the nindo that almost all of Konoha's shinobi follow: the Will of Fire."
"Oh, I've heard of that," I nodded. "We have to choose what we're going to fight for. Set a goal in front of us and move toward it."
"That's right, but not the whole picture," Hiruzen smiled at my answer and went on. "It's the Will of Fire that gives Leaf shinobi the strength to fight no matter the circumstances. It strengthens their will, their character. But it's also a symbol of how the dreams and hopes of the previous generations are passed on to the next ones. That's how the Will of Fire lives on through the ages."
"The caretakers said it goes back to when ninja first appeared. Is that true?" I remembered again what I'd heard in the hospital. I didn't recall that kind of detail from the anime, but I was curious.
"In truth, no one knows for sure. As for the Will of Fire… you were right about the goal," the old man confirmed with another smile, then continued, sounding more and more inspired. "But it would be more accurate to say it can be anything. You can choose a person or people you want to protect. For example, I protect the civilians who can't defend themselves. That's my 'king' in shogi. That's where my Will of Fire lies."
Here they had the local version of chess—shogi. That game also had a king piece you had to protect, or the game was over.
Once he finished his speech, he looked at me expectantly, clearly waiting for something.
"Uh… wow?" It didn't really hit me.
Hiruzen's shoulders slumped.
"The First Hokage once told me this. And I was deeply impressed back then…" Sighing, the old man finally dug into his food, popping a fish ball into his mouth.
"Don't be upset, Lord Hokage," I patted his hand, since I couldn't reach his shoulder. "Everyone feels things differently. Don't blame yourself. I think nindo is important, sure, just… in its own way for everyone."
"It's the foundation of life…" the words slipped out of him, strained. "The thing thousands live for. But you're probably right, Naruto."
We ate in silence for about half a minute, until the old man, having gotten over his bout of sadness a bit, perked up—just enough to ask me a question:
"Naruto, have you chosen your nindo yet?"
I thought about it. Grind so I don't die? A temporary one, I guess I already had. Why not share it, after tweaking and adding a bit?
"Not my main one… more like a draft. It's similar to the Will of Fire. But different. Sadly, there's no one and nothing for me to protect except myself." I stirred the ramen with my chopsticks, then turned to Hiruzen. "You can protect yourself better than I ever could, hah. Me, I… want to protect myself and whatever becomes important to me. Maybe friends… maybe someday… a family. And also protect what I build with my own hands. Maybe some kind of organization, a company, whatever. And for that, I need strength…"
"You can only be truly strong when you're protecting something precious. But, you know…" A glint of wisdom flashed in the old man's eyes. "Don't put that off. I've seen plenty of shinobi who put their lives on hold. They thought they weren't worthy yet of getting now what they'd supposedly have in the future… like they'd only start really living later. But it was only their minds that lived in dreams of the future, while their bodies suffered in reality."
"Maybe…"
I mulled over his words. And yeah, I really didn't have anyone close. Over all this time, only Hiruzen could even sort of be called that. And even then, with reservations—since I wasn't completely honest with him. But the future… right now, I really did need time before I could start living more fully—more carefree. It was hard… the threat would always be hanging over me. And it felt like only once I became much stronger would I be able to convince myself to focus on something else. For now, I changed the subject:
"I've heard a lot of tales about heroes who sacrificed themselves for their goal. And… I don't like that. Why didn't they save themselves first? They could've just started over."
"Oh… Naruto, we're not immortal. Sometimes what needs to be protected is so big that one lifetime isn't enough to rebuild it. Konoha… we live like one big family. We, shinobi, protect that family. But if Konoha falls, neither I nor anyone else will be able to restore it."
"Hm… when you say Konoha, you mean its people?"
"Correct. Hashirama united us, then passed his will to his brother Tobirama. He, in turn, passed his will to me. And I… to the Fourth, who's now gone. It was a tragedy that such a young Kage sacrificed himself. But we can see it wasn't for nothing. Konoha will keep standing, just like he wanted."
"That really does make sense… as long as the one doing the protecting is mortal. Hm‑m. So, to make any goal more meaningful, you need to become immortal. That way you'll always be with what you live for. I think I'll make immortality one of my side goals. As for my main one, I'll decide on that later."
Hiruzen's eyebrows twitched, and his eyes clouded over with memories.
"Naruto… There's something else I have to tell you: smashing straight toward your goal isn't always the right way. We don't live alone. Don't let yourself go blind… don't walk over the heads of those who once called you a comrade. Every life is precious, don't forget that."
…
Silence hung between us. I remembered the rumors that had recently raced through the hospital, about some Orochimaru becoming a missing‑nin. As I recalled, he'd been Hiruzen's student… And now I'd accidentally pressed on a sore spot. Orochimaru, if I remembered right, craved immortality, and he really had been willing to use any methods to get it. That was exactly what the Hokage had just warned me about. Hence the slightly abrupt change of subject.
Awkward.
"I assure you, I remember," I began slowly, picking my words. The phrase "every life is precious" honestly rubbed me the wrong way, but I didn't manage to put it nicely into words. "The value of another's life… it's a complicated thing. On the one hand, yeah, everyone's important. On the other, there are people who have to be killed. Because they threaten those who are dear. Did you kill Konoha's enemies, Lord Hokage?"
You'd think that if I stood up and took a stroll, you'd hear my steel balls clanking down the street. I mean, asking a Kage such a loaded question. But Hiruzen was the sort of person you could actually ask stuff like that. He really did value the people around him and treated them with understanding. Especially those close to him—and I was almost sure I was in that group on his side too.
At my question, Hiruzen was startled at first. Then a kind of sadness and weariness slipped into his posture. His eyes lowered and froze over his bowl of ramen.
"I… it was unavoidable. That's part of what it means to be a ninja—to do what's necessary to protect the village. Every death leaves a mark. On the soul. On the conscience. Even if it's an enemy's death. I have regrets…"
"You said not to live in the future. But I can see how the past still drags behind you. Even if it's deep inside… I don't get how you can regret those who wanted to cause harm. I think that when a person goes after someone else's life, in that moment they lose the value of their own. At least in the eyes of the person they're trying to kill. Our goal is to try to live in a way that there are as few such cases as possible. You can't always negotiate… but often you can."
"Hm," the old man grunted after a few seconds, then added thoughtfully, "those are very grown‑up words for someone so young."
"Maybe," I shrugged.
"How do you plan to avoid situations where you have to kill someone?" There was a flicker of interest in his eyes.
"The simplest way is to show you're willing to talk. Think about what compromises you can offer."
"Ahh… Naruto, that doesn't always work. A compromise is when both sides give something up. But some people… just don't want to give anything."
"Because they don't see an equal?"
"That's one possibility."
There—nice opening for my plan…
"Then you also need strength. At the very least, not much weaker. But ideally—overwhelmingly stronger!" I grinned and reached for my ramen again.
Hiruzen, meanwhile, fell into thought. It looked like he was finally starting to move on from the heavy topic I'd dumped on him… It was good that he was a pretty positive guy and could get his good mood back quickly. I approved of that, and I tried to be the same way myself.
"Power, even in good but unskilled hands, can cause harm."
"And speaking of that… we were talking about the way of the ninja. And I want to become one. Will you help me with that, Lord Hokage?"
"Oh…" He peered at me thoughtfully, then turned away again and straightened up. "To be honest, I wanted to give you more time for a childhood. But you've grown up so fast…"
"Hah, so I was basically supposed to become a ninja?"
"Um, you see… I can't tell you why yet, but most likely, yes."
"Going to put up an illusion barrier? Feels like this conversation is getting private."
"You know about genjutsu?"
Hiruzen formed a series of a couple dozen hand seals, and the air around us seemed to ripple for a moment.
"I put up a barrier that messes with what people see and blocks sound. It's ninjutsu. This way, no one can eavesdrop or read our lips. Have you been studying this topic in detail, Naruto?" His curiosity grew. Hiruzen was the shinobi they called "The Professor" because he knew all of Konoha's techniques. So, yeah, the subject of those techniques interested him.
"As much as I could. And not without some success." Two threads shot out from my fingers, hooked onto my chopsticks, and lifted them.
"W‑what?" He stared at me, wide‑eyed.
I tried to grab some noodles with the chopsticks, but the chakra thread trembled and jerked, and the wooden stick snapped against the bowl with a crack.
"Ahem… So yeah. I haven't actually learned all that much on my own. And I feel like I can do a lot more." I must've gotten nervous… Normally my control was way more precise.
"That is… impressive," Hiruzen shifted his gaze to the broken chopstick.
"So will you take me on and train me yourself?"
He thought again, this time for about ten seconds, then just shook his head no, a hint of disappointment in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Naruto. I don't have very much free time," he went on right away, not even giving me a chance to at least ask him for a reading list. "But that doesn't mean I won't deal with this! Of course I'll assign a few teachers to you. They'll pass on the basics, and then we'll see which directions interest you."
"…Thank you, Lord Hiruzen," I really was grateful. "That's very important to me."
"Oh, come on, Naruto. I'm your guardian, after all. How could I just leave you on your own?"
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