The following month passed in a blur of exhaustion and sweat.
At the Third Hokage's request, Kakashi wasted no time tightening the reins on Team 7. Any trace of leniency vanished after their first week together. From dawn until nightfall, their days were packed so tightly that Naruto often collapsed onto his bed at night without even remembering when he'd last eaten.
Mornings were reserved for missions—mostly low-risk village work at first, but carried out with military punctuality. Afternoons and evenings belonged to training.
The foundation came first.
Tree climbing without hands.
Water walking without breaking the surface.
Again and again, Kakashi drilled chakra control into them until it stopped being something they thought about and became something they felt. Naruto's early struggles were obvious—his chakra was vast but unruly, like a river with no banks—but once the interference in his seal stabilized, the improvement came frighteningly fast.
From there, the training intensified.
Taijutsu sessions left their muscles screaming. Kakashi showed no mercy, correcting posture with sharp strikes and forcing them to repeat movements until their bodies learned, even when their minds failed. Hidden-weapon practice followed—hours spent throwing kunai and shuriken until blisters split open and accuracy replaced brute force.
Finally came sparring.
Not the kind where blows were pulled.
Kakashi made sure they learned quickly what it meant to fight an opponent who was stronger, faster, and more experienced. Losses were frequent. Bruises were constant. Complaints were ignored.
Yet results followed.
Sakura, despite still lacking offensive ninjutsu, developed rapidly in chakra control and battlefield awareness. She learned to read movement, to position herself where she could support rather than hinder. By the end of the month, she rarely panicked—even when faced with opponents far stronger than herself.
Sasuke advanced with cold efficiency. His fire techniques became sharper, faster to deploy, and more stable. His movements in taijutsu grew cleaner, more economical, shedding unnecessary flair in favor of killing intent. He trained with the quiet fury of someone chasing a goal only he could see.
Naruto, however, was the most dramatic case.
With his chakra no longer constantly overflowing beyond his control, everything changed. The same vast reserves that once worked against him now became an advantage he could finally use. His mastery of the Multiple Shadow Clone Technique stabilized to the point where he could summon dozens—then scores—without collapsing. His movements sharpened. His timing improved.
By the end of the month, even Kakashi stopped disguising his surprise.
Measured purely by combat capability, both Naruto and Sasuke were already operating at a level comparable to experienced Chunin.
Naruto's progress, in particular, was abnormal.
Without drawing on the Nine-Tails' chakra at all, he could still overwhelm opponents through sheer stamina and relentless pressure. His Uzumaki constitution carried him through training sessions that would have broken most genin in half.
And all of it had started with that Five Elements Seal.
The irony wasn't lost on anyone who understood fuinjutsu. What was meant to restrain had instead forced Naruto's chakra into balance, stripping away the instability that had plagued him since childhood. In losing access to borrowed power, he gained control over his own.
Beyond training, other changes unfolded quietly.
"Young A-Ming" exploded in popularity.
Within a single month of release, the first collected volume sold over a hundred thousand copies. The numbers shattered the long-standing sales record held by Make-Out Paradise, and the book quickly became the worst-kept secret in Konoha. Copies vanished from shelves as soon as they were stocked, and rumors spread faster than wildfire about the mysterious new author.
Naruto, of course, pretended to know nothing.
Under Lock's deliberate guidance, Naruto also repaired his strained relationship with Iruka. When Naruto finally explained—haltingly, awkwardly—that the cruel and frightening side people had seen wasn't truly him, Iruka didn't recoil.
Instead, he listened.
What he heard didn't disgust him. It broke his heart.
Iruka began treating Naruto less like a problem to be watched and more like a child who had endured too much far too early. He invited Naruto for meals, paid for ramen without complaint, and even helped clean Naruto's apartment when missions left the boy too exhausted to notice the mess.
It was the closest thing Naruto had ever known to a father's presence.
That renewed bond didn't go unnoticed by the Hokage.
Iruka received a promotion—and a quiet assignment on the side. He was asked to try to reach Lock, to soften him with ideals of the Will of Fire, to guide him away from his darker instincts.
The attempt failed.
Whenever Iruka came close, Lock withdrew. Conversations ended before they began. In response, Lock quietly accelerated plans he had already been turning over in his mind.
Plans required tools.
Tools required people.
And two names had already been marked.
Haku.
Zabuza Momochi.
The opportunity would come soon.
The Mission Hall buzzed with its usual low noise when Team 7 arrived.
At the counter, the Third Hokage scanned a mission report while smoke drifted lazily from his pipe.
"Team 7," he read aloud, "D-rank mission completed. Subject: Retrieval of the lost pet Tora."
Nearby, the Fire Daimyō's wife clutched a violently struggling cat, nuzzling it with tearful relief while ignoring its obvious distress.
Naruto stared, expression blank.
"Next mission," Hiruzen continued calmly, "assisting with childcare, procurement duties for a neighboring village, or agricultural support—"
"Dame!"
Naruto crossed his arms in front of his chest, voice echoing through the hall.
"No more missions like that!"
Hiruzen paused.
"We've been training for over a month," Naruto went on, jabbing a thumb toward himself. "Kakashi-sensei said we're already at Chunin level! Give us something that actually matters!"
Behind him, Sasuke nodded once. Sakura hesitated only a second before nodding as well.
The Hokage's gaze shifted to Kakashi.
"Well?" Hiruzen asked mildly.
Kakashi shrugged. "They've done their time. And they've improved enough to justify it."
Hiruzen smiled faintly.
"In that case," he said, "I'll assign you a C-rank escort mission."
He gestured toward the side room. "Come out. Your mission has been accepted."
The door creaked open.
An old man with a weathered face and a sake bottle in hand stumbled into view, squinting at Team 7.
"So someone finally took it," he muttered. Then his eyes narrowed. "What the hell? They're all brats."
His gaze locked onto Naruto.
"And that short blond one in the middle—he looks especially useless. You sure he's a ninja?"
Inside Naruto's mind, Lock's attention sharpened.
So it begins.
The man was Tazuna—the bridge builder from the Land of Waves. A liar by omission. A desperate man gambling with half-truths.
Naruto didn't react. Not a word, not a glare.
A month ago, he would have exploded.
Now, the insults slid off him like rain.
At the counter, Hiruzen finished the paperwork and handed it over.
"Escort mission. Client: Tazuna. Destination: Land of Waves."
Kakashi accepted it with a nod.
An hour later, Team 7 stood at Konoha's main gate, packs secured, weapons checked. Tazuna waited nearby, swigging from his bottle and eyeing them with open skepticism.
Kakashi raised a hand.
"We move out."
Naruto took his first step beyond the gates—and felt it.
Something shift.
Within him, Lock moved.
No grand announcement. No visible change. Just a quiet, decisive reordering—like pieces sliding into place on a board only he could see.
Power settled deeper, denser than before. Not borrowed. Not leaking. Controlled.
Lock's awareness expanded, refined, and sharpened.
This journey wasn't just a mission.
It was a turning point.
As Konoha's walls faded into the distance behind them, Team 7 stepped onto the road that would carry them toward blood, betrayal, and a battle that would reshape them all.
And somewhere within Naruto, Lock smiled.
The Land of Waves awaited.
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