After thoroughly tearing into those hypocritical villagers on the balcony, Naruto felt completely refreshed. He had found those miserable citizens unpleasant for a long time. They spent their entire lives throwing rocks and making trouble for a literal toddler, yet the absolute second he defended himself, they started wailing and weeping as if they were the true victims. Pathetic, textbook double standard!
On his casual stroll back to his apartment, the passing pedestrians practically threw themselves into the gutters to maintain a maximum distance from his path. Naruto couldn't be bothered to pay them any mind. As long as these worthless cowards didn't actively step up to provoke him, he was perfectly content to leave them to rot.
But as he navigated a familiar street corner, his gaze inadvertently locked onto a silhouette huddled alongside the road. His eyes instantly lit up.
Peeking out from behind a wooden telephone pole was a tiny girl with short, dark hair, clad in a snow-white kimono. Her distinctive, pale lavender eyes were staring straight at him, and her cheeks were completely flushed a deep, burning crimson. It was Hinata Hyuga.
Adopting that signature, arrogant swagger that explicitly broadcasted he didn't care if he had a single living relative on earth, Naruto marched right up to the telephone pole and grinned. "Hey, Hinata! What are you doing out here?"
Realizing she had been thoroughly spotted, Hinata reluctantly stepped out from her hiding spot, her small fingers twisting and knotting together in an agony of shyness. She looked down at her own feet, whispering, "N-Naruto-kun... long time no see!"
Naruto tilted his head. "Why are you wandering around all by yourself again? Did you manage to get lost a second time?"
"N-No... No! I... I wasn't... I was just... passing by! I..." Hinata stammered frantically, her hands flying up in a panic. As she desperately tried to formulate an excuse, the crimson flush on her face rapidly expanded until a visible plume of steam literally evaporated from the crown of her head. Turning on her heel, she bolted down the street at maximum speed!
Naruto stood entirely frozen on the sidewalk, looking thoroughly stupid.
In his entire existence, that was the absolute first time he had witnessed a human being's face physically overheat to the point of generating steam in reality. He had literally just offered a standard, friendly greeting—what on earth had caused her to violently malfunction like that?
Initially, he had reasoned that if the clumsy girl had gotten turned around again, he could comfortably escort her back to her clan compound. But now that she had sprinted away, he was caught in a deep dilemma. If he chose to shadow her path to ensure she didn't encounter any real danger, would her family mistake him for some creeping, perverted freak? But if he simply left her to navigate the streets alone in that disoriented state, what if another pack of lowlife bullies cornered her?
Just as he was caught in his internal debate, a furious, high-pitched roar shattered the silence from a nearby alleyway.
"You detestable, arrogant bastard! How dare you bully Lady Hinata right in front of my face! Taste the absolute justice of my Gentle Fist!"
Naruto snapped his head around just in time to see a young, long-haired boy wearing a traditional Hyuga kimono leaping through the air, his palm thrusting directly toward Naruto's chest.
To Naruto's trained eyes, the incoming strike moved with the agonizing velocity of a literal snail, possessing the kinetic force of a wet cotton ball. Naruto truly didn't know what official name this specific clan style carried, so he privately decided to classify it in his mental database as the "Looks Mildly Imposing But Inflicts Zero Damage" Palm Technique.
Staring at the boy's distinctive white eyes and the pristine white bandages wrapped tightly around his forehead, Naruto instantly deduced his identity. This could only be the young prodigy of the branch house, Neji Hyuga. Judging by those heavy bandages, it appeared the clan higher-ups had already forcefully branded his skull with the tragic, restrictive curse of the Caged Bird Seal.
With a fluid, effortlessly casual shift of his weight, Naruto stepped cleanly outside the trajectory of the palm strike. He tapped his chin, utilizing his baseline analytical skills to assess the toddler's combat capability.
To be completely fair, young Neji's physical form and martial arts stance were remarkably polished for his age, his strikes tracking along standard, highly textbook trajectories. The glaring, fatal fly in the ointment was his abysmal chakra reserve. The boy's internal spiritual energy resembled a pathetic, flickering candle flame; if he pushed his physical frame with even a fraction of real intensity, he risked extinguishing his own stamina entirely. How could a punch packed with that little density hope to inflict a single ounce of harm upon a Saiyan?
Then again, the kid was only four years old. Possessing a structured martial art form at that age was more than enough to thoroughly dominate any normal peer. That's right—he was the absolute, undisputed king of the local kindergarten!
Neji unleashed a frantic barrage of over a dozen consecutive Gentle Fist strikes, his palms blurring through the air, but Naruto casually read the trajectory of every single movement, tilting his torso a fraction of an inch to let the attacks pass harmlessly through empty space. While the assault failed to register a single point of damage against Naruto, the sheer physical exertion left the young Hyuga thoroughly exhausted.
As Neji bent double, clutching his knees as he panted heavily for air, Naruto calmly strolled up behind him. He extended a hand, gently patting the boy's back to offer some comforting, paternal advice. "Take it easy, kid. Swing slower next time. There's absolutely no rush."
Neji's eyes nearly popped out of his skull with pure, unadulterated fury. It was humiliating enough that his vaunted clan taijutsu hadn't managed to graze a single thread of this brat's clothing, but the fact that the toddler was standing over him delivering smug, condescending feedback made his liver physically ache with rage!
Before the conflict could escalate, Hinata—having successfully "cooled down" her burning face—came sprinting back into the clearing. "Brother Neji! Naruto-kun! Please, stop fighting this instant!"
Panting for breath, Hinata frantically stepped between them, rapidly introducing Naruto to her cousin. The moment Neji processed the fact that this blonde kid was the exact same stranger who had brutally dismantled the bullies to protect Hinata days prior, his aggressive posture evaporated. He pulled his hands back into his sleeves, casting a sharp, analytical glance over Naruto.
After a brief moment of internal calculation, Neji bowed his head with rigid, aristocratic formality. "I extend my deepest, most sincere apologies. I completely misunderstood the situation just now."
Naruto stared down at the bowing prodigy, tapping his chin thoughtfully. If he simply waved off the assault and forgave the boy with zero consequences, wouldn't that make him look incredibly hypocritical? The neighborhood children who had gathered stones to throw at him had been systematically beaten into hospital beds. Now, Neji had actively launched a direct, high-intensity martial arts assault against his person; if Naruto let him walk free with a simple verbal apology, it would be a massive insult to the broken families currently recovering in the medical wards!
But then, a cynical smile touched Naruto's lips. Why on earth should I care about the life or death of those civilian bastards anyway?
Neji's attack stemmed from a pure, protective misunderstanding regarding his clan heiress. Those toxic neighborhood brats, on the other hand, were unprovoked, systemic bullies who would have happily tormented any defenseless target even if they hadn't crossed paths with him. Hinata's initial tears were absolute proof of their depravity. There was no comparison.
As Naruto stood frozen in place, his head lowered as he tapped his chin in a silent, brooding daze, Neji shifted uncomfortably. He leaned toward Hinata, whispering under his breath, "What exactly is wrong with your friend? Why is he standing there staring at the dirt like a complete idiot?"
Hinata's cheeks instantly flared a bright, delicate shade of pink. She wrung her hands, murmuring softly, "U-Um... perhaps he is simply contemplating some incredibly deep, profound thoughts!" She peeked up at Naruto through her eyelashes, her small heart fluttering. Even when he's completely spaced out, he looks so cool!
Naruto had absolutely no interest in holding a petty grudge against a four-year-old child. Shaking off his thoughts, he joined the Hyuga siblings, casually strolling alongside them through the central avenues of the town. After a brief internal debate, he bit the bullet, guiding them into a nearby diner and magnanimously offering to treat the brother and sister to a full meal. Once they had finished eating, he formally escorted them all the way back to the heavy iron gates of the grand Hyuga Compound.
Waving a polite goodbye, Naruto watched as the two kids safely vanished behind the high walls of the estate. The moment the gates clicked shut, he pulled his small frog wallet from his pocket, peeked inside at the desolate void within, and let out a long, thoroughly defeated sigh.
Men, Naruto thought grimly. Are truly a species hardwired for biological self-destruction.
Look at the structural parameters of that dinner party. One guest was the supreme heiress of the most powerful noble clan in the entire Land of Fire, and the other was a prominent member of their elite branch house backed by a Kage-tier Jonin father. Meanwhile, he was a completely destitute Konoha orphan living entirely off a stingy, hand-to-mouth government welfare check—yet his adult pride had forced him to forcefully bite the bullet and pay the entire bill for these two multi-millionaire toddlers. The sheer financial damage to his monthly budget was absolutely catastrophic!
However, possessing the soul of a mature adult, he simply couldn't bring himself to let two elementary schoolers pull out their allowance to cover his meal. It would have felt entirely pathetic.
As he turned a quiet corner into a narrow, shadowed alleyway on his trek back home, Naruto abruptly paused. He tilted his head slightly, his slitted eyes locking onto a pitch-black alcove nestled between two brick buildings.
Deep within the darkness, a pair of pale lavender, veins-rimmed eyes flashed with a chilling, predatory brilliance. It was the cloaked Branch House ninja assigned to shadow the heiress from the shadows. The operative was staring down at Naruto with an icy, razor-sharp gaze dripping with unadulterated suspicion.
The two locked eyes in a brief, silent contest of wills before the hidden bodyguard executed a sharp hand sign, vanishing into thin air with a sharp swoosh.
Looking at the empty space where the ninja had been perched, Naruto couldn't help but curl his lip in a deep, mocking sneer.
What a joke, he thought. The last time Hinata had been cornered and physically assaulted by neighborhood thugs, it was entirely because this incompetent fool had botched his surveillance perimeter and allowed her to wander off. Instead of utilizing his brain to improve his operational security and business capabilities, this pathetic bodyguard spent his entire afternoon stalking Naruto, casting murderous glares as if Naruto were some creeping thief. He truly didn't know how to recognize genuine, good-hearted assistance.
And what exactly gave that cloaked fool the right to walk around acting so incredibly arrogant? At the end of the day, wasn't he just an expendable, minimum-wage bodyguard?
Did that idiot honestly believe I don't possess a security detail of my own? Naruto mused, a cynical smirk touching his lips. I literally have multiple elite government agents actively tracking my footsteps right now.
He shifted his gaze upward, locking his eyes directly onto a massive, leafy oak tree situated on the left side of the block. Hidden seamlessly amidst the dense foliage, completely cloaked by advanced stealth parameters, were four elite Anbu operatives.
Crouched on a thick branch, Kakashi Hatake felt a cold jolt of genuine surprise ripple beneath his porcelain fox mask. The boy... actually mapped our exact coordinates? His spatial awareness and sensory perception are entirely anomalous. This teacher's son is far from simple.
Naruto didn't care enough to grant them a second look. Retracting his gaze, he turned around and continued his trek back toward the commercial district. He still needed to navigate the local market to restock his kitchen. The inventory inside his refrigerator had been completely depleted by his massive Saiyan appetite; he needed to gather enough raw ingredients to ensure he wouldn't have to constantly venture outside, reducing the risk of encountering more toxic civilians and making himself uncomfortable.
Sigh... if only Kakashi and those four lazy Anbu parasites could useful for once and handle my grocery shopping for me, he grumbled internally.
Following a night of absolute, uninterrupted silence, Naruto woke up early the next morning, stretched his limbs, and prepared to start his day. But before he could even step out of his bedroom, he realized he wasn't alone.
Standing right in the center of his dark living room, completely unannounced, was the familiar white-haired Anbu operative. Kakashi Hatake had materialised inside the apartment like a literal, soundless ghost, exactly mirroring the scene from the afternoon prior.
Naruto blinked, his slitted eyes slowly tracking from the closed front door to the tightly locked, latched windows. Every single point of entry in the apartment was completely sealed from the inside. How on earth had this guy managed to breach the perimeter without triggering a single acoustic vibration?
Naruto recalled his past-life knowledge concerning the Body Flicker Technique. In the official lore, it was classified as a high-speed physical movement modifier, not a literal space-time manipulation art like the Flying Thunder God. Could this silver-haired freak be executing some pathetic, try-hard routine? Like secretly picking my lock while I'm asleep, crawling under a table in the corner, and waiting for the exact microsecond I open my eyes to jump out and act cool?
As Naruto stood there assessing him with a look of profound, unvocalized judgement, Kakashi adjusted his porcelain fox mask, his voice echoing with absolute, detached military authority. "Lord Hokage has issued an executive directive. You are to come with me immediately."
Naruto didn't pack a single ounce of urgency into his movements. He casually walked over to the kitchen counter, pointed a tiny finger toward a carton of milk and a loaf of fresh bread sitting on the wooden table, and replied smoothly, "Stand in the corner and wait. I'm not taking a single step until I finish my breakfast."
Kakashi stood rigidly in the shadows, his lone exposed eye narrowing slightly behind the mask before he offered a concise, mechanical response. "Affirmative. You have five minutes."
Naruto picked up the bread and began to eat, his mind racing with every bite. What on earth is that old fossil Sarutobi plotting this time?
Could it be that another angry mob of hypocritical civilians had swarmed the Hokage Building, screaming for his head? Are these toxic parasites entirely endless? Can't they just mind their own business and live their own pathetic lives? If they truly insisted on constantly looking for trouble, what exactly did they hope to accomplish against a Saiyan?
It didn't take long for Naruto to finish his breakfast. He thoroughly washed his hands, adjusted his clothes, and followed Kakashi out of the apartment.
Kakashi moved swiftly ahead while Naruto followed closely at his heels. Neither of them uttered a single word, leaving a heavy, awkward silence hanging over their path. Before long, however, Naruto's spatial awareness picked up on a severe anomaly in their trajectory.
He narrowed his slitted eyes, stopping on a rooftop to question the silver-haired operative. "This isn't the administrative route to the Hokage Building. This direction leads straight toward the perimeter gates. Where exactly are you taking me?"
Kakashi didn't even slow his pace, offering the exact same indifferent, perfunctory response as the day before: "You'll find out the absolute second we arrive at the designated location."
Naruto scowled, realizing the parameters of this situation were far from simple.
Instead of turning back, the two breached the outer wall of Konoha, plunging deep into the massive, dense forestry that encircled the hidden village. The area was entirely isolated from the civilian populace. The ancient, towering trees were so suffocatingly thick that looking upward only granted a few jagged, faint pinpricks of sunlight filtering through the canopy.
Eventually, Kakashi came to a halt before a colossal, weathered oak. He extended a gloved hand, pressing a highly obscured, precise coordinate against the rough bark.
Click!
With a heavy, mechanical hum, a vertical slab of the stout trunk unlatched and swung outward like a refrigerator door, exposing a hidden, hollowed-out interior that housed a stone spiral staircase meandering deep into the subterranean darkness below.
Naruto's brow furrowed. A highly classified underground bunker? Is this the central hub for the Anbu black ops? Did the Third Hokage honestly intend to forcefully draft a three-year-old child directly into the village's active assassination squads?
Kakashi stepped aside, gesturing toward the yawning chasm. "Descend the stairs. The individual orchestrating this directive is waiting for you at the bottom."
Naruto tilted his head, his tone dripping with skepticism. "Aren't you coming down with me?"
"I have alternative mission profiles to execute," Kakashi replied, his voice completely hollow of emotion. "Once you reach the lower threshold, you will naturally interface with the person seeking your presence."
Naruto stood at the lip of the passage for a brief moment of internal calculation. Then, a slow, predatory smirk touched the corners of his mouth. What do I possibly have to fear? I am a Super Saiyan.
If these hidden factions tried to pull any underhanded tricks on him, it would be an excellent excuse to drop all restraint, unleash a full-scale physical rampage, and teach the entire Leaf Village the true meaning of absolute terror under a Saiyan's heel. Without a shred of hesitation, he stepped onto the stone stairs and descended into the abyss.
Behind him, Kakashi executed a manual release, sealing the trunk back into its flawless, natural disguise. He stood frozen before the tree, staring blankly at the bark as a suffocating wave of old trauma washed over his chest.
He despised this place. More importantly, he utterly loathed the monstrous individual ruling the darkness below.
Danzo Shimura. It was this specific, venomous old vulture who had historically manufactured and leaked the malicious rumors that systematically destroyed his father's reputation, ultimately driving the legendary White Fang to commit suicide in their own home.
During his childhood, Kakashi had deeply resented his father. He had blindly adopted the cold, rigid ideology of the state, genuinely believing his father was a broken, incompetent waste who had jeopardized a critical military operation just to protect a few replaceable companions. He had carried that burning shame for years—until he fought alongside Obito Uchiha, who shattered his worldview and proved through his own tragic sacrifice what it truly meant to be a shinobi.
Years later, Kakashi had bounced back and forth between the regular Anbu and the dark sectors of the Foundation. Through those repetitive operational jumps, he had utilized his clearance to launch a covert, highly personal investigation into the tragedies of the past.
Every shred of classified evidence he uncovered pointed directly to a single culprit: Danzo Shimura had deliberately framed the White Fang, single-handedly orchestrating the psychological execution of his father. This old man was the direct architect of all his life's agony.
Kakashi's gloved fists clenched so violently that his knuckles turned stark white under his sleeves. A storm of murderous rage flared within his chest—but he was a broken tool of the state. He forced his fingers to unravel, taking a slow, ragged breath to bury his emotions back into the dark.
Even if he possessed the absolute truth, what could an ordinary Anbu captain possibly achieve? Step down into that vault and launch a suicidal assassination attempt against a supreme elder of the village? His physical power and political standing were completely microscopic compared to Danzo's authority.
Shaking his head, he forced the intrusive thoughts out of his mind, completely locking away his grievances.
As for Naruto... Kakashi could only silently hope the boy possessed enough luck to survive what was coming. If the kid was exceptionally fortunate, he might eventually manage to maintain a shred of his sanity and return to the surface as an active agent, much like himself or Yamato. If his luck ran out, his cognitive identity would be systematically erased by the Foundation's psychological conditioning, rendering him a hollow, mindless walking corpse for the rest of his functional life.
Kakashi cast one final, bleak glance up at the thick canopy entirely obscuring the blue sky. This was the absolute, unvarnished reality of a shinobi's existence. Turning his back on the tree, he vanished into the shadows of the forest.