Soon the ramen was cooked and surprisingly good.
We sat together, quietly eating. I told her I planned to use the spare time before class for fuinjutsu practice. To my surprise, she asked to join me. Naruko voluntarily choosing extra "schoolwork"?
…she probably just didn't want to be alone.
I unrolled the scroll Kinoe had given me and scanned its contents.
It detailed chakra containment seals—an indirect, but promising, solution to my current problem. Fuinjutsu wasn't just about ink drawn into intricate patterns that twisted reality. The ink was merely a medium. The real magic came from shaping chakra itself.
The key to embedding seals within other seals wasn't some secret technique—it was learning to store chakra inside a seal. That, however, demanded an absurd level of chakra control.
Far more than I currently possess.
I was still wrapping my head around that revelation when a cough broke my concentration. I looked over to find Naruto looking guiltily away from my open tool kit.
I sighed, already bracing for whatever chaos she'd wrought. I walked over—and promptly froze.
There, sprawled across one of my spare scrolls, was what had to be the most deranged, borderline criminal storage seal I'd ever seen.
Curious despite myself, I placed my empty bowl on the scroll and sent a pulse of chakra through it.
The bowl vanished.
Another pulse—and it popped back into existence, still warm.
It worked. Somehow.
But it shouldn't have.
The seal was a disaster—dozens of symbols had no known function, many contradicted each other, and yet they were… stabilizing? Enhancing? It made no logical sense. It was like a jazz band composed entirely of drummers somehow playing a symphony.
"How did you even come up with this?" I asked, baffled.
Naruko beamed. "It just made sense." she said, scratching her head awkwardly.
"This makes no sense. Literally."
"Maybe I'm just that great."
I squinted at the scroll. "Maybe… but I smell sorcery."
"Huh?"
"Kekkei genkai," I said. "You might have one."
Her eyes lit up. "Really?!"
"Possibly. I don't have a way to confirm it yet."
"What about that connection thing you did with Hinata? When we were training?"
I blinked. "That… might work."
"Then do it!"
And that was how I found myself sitting cross-legged beside her, threading a sliver of Yin chakra toward her consciousness, forming a bridge between minds.
I only remembered the complication of her passenger as the connection clicked into place.
— ❖ Scene Break ❖ —
The floor beneath my feet shimmered with condensation—water yet not. This wasn't a place of clear thoughts. It was impressions, sensations.
The solidity of this realm was more a result of what it contained than its container's mental health.
Naruko's mindscape was cold. Fragmented. Bleeding from wounds that had never scabbed, let alone healed.
I had known pain. But this? This was something else.
Loneliness, crushing in its isolation.
I walked across the fetid water, carefully threading between pipe-choked channels and unstable memories, not really knowing where I was going, until I reached it: the Gate.
Steel bars, as wide as trees and high as towers, jutted from the floor and ceiling. A lock sat at its center. A single tag fluttered across it. Light spilled over the cavern like a theater spotlight.
I stepped into it—and the world shifted.
Do you know what it is to hate something?
To truly hate it?
To endure centuries of torment, just to make that thing suffer in return?
To lose everything—and become nothing—but that hate?
And then—
To be the object of that hatred.
The chakra that assaulted me felt solid—tangible. It was a weight, a pressure pressing down on the soul.
The air shimmered. The water boiled.
A presence emerged.
The Nine-Tails.
Massive. Ancient. Terrifying. It filled the cavern like a living apocalypse. Blood-red eyes bore down on me, thick with contempt.
It hated me.
With the intensity of a thousand suns.
A hatred that burned across my senses like acid.
And all I could say was—
"Fascinating," I whispered, absolutely baffled at how a creature like this functioned. Was it purely metaphysical? It had to be to an extent. that didn't exclude the possibility of it possessing mundane traits.
My eyes scrutinised the great beast before me, the curiosity burning in my heart trumping the fear that raced through my veins.
"You're a bold one," it growled. Its voice was the rumble of the earth shifting beneath continents.
"Kyuubi-san," I greeted politely.
"You are not my jailer," it snapped. Prowling behind the bars of its prison. Tails swishing back and forth. The distance between us was massive, just as a result of its mountainous size, yet it heard me perfectly. I don't know if that was a result of the location of our meeting or just a facette of its power.
I wanted to know though, I wanted to know quite badly.
"That's obvious," I replied. Taking in the strangely human shape to his torso—he sounded male—and his…. Hands? He had hands?
"You come to gawk at the beast in the cage?" I blinked at his growled astonishment.
"No," I said. "I actually came here by mistake."
Its eyes narrowed. His gaze making it clear he was questioning my sanity.
I ignored that, I had questions.
"You hate me," I continued. "You seem to hate everything so That's not surprising. But I'm curious… who do you hate most?"
It glared. "What do you know of hate, boy?"
"Nothing. Not compared to you."
It rumbled in place, settling low, head in on his paws to look at me. I pressed on.
"Everyone says you're pure evil. But I find that hard to believe. Not from here. You don't feel evil." I said letting my chakra sense really process what the kyuubi felt like, it was painful but I soldiered through it "You feel… wounded."
It blinked, as if taken off guard, watching me even closer.
"…Madara Uchiha," it finally growled. "I have met many disgraceful creatures among your kind, all destructively hypocritical in their own fashion, yet none have ever surpassed the 'ghost'." his tone became mocking. "of the uchiha in his ability to delude himself."
He smiled then, not a kind one but a vicious and angry thing dripping with venom.
"All of you humans are trash but he… he was in a category by himself."
Madara.
I felt something twist in my gut. The hatred in that name… it was nuclear. Tectonic. It made all the malice he had putting out up until that point feel tame.
"You hate him more than your sealers?" I asked.
The silence was enough confirmation.
Something about that was off. If memory serves, lord hashirama imprisoned him so why not hate him more?
A suspicion formed, reinforced by my recent experiences with how powerful the uchiha bloodline was.
"Did the Sharingan… do something to you?"
A pregnant pause, then violent action.
The cavern trembled with a guttural, earth-shaking growl as the Kyūbi hurled itself against the bars of its prison. Massive claws raked through the gaps, swiping at me—too close. I stumbled back, heart hammering, just out of reach.
But it wasn't the strike that froze me.
It was the flicker in its eyes—an unspoken truth more eloquent than any words.
The Kyūbi loathed Madara with such searing intensity it seemed to warp the very air.
One moment, I'd been speaking with a cold, intelligent force. The next, that presence was gone—consumed by a beast of pure rage. The cunning malice had given way to raw, volcanic wrath.
The hate wasn't just fire. It was lava: molten, corrosive, and consuming.
I stood frozen, breath caught in my lungs, overwhelmed not only by the fury before me but by the sorrow that seethed beneath it. It was a vast, aching pain—bone-deep and soul-rotted. Desperation, distilled by centuries of imprisonment and betrayal, had long since curdled into a bottomless desire for vengeance.
It didn't just want to kill—it wanted the world to suffer. To hurt the way it hurt.
And against every instinct, every warning screaming in my head, my heart broke for it.
I reached out without thinking—my chakra brushing against its own, a silent offer to soothe, to understand.
But before my spirit could be crushed beneath the weight of that endless, festering agony, I was wrenched free—pulled from Naruko's mindscape like a drowning man from the depths.
My eyes snapped open. Sarutobi Hiruzen stood before me, his weathered face lined with worry, his hand still extended from where he'd broken the connection.
"Izuku-kun," he said, voice thick with both relief and grim resolve. "It seems we'll have to have this talk sooner than I'd hoped."
XXXXXXXXXA/N: Naruko moves in! Project raising queens advances!
Project Fuinjutsu computer progresses!
Izuku meets The Kyūbi!
….and is exposed to one of the great tragedies of the shinobi world….
What does the third want to talk about?! And what is he doing in Izuku's apartment?!
Will Izuku seek out the Kyūbi for more answers?!
Find out, NEXT TIME ON FOR THE LOVE OF KUNGFU!
Chapter 20: Teacher's and tempest.
Silence settled over my apartment.
I sat opposite Lord Third at the kotatsu, a contrite and visibly worried Naruko at my side. The Hokage puffed calmly on his pipe, digesting my recount of the lead up to my blunder—my reckless mind meld with the Kyūbi.
I felt awful. I'd scared Naruko by passing out on her, and worse, I'd made the same dumb mistake again. With hindsight, I could admit it: trying a mind-melding jutsu on a demon container was idiotic. Too bad that brilliant thought didn't occur to me before I tried it. Man… kid-brain was a real pain in the ass.
The silence broke with a weary sigh.
"Are you aware of your mistake, Izuku-kun?" Lord Third asked.
"Yes, Hokage-sama," I replied immediately.
"Then there's no need to belabor it. Try to be more level-headed in the future," he said, in the tired tone of a man who had trained too many students and raised too many children to believe that mistakes could be punished out of existence.
Children would be children. Shinobi children? Worse.
I cringed inwardly. It wasn't just the words—it was how true they felt.
"It's not his fault! I'm the one who asked him to use it!" Naruko blurted, eager to jump to my defense.
"Perhaps there's blame to share," the Hokage allowed, "but I won't be the one to divide it. No great harm was done. The guilt you both carry will be punishment enough."
Naruko and I bowed our heads in deference. A light tension hung in the room, which was promptly shattered by the Hokage's soft chuckle.
"Such irony." he mused aloud.
He caught our confused looks and explained with dry amusement, "Your shinobi guard was absent just long enough for mischief to take root."
"Can't even leave you alone for two minutes? Shame, Gremlin-kun. Shame."
I flinched at the sudden voice from behind me—Kakashi Hatake's signature lazy drawl.
Naruko's reaction was far more explosive.
"You!" she shouted, springing to her feet and pointing an accusing finger at the silver-haired ANBU.
"Me," Kakashi replied with a cheerful eye-smile.
"Where were you?!"
The question dampened his mood instantly.
"Personal matters," he said, voice thick and smile gone. The Third, however, now wore a subtle grin of his own, as if Kakashi's joy had migrated to his face.
Why did I get the feeling Kakashi really didn't enjoy those 'personal matters'?
The silence returned, but this time it felt... comfortable. Despite the presence of two people I barely knew, the atmosphere wasn't awkward. Instead, it was filled with a warmth I couldn't quite define.
A few seconds later, I realized what it was.
Comradery.
Of course, peace never lasts.
"Hokage-sama, forgive me, but… why are you here? Not that I begrudge the honor, but I would think your schedule leaves little time for personal visits."
"You're correct," he said. "But I am not the original—I'm a clone."
My eyes widened.
"You were able to extend the range of my jutsu by that much?"
"No," he corrected gently. "This is a different technique entirely—the Shadow Clone Jutsu. An invention of the Second Hokage. Unlike your mind meld clone, this one is completely autonomous."
I blinked, struggling to wrap my head around how a jutsu like that could even function. I could vaguely speculate on the metaphysics involved, but replicating something so complex using a medium as constrained as hand signs? How would that even work? I couldn't imagine any combination of the twelve basic signs we were taught producing that effect without resorting to literally thousands of sequential seals. I had to admit— the gap between me and the Second Hokage was probably wider than the gap between me and an ant. Still, hand signs had their limits.
Then I paused, struck by a sudden realization.
The hand signs I knew had limits.
I froze.
"There are more hand signs?" I whispered, breathless.
"Correct," the Third confirmed, his gaze locking onto mine. There was something in his eyes—emotions I couldn't name, feelings too old and layered for me to understand.
"Over my long life," he said, voice heavy with memory, "I've formed many bonds—bonds of brotherhood, of love, and fatherhood. But none quite like the bond between teacher and student. Mine were as dear to me as my sons."
He sighed deeply.
"I've lost my sons, save one. And most of my students have followed them. The only one who still serves the village lives trapped in fear of his own potential, seeking refuge in delusions and fantasy."
His shoulders slumped a bit, as if the weight of memory had finally found purchase.
"I've done my best to remain steadfast despite the trials of years past. But it has taken its toll. I no longer seek new bonds. Acceptable for a tired old man… but not for the Hokage."
He looked at me now, something gentle and grave in his expression.
"You are gifted, Izuku-kun—not just with intellect, but with heart. Your soul burns with the Will of Fire."
I blinked in confusion. Me? I wasn't exactly a poster child for patriotism.
He caught the disbelief in my face without me saying a word.
"You think the Will of Fire is patriotism? A blind allegiance to Konoha? No. The Will of Fire predates the village. Remember this: Konoha was created to serve the Will of Fire, not the other way around."
My breath caught as I began piecing it together.
"I haven't taken a student in over three decades," he said quietly. "I didn't think I would ever again."
I swallowed hard.
"But… I'm not a shinobi." I protested.
"You are not a member of the military, no. But that does not mean you are not a shinobi, Izuku-kun."
He gave a patient smile.
"Many clan members live as civilians, yet possess the heart of a shinobi. To be shinobi is not a uniform, nor a rank. It is to endure. Many academy graduates never reach that state. But you already have."
"Won't people talk if the Hokage trains someone outside the corps?" I asked.
"Let them," he said with a chuckle. "I shall take you as a student in my capacity as head of the Sarutobi clan. That makes it officially clan business. Let's see how they like the taste of their own medicine."
"...I don't know what to say." I realized then that I did know—I was just afraid. That familiar fear of a crossroad. A fear I'd carried from another life. A child's fear of the unknown.
But knowing it let me name it. And naming it meant I could face it.
"Yes or no will suffice," said the Hokage—my sensei.
The abyss of possibility yawned before me. And like any proper wizard, I leapt headfirst.
"Yes. Thank you for the honor, Hokage-sama."
I stood, bowing deeply in a dogeza. When I returned to my seat, I shared a smile with my new sensei.
"Congratulations, Izuku," Naruko said. Her joy was real—but her smile… a little brittle.
That's when it hit me: Naruko had known Lord Third far longer than I had. Their bond was deep, intimate. If anyone deserved to be his student, it was her.
I glanced at Hiruzen and saw that sad, knowing smile on his face.
"I would be honored to take you as my student, Naruko," he said gently, "but that privilege has already been reserved by others."
His voice was both sincere and firm.
"But do not worry. Every one of your future teachers is a shinobi of great renown. You will not be disappointed."
Naruko's eyes lit up. Her smile turned genuine.
"Really?! Who?!"
"You'll meet them after you graduate—and not a moment sooner."
"Aww, Jiji, that's forever from now!"
"Now that you can perform the Bunshin, you're guaranteed to graduate in eight months."
"Like I said. Forever." she pouted, before breaking into a grin when the Hokage chuckled.
"Wait… can I still learn Izuku's cool jutsu now that you're teaching him?"
"For now? Yes. Izuku-kun has yet to create any jutsu too dangerous for a loyal shinobi of Konoha. Though when he does," the Hokage added with a teasing smile, "they can only be shared with his spouse and children."
"His what now?" Naruko blinked.
"His wife."
"Oh." Her cheeks went pink.
A flustered Naruko was an adorable Naruko.
I turned to my sensei. Despite being a clone, there was weight to his presence, a realness in his mannerism. I wouldn't have ever guessed he wasn't the original.
I wanted to learn that technique. And I was his student now… so maybe…
"S-Sarutobi-sensei," I said, cursing the crack in my voice. I was never good at asking for things.
"Yes, Izuku-kun?" His smile widened—the happiest I'd seen him. He really liked being called sensei. I'll have to remember that.
"Will you be teaching me the Shadow Clone Jutsu?"
"No. Not for a while at the very least. Your reserves aren't high enough yet to cast it safely."
Well, that was disappointing—until I realized who did have enough chakra.
"What about Naruko?" I asked, gesturing at her.
She blinked, then caught on. "Yeah! What about me? I totally have the chakra!"
The Third took a long puff of his pipe—clone pipe?—and watched us with that thoughtful, calculating glint in his eyes.
Naruko and I gave him our best humble, hopeful expressions.
Finally, he sighed.
"Izuku-kun will no doubt continue experimenting with ninjutsu. And I've no doubt you'll assist him." I winced, but didn't deny it.
"Of course I will! I'm his friend."
"I imagine your tests would be much safer with a disposable guinea pig…Very well, Kakashi shall teach you."
Naruko let out a cheer, and I smiled despite myself.
"But only if you both promise to be more careful in the future."
"I promise, Sarutobi-sensei/Jiji." we said.
And I meant it and by the serious look on Naruko's face so did she.
Naruko leaned into my side, bright and eager.
"This is awesome! I'll help you make so many cool jutsu! I mean, I was worried when you passed out, yeah, but if it helps you figure out more cool stuff, then—"
Her smile faltered for a split second. I caught it—guilt flashing across her face.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't want to put you in danger. I just wanted to help."
I shook my head, placing a reassuring hand over hers. "No, Naruko. It's not your fault. I'm the one who didn't think it through. I was reckless. I used the jutsu."
"But I asked you to—"
"And I used it," I interrupted firmly. "If someone had to stand toe-to-toe with a mountain-sized, talking murder-fox, I'd pick me over you any day."
That drew the Third's attention. His brows rose slightly.
"Talking?" he asked, pipe lowering from his lips.
"Yes," I said without hesitation. "The Nine-Tails can talk. Wait… you didn't know?" I hadn't given an account of my time in Naruko's head. A part of me was trying to avoid it until I could think of a way to help her through all that negativity.
Hiruzen blinked once, slowly. "Oh, I knew it could speak. I'm just surprised… it spoke to you."
I nodded. "It wasn't mindless. It was angry, sure, and cruel—but it was capable of reason. And it was… in pain. A lot of it."
There was silence again, heavier this time. Then I asked the question.
"…Why was it sealed in the first place?"
The Third's expression turned grim, shadows lengthening across his face.
"Lord Hashirama sealed it," he said at last, "with the intention of creating peace."
I frowned. "How does sealing a creature like that bring peace?"
"By itself? Nothing," the Hokage said softly. "But Hashirama didn't just seal the Nine-Tails. He sealed all nine of the Tailed Beasts. Then he distributed them across the five great villages as a gesture of goodwill. A shared burden."
I stared at him, stunned. "There are eight others?"
Naruko's brows knitted together, confusion writ plain on her face.
"Wait," she said, "Old Man First thought he could make peace by handing out giant monsters like party favors?"
I couldn't help but agree with the sentiment.
The Third gave a short chuckle. "I understand your confusion. Even the greatest men make mistakes. And the greater their strength, the more devastating the consequences of those mistakes."
Naruko's next words came in a voice small and tight, vulnerability leaking into every syllable.
"…Are there eight others like me?"
I put my arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.
The Third's smile faded.
"Yes," he said. His voice was low, and his face looked carved from sorrow.
"…Are they treated better?"
He hesitated—and that hesitation said more than any words could.
When he finally answered, his tone was final.
"No. No, they are not."
Tears welled in the corners of Naruko's eyes, but she blinked them back, swallowed her grief, and straightened up.
Then, slowly, a fierce glint lit up in her eyes, and she smiled—a sharp, unshakable smile filled with fire.
"Well," she said, "I guess I'll just have to help them out when I take the hat."
Her conviction was so bright it stunned the room. The Hokage laughed—not out of mockery, but joy.
"I'm glad you've taken this as motivation, Naruko," he said warmly.
I didn't laugh.
I watched.
Because I'd seen what she'd just done—stuffing her grief into the dark, toxic mire that lingered at the back of her mind like sewer sludge. Before, I would've chalked it up to resilience. Now? Now I know better. I'd been in that mindscape. I knew exactly where that pain was going.
I would have to do something about that. But not today.
Today wasn't about fixing Naruko. It was about learning the truth.
The Third turned to me, his tone shifting.
"Izuku-kun, this jutsu you used on Naruko—can you explain its nature?"
I nodded. "It's based on a feature I developed while experimenting with the Clone Jutsu—the part that allows real-time communication with the clone. Your notes on clone cognition and separation were a huge inspiration."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Would you be willing to cast it on me?"
I hesitated. "Is that… safe?"
"I'm a Shadow Clone, remember," he said with a grin.
Right. That made it a bit less terrifying.
I brought my hands together and cast the jutsu. Immediately, my senses slipped from the room and into a new landscape.
The mindscape of the Third Hokage.
It was breathtaking.
A perfect replica of Konoha lay before me, bathed in eternal sunset. In the center, towering above all else, stood a massive tree—ancient and weathered, yet deeply rooted and impossibly tall and vast.
It was beautiful.
And yet… something was off.
A flicker at the edge of my perception. A glitch. Like bad code running through perfect machinery.
I followed the disturbance to the Hokage's office. On the desk, alone under the golden light of the setting sun, was a single sheet of paper.
I stepped closer.
On it, written over and over in perfectly neat script, was a single phrase:
Danzo only acts for the good of the village.
I stared at it, disturbed. I didn't know who this "Danzo" was. But I could feel it—this message, this mantra, was gumming up the works of Hiruzen's mind. A logic knot. A broken circuit in the vast machine that was his memory and will.
I left.
And when I returned to the waking world, I looked at the clone beside me.
"Can I try a Genjutsu on you?"
"You may."
I nodded and gathered my chakra. I only knew one Genjutsu: a simple paralysis technique. But I didn't need much.
I gave it a single new function.
A perception filter of sorts.
Forget one thing for the duration of the technique.
Then I cast it.
And I made the Shadow Clone forget the name Danzo.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
The Hokage blinked once, then again.
His eyes widened.
Then the clone popped, vanishing into smoke with a soft hiss.
I sat back bewildered and worried I had just fucked up again.
-Scene break-
A blanket settled over Konoha—an oppressive haze that only those who had once stood at death's doorstep could truly recognize.
Killing intent.
The purest projection of a will to kill—violent purpose made manifest through chakra, so potent it bent the air and pressed on the soul.
Most who had endured it speak of hallucinations: vivid, horrifying visions of their own demise, imagined in grotesque detail by the mind to match the malice behind the chakra.
But that wasn't what was happening.
The last time killing intent smothered the village like this, the Kyūbi had razed a third of Konoha's shinobi. The survivors described it as staring into hell's open mouth—the promises of fire and blood, of tortures unending, and a slow, unrelenting death.
But even that wasn't this.
There were no illusions this time. No nightmarish visions.
Only certainty.
A bone-deep, marrow-cold certainty of death.
Fighting would not save you.
Pleading would not move him.
Running? That only meant you'd die tired.
There was nowhere to hide. He would find you—in your home, in your dreams, across the ends of the world.
Throwing others in his path wouldn't buy time. It would only raise the death toll.
Almost every civilian in Konoha froze in helpless, primal terror. Many shinobi did too.
Among those that didn't—those who remained still, but not out of fear—were the veterans of wars past. Hardened. Experienced.
They remembered.
They recognized this pressure.
And they didn't fear it.
No…
It comforted them.
The God of Shinobi had returned.
XXXXXXXXXA/N: Izuku gets a teacher!
Izuku witnesses the battered psyche of a shunned child!
…the waters of Konoha rippled as the great titan that dwelt at its depths stirs for the first time in years…..
What will Izuku learn from his new sensei?!
How will he help his dearest friend?!
The God of shinobi has returned! How will Konoha handle this?!
Chapter 21: faces 2 electric boogaloo
It had been two days since the village was subsumed in the fury of an angry god. Two days since I became the student of the Third Hokage, took a trip into his mindscape, and cast a janky, jury-rigged genjutsu that—by all accounts—shouldn't have worked.
In those two days, the village had developed a peculiar tension. A brittle kind of stillness wrapped in motion, like a bowstring drawn taut. There was a tenderness in the air, a strange vigour in the people. It all spoke of things stirring behind the scenes—actions in the shadows, deals brokered in the unseen.
I might've spent more time worrying about it if Kakashi hadn't returned. Apparently, he was determined to take his duties as seriously as possible, which—unfortunately for me—included my education.
And my training.
I heaved breath through my mouth and nose, lungs burning, as I juked left to avoid a punch to the throat from a very enthusiastic Rock Lee. Our teachers watched from the sidelines: Gai-sensei flipping through the air, shouting encouragement with all his heart.
"Burn your youth, young leaves of Konoha! Burn!"
Meanwhile, Kakashi remained seated in the shade of a tree, offering the occasional contrived critique with all the energy of a man halfway through a nap.
Duck, I heard his voice whisper in my ear—again—through a genjutsu I'd already dispelled six times! I ducked anyway, narrowly avoiding a spinning roundhouse kick that would've taken my head off. The follow-up punch smashed into my shoulder, but my Mage Armor held. It now covered my entire arm.
The spar continued.
I'd been thinking a lot over the past two days. I wanted to be a wizard—a proper, classical wizard. Staff in hand. Arcane wisdom in mind. I'd thought, maybe I couldn't do that with chakra alone. But then... Lord Third was a wizard in all but name. Decades of knowledge, mystical arts, chakra theory—he was what I wanted to be.
So maybe I could learn. Maybe I would become a kung-fu wizard.
But I wasn't giving up on the dream of classic wizardry either. I would find that magic. If it didn't exist in this world, I'd just make it myself.
Still... the world wouldn't wait for me to finish my research while I fumbled with chakra control and scribbled spell theories in a notebook. No. I had to get strong—now. I had to master the established system. Build a foundation, sharpen the blade, then carve my path through the arcane.
That meant I needed the know-how to throw some goddamn hands.
Wham!
Lee skidded back across the grass, arms crossed to absorb the punch. He hadn't dodged in time. He was faster, but I hit harder. Much harder.
Still, he didn't stumble. Didn't flinch. The moment his feet touched the ground, he was already moving again.
We clashed in a flurry of taijutsu. Lee launched himself into the air with acrobatic grace, twisting and flipping, every part of his body a weapon. I stayed grounded—solid and rooted—using my armored arms to deflect his strikes and deliver punishing counters.
His movements grew more ridiculous by the second, each one faster, bolder, more outrageous. He launched himself into a flying kick aimed for my head, missed, and left himself mid-air, no leverage to dodge.
I lunged forward.
My fist connected—
And Lee exploded into smoke.
My eyes widened. Substitution? Before I could process the mistake, a foot shot out of the dispersing smoke, sandal-first, and slammed into my face.
"Leaf Hurricane!"
My vision went black.
I woke up in the dirt.
It took a few seconds to replay the last moments in my head, but when the pieces clicked together, I couldn't help but groan.
Lee had used the Bunshin.
Not only that—he'd integrated the full-body seal techniques I taught him directly into his combat style. Seamlessly. So seamlessly that I, the guy who taught him the method, didn't even realize what he was doing until it was way, way too late.
What a monster.
"Good job gremlin-kun." The mask-clad face of one of my teachers poked into my view of Konoha's blue sky.
"Indeed, quite the show." Guy commended from off to the side.
"Still got my ass kicked." I groaned out my still throbbing as I got to my feet.
"Lee is a year older and trains a lot harder. Not to take anything from you mini-me, you throw a mean kick." kakashi said now standing to the side book in hand.
"Thank you Kakashi-san." Lee said, a small blush gracing his cheek.
"Hmmm." was all Kakashi said in reply.
""Ughk! So hip!"" Guy and Lee exclaimed in unison, both clutching at their chest.
I had begun to accept that all ninja were a little crazy in one way or the other.
I moaned as I popped my back with a stretch.
"This was a great session Lee, and thank you for your advice Guy-san, but I'm afraid I must be going. I have an appointment to make."
"You are more than welcome Izuku-kun! Have a youthful day!" Guy exclaimed with a thumbs up and a gleaming smile
"Yosh!" Lee exclaimed, somehow fired up by my leaving and diving into one-handed split push ups…..
…..I'm just gonna go.
I lost track of Kakashi as I left the training grounds, given how seriously he had been taking his duties recently he should be in the shadows somewhere.
I put that out of my mind. I had an appointment to keep.
Time to meet Hidachi's parents.
—scene break—
The mansion sat on the edge of Konoha like something from an old ink painting—stoic, timeless, and impossibly still. The wooden gate stood before me, embedded in a low stone wall that reached just about my chest—probably waist-high on an adult.
I could feel the eyes on me before I even touched the gate. Shinobi guard. Hidden behind the eaves, folded into the trees, beneath the shadow of paper walls. They didn't show themselves, but I knew they were there. Watching. Their gaze tingled across my senses.
Still, my presence was expected.
I stepped forward and pushed the gate open.
The gravel path crunched beneath my sandals as I walked toward the main house. My stomach turned with every step. I'd rehearsed this meeting at least two dozen times, cycled through a hundred versions of what to say. None of them felt right.
I was here to speak to Korumaru's family. To explain why his daughter had spent a weekend in the hospital. I had rehearsed this meeting in my head but the words didn't seem adequate no matter how well composed they were in my head.
I was just a few paces from the porch when the rice paper door slid open with a sharp thack.
Twin boys, maybe six or seven, came barreling out of the house in a flurry of laughter, limbs, and gleeful shrieking. Brown hair, grey eyes. They shared some of her looks. Kuro's delicate bone structure, the same cat-like features—only where she was a blade sheathed in silk—sharp and subtle—they were just loud and alive and… normal.
"Are you Kuro's friend?!" one shouted, pointing at me.
I blinked. "Uh… yes?"
The other doubled over with laughter. "She doesn't have friends!" he said and they both giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world.
Kid humour was weird.
I opened my mouth, not even sure what to say, when the door slammed open again and Kuro stepped out.
"GET THE FUCK BACK IN THE HOUSE, YOU LITTLE SHIT-MONKEYS!"
They bolted. Screaming and laughing all the way.
And then it was just her.
Framed in the doorway, bathed in the amber light of the fading sun, Korumaru Hidachi looked every bit the porcelain doll she usually did—but she sounded like an angry sailor. It startled me more than I wanted to admit. Not because she swore—she had when we first met. But because it wasn't the girl I'd gotten used to.
That strange politeness. The gentle tone. The dreamy smile.
They were for me, I realized.
Only for me.
And this—this mask she wore now, with the swearing and the snarling—this was for them. For her family.
Her voice and face didn't match. Her eyes weren't dead the way they were at school, but they were not quite alive either. Too still. Too… blank.
Then she turned to me, and like always, it changed.
Her whole face lit up with that strange affection of hers—wild and too big and too much—and she skipped forward, fingers twitching like she couldn't wait to get her hands on me.
"Izuku~!" she sang, arms wide. Voice and tone completely different from a moment ago.
I caught her in a hug, more out of reflex than anything else. I'd gotten used to her eccentricity, but this time… this time it was hard to ignore it.
Why?
Why lie to the people who raised her? In the confines of her own home?
We sat for tea inside soon after, the quiet clink of porcelain and the gentle scent of sakura leaves filling the room. Tabana—her father's wife, not her mother, Kuro had clarified earlier—served us, silent and distant. She didn't look at me.
The room was serene. Too serene.
Kuro's father, Jiro Hidachi, was thin and elegant, with the calm aura of a man who built his reputation on knowing how to tell a good deal from a sucker's bet. His smile was warm, his voice smooth—but his eyes were sharp. Analysing me.
"So," he asked after our brief pleasantries, "what exactly happened the day my daughter ended up in the hospital, Hanama-san? My daughter has refused to say a word, and despite appearances, she is rarely so stubborn."
Straight to the point.
I kept my tone even. "Due to actions I took on behalf of the village, I've been granted proxy status. Kuro-chan was with me when someone tried to exploit that."
His smile didn't falter, but it cooled. "And what actions earned you such a title?"
"I can't say without the Hokage's permission."
A pause. Then a sip of tea.
He didn't fully believe me, but he was too well-mannered to press further.
"Proxy status," he mused aloud. "That would explain the incident. And what do you intend to do with that position?"
I gave a half-smile. "I'm still under instruction, years away from graduation. I don't intend to act prematurely."
He didn't buy that either. His eyes said it all.
Still, he nodded. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Hanama-san. You should stay for dinner."
I almost declined, but that could backfire, and I preferred it if this guy liked me.
"I'd be honored to." I said.
He nodded again. "Dinner will be ready in a few hours. Why don't you and Kuromaru take a walk around the estate?"
We did.
The grounds were stunning, in the same way all japanese mansions in this period were. Winding paths, koi ponds, gently rustling bamboo.
And yet, all I could think about was what she wasn't saying.
"Kuro," I asked, quietly, "why… why the performance? Why fake all that stuff with your brothers?"
She didn't answer immediately. When she did, her voice was soft. Empty.
"Because I know what I am."
That stopped me.
She kept walking.
"I'm ugly, Ku-kun. Inside. Wrong. I'm something that no one can love once they really see. I love my family—but they don't see me. They can't. Because if they did… they wouldn't be able to look at me. Not really."
Something about the way she said that made my chest itch.
"Have you been… hiding from me, too?" I asked, feeling more invested in the answer than I thought I would.
"At first," she admitted. "But then… Mizuki happened. And you saw me. All of me. And you didn't turn away."
She finally turned to face me.
"It made me hope," she whispered. "That maybe, someone could see Kuromaru Hidachi and stay."
I didn't hesitate this time.
"I'm not going anywhere." it surprised me how much I meant that, I hadn't known her that long. By the standards of the man I once was, we shouldn't be that close, but I wasn't that man and this was a girl that I saw life and death with. I'm not going anywhere unless she chases me away.
She went still. Blank. The mask dropped completely.
"…Are you sure?" she asked.
Her voice was flat. Lifeless.
And I—hesitated.
Not because I didn't care.
But because it was so much. Because she was so much.
And in that instant—she broke. Cracks opened in her mask to display things I couldn't name but as soon as they appeared, they closed.
Her face twisted, then smoothed into a smile that felt like shattering glass.
"It's fine," she said. "You've seen enough. I don't need you to see the rest."
She turned to walk away.
I caught her hand.
"I want to see it," I said. "But I need to do something first."
I cast the jutsu—Mind Meld, I had named it—and a strand of yin chakra reached out to bind us.
Then we were inside each other's thoughts. Each other's fears. I felt her terror. Her hope. Her guilt. And her love.
Now we were exposed to each other and I could peer into her as easily as she peered into me, there would be no misunderstandings.
I stared into her eyes, wordlessly encouraging her to speak.
"It started with my mother," she whispered.
A green-haired, orange-eyed woman appeared in their shared mindscape. Elegant. Aloof.
Kuro narrated, voice trembling with memory.
Her mother hadn't loved her father. The marriage to Jiro was business, a political alliance. She'd played the part for a while, enough that Jiro had adored her. But when Kuro turned three, things changed. Her mother began to drink. She had lovers. She smiled less. Laughed never.
Kuro had watched her father break.
And she'd wanted to fix it.
So she did.
She was six.
The pillow had been soft. Her mother, unconscious from wine. Kuro remembered the feeling of sitting on that face. Of giggling when her mother stopped moving. A problem solved.
The exhilaration and exultation she felt in that moment sickened me.
She'd been so proud.
Until she saw her father cry.
He couldn't look at her again—not really. He never stopped loving her, but he feared her. Izuku saw it—Jiro's silent, trembling sobs, his hand clutched over his mouth, the disbelieving horror in his eyes as he stared at the small child who had just killed her own mother.
Kuro had approached him with joy, pride gleaming in her eyes, expecting praise, expecting love.
But instead, she was met with a grief so sharp it carved something out of her.
"I did it for you, Daddy," she had said, confused by his tears. "She made you sad. I made her stop."
He hadn't screamed. He hadn't struck her. He had knelt before her and held her gently, as though she might break. And through his tears, he had whispered:
"That wasn't your burden to bear." he said, gently holding her face"I am sorry, Kuro-chan."
But it was too late.
The damage was done.
In their shared mindscape, Izuku felt the seismic weight of that moment. The fracture. The twisting. The moment the world taught a six-year-old girl that love was not always returned just because it was offered. That some kinds of love—especially hers—could never be understood.
That was when she learned to hide.
To lie.
To smile.
To be the perfect daughter when her father remarried. The perfect big sister when new children came. She buried Kuromaru Hidachi beneath masks and mannerisms, beneath politeness and perfection and a cultivated eccentricity. All to protect what she loved. All so they wouldn't be afraid of her the way her father had been.
When the vision faded, she stood in front of me, eyes glowing red, one tomoe spinning in each eye, her voice trembling.
"So, Ku-kun," she asked. "Can you still look at me?"
I was tempted to lie.
But I couldn't even if I wanted to.
She'd feel it.
So I hesitated.
She turned and began walking. Smile in her voice. Lie on her lips.
"It's fine," she whispered. "You don't have to see the rest."
I hurried after her, intercepting her path and blocking the way.
If she had told me on day one—I would've run. If she had told me a week ago, even then, I might have pulled away. If I had only heard the story, I might have said no. Might have decided she was too dangerous.
But through the Mind Meld…
I had felt it.
Felt her tiny, trembling fingers gripping that pillow. The confused exhilaration in her chest. The bright, clear logic that had led her to the act. Not rage. Not cruelty. Love.
A child's twisted, pure-hearted logic. She had loved her father. She had feared for him. And she had wanted to make the pain go away.
The fact that she got off to it was just a happy accident.
It was horror. It was monstrous. But it was also… very, very human.
And then he felt her begin to withdraw. The beginnings of despair creeping up the bond like rot.
She had shown me everything.
And I was hesitating.
"I…"
My voice caught. Not from doubt anymore, but from the enormity of what it meant to choose this. To choose her. After having heard this, seen it. Felt it.
Kuro's face crumpled. She turned away, the mask rushing back over her like a tidal wave. "It's fine," she said with a smile that hurt to look at. "Really. I knew it was asking too much. What we already have is enough. You don't need to—"
"I choose you, Kuro. All of you. Even the parts you think are too ugly to look at." my heart pounded in my chest whether from exhilaration or fear I wasn't sure. A part of me didn't believe it. Didn't believe I could possibly be okay with this.
But the strands of yin chakra hanging between us hummed to the tune of my truth.
I meant it.
Her eyes widened.
And then—laughter.
It started quiet. A single, choked giggle. Then another. Then more. Until she cackled as loud as any witch and with twice the menace.
And then—the kiss.
Sharp. Violent. Bloody.
She pushed me back against a tree, kissed me like I was salvation and poison at the same time. And I kissed her back. Because she had shown me everything. Unable to help myself.
When she pulled back, her breath was hot against my lips. Her Sharingan still spun.
Three tomoe in the left.
Two in the right.
"I love you, Ku-kun~," she breathed.
I didn't know what kind of love this was. What it would become.
But I knew this:
She had claimed me, and I her
There was no escaping her now, and I wouldn't.
Even if I could.
I didn't stay for dinner.
I stumbled through the village, my steps carrying me home on autopilot. When I reached my apartment, I walked in on shaky knees, collapsed onto my bed, and lay there for a while.
Today has been… a day.
But it wasn't over.
I dragged myself up and sat cross-legged on the floor. After only a few moments of focused breathing, I was standing once more on the waters of my mind.
The surface was calm. Still. No crashing waves.
A reflection of my own inner peace.
I wasn't who I used to be. But that was okay. I couldn't afford to be him—not anymore. He wouldn't have survived in this world, no matter how much he trained. He was too soft.
He wasn't me.
He wasn't a shinobi.
I focused on my purpose and quieted the waters even further, until the surface shimmered like crystal glass. Then I looked down into those blue depths and felt my mind reflected back at me.
The day's events played out with perfect clarity across the mirrored surface—but I moved past them. That wasn't why I was here.
I dove deeper, beyond the present. Past my first day at the academy. Past the orphanage. Beyond the blurry sights and muffled sounds of my birth—and further still.
Then I was looking at another life.
Another person.
Thoughts and experiences not my own—yet mine all the same.
Fascinating. But I could come back to that later.
I sifted through the tangle of memories, bypassing irrelevant details and focusing on the ones I needed.
Specifically, anything that mentioned the word chakra.
It said a lot about how much of a nerd he'd been that hundreds of hits came up.
I settled in.
I was going to study every single one.
I had kidnappers to dodge, people to protect, and a very unhinged girl to keep leashed.
I needed every advantage I could get.
XXXXXXXXX
A/N: I asked myself if the matricide was too much but then I remembered Esdeath and Makima have a dedicated fandom and decided to trust in human depravity. Anyways! End credits!
izuku improves!
Kuro's truth is shared and a twisted affection is born!
Izuku witnesses the horror of this world and truly internalises the need for strength!
How high can he climb?!
Can he do so without being dragged into the muck?!
What is the third up to?!
Find out, NEXT TIME ON FOR THE LOVE OF KUNGFU!