I felt out of place the moment I stepped into Naruto's room. Wrong-footed, like I'd walked into someone else's life uninvited. Which, technically, I had.
Quite uncharacteristic of me, I know, but I wanted to turn around. Leave. I'd gotten what I came for. Most of it, anyway. Seventy percent of a god-tier seal was nothing to sneeze at, even if the missing thirty percent gnawed at my completionist instincts like a splinter under a fingernail.
I didn't leave.
Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe it was the fact that bolting right after finger-fucking the Hokage's wife would look suspicious as hell. Or maybe—and this was the uncomfortable truth I kept circling like a shark around chum—I was horny enough that my decision-making had temporarily relocated south of my belt.
Kushina had left me wound tight as a fucking spring. Every nerve ending still hummed with the memory of her skin under my palms, the way her breath had hitched, the flush that had crept up her neck. I'd been playing conductor to her body's orchestra, and now my hands felt empty without the strings.
But that wasn't even the worst part. I didn't feel like seeing Naruto. Not after last time.
My jaw clenched. I really, really didn't know how to process the fact that the Golden Child—Konoha's future savior, the chosen one, the kid who'd eventually talk down literal gods—had given me a tit job. And swallowed. The image flickered through my mind unbidden, and I shuddered, equal parts aroused and disturbed.
Then my eyes landed on the bastard himself, and all that complicated feeling curdled into annoyance.
The room wasn't the disaster zone it could've been. Having parents, living ones, apparently installed some baseline standard of organization. Clothes made it into the hamper most of the time. The floor was visible. No month-old ramen cups breeding new forms of sentient mold.
But it was still Naruto's room.
Training weights sat abandoned in one corner next to a stack of magazines that had clearly been "borrowed" from someone and never returned. Kunai holsters hung off the back of a chair like discarded snakeskin. A half-finished bowl of something sat on the desk, contents congealed into a substance that defied classification. The walls bore the scars of enthusiastic shuriken practice. Little pockmarks and gouges that spoke of a childhood spent testing the limits of indoor/outdoor distinctions.
And in the center of this organized chaos, sprawled across his bed like a starfish that had given up on life, was Naruto himself.
Mouth hanging open. One arm flung above his head, the other dangling off the mattress. A thin line of drool connected his lips to the pillow. He was snoring, not the dignified kind, but the wet, rattling variety that sounded like someone gargling gravel.
My eye twitched. The tent in my pants deflated. Not completely, but enough that it wasn't painful.
That was a good sign, wasn't it?
Yet seeing him this carefree, this fucking oblivious, just made the annoyance sharpen and grow teeth. This bastard—and I couldn't even finish the thought without feeling like I needed a shower, a drink, and possibly therapy.
I stepped closer and nudged his shoulder with two fingers. "Wake up, sleeping beauty."
Nothing.
I nudged harder. "Naruto."
He swatted at my hand like I was an especially persistent fly, mumbling something that sounded vaguely like "five more minutes, ttebayo..." before rolling onto his side and nearly pitching off the bed entirely.
I breathed through my nose. The annoyance crystallized into something hotter, sharper. Anger, maybe. Though why the hell I was angry at a kid for sleeping in his own bed in his own house, I couldn't articulate.
I considered leaving. Again.
My hand went to my pocket instead.
Kushina's panties, the clean ones, sat there like a loaded gun. I pulled them out, weighed them in my palm for half a second, then shoved them into Naruto's gaping mouth. That gave me some sense of satisfaction.
His eyes snapped open.
For a moment, he just lay there, blinking rapidly, brain clearly trying to process why his mouth was full of fabric. Then his face scrunched up in disgust, and he lurched upright, spitting the offending garment.
"Ptuh—the hell—ptuh—" He wiped his mouth, glaring at me with watery eyes. "Eishin?!"
The panties landed somewhere near the training weights. He didn't even look at them.
"Morning, sunshine." I crossed my arms, leaning against his desk. "You sleep like the dead, you know that?"
"What the—" He coughed. "What are you doing in my room?! And what was—" He gestured vaguely at his mouth, face twisted in revulsion.
Your mom's panties, I wanted to tell him and enjoy his reaction, but I held back.
I marveled instead, not for the first time, at how genuinely dense he could be. How could he just... act like nothing had happened? Like last time was a fever dream we'd both agreed to pretend never existed.
Then again, I shouldn't be surprised. This was the founder who'd eventually perfect the Talk-no-Jutsu, whose superpower was steamrolling past social awkwardness through sheer force of oblivious sincerity. If he could convince Pain to reconsider his life choices, what was a little homoerotic mishap between friends?
It made me feel dumb for even feeling awkward.
"I waited for you outside," I said flatly. "But you don't seem to—"
"Oh, come on!" His eyes zeroed in on the tent in my pants—less pronounced now, but still visible—and he groaned like I'd personally ruined his morning. "Seriously? Dude, again? Can't you, like, keep that thing in check?"
I clicked my tongue, shifting instinctively to angle my hips away, as if I were embarrassed. As if I'd ever been embarrassed about being hard in my entire goddamn life.
Naruto had this annoying ability to make everything weird.
"Can't help it," I said with a shrug. "Your mom's just that hot."
Yeah take that
Silence.
Naruto stared at me. Just... stared. Then he dragged a hand down his face, groaning.
"Dude..." He pointed at me accusingly. "You've gotta stop saying stuff like that. Do you—do you even realize that's, like, my mom you're talking about?"
"Lucky you."
Indeed, he really was lucky.
He snorted through his nose, shaking his head slowly like I was a lost cause. "You're totally hopeless, you know that?" Then that all too familiar mischievous glint crept into his eyes, the one that always preceded terrible decisions. "The Super Pervert of Konoha. Maybe you need a little help from Nurse Naruko to get your head screwed on straight, yeah?"
His hands started to come together.
I'd been bracing for this the moment I stepped into the Hokage's house. Hell, the moment I decided to come here at all.
"Not today, sunshine."
I intercepted his hands mid-seal, catching his extended fingers and twisting them just enough to make the point. Not enough to hurt…. much, but enough to abort whatever hormone-fueled transformation he'd been cooking up.
"Ow—hey!" He yelped, trying to yank his hand back. "That's cheating!"
"That's called pattern recognition." I didn't let go. "You really thought the same trick would work twice?"
"It did work," he scoffed with a grin. "Three times in fact, and—and it's not a trick, it's a tactical advantage!" He twisted his wrist, trying to break my grip, failed, then switched tactics and tried to kick my shin instead. I shifted my weight, and his foot whiffed through empty air. "And you're the one who taught me that exploiting weaknesses is shinobi 101!"
When the fuck did I do that? ….. alright perhaps I did.
"I'm touched you remember my lessons." I released his fingers, and he immediately cradled them against his chest. "Really warms the heart."
"Yeah, well, your heart is clearly pointing in the wrong direction right now." He flexed his fingers experimentally, shooting me a half-annoyed look. "So what, you seriously came all the way here just to… y'know, stand around like that? What're you even doing here, man?"
I pulled the chakra training card from my pocket, turning it over between my fingers. The excuse I'd used to get into this house in the first place. Funny how I'd used the same excuse last time. A visit that had ended with me balls-deep in a redhead jinchuriki MILF.
Felt like ages ago.
"Since you burned the last one," I said, holding it up, "I made this specifically for you. Try not to incinerate it in the first week, yeah?"
Naruto's expression shifted immediately, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he rubbed the back of his head. "Ah, sorry about that. Didn't mean to, y'know..." He took the card, turning it over in his hands with the kind of careful curiosity usually reserved for live explosives. "This one's not gonna fall apart like the last one, eh?"
"Last one was a prototype," I said. "This is the working model. Made with your ridiculous chakra pool in mind. And your affinity, too."
He grinned wider. "Nice! That's—" Then he frowned, squinting at me suspiciously. "Wait. How'd you know my affinity? I don't remember telling you that."
I held back a click of a tongue. He just woke up. Why was he so sharp?
Raising the graduation age hadn't been all bad, even if most people fixated on the obvious downsides. But it meant the Academy actually had time to teach instead of just cramming bodies into flak jackets. Affinity tests got added to the curriculum. Basic sealing theory. Proper chakra control exercises beyond tree-walking and water-walking. The kind of foundational shit that would've saved lives if they'd implemented it a decade earlier.
So Naruto did know his affinity earlier than the canon. But I wasn't supposed to know it.
I didn't bother answering his question. Instead, I leaned forward slightly, fueling his enthusiasm. "You train diligently with this? You'll be pulling out a Rasengan in seconds. No prep time. Just pure execution."
His eyes went wide, the question forgotten entirely. "Seriously?! That's—that's awesome, dattebayo!" He clutched the card less skeptically. "Thanks, man! I'm gonna train so hard, you won't even recognize me next time we spar!"
It was nice when Naruto acted as predicted. Most of the time, he did.
Until he fucking didn't.
Still, his smile was so infuriatingly contagious that I couldn't help the answering curve of my own lips. All the annoyance, the anger, the awkwardness, it just evaporated.
"Huh. What's this?"
Eh?
Naruto bent down, picking up the fabric I'd shoved in his mouth earlier. Kushina's panties. His mom panties. He unfurled them, holding them up to the light like he was inspecting a mission scroll.
I moved fast, hand shooting out to snatch them back, but Naruto was faster. Again, why was he so sharp? He just woke up!
He yanked the panties out of reach, jumped over me in one fluid motion, planted both feet on my back, and used me as a goddamn springboard. The impact drove me face-first into his mattress while he propelled himself upward, flipping midair and sticking to the ceiling with chakra-enhanced feet.
"Dude!" He spread the white cotton panties between his hands, staring at them with horrified fascination. "You shoved panties in my mouth?!" He started scrubbing at his tongue with one hand, still dangling upside-down like the world's most scandalized spider. "Panties?!"
I turned over and sat up on the bed, mentally kicking my five-minutes-ago self in the teeth. Stupid. So fucking stupid.
"They're clean," I said, voice flat with the kind of outrage reserved for watching someone disrespect sacred relics. "You don't have to act like I poisoned you."
He was disrespecting them. Even if they didn't carry her scent anymore, they were still Kushina's panties. Show some fucking respect.
"Clean or not, you shoved underwear in my mouth!" Naruto shot back, still scrubbing his tongue. "What kind of psycho does that?! Who even—where did you even get these?!"
My face heated. The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
"I grabbed them as a gift for Naruko. She didn't seem to be wearing any last time." I gestured vaguely. "Her nurse's outfit was too skimpy. Cotton underwear would be more... covering." I regretted the words even as they slipped. I wanted to slap my mouth.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Naruto opened his mouth to fire back—I could see the retort forming, the gears turning—then froze. The grin wavered. Died.
One beat of silence.
Two.
Say something, you blonde bastard. Anything. Stop making this awkward.
He'd just proven awkwardness had no effect on his dense ass, so why was he—
Fuck. Was he remembering last time?
Fuck, fuck, now I was remembering last time.
My relaxing erection woke back up with a vengeance.
"...Right." Naruto's voice came out strained. "That."
No. Not right. It's not "that." Fucking say something else. Banter. Insult me. Anything.
"Yeah," I said.
Brilliant. Fucking eloquent, Eishin.
Naruto rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting everywhere except at me. The panties dangled forgotten from his other hand.
This was getting painful.
I stood abruptly. "See you later?"
"Yeah. Later."
I moved toward the door, then stopped.
Naruto was standing on the ceiling, directly above the door.
I turned around, heading for the window instead. I stopped, considered asking for those panties back before shaking my head and shunshing through the window.
My erection pressed uncomfortably against my pants. I need to find someone to fix. Come to think of it, my little nerd was waiting at home. She deserves a surprise, some flowers to brighten her evening.
— — — — — — — — — —
PS. You can read up to 8 chapters ahead at patreon.com/vizem