Naruto eyed Neji like someone who just realized their vacation spa came with surprise ninja assassins. The Hyuga prodigy stood tall, graceful, and entirely too calm—like a polite guillotine about to drop. And the worst part? Naruto knew how this was gonna go.
If you made a close-combat power ranking chart of everyone on the ship, it was pretty straightforward.
Gai was at the top. Because Gai was... well, Gai. If taijutsu had a immortal, it wore a green jumpsuit and screamed about the power of youth.
Second was Kakashi, who only looked lazy until he kicked you through a wall while reading romance novels.
But among the teens? That's where things got spicy.
Neji was number one. No debate. He was a walking anatomy lesson with the attitude of a disappointed teacher and hands sharp enough to shut down your chakra system faster than you could say "ow."
Lee was second. No chakra tricks, just pure dedication, leg strength, and a terrifying habit of kicking you into the stratosphere with a grin.
Then came Naruto. Normally, he'd shoot up to number one with his signature move—overwhelming numbers and chaos. The guy practically invented Clone Fu. His entire fighting style was designed around misdirection, combo strikes, and outlasting the enemy with relentless waves of Naruto-brand punishment.
But Neji had just banned clones. And ninjutsu. And weapons. And seals.
So... no shadow clones.
No wind-enhanced uppercuts.
No exploding rasengan knees to the face.
Which meant—
"I'm going to get beat black and blue," Naruto muttered.
"Excuse me?" Neji asked, still smiling.
"Nothing!" Naruto called cheerfully, flexing his arms like he wasn't silently writing a will in his head. "Let's do this, Mr. Polite Doomface."
The crew leaned in. Someone passed popcorn. Choji had a front-row seat with a giant bag labeled "Smackdown Snacks." Kiba had abandoned his chores and whispered to Hinata, "You think we should stop this?"
Hinata bit her lip. "I think it's already too late."
The moment their bare feet touched the chalk ring, the air changed.
The breeze died down. The crew quieted. Even Laboon, bobbing lazily beside the ship, stilled his massive bulk like he sensed someone was about to get humiliated in 1080p.
Neji stood like a statue—elegant, spine straight, hands loosely at his sides, that insufferably polite smile still plastered across his face. You'd think he was modeling for a "Noble Ninja Monthly" magazine cover.
Naruto cracked his neck and shook out his limbs, bouncing slightly on his heels. He wasn't smiling. He knew better.
This wasn't a grudge match.
It was an execution—and Neji was the polite hangman.
Then Neji moved.
Fast.
A single step, then a palm strike aimed right at Naruto's diaphragm, like he was ringing a doorbell that would shut down his entire nervous system.
Naruto twisted, the strike grazing his ribs, and answered with a tight elbow toward Neji's jaw—Muay Thai, textbook sharp.
Neji leaned back just enough, countering with a sweep of his leg—low and precise, Bajiquan-style. Naruto hopped, twisted in midair, and threw a spinning side kick, a Taekwondo special.
Neji slid under it like he was made of water, his palm brushing Naruto's calf. That touch alone would've burst a chakra point if they'd been using powers.
Naruto landed, but Neji was already in his face.
A flurry of palm strikes—bam-bam-bam—like pistons. Naruto blocked with forearms and wrist rolls, Karate defense, trying to absorb the blows. He slipped inside and went for a judo throw, grabbing Neji's arm and shoulder.
But Neji didn't budge.
The Hyuga dropped his center of gravity, rotated with Naruto's grip, and used his own momentum to flip Naruto onto the deck with a graceful thud.
"Oof—! Okay!" Naruto wheezed. "You're still a jerk!"
Neji offered no reply, just stepped back, giving Naruto the courtesy of standing.
Naruto popped up and charged this time, switching styles—jab, cross, feint low, uppercut.
Neji weaved through them like he was underwater. He slapped the uppercut aside and hit Naruto with a knuckle tap to the ribs—nothing showy, just a surgical strike that stole Naruto's breath.
But Naruto was used to pain. And he was stubborn.
He faked a stumble and caught Neji with a surprise hook. Whack! It wasn't clean, but it was solid.
Neji blinked. The crew gasped.
Naruto grinned. "Told ya I wasn't just wind and clones."
Then Neji smiled. "No. You're also very predictable."
And just like that, Neji blitzed him.
Palm to chest. Shoulder. Elbow. Knee.
It wasn't a beating—it was art. Like Neji had memorized Naruto's entire skeleton and was checking pressure points off a grocery list.
Naruto tried to parry. He tried to grapple. He tried to headbutt, because of course he did. But Neji flowed like wind and hit like iron.
Ten seconds later, Naruto was flat on his back again, gasping like a fish.
Neji stood over him, serene as ever.
"A good effort," he said.
Naruto wheezed. "You—cough—sound like my report card."
Then Neji bowed. "Thank you for the match, Captain."
And walked off.
Naruto lay there for a second longer.
"Did we all see that?" he groaned.
"Yup," Kiba called. "That was amazing. Ten outta ten faceplants."
Even Kakashi muttered, "Neji's terrifying."
Gai sniffled proudly. "My beautiful boy…"
Naruto rolled over and groaned, "I'm gonna make a clone punch him later."
As Neji walked away, still not a hair out of place, Lee gave him a slow, respectful nod. "You were like a whispering hurricane of destiny, Neji!"
Neji didn't respond. He just gave a humble dip of the head, the kind monks do after delivering a spiritual awakening—or a beatdown.
Naruto finally staggered upright like a baby deer learning to walk on rollerblades. "Hinata," he croaked, "water, ice pack, and maybe a new spine?"
Hinata offered him a bottle and a towel, eyes wide. "You actually landed a punch."
"Thank you! See? Someone noticed."
"Right before he turned you into a musical instrument," Kiba added. "I counted at least three 'gong' sounds."
"Sounded like a xylophone to me," Shikamaru murmured. "Kinda soothing, honestly."
"Guys," Naruto groaned. "You're all traitors."
"Welcome to leadership," Kakashi said behind his book. "You get the title and the trauma."
Laboon gave a sympathetic groan from the ocean. It somehow translated to: even I felt that.
------------
Just when Naruto was starting to contemplate retiring from being a shinobi to become a professional floor decoration, a heavenly scent wafted across the deck—warm, spicy, buttery, glorious.
"Choji," he croaked, eyes glazed and sparkling. "Is that… curry-marinated yakitori glazed with honey miso?"
Choji stood proudly in front of a buffet that could only be described as a battlefield of flavors. Grilled fish glistened like polished kunai, steaming bowls of rice towered like snow-capped mountains, and ramen buckets—not bowls, buckets—lined the edge of the ship's rail like cannons.
"It's all ready!" Choji beamed, wearing an apron that read 'Chakra First, Questions Later' and holding a spatula like a sacred relic. "Dig in! Calories are fuel, and we just had a boss battle!"
He wasn't wrong. Even Neji, who usually ate like a tea ceremony instructor, gave a respectful nod and took a plate piled higher than Kiba's ego.
For Laboon, Choji had prepared whale-sized portions, which meant stews in cauldron-sized bowls, grilled kraken steaks the size of canoes, and what looked suspiciously like a seafood pizza large enough to be used as a trampoline. Laboon gave a joyful bellow and slapped his tail on the water, causing a small tidal wave that drenched the side of the ship and two unfortunate genin.
"Wait, Choji…" Shino adjusted his sunglasses, though they were already perfectly positioned. "Are those... extra servings for you?"
Everyone turned. Sure enough, tucked beside Laboon's buffet were several mountain-sized dishes stacked neatly like a feast for a small kaiju.
Choji blinked. "Oh, that? Yeah. I'm just, uh, stocking up. For my giant form, obviously."
There was a pause.
"…You mean the partial Multi-Size Jutsu?" Neji asked skeptically, one eyebrow raised.
"Yup. Can't risk chakra burnout in mid-combat transformation," Choji said, nodding like this was obvious physics. "So I need the calories now. Like, now now. All of them."
"Uh-huh," said Sakura, arms crossed.
"Totally legitimate," said Rock Lee, already shoveling curry into his mouth. "Choji-san is a man of preparedness!"
Naruto grinned, staggering over with a tray stacked with meat skewers. "Choji, if this is your way of scamming more food, I respect it."
Kiba leaned toward Hinata. "You think he's bluffing?"
"I think we should never stand between Choji and his third plate," she replied gravely.
Choji, unaware or unbothered by the suspicion, had already begun dual-wielding chopsticks and meat buns like a culinary ninja. "You're gonna thank me when I grow to the size of Laboon and crush a mountain."
"Please don't," Asuma muttered in the background, eyes already measuring the ship's structural integrity.
And so the feast began.
The crew devoured food like they were racing for survival—which, as ninja, they basically always were. Laughter broke out, stories of the battle were exaggerated beyond reason (Naruto was already claiming he dodged all but one of Neji's hits, which earned a side-eye from literally everyone), and even Neji cracked a smile as Lee handed him a bowl of spicy udon with tears in his eyes from the heat.
The sun set over the ocean, painting the waves orange and gold, and the ship bobbed gently in the glow of victory, full stomachs, and whatever terrifying dessert Choji had just wheeled out.
Naruto licked sauce off his fingers, leaned back against the mast, and sighed happily. "You know… maybe getting my ribs dislocated wasn't so bad after all."
Then Neji walked by and dropped a pillow on Naruto's lap.
"For next time."
Naruto blinked. "…You're a menace."
Neji smiled politely. "Sweet dreams, Captain."
---------------
It started with someone farting.
We're not sure who. The suspect pool was too strong. Kiba blamed Choji. Choji swore it was the whale. The whale, Laboon, just blinked at us like, "I don't even breathe air, dude."
But after the initial chaos of gagging and finger-pointing, boys' night on the deck settled into something that was… well, weirdly nice. There was the usual assortment of snacks—grilled squid sticks, spiced seaweed chips, and one suspicious container labeled "Gaara's Crunchy Sand Clusters," which no one touched. For reasons.
Kankuro was showing off a puppet that looked like a cross between a giant crab and an air fryer. Shikamaru was lying down and not moving unless it was to lift food to his mouth. Lee was doing pushups with one hand while reciting youthful poetry. Neji sat cross-legged, somehow managing to radiate smugness while drinking tea. Kiba and Akamaru were wrestling, badly. Shino… well, Shino was there. Probably. Hard to say. His hoodie had consumed most of his face.
Naruto was leaning back against a crate, grinning at the stars like they owed him money.
"Man," he said suddenly, "fights have gotten really easy lately."
That got some looks.
"Easy?" Kankuro asked, raising an eyebrow like he was hoping Naruto was kidding.
"Yeah," Naruto said, shrugging. "After my last round of training, everything's been like… boom! Over. Like, mini-boss level. The last guy I fought? I sneezed and he passed out."
Gaara blinked. "Was that a metaphor?"
"Nope," Naruto said cheerfully. "Pretty sure it was allergies."
Shikamaru sighed. "Troublesome."
Kiba stretched, cracking his knuckles. "That's not weird, dude. You're in the top one percent now."
Naruto blinked. "What?"
"You heard me," Kiba said, tossing a rice ball at Akamaru like a treat. "Top one percent of fighters. Top tier. Elite. Boss-level ninja."
Naruto stared at him, stunned. "Wait… I'm the one percent now? Me? Us? The one percent?!"
He clutched his heart like he'd just been stabbed by a betrayal-shaped kunai. "How the turns have tabled. We used to hate the one percent! They were the curse on the world! The selfish elite! The hoarders of power and money and—and—badly tailored cloaks!"
The rest of the boys slowly turned to look at him.
Judgingly.
Choji frowned. "See? I told you it was Naruto badmouthing us behind our backs."
"Dude," Kiba said, pointing a drumstick at him like it was a gavel, "we've always been the one percent. You just didn't notice because you were poor and loud."
Naruto squawked. "Hey!"
Shikamaru yawned. "I mean, he's not wrong."
"You live in the Hokage's house now," Neji added, sipping his tea. "Kind of defeats the whole 'man of the people' thing."
Gaara nodded. "I rule a country."
"Same," Kankuro said. "Technically. I co-rule. Puppet court system. Long story."
Lee paused mid-handstand. "I've been featured in five fitness magazines. One was international."
Naruto's jaw dropped. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Are you all the one percent?!"
Everyone nodded.
Shino adjusted his glasses. "Some of us more quietly than others."
Choji popped a dumpling in his mouth and said through a full cheek, "Wealth, power, skill, connections, political influence. It's all there. Welcome to the club, Captain. Now stop acting surprised before Gaara seals you in a tax bracket."
Naruto leaned back against the crate again, staring at the sky like it had betrayed him.
"We're… the system," he muttered.
"Yup," said Kiba.
Naruto groaned. "Man. I really was the main character. Now I'm just a… a tax liability with muscles."
Everyone laughed. Even Gaara cracked a smile, which was basically the equivalent of an earthquake in his home country.
Kiba grinned. "So. Still think fights are too easy, Mr. Elite?"
Naruto smirked. "Nah. I just realized the final boss is probably gonna be some other one-percent jerk with even better hair."
Shikamaru raised a hand. "Place bets now. Next fight? We get humbled."
"Or exploded," Choji said. "Can I eat first?"
"Always," said Naruto.
And with that, boys' night resumed. With judgment, laughter, and a growing fear of what karma had planned next.
Up on the main mast, perched on a platform barely wide enough for four adult-sized regrets, the grown-ups were having their own version of boys' night. (Plus Kurenai, who had exactly zero patience for any of their nonsense and exactly one thermos of something suspiciously strong-smelling.)
They weren't sitting so much as slumping—each one with a drink in hand, legs dangling over the edge, backs leaning against the mast like they were too tired to sit up straight. Below them, the boys were yelling, laughing, and arguing about taxes or destiny or possibly both.
"Remember when we were like that?" Asuma asked, puffing lazily on a cigarette.
"Vividly," Kurenai muttered, sipping her drink. "Unfortunately."
"I was never that loud," Kakashi said, flipping a page in his book. The wind threatened to rip it from his hand, but Kakashi had mastered the sacred art of single-handed page control. "Or that dramatic."
Kurenai snorted. "You wore a mask and read smut in public. That's drama."
"Youthful enthusiasm!" Gai declared, raising a thermos like it was Excalibur. "A burning fire that refuses to go out, no matter how many faceplants fate throws at you!"
"You realize Naruto's already talked himself into an existential crisis twice tonight?" Asuma said.
"And made a tax joke," Kakashi added. "That's how you know we're in the endgame."
They all looked down at the deck, where Naruto was now dramatically pretending to be poor again, lying on the wood like he'd lost a war. Kiba was poking him with a stick. Choji was eating. Lee was yelling motivational slogans to no one. Shino appeared to be talking to a moth.
Asuma exhaled. "I mean… they turned out okay."
"They turned out amazing," Kurenai said softly.
There was a pause.
"…I thought they were gonna die by, like, age fifteen," Kakashi admitted.
"Same," Asuma said.
Gai sighed wistfully. "I thought Rock Lee was going to challenge a cloud to single combat and disappear forever."
"I hoped he would," Kurenai muttered.
Gai gasped.
Kakashi closed his book with a soft snap. "You know, I used to worry that we'd left them with too many burdens. That we pushed them too hard. Expected too much."
Kurenai stared into her cup. "We still did."
"Yeah," Kakashi said. "But they're laughing."
And they were. Naruto had just tackled Kiba into a pile of blankets, and somehow Neji had gotten pulled into it, which made Choji cheer and Shikamaru groan and Lee proclaim something about the Fist of Friendship. Even Gaara looked like he was enjoying himself, which was about as rare as a lunar eclipse during a blood moon in an odd-numbered century.
Asuma smiled around the cigarette. "Yeah… they'll be fine."
Then a loud boom echoed in the distance—far enough not to worry them immediately, but close enough to guarantee trouble.
All four grown-ups went still.
Kurenai sighed. "You jinxed it."
Gai stood up, heroic pose locked in. "A challenge! Our young flames are destined to blaze brighter still!"
Kakashi groaned. "I just wanted one night where we didn't get exploded."
Asuma flicked his cigarette off the side. "Better stretch, old man. Looks like the top one percent's getting audited."
Girls' Night was not a suggestion. It was a decree.
Sakura had declared it with the kind of iron-willed authority that only someone who regularly punched boulders into gravel could manage. So the meeting room — a place normally used for things like tactical strategy or yelling at Naruto — had been converted into a sacred sanctuary of snacks, gossip, and passive-aggressive jabs.
"Okay," Ino said, flopping onto a beanbag (that definitely wasn't there that morning), "First order of business: How many shirts has Lee destroyed this week?"
"Five," Tenten replied without looking up from her nail file. "Two during training. One because he tried to bench press the ship's anchor. One got caught in a fire jutsu. And the last one just… disintegrated during a 'pose.'"
Sakura groaned. "That man is eighty-five percent eyebrows and reckless optimism."
"Yeah," Ino smirked, "but like… weirdly ripped optimism."
Sakura threw a pillow at her.
Hinata, curled up quietly on the couch with a teacup, giggled. "He really is trying hard though…"
Ino shot her a grin. "Still soft for the underdogs, huh, Hinata?"
Hinata's cheeks went pink. "No! I just… I think it's sweet."
"Oh my immortal," Tenten muttered. "You're blushing."
"She always blushes," Ino said, swirling her drink like she was at a high-society gala instead of sitting cross-legged in her pajamas. "I swear, she could see Naruto sneeze and her Byakugan would go fuzzy."
Hinata covered her face with both hands. "Please stop…"
Sakura, now fully sprawled on the floor, sighed. "I feel like I'm babysitting sometimes. All of them. Especially Naruto. You know he fought Neji earlier with no powers?"
Tenten blinked. "Did he survive?"
"Barely. Got folded like laundry."
"I wish I saw that," Ino said dreamily. "Watching Naruto get reality-checked is my favorite form of therapy."
"You know what he said after?" Sakura propped herself up on her elbows. "He said, 'The fights are too easy now.'"
The room went quiet.
Then Ino howled. "He said that? Out loud?!"
"Yes," Sakura said grimly. "With his entire chest."
"I'm gonna tell Tsunade," Tenten said. "That's grounds for extra paperwork."
Hinata looked like she was trying very hard not to smile. "He's just… confident."
"He's just a disaster," Ino corrected. "I swear, if he wasn't cute—"
Sakura raised a hand. "Finish that sentence and I will dunk your face in the wasabi dip."
There was a long pause as they all sipped tea or juice or whatever was in Ino's suspiciously fancy-looking glass. For a moment, they just existed—warriors off-duty, girls off-script, floating on the gentle rhythm of the ship and each other's company.
"I like this," Hinata said softly. "Us. Talking."
"Same," Tenten said. "No explosions. No missions. Just vibes."
Ino pointed a finger. "And no boys allowed."
Then the door creaked open.
Sakura didn't even look. "Naruto, if you walk in here, I swear to all the kami—"
"—Sorry!" came a muffled voice. "Just checking if there were snacks left!"
Sakura picked up a kunai, looked him dead in the eye, and smiled.
Naruto slowly closed the door again.
Girls' Night: preserved.
"Honestly," Ino said, tossing a grape into her mouth, "we're the only sane people on this boat."
Hinata giggled.
Tenten raised her drink. "To survival."
Sakura clinked her cup against hers. "And to never letting them know we're the smart ones."
They toasted. They laughed. They basked in the temporary peace.
Because deep down, they all knew: tomorrow, the chaos would return.
But tonight, the ship belonged to the queens.
The Little Garden loomed ahead, as if the name were a cruel joke. The island was massive, ancient, and totally not little. But at that moment, the peaceful night on the ship was interrupted by a thunderous noise that made everyone's teeth rattle. A sound like thunder, but sharper, faster. And then, a giant spear—no, a missile—flung out of the island, streaking through the sky like a lightning bolt on steroids.
Everyone on the ship froze. The spear was spinning through the atmosphere at a ridiculous speed, faster than a jet. It was like a javelin thrown by a immortal with a very bad temper. If it hit, it would probably leave a crater the size of a small country.
In the chaos, one thought crossed everyone's mind:
Why is there a spear coming from the island?
And then the answer came, loud and clear.
"I can't sleep!" a booming voice yelled from the distance.
"Dorry, not again!" another voice, equally as loud but more exasperated, shouted.
That was when they all realized what was happening.
Dorry, the giant who lived on Little Garden, had been having a hard time sleeping, so he decided to throw giant spears just for fun. As if that was a totally normal thing to do. Maybe he was practicing for a championship in Spear-Throwing 101, or maybe he was just bored out of his mind. Either way, this was not an ordinary spear.
The thing was hurtling toward them, faster than a ballistic missile and scorching through the atmosphere, creating a trail of fire behind it. It was like the spear was pissed and was determined to make a dramatic entrance.
The adults, on watch as usual, were the only ones who noticed it. They were the only ones who could see the terrifying, inevitable collision about to unfold.
But before anyone could say "What the heck are we supposed to do?" Gai appeared.
No warning. Just… Gai.
Like a bolt of lightning himself, he jumped into the air with a single spin, his leg shooting up so fast that if anyone had blinked, they would have missed it. With a single, perfectly timed kick—an explosion of energy and pure muscle—the massive spear shattered mid-air. It disintegrated in a burst of flames, leaving nothing but a trail of sparks and smoke.
And then Gai did something insane. He didn't just stop. No.
He ran.
He ran on air, his legs blurring with the speed of a thousand races. He was charging toward the island, effortlessly running across the sky as though gravity didn't exist for him.
The rest of the adults watched in awe as Gai darted through the air, his wild hair flying behind him like a superhero from another world.
"Should we… help?" Asuma asked, blinking in disbelief.
Kakashi raised an eyebrow. "Nope. Gai's got it."
And with that, Gai kept running. The sheer speed of his movement was almost hypnotic, a blur of green and fire as he shot across the sky like a man who had no concept of limits. He was already over the island's massive cliffs before anyone could even comprehend what was happening.
Meanwhile, back on the ship, Naruto stood up from his perch on the railing, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
"Seriously?" he muttered. "That's what you call impressive? Pfft. I can run like that in my sleep."
Shikamaru, ever the observer, raised a hand lazily. "Sure, Naruto. Whatever you say."
Naruto threw him a look, but before he could retort, the whole ship shook.
The crew turned to look back toward the island.
Gai had landed.
And, for a moment, all was still.
Then came the sound of giant footsteps.
With Gai's "special" greeting to Dorry, they were about to witness one of the most chaotic, destructive, and totally over-the-top fights this crew had ever seen.
And it was going to be glorious.