The last of the students continued with the taijutsu test while Naruto sat perched on the railing of the Academy roof, legs swinging lazily, one foot knocking rhythmically against the metal. A gentle breeze tousled his spiky blond hair, offering a bit of relief under the sharp glare of the mid-morning sun.
From time to time, Minato and Kushina's eyes drifted up to where he sat like a shadow above the crowd, but Naruto didn't bother acknowledging them. He'd spent way too much of his life hoping, waiting, and hurting for them. No more. He was done chasing scraps of affection. It was time to start living for himself—and for the people who actually gave a damn.
He lazily watched another pair of students hit the dirt under the hand of a substitute instructor who'd taken over for Mizuki. The poor bastard probably didn't expect to be thrown into the deep end today, but he handled himself well enough. Still, Naruto couldn't help but snort at the display.
Then came his royal emo-ness.
Duck Butt strutted onto the stage with his hands stuffed in his pockets, chin slightly lifted, playing the part of cool and detached. His fangirls squealed like they'd seen Kami himself descend from the heavens in leather pants.
Naruto gagged.
Sasuke took his starting position, dropping into the Uchiha Inceptor stance—one typically reserved for elite-level fighters who'd actually awakened the Sharingan.
Cute, Naruto thought, eyes narrowing in amusement. The stance looked good on paper—elegant, clean, powerful. But without the Sharingan? It was like trying to paint with your eyes closed.
Iruka signaled the start, and Sasuke shot forward like a black blur of overconfidence. Naruto activated his Mutengan, the chakra-etched pattern blooming across his irises as his vision sharpened. Every motion slowed, every strike analyzed in real time. The Emo Lord's form wasn't bad—it was fast, focused, even dangerous—but there were gaps. Subtle flaws. Sloppy weight shifts. Nothing major, but enough to betray the fact that the stance relied heavily on the predictive power of the Sharingan.
Two minutes later, Sasuke stomped off the platform, a scowl etched across his pale face like someone had just kicked his puppy.
Naruto smirked.
The fan club didn't care. They practically worshipped the dirt Sasuke walked on. Ino and Sakura launched themselves at him, shrieking and screeching as they hugged the ever-living crap out of him and immediately began their usual catfight. Sasuke, looking very much like a man caught in a genjutsu nightmare, tried to shake them off without committing homicide.
Naruto chuckled to himself. Finally. Something entertaining.
"Okay, everyone!" Iruka called, his voice magically amplified to echo across the entire yard and up to the rooftop. "Take five minutes to catch your breath! We'll begin calling out the names of those who passed the graduation test shortly. And to those who didn't—don't worry. The Hokage has authorized a make-up exam to be held next month."
A wave of relieved cheers rose from the group—especially from the students who already knew they'd flunked. Naruto's eyes narrowed as he glanced down at the Hokage speaking quietly with Iruka, the two reviewing a stack of files.
The old man's pulling strings again.
Naruto wasn't stupid. He knew the game. Hiruzen probably wanted to inflate the graduating class numbers to boost the future shinobi force. Sounded noble on the surface, but Naruto knew the truth behind it. Nearly half of all fresh Genin didn't survive their first year out in the field. Tragic? Sure. But that's reality. The world doesn't give a damn about starry-eyed kids with dreams of glory. It swallows them whole before they even get a chance to shine.
"Pessimistic, much?" Vision asked, his form hovering a few feet behind him, arms folded as he observed the students below. "You should have more faith in them."
Naruto shook his head slowly, still watching the hopeful faces in the yard.
"Not if things keep going like this," he muttered. "They're not trained—they're pampered. The Civilian Council's turned the Academy into a glorified daycare center. They've got no business interfering in shinobi affairs, but here we are. These kids... half of them are gonna end up dead unless they change the curriculum."
Vision didn't answer right away. He floated silently for a long moment, blue eyes flickering with data. Finally, he spoke. "... Maybe you have a point."
After a few minutes, Iruka and a couple of instructors dragged a table into the center of the fighting ring. They began laying out the hitai-ate—polished forehead protectors gleaming with the Hidden Leaf's emblem, each one catching the sun like a badge of war.
The Hokage took his seat behind the table, flanked by shinobi with clipboards, while Iruka stepped forward.
"When we call your name, come forward and claim your hitai-ate," Iruka announced, voice clear and steady. "First up, Shino Aburame!"
There was polite applause as Shino silently made his way toward the table, hands buried in his coat pockets, expression unreadable beneath his dark glasses. As expected, most of the clan heirs passed. No shock there.
Naruto grumbled under his breath when Sakura's name was called. Seriously? Her? They actually let her pass? Oh, brother...
"Hinata Hyuga!"
The name rang out, echoing across the training yard. Hinata squeaked, visibly startled, her pale eyes wide. She froze, her hesitation earning a scowl from her ever-stoic father in the audience. Naruto frowned at the display. Not a fan of the Hyuga Head Honcho and his superiority complex.
Without hesitation, he vanished from the rooftop in a crackle of static and reappeared beside Hinata in the crowd. He placed a gentle hand on her back and nudged her forward, offering a small, reassuring smile.
"Go," he said softly. "You've earned this."
Hinata blinked up at him, then gave a quick nod and rushed off, her face bright red. Naruto chuckled, watching her retreating figure.
Cute... Wait. Where the hell did that come from?
Once she reached the table, Hinata bowed to the Hokage, took her headband, and rushed back, holding it as if it was a priceless treasure. She lingered beside Naruto, fingers fumbling as she tied it around her neck, still glowing like a tomato.
They stood in silence after that, shoulder to shoulder, as Menma swaggered his way up to the ring. Naruto snorted when the idiot nearly tripped over his own feet. So much for elegance. Mito, at least, managed to pick hers up without turning it into a performance.
Iruka coughed and then shouted, "Naruto--"
"Iruka-sensei," Naruto interrupted, raising a hand. "Yeah, let's not go there with the surname. It's just Naruto. Drop the clan names."
The crowd murmured in confusion. Iruka blinked, clearly caught off guard. Even the Hokage stilled behind the table, his brow tightening. Naruto's parents? Shocked. Absolutely stunned. Their son had just disowned two of the most prestigious clans in the village without even blinking.
But of course, Hando had to open his mouth.
"You insolent runt!" the man roared from the stands, practically foaming at the mouth. "You should be grateful to be born into such esteemed bloodlines! And now you throw it all away? You should—"
Hando's sentence cut off with a strangled gargle.
He clutched at his throat, eyes bulging, face rapidly turning the color of an overripe plum. Chaos exploded in the arena. Parents gasped. Students shouted. And Naruto?
He strolled up to the table like nothing had happened, plucked a black-clothed hitai-ate from the pile, and tied it neatly around his waist. Behind him, Hando collapsed to his knees, wheezing, hands clawing at his own throat.
"Father!" Conan screamed, sprinting across the training ground to his choking parent. Minato and Jiraiya weren't far behind, trying to pry Hando's fingers away—without success. The man clutched his neck like his own hands were betraying him.
Conan spun around, eyes blazing. "What the hell did you do to him?!"
Naruto barely spared him a glance. "Nothing," he said, adjusting the knot on his hitai-ate. "He's choking on his own tongue. Maybe next time he won't run his mouth."
"You bastard! Release the genjutsu!" Conan yelled, fists clenched and shaking.
Naruto scoffed. "Then release it yourself. Pretty sure a clan elder should be able to break out of a flimsy genjutsu on his own. Guess that means your father's the real failure here."
The words landed like shuriken. Conan's face twisted in fury.
Naruto gave him a mock salute. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got better things to do than babysit another lapdog Menma's trained to heel."
Then he turned to Hinata with a far softer expression. "See you around, Hinata."
And with a crackle of lightning, he vanished—gone from the chaos, leaving his wheezing uncle collapsed in the dirt, blue in the face and utterly humiliated. Not that Hando was going to die. The genjutsu Naruto used was an E-rank stranglehold illusion, more dramatic than dangerous. It didn't actually stop the airflow—it just felt like it did. But in Naruto's eyes, that made it even worse. Because if Hando couldn't even lift something that flimsy... then maybe he really wasn't worth the surname Naruto had just cast aside.
✨🟣🔵🟢🟡🔴🟠✨
Hiruzen took a long drag from his pipe, letting the smoke curl lazily into the warm afternoon air as he surveyed the chaos Naruto had left behind. He should've reprimanded the boy—genjutsu or not, attacking a fellow clan member was no small offense. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not this time.
Naruto had years—no, a lifetime—of bottled-up anger festering inside him. Hiruzen had feared the boy might someday explode in a way no one could control. In truth, what Naruto did today could have been far worse... and yet, he held back. Showed restraint.
Hiruzen felt a rare flicker of pride. He's a prodigy, the old Hokage thought. On par with Itachi... maybe even Minato. Hell, given time, he might even rival my own sensei.
But there was no denying it—the stunts Naruto had pulled today would not go unnoticed. Especially by him.
Across the arena, Danzo stood still, posture deceptively relaxed. His one visible eye gleamed beneath the shadows of his wrappings, sharp and calculating. The mask of indifference he wore fooled most, but not Hiruzen. He'd known Danzo too long, too well. And he'd bet his entire stash of Icha Icha books that the old war hawk was already scheming, plotting ways to sink his claws into Naruto.
Hiruzen sighed, rubbing his chin. This boy... he just made my job ten times harder.
Still, there was a silver lining. Now that Naruto had officially become a genin, Hiruzen had more legal ground to protect him—more leeway to keep him from the likes of Danzo and the shadowy fingers of ROOT. He just needed time. Time to strengthen the boy... and prepare him for the wolves already circling.
"Enough!" Hiruzen's voice rang out, firm and commanding. The murmurs and chaos died instantly.
Hiruzen narrowed his gaze. He had to hand it to Naruto—it had only taken a few seconds for the boy to trap his uncle in that genjutsu. Subtle. Efficient. A message wrapped in silence. And a damn effective one.
He turned his gaze to the younger Namikaze. "Mr. Namikaze. Take your father back to your clan compound. You're excused."
Conan stiffened, then nodded quickly. Wordlessly, he began dragging his muttering, still-fuming father toward the exit, his small hands clenched into fists around Hando's sleeve.
Good, Hiruzen thought, watching them leave. One less headache to contend with.
He let out another puff of smoke, then turned back to the crowd of students and parents, his voice returning to its calm but authoritative cadence. "Now, let us continue the graduation ceremony."