Thomas woke to the sound of someone pounding on his bedroom door like a battering ram.
"You're going to be late!"
He cracked one eye open. The light leaking in through the shutters was a cold, apologetic blue. He groaned and dragged a pillow over his head.
"Up, Thomas! Now."
The door creaked open. His mom's footsteps were a drumbeat across the wooden floor. She flicked the shutters fully open with a snap.
"Morning, sunshine."
He hissed and curled deeper under the blankets.
"Don't make me bring your siblings in here. They'll jump on you. All of them. At once."
He peeked out from under the pillow.
"That's borderline child cruelty."
His mom raised an eyebrow. "Call it tough love. Now move it, monster boy."
Ten minutes later, he was fully dressed and sitting at the breakfast table, fork-deep in grilled fish and pickled plum rice. His little brother wore a half-painted ghoul mask, grinning through the crooked jaw he hadn't let Thomas finish sculpting.
"You'll scare off your own wife someday," his grandmother muttered for what had to be the fourth or fifth time this week.
He snorted. "Then she's not the one."
---
The Academy gates stood like stone teeth, chewing on every ounce of his enthusiasm.
Naruto waved from the courtyard, standing on one leg and trying to balance a book on his head.
"Tom! You're not late! What a miracle!"
"Tragedy, more like," Thomas muttered.
He trudged up the steps, his backpack heavier from the hidden drawing pad, sculpting wire, and tiny pouch of modeling clay he'd snuck in.
Iruka-sensei was already in the classroom, writing something on the board. Transformation Jutsu.
Thomas slumped into his usual seat in the back row, as far from the action as possible.
Ryota twisted around in his chair. "Bet you can't turn into the Hokage."
Thomas replied "Bet you can't turn into someone my parents wouldn't warn me about."
"That's... hurtful."
Iruka cleared his throat and the class fell into the general shape of attention.
"Today we're covering one of the most essential foundational techniques for any shinobi. The Transformation Jutsu."
He underlined the kanji on the board. "Transformation is not true physical change. It's an illusion — a chakra-based projection that overlays your body. You'll look different, sound different, but you're still you."
Thomas tilted his head.
Illusion. Huh.
"The jutsu is primarily used for disguise and deception," Iruka said. "With good chakra control, you can move, speak, even fight while transformed. But it's still an illusion. A solid hit or loss of focus will dispel it."
He gestured to the front of the class. "I'll demonstrate."
With a puff of smoke, Iruka transformed into the Hokage. Gray hair, flowing robes, the whole thing. The class gasped.
Another puff — he was Iruka again.
"See? A good Transformation requires concentration. Chakra control. Practice."
Naruto's hand shot up. "Sensei! What if we transform into monsters? Like big scary ones!"
Iruka chuckled. "You can transform into anything—animal, person, object—as long as your chakra control's up to it. But keep in mind, the more unfamiliar or complex the form, the harder it is to maintain. No kaiju today, Naruto."
Thomas rested his chin on his fist.
"So it's like... wearing a costume," Thomas said slowly, "but the costume's made of chakra. And it only looks real if you know how it's supposed to move."
The class lined up. One by one, students tried to transform. Most puffed into vaguely human blobs or distorted versions of Iruka. A few had decent forms that collapsed as soon as they moved.
Then it was Thomas's turn.
He stepped to the center, ignoring the stares.
"Go ahead," Iruka said.
Thomas formed the Tiger seal like everyone else. The smoke puffed — just like it was supposed to.
But what emerged from the smoke wasn't the neat, crisp illusion the jutsu usually produced.
Bones cracked. Skin pulsed. The shape that unfolded was something else entirely.
He imagined the flower-faced creature: tall, head splitting open like petals edged with teeth, arms like meat hooks, skin slick and gray like something freshly exhumed.
And he became it.
His jaw unlatched. His scalp split. Bones folded and reshaped. Flesh peeled back in wet petals.
The room screamed.
Where Thomas had been, there now stood a towering humanoid with a gaping, multi-mouthed bloom in place of a face, each "petal" twitching with exposed nerves and twitching teeth.
Iruka nearly dropped his clipboard. "That— That's not the Transformation Technique."
Thomas turned the petal-face toward him. "Could've fooled me."
Another second passed. Then he snapped back to his usual form with a faint pop of muscle and bone.
Iruka still stared. "We'll... talk after class."
Naruto clapped loudly. "That was awesome! You looked like something out of a ghost story!"
"It's a work in progress," Thomas said, rubbing his shoulder. It still tingled.
The rest of class went by in a blur. Iruka didn't call on him again. When drills came, Thomas did the bare minimum. Again. He hit his target once with a kunai, blocked a few punches in taijutsu, and stuck a leaf to his forehead during chakra control without dropping it — even while sketching a new monster concept in his lap.
During lunch, Naruto slid beside him, balancing a tray and a grin.
"Man, when your head opened up like that? I think Iruka aged ten years."
Thomas sipped his water. "I was going for twelve."
Ryota leaned over. "You always this good at creepy stuff?"
Thomas gave a noncommittal shrug. "I practice in the mirror until it blinks first."
Naruto nearly choked on his rice ball.
"Disgusting," Ryota muttered.
"Disturbing," Thomas corrected. "There's a difference."
After the bell, Iruka pulled him aside.
"Thomas. That wasn't the Transformation Jutsu. Not technically."
"It got the job done."
"You used the Tiger seal, yes — but that wasn't a henge. There was no chakra disguise. Your body transformed, physically. That's not supposed to happen."
Thomas stayed quiet.
Iruka looked like he wanted to press the issue, but stopped himself. "You should talk to the medical-nin. Maybe even the Hokage. See if this is something unique."
"I'll think about it."
Iruka didn't look satisfied, but he let him go.
---
At home, Thomas barely paused to eat. He headed straight to the shed.
The creature from class — the Flower faced-Thing — was already halfway sketched out. He sculpted late into the night, hands blackened, sweat dripping, imagination on fire.
He replayed the moment again and again.
It didn't feel like pretending.
It didn't feel like wearing a mask.
It felt like something inside him had stretched… and snapped.
Like a door opening that he didn't know existed — one made of nerves, muscle, bone.
He hadn't imagined the Demogorgon.
He was the Demogorgon.
So long as chakra flowed, the claws were real. The teeth were real.
The monster wasn't some illusion.
It was him.
---
He slumped over his desk around midnight, dried glue on his fingers, tools scattered around him.
The drawing on the page stared back. Petal-shaped jaws split open in a spiral, ringed with needled teeth. It had no eyes, but it looked like it saw everything.
He smiled.
Tomorrow would be more practice. More drills. More pretending.
But not forever.
He wasn't trying to pass the class.
He was trying to become something else.
He wasn't copying monsters anymore.
He was one.
And unlike illusion — he couldn't be more real.