When Naraku came home, Shinji Uchiha was still awake, sitting in the living room waiting.
Naraku tucked the earthenware medicine jar inside his robe, trying to hide it as he walked in with careful, rigid posture.
"Father, I'm back."
"Where were you?"
Shinji's glare was sharp enough to cut.
Even as just a chunin, the killing intent he let slip was more than Naraku could withstand. His face went pale, sweat sliding cold down his back.
Telling the truth would be suicide.
In Uchiha values, showing up at a rival's house after losing to them wasn't just shameful—it was unforgivable.
But he had no excuse ready, so he forced it out: "I went to Hatake's—"
The rest caught in his throat as a hand clamped around his neck, slamming him hard into the wall. The impact rattled his bones, knocked the breath out of him.
"F-Father—"
"Do you have no Uchiha pride at all?!"
Shinji's eyes swept over the bandages on his son—bandages clearly not wrapped at home.
The thought of his son losing again and then crawling to a Hatake for help snapped something inside him. Rage boiled over.
"So he beat you down, and you wagged your tail back to his place like some mutt! Fine. Then let's see if I can beat you down too!"
His fist crashed into Naraku's gut. Pain exploded, vision going black.
"Get up! Again! Don't you dare give up!"
Blows came in a storm, far past the limits of training. This wasn't a lesson—it was venting fury.
Naraku struggled to block what he could, desperate to prove he hadn't given up. Every strike he couldn't deflect slammed into his body. He kept his mouth shut, only letting muffled grunts slip when the pain was too much. Anything louder would only provoke worse.
His vision blurred. He stumbled back. Shinji yanked him up and threw him to the floor. A round earthenware medicine jar rolled from his clothes.
Shinji snatched it up. A brand-new jar of salve.
Through the haze, Naraku saw it in his father's hand and panicked. He dragged himself up, reaching with trembling fingers. "No—don't! That's… from Hatake—"
It was Kakashi's gift. His precious ointment.
"You—!"
The last shred of Shinji's restraint snapped. With a furious snarl, he smashed the jar into the ground.
CRACK!
Shards of clay scattered across the floor.
Naraku stared blankly at the ruins, heartbreak squeezing his chest. He dropped to his knees, hands shaking as he tried to gather the pieces.
You bastard. Do you even realize how priceless that was?
…
Shinji kept swinging until Naraku finally lost consciousness. Only then did he stop, leaving his son crumpled on the floor. With a disgusted huff, he stormed out into the night to drink and gamble, abandoning him.
The system roused Naraku soon after, reporting on how effectively it had broadcast his inner thoughts.
Hissing through the pain, Naraku cursed his bastard father. At least the ointment he'd already used had sealed his worst wounds.
Reviewing everything, Naraku found himself grimly satisfied. His performance had been solid, and the system had played along perfectly.
With all this misery, I've gotta be racking up sympathy points. Once I get those Popularity Points, I'll power up fast. Can't sell tragedy forever.
After a few more hours of rest, dawn crept in. Naraku decided to skip school, pretending he was too badly injured to move. He stretched out on the floor in a comfortable position, gave the system the signal, and had it pull up the latest episodes of Naruto III.
Episodes five and six had dropped.
Excited, Naraku clicked play, hoping this time he'd show up on-screen. Two hours had passed since release, and the comment feed was already packed with tens of thousands of lines flying across the screen.
He skipped the opening. Episode five began with Kakashi arriving at school, the class buzzing about Minato Namikaze's solo hostage rescue. A group of girls squealed about whether they liked Minato or Kakashi better.
Combat class rolled around. The teacher called "Kakashi Hatake"… and then "Naraku Uchiha."
[Uchiha? He looks gloomier than an Aburame.]
[I bet his face is hot under all that hair. Funeral-parlor chic.]
[You know what, that actually makes sense.]
The fight lasted less than thirty seconds. Kakashi won, Naraku lost.
[No suspense at all.]
[Feels like no one likes this kid.]
[Even his classmates avoid him like the plague.]
[Well, the Uchiha rep is already bad. And he's extra gloomy.]
The scene cut to after school. Kakashi went to train alone in the woods, and the anime lingered on his practice for several minutes.
Finally, Naraku appeared again—back home. His drunk father stumbled in with a bottle, and the yelling and beating began just like the real thing.
"Pathetic! Move faster!"
"Beaten again by a Hatake brat without even a bloodline? Do you want to die?!"
"If only Kayako hadn't given birth to you! If I'd known you'd be such trash, why would I ever—why would I let her risk her life for you?!"
As the "training" dragged on, the anime revealed Shinji's backstory:
He'd never awakened the Sharingan, stuck at chunin rank, mocked by his clan.
Out of pride, he pushed his ailing wife to bear a child despite the risks, and she died in childbirth.
The son he got—Naraku—had talent, but was crushed by Kakashi's genius from the start. No matter how much Shinji screamed, threatened, or hit him, Naraku never surpassed his rival.
So Shinji drowned himself in alcohol, wasting away, until he couldn't even care whether his son lived or died.
The sequence hit hard. His ugly desperation, his selfish gamble, his cruelty toward his wife and son—laid bare. The comment section erupted.
[Can this guy just die already.]
[Nothing lower than a man who only bullies his family.]
[His wife risked her life for him, and he killed her for nothing.]
[Naraku barely even makes a sound while being beaten. He must be used to it.]
[Beating him like this won't make him better than Kakashi, dumbass.]
When the beating ended, the anime cut to Naraku in the bathroom, hair pulled back to reveal his bruised face. More comments flooded in.
[Knew it—Naraku's actually really good-looking!]
[You bastard, you don't hit someone in the face!]
[So the long hair's to hide the injuries?]
[Don't tell me Naraku's gonna turn evil later.]
The shot lingered on his numb expression before fading to black, marking the next day.
Another combat class. Naraku looked nervous beforehand. The teacher paired him with Kakashi again.
Compared to yesterday, he was clearly worse off—slow, drained, barely able to defend before losing.
[Kakashi's popularity makes Naraku look even more miserable.]
[Back off, kids. Kakashi's mine.]
[Naraku looks wrecked today.]
[Seriously? Can't they give him another opponent for once?]
[Man, this is hopeless. No way he'll ever beat this.]
[Kakashi's starting to notice something's wrong.]
[He really thinks Naraku's overtraining? Kakashi, you're killing me.]
[He just loves training too much.]