Chapter 3 — The Shinobi World's Funniest Gag
If there was one thing Aaron Namikaze had learned in his first few weeks in Konoha, it was that babies don't get to be sarcastic. All his perfectly formulated meta-commentary was wasted, trapped inside a brain that still couldn't keep its owner from spitting up at Minato's face.
His current existential crisis: the rattle.
Minato, ever the doting older brother, had proudly presented him with a handcrafted, wooden rattle painted with the crest of the Uzumaki clan—a symbol of enduring vitality.
Aaron, the modern man, saw it as a noise-making stick. A distraction. He needed to focus on gaining control of his body, not celebrating the fact that his clan was destined to be wiped out.
The Training Montage (Baby Edition)
Every waking hour was a silent, desperate training montage.
Goal: Master the art of the intentional roll.
Motivation: To escape the crib and, perhaps, steal some of Minato's high-protein ninja rations.
I am a shinobi prodigy, Aaron thought, straining every infant muscle. The Yellow Flash's brother! I should be able to activate the Sharingan with effort, not just roll over!
He tried to channel his nonexistent chakra, concentrating until his face turned a furious shade of purple.
The crib bars swam into view. He tried to think of the Eight Gates, the Rasengan, anything to fuel the effort.
Finally, with a grunt worthy of a taijutsu master, he managed to pivot his hips. He rolled a full 360 degrees.
Success!
Then, as the momentum carried him forward, his head hit the crib bars with a soft thunk.
Kushina rushed over, immediately smothering him with kisses. "Oh, my poor little head-butter! Are you trying to learn the Iron Head technique already?"
Aaron couldn't protest that he was simply failing physics.
He just made a distressed noise that, to Kushina, sounded like: "Mommy! I demand more snuggles!"
This Emotional Irony is going to be the death of me, Aaron thought, resigning himself to the cuddles.
The Misunderstanding with Jiraiya
One morning, the household had a particularly loud, boisterous guest: Jiraiya, the Toad Sage.
Jiraiya, massive and intimidating, peered down at Aaron with a knowing smirk. "He's got the golden hair, but where's the fire, Minato? He seems a little… soft."
Soft? Aaron's blood boiled. I've survived an Isekai attack! I've seen the horrors of the Fourth Great Ninja War on a twelve-episode loop!
Jiraiya reached down and playfully poked Aaron's chubby cheek. "Let's see if he's got the perverted spirit of his godfather!"
Aaron saw his opportunity. This was the legendary Jiraiya! If he could just form a word, he could warn him about Pain, about the prophecy, about anything important.
He focused on the syllables: "PAIN!"
He pushed with all his might, trying to deliver a crucial warning.
The result: "Paa-paa-paa!"
Jiraiya's eyes widened. He immediately scooped Aaron up. "Did you hear that, Minato?! He just said 'Papa'! He recognizes his godfather already! A genius!"
Minato laughed, patting Jiraiya on the back.
"Looks like you have two sons now, Sensei."
Aaron was now cradled against the chest of a man he desperately needed to deliver a critical message to. He tried again. "No! Not Papa! PAIN! THE VILLAGE! DEATH!"
He ended up drooling slightly on Jiraiya's vest.
"Yes, yes, 'Papa' loves you too, little guy," Jiraiya chuckled, completely misinterpreting the frantic message.
The Comedic Failure had escalated into a severe Culture Clash. Aaron was trying to save the world; the world thought he was just being adorable.
The Secret Training
Aaron knew direct communication was impossible for now. He needed a secret language. He needed a jutsu.
One night, while the house was silent, Aaron fixed his eyes on the one thing that symbolized his powerlessness: Minato's spare headband, resting on a dresser across the room.
Chakra, Aaron concentrated. I need to move it. Telekinesis. Anything.
He stared, visualized, and strained. For fifteen solid minutes, the only result was a low gurgle of effort. The headband didn't budge.
Suddenly, a small, dark shadow dropped lightly onto the dresser next to the headband. It was a rat. It sniffed the material, decided it wasn't food, and scampered away.
Aaron's heart pounded. A creature of darkness, a harbinger of the shinobi world! He was about to have his first encounter with ninja wildlife!
He stared at the rat, then at the headband.
This is it. I can't fight it yet. But I can communicate.
He decided to introduce his first piece of modern culture to the ninja world. He knew this sound meant "Stop." It meant "Threat." It was universally recognized.
He inhaled deeply, preparing his tiny lungs.
"MROW!"
The rat froze, startled by the strange, unexpected sound. It looked at the crib, then back at the headband, then back at the noise-making baby. Deciding it wasn't worth the trouble, the rat scurried off the dresser, knocking Minato's headband directly onto the floor in its haste.
Aaron lay back, exhausted. He hadn't used chakra. He hadn't mastered telekinesis. He had just successfully frightened a rodent with a sound he'd learned from thousands of YouTube videos.
He had performed his first jutsu of accidental legendary results. The "Cat Scare Technique" had worked. Now, to retrieve the evidence...
End of Chapter 3
Next: Chapter 4 — The Shadow of the Cat