The moon hung low over Konoha, silvering the rooftops and turning the training field into a pool of quiet light. Most of the village slept. Only the cicadas dared to speak.
Naruto didn't sleep much these days.
The academy said he was hopeless. Mizuki snickered when he tried to mold chakra; Iruka's patience had limits. Even the other kids gave up on sparring with him—he was too clumsy, too loud, too everything.
So he learned to stop asking.
If they wouldn't teach him, he'd teach himself.
He stood barefoot in the grass, sweat glinting on his arms, the old practice katana steady in his hands. It wasn't even a real weapon—just an abandoned blade he'd found behind a smith's shop, its edge chipped, its handle wrapped in bandages. But it fit his grip like it had been waiting for him.
He exhaled, and the night air cooled the ache in his lungs.
The sword flowed forward in a single motion—cutting through moonlight, through silence. He watched the way it moved, how the air bent around the swing. Not just power. Flow. That was what he wanted. To move like water, unstoppable but calm.
"Again," he whispered.
His chakra flickered, bright and wild at the edges, hard to control. He pressed it down the blade anyway. The metal hummed faintly, the light quivered, and for a heartbeat the sword seemed to drink in the night.
Then it sputtered out.
Naruto sighed, wiped his forehead, and laughed softly to himself.
"Guess even water's gotta start somewhere."
He wasn't angry—not anymore. Anger wasted energy. What he wanted was strength. Enough to protect what was his, and maybe… one day, enough to be seen.
He sheathed the sword and glanced toward the Hokage Monument. The faces up there never blinked, never looked down at him.
But one day, he promised, they would.
Next morning, he'd still joke and grin and pretend he'd overslept like always. Nobody would know that when the academy doors opened, the "dead-last" of the class had already trained half the night.
Because Naruto Uzumaki had decided something:
If the world wouldn't open the gate for him, he'd carve his own door.
Next day.
Morning hit Konoha with the sound of laughter and sandals scuffing down the Academy steps. Everyone was buzzing about the graduation exam—except for Naruto.
He sat near the back of the room, chin propped on his hand, pretending to nap while Iruka-sensei explained the chakra molding sequence for the Clone Technique. He'd heard it a hundred times before. Useless, he thought. All form, no life.
Molding chakra felt like trying to grab smoke.
Swinging his sword—that made sense. The weight, the balance, the flow. But Iruka didn't teach that. The Academy only cared about ninjutsu and theory. So Naruto had learned to keep his sword practice to himself. Hidden. Secret.
"Alright," Iruka called out, clapping once. "You all know the test. Transformations and basic Clone Technique. Those who pass become Genin."
The room rippled with nervous energy. Sasuke looked bored. Sakura sat up straighter. Naruto only yawned.
When his name was called, he rose without a word and stepped forward. The classroom felt smaller when all eyes were on him.
He met Iruka's gaze briefly—no grin, no jokes, just quiet focus.
"Ready when you are," Iruka said softly.
Naruto nodded. "Yeah."
He formed the seals slowly, remembering each shape, the way his fingers used to tremble from trying too hard. This time, he breathed differently—like in sword practice. Calm, steady.
Chakra surged, wild as ever, but he guided it like water through a channel.
"Clone Technique."
The puff of smoke cleared.
A single clone wobbled beside him, half-formed and pale, but standing. Its eyes opened before collapsing in a ripple of chakra.
Naruto exhaled and bowed his head. Not a joke, not an outburst—just a quiet nod.
"Guess I'll try again next year."
Iruka's face softened, conflicted. Mizuki snickered from the corner, but Naruto ignored him.
He didn't even look back as he walked out.
Outside, the wind moved through the trees. He found the old training field again and drew the blade. It sang faintly as he swung, cutting through frustration and silence alike.
"I'll pass my own way," he murmured.
The sword caught the light and shimmered like water.
In the distance, the bell in the Hokage's tower rang noon.
Later…
The forest at the edge of Konoha was quiet again. Only the rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of the village reached him. Naruto sat cross-legged on the dirt, the old katana lying across his knees.
He had cleaned it a hundred times, polishing away rust that never seemed to fade. Still, it gleamed a little brighter every night.
He liked to think it appreciated the effort.
"You were tossed away too, huh?" he muttered. His voice was soft now, different from the loud, goofy tone he used at the Academy. "Guess we're the same. Not good enough for anyone… but still here."
The wind moved through the trees, and for a second it almost sounded like the sword answered — a faint hum through the metal, like a sigh.
Naruto smiled. "Yeah. I get it."
He'd given it a name: Alters Edge
Not because it was sharp — it wasn't — but because it reminded him of how water flowed. Always moving, never breaking.
He wanted to be like that. Not the strongest. Just unbroken.
He stood and practiced his swings again, each motion smoother than the last. Chakra flowed down his arms, imperfect but improving. The blade shimmered faintly, as though it was learning too.
Naruto didn't have a teacher. He had instinct.
He had will.
And a sword that understood what it meant to be unwanted.
Hours later, the night settled heavy and blue. Naruto slung Mizukiri across his back and started toward the village lights. He didn't notice Mizuki watching from the shadows — or the faint, gleaming smile that promised false kindness.
Tomorrow, they'd call him a thief.
Tonight, he was just a boy and his blade — two forgotten things, training to be remembered. "Let's call it a night…" Naruto told the blade, it didnt answer.
On his travel home,
The forest burned with rain.
Naruto's breath came ragged as he dragged himself through the mud, ribs screaming, vision pulsing black at the edges.
Mizuki's laughter followed behind him, sharp and cruel.
"You're not a ninja! You're a curse with legs!"
A kick to the gut sent Naruto tumbling across the ground.
He hit the roots of an old tree, blood mixing with the water beneath him.
Mizuki grabbed his collar and sneered.
"Did you really think anyone cared about you? You're just the monster they pity enough to feed!"
Naruto didn't answer.
He just looked past him — to the blade lying a few feet away, half-buried in the mud.
Alter's Edge.
The sword he'd mended, polished, talked to, trained with. The one thing that had never left him.
He remembered how he used to whisper to it, late at night:
"You're not broken. You just need someone to believe in you."
The blade had been cold metal then.
Now, as the rain hit its surface, something shimmered beneath the rust — like light trying to remember itself.
Mizuki's fist struck him again. Naruto coughed blood, but his hand reached out. His fingertips brushed the hilt.
"I'm sorry," he rasped. "I couldn't protect you either."
The rain slowed. The world dimmed.
And deep inside the metal — something stirred.
A heartbeat.
Not his own.
The sword trembled.
The water around it rippled outward in perfect circles, glowing faintly blue.
"No more."
The voice was soft — ancient, tired, but full of quiet rage.
Mizuki froze. "What—?"
The sword lifted off the ground, droplets spiraling around it. The faint blue light spread through the cracks and cuts Naruto had cleaned so many nights.
"You gave me kindness. You gave me care. While the world struck you down, you kept your hands steady. You never cursed your pain."
Naruto stared, eyes wide. "You can… talk?"
"I can remember."
The light flared, washing over them both. Water coiled like ribbons around Naruto's arms, merging with the blade as it flew to his grip.
Every bruise, every scar on his hands seemed to burn away in that glow. The sword vibrated against his palm like it was alive.
"You tempered me with love, little one. Now let me bear your pain."
Mizuki screamed and lunged.
Naruto moved without thought.
The blade became a streak of blue and white, moving like the rain itself — fluid, relentless. Each swing cut through water, wind, and fear alike.
Mizuki's attacks shattered against it.
The final strike sent him crashing into the tree behind him, his weapon breaking in half.
Silence followed. Only the rain dared to breathe.
Naruto stood still, the sword glowing faintly in his hand.
He whispered, "Why… why now?"
"Because you loved something the world forgot. And in that love, you gave me life."
The light softened, sinking back into the blade.
Naruto looked down, tears mixing with the rain. "Then… let's protect people who need it, yeah?"
"Always."
When Iruka arrived, the clearing was still humming — faint ripples spreading through the puddles around Naruto, who knelt beside the fallen scroll, bloodied but calm.
Iruka dropped to his knees. "Naruto! Are you—"
Naruto looked up, smiling through exhaustion. The blade rested across his knees, its surface gleaming like liquid moonlight.
"I think… I passed."
The rain had stopped hours ago, but the sound of it still lingered in Naruto's ears — the rhythm of it, the way it had mixed with his heartbeat.
He sat cross-legged on his rooftop beneath a washed-out moon, the village lights blinking faintly below.
Alter's Edge rested across his knees.
He had cleaned it until his hands blistered, until not a speck of blood remained. The blade gleamed like a pool of still water.
He traced his thumb along the hilt. "Why tonight?" he whispered. "Why now?"
For a moment, only silence answered. Then a breath of warmth rippled through his chakra — faint but certain — and a voice unfolded inside his mind, quiet as falling rain.
"Because you never stopped believing that something broken could still shine."
Naruto blinked. "You mean… me?"
"Both of us."
The sword's hum deepened, like it was remembering.
"For years I lay forgotten in the dirt. Rusted, useless. I saw men draw me only to spill blood, then cast me aside when I dulled. I thought that was all I was meant for — to hurt and be discarded."
The air trembled. The metal glowed faintly blue.
"Then you found me. A boy no one wanted. You spoke to me. You cleaned me. You cared for me when you had no reason to care for anyone."
Naruto swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I just… didn't want to be alone anymore."
"Nor did I."
A soft wind passed over them, lifting the edge of his torn jacket.
The voice grew gentler, like an old lullaby.
"I watched you cry on nights when no one heard. I felt your hands shake as you tried to smile the next day. I was there when you begged the stars for someone — anyone — to answer you."
Naruto's eyes burned. "No one ever did."
"So I did."
The sword's glow brightened, flooding his face in silver-blue light.
"When Mizuki struck you down, I remembered every kindness you showed me. Every night you spoke to me like I was alive. I became alive because you taught me what love was — even in a world that denied it."
Naruto's breath caught. "So all that time… it wasn't just me talking to myself?"
"No, Naruto. It was a lonely soul answering another."
He looked down at the blade, and for the first time, the reflection staring back wasn't just his face — it was warmth.
Something alive.
Naruto smiled, small and trembling. "Guess we saved each other, huh?"
"That is the truth of us," the sword replied. "Misery gave us shape, but kindness gave us life. We are not the world's rejects anymore."
Naruto leaned back, staring at the stars through half-closed eyes.
"Then let's make sure no one else has to feel like we did."
"Together."
The glow slowly dimmed until only moonlight remained.
Down below, the village dreamed — unaware that two forgotten things on a lonely rooftop had just rewritten what it meant to be alive.
Sunlight crept across the village rooftops, washing away the storm.
The puddles still shimmered on the streets below, catching the reflection of paper lanterns and laundry lines.
Naruto woke to that light — his first morning as a Genin.
For a moment, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling of his tiny apartment, the faint hum of birds outside breaking the silence. His body ached in places he didn't know could ache, but it was a good kind of pain. Proof that he'd survived.
On the floor beside his futon lay Alter's Edge, wrapped neatly in cloth.
Even silent, he could feel its presence — steady, faint, but warm.
"Morning," he said softly.
No voice answered this time, but the cloth shifted, almost imperceptibly, like the sword was breathing in its sleep.
That was enough.
Naruto sat up, tied his headband around his forehead — still crooked, still proudly his — and smiled.
"Guess it's time to meet the team, huh?"
He strapped the blade to his back, the weight familiar now.
Not heavy. Grounding.
☀️
The Academy courtyard buzzed with noise.
Students compared forehead protectors, teased each other, jostled and laughed. But Naruto's usual chaos was missing; he moved through the crowd quiet, calm, unreadable.
Iruka spotted him from across the room and gave a small nod — a mix of pride and something like awe.
Naruto returned it with a grin that felt real.
He took a seat by the window. Sakura was already there, flipping through her notes. Sasuke sat a few desks away, arms folded, pretending the world didn't exist.
Sakura noticed the sword first. "Since when do you carry that thing?"
Naruto rubbed the back of his neck. "Since always, I guess."
She frowned. "That's not standard ninja gear."
"Neither am I."
Sasuke's eyes flicked toward him, sharp and curious. "That's chakra-forged steel," he muttered. "Where'd you get it?"
Naruto shrugged. "Found it. Fixed it."
The tension between them hung for a moment, but before Sakura could speak again, the door slid open.
A silver-haired man with one eye and a lazy slouch stepped inside.
Kakashi's visible eye scanned the room once — slow, assessing.
"Team Seven?" he said. "You're late."
Naruto blinked. "We're late? You're the one who just got here."
Kakashi ignored him. His gaze lingered on the sword at Naruto's back.
For a second — just a second — his posture changed. His voice dropped quiet.
"That sword…"
Naruto's hand went to the hilt instinctively. "It's mine."
Kakashi studied him — not with suspicion, but with recognition, as if the sight of that weapon pulled an old memory to the surface.
Then the moment passed. He blinked once, the mask of indifference slipping back into place.
"Meet me on the roof in ten minutes," he said, and vanished in a flicker of smoke.
Naruto exhaled. The sword felt heavier suddenly, like it, too, had felt Kakashi's stare.
He murmured under his breath, "Guess you've got secrets too, huh?"
Somewhere deep in his mind, that familiar voice answered, faint but warm:
"Every blade remembers the hands that shaped it. Some memories are best left sleeping."
Naruto smiled faintly. "Yeah. Maybe. But you're with me now."
And as he headed for the rooftop, the light caught on Alter's Edge — a flash of living silver — as if the sword agreed.