Smoke from the Third Hokage's pipe drifted lazily toward the office ceiling, forming gray spirals that dissipated upon touching the carved wood. Hiruzen Sarutobi stood before the large window, watching the sun begin to tinge the rooftops of Konoha orange. From that height, the village appeared peaceful—an illusion the elderly leader worked day and night to maintain.
A subtle shift in air pressure behind him announced his visitor's arrival. There was no sound of a door opening or footsteps on the carpet.
"You're unusually punctual, Kakashi," Hiruzen said without turning around. He took a slow drag from his pipe. "Should I assume you've sent the three genin back to the Academy? Team 7 was a volatile combination."
Kakashi Hatake materialized from the office's shadows. His posture, normally slouched and reluctant when giving reports, was now rigidly military. His hands were not in his pockets.
"I passed them, Lord Hokage," Kakashi replied, his voice low and devoid of any casual tone.
Hiruzen turned slowly, raising a white eyebrow. The surprise was genuine. He knew Kakashi's standards; the man had never passed a single genin team before, because none had understood the true meaning of teamwork and sacrifice.
"Did all three demonstrate the Will of Fire?" the old man asked, walking toward his desk. "Did they overcome their differences to obtain the bells?"
"No," Kakashi shook his head, his eyes fixed on his leader's wrinkled face. "Sakura Haruno froze in fear. Sasuke Uchiha was consumed by his arrogance and launched a lethal fire attack that nearly destroyed his own teammate. As a team, they were an absolute failure."
Hiruzen sat in his large chair, resting his elbows on the desk. "Then why did you pass them?"
Kakashi stepped forward. He reached into his tactical vest and pulled out the small piece of crumpled paper, stained with dirt and wood shavings. He placed it gently on the oak surface of the Hokage's desk.
"I passed them, Lord Third, because the test was broken in a way I never thought possible," Kakashi explained. He pointed at the paper. "Naruto Uzumaki placed that on me during a close-range Taijutsu exchange. Without me noticing. Without emitting a single chakra fluctuation my Sharingan could detect."
Hiruzen took the paper. His eyes, which had seen decades of war and thousands of jutsu, narrowed as he studied the strokes of black ink. As a student of the Second Hokage, Hiruzen had a deep understanding of Fūinjutsu, even if it wasn't his specialty.
"This... the calligraphy is crude, limited by the quality of the brush and ink," murmured the Hokage, tracing the symbols in the air with a trembling finger. "But the underlying logical matrix... the anchor strokes, the weight compression. It's brilliant. It's a direct alteration of local physical laws. What did this seal do, Kakashi?"
"It crushed my center of gravity with the equivalent weight of fifty pounds of solid steel at the exact moment I moved to take him down," Kakashi recounted, his tone still reflecting residual astonishment. "It nearly shattered my balance completely. And that's not all."
For the next twenty minutes, Kakashi detailed every second of the battle at Training Ground 7. He described the Silent Cicada Ghost Step, the unnatural way Naruto destroyed a solid log with the compressive force of his fingers, and the terrifying fluidity of the Pure Jade Style that reversed the Jōnin's inertia mid-air.
But what made Hiruzen set his pipe down on the ashtray, his face unusually pale, was the description of the boy's chakra.
"A frozen lake?" repeated Hiruzen, his voice hoarse. "Are you saying his chakra doesn't flow, but condenses within his own flesh and bones?"
"It's martial heresy, Lord Third," Kakashi nodded gravely. "He doesn't use his energy to expel jutsu, but to forge his own body as if it were an iron vessel. When I asked who taught him the seals and control, he looked me in the eye and said his Uzumaki blood dictated it to him. That the knowledge simply... flowed into him when he stopped trying to copy our techniques."
The silence in the Hokage's office was so dense it could almost be cut with a kunai.
Hiruzen looked out the window, toward the village. He thought of Kushina Uzumaki. He thought of the massacre of Uzushiogakure. Was it possible that the trauma of the Mizuki incident, combined with his clan's pure heritage and the latent power of the Kyūbi, had triggered an ancestral awakening in the boy? Bloodline limits were mysterious, but Naruto's attitude... that authority, that gaze of an ancient emperor...
"Furthermore," Kakashi added, closing his eyes for a second. "He dismantled the psychology of the bell test. He told me to my face that demanding loyalty under the threat of destroying their futures isn't teamwork—it's creating submission through fear. Then he took the single bell he obtained and tossed it to Sasuke like trash, forfeiting his rank before participating in what he called 'a game of betrayals.'"
Hiruzen let out a long, heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Kakashi... we are facing an unprecedented scenario," the Hokage pronounced. "The loud, attention-starved boy we knew is dead. What we have now is an individual with the prowess of a war veteran, the sealing genius of his ancestors, and a philosophy that challenges the very structure of our village."
"What are your orders, Lord Third? Should I bring him in for interrogation by the Intelligence Division?"
"No!" Hiruzen raised his hand sharply. "If what you say about his conviction is true, cornering him will only turn him into an enemy. Or worse, a martyr. You will keep him on Team 7. You will be his sensei on paper, but in practice, your primary mission is to observe him. Do not provoke him. We need to understand the depth of this 'awakening' before making any decisions. For Konoha's sake, Naruto Uzumaki must remain a shinobi of the Leaf."
Kakashi nodded, understanding the political and tactical magnitude of the order. "Understood, Lord Hokage."
The Mortal Truth-Seeking
While his fate was being discussed in the highest echelons of power, Naruto walked through the commercial streets of Konoha. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestones.
His pace was slow, rhythmic, guided by the same breathing technique that had so disturbed Sasuke. The villagers still cast him venomous glances, pulling their children out of his path. Days ago, in his past life as a fragile child, those glances would have been daggers in his chest. Now, to the Immortal, they were no more than the buzzing of ignorant insects.
He did not head to his apartment. He did not head to Ichiraku Ramen. His steps took him to a circular building of white stone in the academic district: the Central Library of Konoha.
Upon entering, the smell of old paper, dry ink, and dust greeted him. It was a universal smell. In the Immortal Realm, the libraries of the sects were palaces of crystal holding shining jade tablets and scrolls that floated in the air. This mortal library was crude, full of creaking wooden shelves, but the purpose was the same: to store the knowledge of the eons.
The librarian, a middle-aged woman with half-moon glasses, looked up from her desk. Seeing the blond hair and the marks on his cheeks, her face contorted into a grimace of disgust. She opened her mouth to invent an excuse and throw him out.
Naruto did not stop at the counter. He did not ask for permission. He simply turned his face and fixed his cold, abyssal blue eyes on her for a fraction of a second.
Intent seeped out, barely a drop in the ocean of his soul. The librarian felt an irrational terror grip her throat. The order to leave died on her lips, and she violently lowered her gaze to her records, pretending to be immersed in her work, her heart racing.
Naruto continued on his way to the Historical and Geopolitical Archives section.
My memories of this world before my reincarnation in the Immortal Realm are vague, Naruto thought, sliding his fingers over the leather spines of the books. An outcast child painting stone faces pays no attention to borders or the politics of mortal kingdoms. To reclaim my divinity and protect this vessel, I need to know the chessboard I'm standing on.
He took a dozen thick texts. Maps of the Elemental Continent, histories of the Warring Clans Era, public records on the Tailed Beasts, and an old worn tome on the history of the noble clans. He carried the pile of books to an isolated table near a window and sat down.
He began to read. Not like a child, but with the speed and retention of someone who had deciphered runic scriptures left by dead gods. His mind processed entire pages in seconds, connecting isolated data into a global intelligence network.
He read about the Five Great Shinobi Nations. He read about Hashirama Senju, the so-called "God of Shinobi," who distributed the Tailed Beasts as if they were mere nuclear weapons to maintain a balance of terror.
Naruto closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Kurama's faint warmth deep within his mental landscape. So this world sees them as demons or energy batteries. How pathetic. They don't see the flow of nature that they represent. Sealing the Beasts was the act of a frightened mortal trying to tie the sky with straw ropes.
Then, he opened the volume on the clans. He specifically looked for the name he had used as an excuse in front of Kakashi. A name he knew belonged to him, but whose historical weight in this universe he was unaware of.
The Uzumaki Clan.
The page recounted the existence of Uzushiogakure, the Village Hidden Among the Whirlpools. It described their unnatural longevity, their immense energy reserves, and their absolute mastery of Fūinjutsu.
And then, Naruto read the last line of the record:
Destroyed during the Second Great Shinobi War. Several nations secretly allied, terrified by the power of their seals, and eradicated the village down to its foundations to erase their knowledge from the face of the earth.
Naruto closed the book slowly. The thud echoed in the silent library.
He felt no sadness. There were no tears for people he never knew. What he felt was a cold, absolute confirmation of the nature of the universe, regardless of the realm.
Fear, Naruto reflected, resting his chin on his interlaced hands, his blue eyes gleaming with a dangerous light in the library's dimness. It is the only universal law that mortals truly respect. My clan in this world was massacred not because they were weak, but because others feared what they could not control. The balance of these villages is a farce held together by mutual paranoia.
Naruto looked out the window. The sun had already set, plunging Konoha into the shadows of twilight. The village lights were beginning to turn on, dim and ignorant.
Kakashi Hatake believes he can assess me. Hiruzen Sarutobi believes he can govern me, Naruto thought, as an imperceptible smile curved his lips. His physical body was still weak, but his mind had already conquered the continent.
Let them observe. Let them watch. While they play at being shinobi in their mud puddle, I will absorb the knowledge of this world, refine my bones into stars, and when the time comes... I will show them what it truly means to fear the heavens.
With a fluid motion, Naruto rose from the chair, leaving the books perfectly stacked. It was time to return to his apartment. The initial stage of Body Tempering wasn't going to sustain itself; tonight, he would find a way to extract the residual energy from the very earth of Konoha to forge his path toward the middle stage.