Six-year-old Naruto stood in front of the mirror, tugging hard as he fastened his brand-new goggles.
The dark green lenses gleamed coldly in the morning light, reflecting a face that had finally shed its baby fat.
Three years were enough to turn a toddler who once stumbled while walking into a mischievous brat capable of easily scaling the Hokage Rock.
"You've put it on crooked," Madara's voice echoed in his mind.
"Even if it's just a substitute for a forehead protector, an Uchiha wears it at a fifteen-degree tilt."
Naruto stuck out his tongue and deliberately nudged the goggles even farther to the right.
"No way! I'm going to be Hokage—my style has to be original!"
Inside the seal space, Madara's phantom crossed his arms and snorted.
Three years ago, he would have forcibly taken control of Naruto's hands and corrected the mistake.
But now, he simply watched as the blond kid bounced out of the apartment, his orange jacket fluttering behind him like a flame.
The streets of Konoha were livelier than usual.
Parents held their children's hands as they headed toward the Ninja Academy, shops along the road hanging banners that read "Enrollment Season Specials."
Hands in his pockets, Naruto walked through the crowd, keenly aware of several familiar gazes—
ANBU surveillance that had never ceased in the past three years.
"Two on the rooftop behind us. One ahead, disguised as a dango vendor," Madara reported lazily.
"Hiruzen Sarutobi is certainly persistent."
Naruto pretended to tie his shoelaces and seized the chance to make a silly face at the dango stall.
The vendor's hand twitched, nearly dropping the skewers into the charcoal.
"Don't cause trouble," Madara warned—though there was a trace of indulgence in his tone.
"Today matters."
And it truly did.
This was the first time in three years that Madara had allowed Naruto to display his real strength in public.
Of course, a heavily restricted version of "real."
"Remember—keep your taijutsu performance ten percent above passing. Miss two throws on purpose during the shuriken test."
Madara repeated the instructions tirelessly.
"Most importantly—"
"Absolutely don't expose my chakra control!" Naruto blurted out.
He then clasped his hands behind his head and lowered his voice.
"Dad, you've been nagging about this for three years. I could recite it in my sleep!"
Madara's chakra stirred into a small storm inside the seal space.
That title—Dad—had gone from absurd to routine.
Even the Nine-Tails could no longer be bothered to mock it.
The flow of people suddenly stalled at the school gate.
Standing on tiptoe, Naruto spotted Uchiha Sasuke, surrounded by parents snapping photos.
The black-haired boy wore a dark blue, high-collared shirt, his expression cold as ice.
At the sight of him, Madara showed genuine interest.
"Hoh. The Uchiha of this era aren't bad at all. Suits my taste."
Naruto pouted.
Over the past three years, he and Sasuke had crossed paths countless times on the streets—each encounter ending in mutual glaring.
But today was different.
Today, they were classmates.
"Hey! Sasuke!" Naruto waved his arms as he squeezed through the crowd.
"I got here first today—you lose!"
Sasuke turned his head. His dark eyes swept over Naruto's crooked goggles, his mouth twitching.
"Idiot."
"Who are you calling an idiot?!"
"Whoever answers."
The two kids pressed their foreheads together like a pair of bristling little beasts.
Nearby parents chuckled in amusement.
"Control your emotions," Madara said—his voice unusually tense.
"Do you want to be dragged into an ANBU interrogation room on your first day?"
Naruto took a deep breath, then suddenly broke into a grin.
"Just wait—I'll knock you flat in taijutsu class!"
Sasuke's Sharingan snapped open instantly, a single tomoe spinning slowly.
"Looking forward to it, dead last."
Over the past three years, Sasuke had seen Naruto training every morning without fail.
That persistence had sparked his own competitive drive—especially as he struggled to catch up to Itachi.
Under that constant pressure, Sasuke had awakened his Sharingan not long ago.
Though it had only one tomoe, even Madara was startled when he saw it.
This brat's cheating, isn't he? Awakening the Sharingan at six—he's even more extreme than I was.
The entrance exam was far easier than Naruto had expected.
When he threw a classmate off the mat for the third time during taijutsu sparring, the proctoring chūnin wore an expression as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Uzumaki Naruto—win," Iruka announced stiffly.
"Next group…"
Naruto sneaked a glance at the score sheet, delight blooming in his chest.
He had followed Madara's instructions perfectly—outstanding, but not shockingly so.
Even in the strictest shuriken test, he "just happened" to hit one fewer target than Sasuke.
"Well done," Madara said, rare praise in his voice.
"Now for the chakra test—remember—"
"Only one-tenth of my output!" Naruto cheered internally.
"Dad, you're extra naggy today!"
Madara's chakra tightened threateningly around Naruto's stomach, earning a small yelp.
Over three years, this had become their secret signal.
Whenever Naruto got too cocky, Madara used it to remind him to stay sharp.
The chakra test took place on the training field.
The children lined up, channeling chakra into special test paper to determine their affinities.
Naruto stood at the end of the line, watching flames flare, mist rise, and lightning crack one after another.
"Dad, what's my affinity?" he whispered.
"Theoretically, Uzumaki bloodlines favor sealing techniques, but…" Madara paused.
"Wait. That silver-haired jōnin—"
Naruto followed Madara's perception.
Under the shade of a tree at the edge of the field stood Hatake Kakashi, mask on, lazily flipping through a little orange book.
Yet the exposed eye was unmistakably fixed on the testing area.
"It's the ANBU leader watching me!" Naruto instantly recognized the elusive figure who had shadowed him for three years.
"Stay calm," Madara stabilized his emotions with chakra.
"Follow the plan."
When it was Naruto's turn, he deliberately let chakra run chaotically through his fingertips.
The test paper dampened—then split cleanly down the middle.
"Uh… a composite reaction of Wind and Water?" the proctor muttered in confusion as he recorded it.
"Potential rating… B?"
Under the tree, Kakashi closed his book.
After school, Naruto skipped through the commercial district.
A brand-new set of textbooks sat in his backpack, and in his pocket was his freshly issued ninja number.
012607.
"Iruka-sensei said we'll start learning the Transformation Jutsu next week!" Naruto shouted excitedly.
"I've wanted to learn that forever!"
Madara didn't respond.
Since the chakra test, he had fallen unusually silent.
"Dad?" Naruto stopped walking.
"Are you mad? I really behaved…"
"It's not your fault," Madara said gravely.
"That Hatake Kakashi—he noticed."
Naruto's back went cold.
"Noticed what?"
"Your chakra control."
Madara's chakra shifted into a defensive formation.
"He deliberately stimulated the test paper with Lightning Release to provoke an instinctive defense. You pulled back in time—but that moment of precision can't escape a Sharingan."
Naruto froze in front of the ramen shop, the mouthwatering aroma suddenly dull.
Three years of caution—was it going to unravel on the first day?
"No need to panic," Madara said steadily.
"He'll assume you're merely exceptionally gifted. For now, he won't connect it to anything else. But—"
A faint battle intent seeped through the chakra.
"We need to prepare for conflict."
Deep within the seal, the Nine-Tails let out a low chuckle.
"Finally getting serious? I've been waiting three years."
Naruto rubbed his stomach and grinned.
"What's there to be afraid of? I've got two of the strongest dads!"
"Idiot," Madara muttered softly—yet gently ruffled Naruto's hair with chakra.
"Go eat your ramen."
That night, the Third Hokage's office remained brightly lit.
Within the crystal ball played footage from the day's tests, frozen on the instant Naruto's chakra test paper reacted.
"What's your assessment?" the Third Hokage asked the silver-haired jōnin standing in the shadows.
Kakashi lifted his gaze from Icha Icha Paradise.
"Chakra control precision exceeding an average chūnin. Taijutsu forms with traces of Warring States influence…"
He paused.
"Doesn't resemble Sensei's style."
The Third Hokage exhaled a ring of smoke.
"So it wasn't knowledge Minato left behind?"
"It feels more like…" Kakashi closed the book.
"Training personally handed down by some old monster who's lived for decades."
Outside the window, a crow swept past in silence.
Its eyes glowed faint red under the moonlight—reflecting the lights of the Hokage Tower,
and, far away, the blond boy in an apartment, practicing hand seals late into the night.