Morning sunlight streamed into the classroom, dust motes of chalk drifting lazily through the air.
Iruka stood at the podium, rubbing his temples as he held up Naruto's test paper. On it, written in glaring red ink, was an enormous "12".
"Uzumaki Naruto."
A vein throbbed visibly on Iruka's forehead.
"Explain this answer," he said through clenched teeth.
"On the question 'What are the Three Forbidden Things for a ninja?'—why did you write 'ramen, pranks, and sleeping'?!"
The classroom exploded with laughter.
Naruto scratched the back of his head and flashed his trademark foolish grin.
"Ehehe… because those three really are dangerous! If I eat ramen, I can't stop. Pranks are too fun. And if I sleep, I'll miss training…"
Sasuke snorted coldly from the front row.
"Idiot."
"What did you say?!" Naruto slammed his desk as he jumped up, his chair crashing to the floor.
"Silence!"
Iruka hurled the blackboard eraser onto the desk with a bang.
"Naruto, detention after school!"
"Eh?! Nooo!"
Naruto's tears flowed freely.
Within the sealed space, Madara's spirit hovered over murky waters, one hand pressed firmly to his forehead.
Inside the iron cage, the Nine-Tails rolled about in laughter, its tails slamming against the bars with a deafening clang.
"This is the student you raised?" the Kyūbi mocked.
"The most vicious ninja of the Warring States Era—and his disciple scores twelve points on a theory test?"
Madara's Sharingan narrowed dangerously.
"Shut up. I never attended this kind of children's playacting school."
"But the 'Three Forbidden Things' are basic knowledge," the Nine-Tails wheezed, pounding the ground as it laughed.
"Money, lust, alcohol—and the brat writes ramen?"
Back in the real world, Naruto lay sprawled over his desk, carving little stick figures into the wood with his pencil.
Iruka's lecture on chakra theory went in through one ear and out the other.
"Dad…" Naruto wailed inwardly.
"Save me… theory class is torture…"
Madara's chakra stirred faintly.
For three years, he had taught Naruto countless ways to survive, escape, and kill—but he had never imagined being defeated by academics.
"Focus your chakra into the auditory meridians," Madara said through gritted teeth.
"It will enhance your hearing. I'll demonstrate only once—"
Five minutes later—
BOOM.
An explosion rang through the classroom.
The ink bottle on Naruto's desk had somehow detonated, splattering Sasuke in the front row from head to toe.
"UZUMAKI NARUTO!!"
Iruka's roar shook the windows.
"It wasn't me!" Naruto waved frantically.
"It was the chakra—no, I mean—the ink just exploded by itself!"
Inside the seal, Madara pinched the bridge of his nose.
He had only intended to help Naruto hear more clearly.
Instead, the boy's chakra control fluctuations had shattered the structural integrity of an ink bottle.
At lunchtime, Naruto sat slumped on the rooftop, gnawing on a piece of bread.
His orange jacket was soaked in ink—courtesy of Sasuke's shuriken in a fit of rage.
"I'm number one in taijutsu every time…" Naruto grumbled, kicking the railing.
"So why is theory class this hard?!"
Madara's projection appeared in his consciousness.
"Because you can't sit still."
"In my era, ninjas lay in ambush for three days and three nights without moving," Madara continued.
"You can't last three minutes."
"But the text is all cramped and dense. It makes my head spin," Naruto muttered.
Every time he opened a book, he fell asleep. None of it went in.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
"Hey! Dad, why don't you just use genjutsu and shove the knowledge straight into my brain? Like when you taught me antidotes!"
"No," Madara rejected immediately.
"Theory must be understood, not memorized."
He hesitated—rare uncertainty coloring his voice.
"Besides… I don't fully grasp modern ninjutsu theory myself."
From deep within the cage came a snort of laughter.
"Admit it, Uchiha Madara—even you have weaknesses."
Madara's chakra erupted violently, shaking the entire sealed space.
Watching the two "fathers" inside his body prepare to throw down again, Naruto could only smile helplessly.
The rooftop door creaked open.
Hinata Hyūga peeked out timidly, clutching a lunchbox.
"Um… Naruto-kun? Would you like to eat together?"
Afternoon taijutsu class was Naruto's domain.
When he shattered the school's obstacle-course record for the third time, even the perpetually stern instructor looked as though he'd seen a ghost.
"Time: twenty-eight seconds…"
The teacher checked the stopwatch repeatedly.
"That exceeds the level of an average chūnin."
The field fell deathly silent.
At some point, Sasuke's Sharingan had activated—his gaze locked onto Naruto's flowing movements.
Every action carried an indescribable rhythm, as though refined through countless battles.
"Next event—shuriken throwing!"
Naruto stepped confidently onto the line.
Dad, he asked silently, how many should I miss this time?
"Perform normally," Madara replied, amusement lacing his tone.
"Let the brats open their eyes."
Ten shuriken tore through the air.
The first nine struck the bullseye dead center.
The last, however, curved unnaturally midair—knocking every shuriken Sasuke had just thrown clean off the target.
"Oops—my hand slipped~"
Naruto grinned at Sasuke.
The black-haired boy's Sharingan spun wildly.
For the first time in three years, he felt crushing frustration.
That theory-class idiot—
how was he crushing him in actual combat?
"…Dead last," Sasuke muttered, clenching his fists.
"Just who are you?"
Detention after school was completely empty.
Iruka had been summoned by the Hokage, leaving Naruto alone with Foundations of Chakra Theory, staring at it like an enemy.
"So boring…"
He poked the book with his pencil—then suddenly froze.
"That's it! Dad said—practice makes true understanding!"
He sneakily locked the classroom door and clumsily began forming hand seals.
This was the Chakra Sensory Technique, an advanced skill meant for sixth-year students.
"Rat—Tiger—Dog—Ox…"
Pale blue chakra gathered in his palms—then suddenly surged out of control.
Loose papers rustled. Ink bottles trembled.
"Stop!" Madara shouted—but it was too late.
BOOM!
The storage cabinets at the back of the classroom exploded into fragments.
Naruto was blasted onto his back, face blackened, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"…Did I succeed?"
Madara's soul-chakra churned violently.
In that instant, he had sensed something wrong—
A faint trace of the Nine-Tails' chakra had mixed into Naruto's own.
Deep within the seal, the Kyūbi's grin stretched ear to ear.
"So it finally begins…"
In the Hokage's office, two reports lay open before the Third.
One from Iruka:
"Record of Uzumaki Naruto's Abnormal Behavior."
The other from ANBU:
"Analysis of Suspected Uchiha-Style Taijutsu Traces."
"What do you think?" the Third asked the silver-haired jonin by the window.
Kakashi lowered Icha Icha Paradise.
"Taijutsu styles can be imitated—but combat instinct doesn't lie."
He paused, his gaze sharpening.
"That child… someone is teaching him real killing techniques."
Outside, the sunset bathed the Hokage Monument in blood-red light.
The Third stroked the crystal ball, which showed Naruto playing dead amid the classroom ruins.
"Arrange special guidance," he said at last.
"You'll handle it personally."
Kakashi closed his book.
As he vanished in a blur, he left behind a quiet remark—
"Perfect. I'd like to meet that 'teacher' myself."