Chapter 4: "My Dream is to Become Hokage!"
The hum of malicious whispers was a physical pressure against his skull. This is no different, Naruto thought, a bitter taste in his mouth. No different from being the orphan kid everyone picked on in that other life. Just a different setting, same cruel script. The urge to just walk out, to abandon this farce of an education, was a powerful, throbbing pulse. It was all so disgustingly predictable.
"Naruto… Naruto-kun…?"
A voice, soft as a feather and trembling with nerves, cut through the static of his resentment. He turned.
Lavender eyes, wide and gentle as a misty dawn, met his. A face like a delicate porcelain doll, framed by silky pale hair, was looking at him with an expression of pure, flustered concern. Hyuga Hinata. Up close, her shyness was a palpable aura.
"Are you… okay?" The words left his mouth before he could think, a reflex born from some deep-seated, protective instinct that felt both foreign and intimately familiar. It was a feeling woven into the very fabric of his merged memories—a sense that this girl mattered.
Without conscious thought, his hand rose, reaching across the small space between their desks. His fingertips brushed against her forehead. Her skin was warm, surprisingly so.
The instant he made contact, his mind caught up. Idiot! She faints!
But it was too late. Hinata's eyes went impossibly wider, a deep flush blooming from her neck to the roots of her hair. "N-no… it's okay, I'm fine… Naruto… he… touched…" The words were a breathless, malfunctioning whisper. Then, as if her strings had been cut, her eyes fluttered shut and she listed sideways, boneless.
"Whoa!" Naruto's other hand shot out, cupping the back of her head just before it could thump against the hard wooden desk. Gently, he guided her down to rest her cheek on her folded arms. Great. Just perfect. I broke the future clan heiress by saying hello.
He was leaning over her, a worried frown on his face, completely focused on ensuring she was just unconscious and not in distress.
Thwack.
A tightly wadded paper ball bounced off the side of his head.
The impact was nothing—a fly's landing. But the intent behind it was a spark thrown into a room soaked in gasoline. Naruto's head snapped up, his blue eyes zeroing in on a smirking, older-looking boy in the second row who was quickly pretending to look innocent.
"Look, everyone!" the boy crowed, seeing he had Naruto's attention. "The fox-demon's showing its true colors! Attacking a girl already!"
The dam broke. The temporary silence born of his earlier glare was forgotten, washed away in a renewed tide of righteous indignation.
"He made her faint!"
"He's dangerous! Get him out of here!"
"See? No parents, no manners! A real monster!"
"Creep…"
"Bug…"
The insults came faster, harsher, from children whose faces were twisted with a hatred they'd learned at their parents' knees. It was a chorus of venom, smooth and practiced.
A cold, dark pressure began to build behind Naruto's sternum. The act, the sunny smile, the pretense of ignorance—it all felt like thin paper tearing under a torrent. Who said you have to just sit and take it? a voice snarled inside him, a voice that was all Saiyan pride and human rage intertwined. Who made that rule?
He straightened up slowly. He didn't shout. He didn't snarl.
He simply lifted his gaze and looked at them.
As he did, the chakra within him, agitated by the spike of pure anger, surged involuntarily. It wasn't a technique. It was raw, potent energy radiating from his core, amplified by the latent power in his cells. His eyes, usually so bright and open, went flat and hard, like chips of arctic ice.
It wasn't a killing intent—he didn't know how to project that yet. It was something simpler, more primal: the sheer, intimidating weight of a superior predator. A silent, palpable threat that bypassed logic and spoke directly to the lizard brain.
The torrent of abuse cut off mid-sentence. Faces paled. The smirking boy's grin vanished, replaced by a slack-jawed gape of fear. He scrambled back into his seat, trying to become one with the woodwork. The classroom plunged into a dead, ringing silence, broken only by the sound of someone's shaky breath.
"Th-those eyes…!"
"It's going to eat us…!"
"M-mom…"
From his seat, Nara Shikamaru let out a quiet, understanding sigh, his eyes half-lidded. "Troublesome… so this is what dad meant. That's not just a kid. That's… something else."
The pressure receded as Naruto took a controlled breath, reining the energy back in. The immediate, childish need to lash out faded, replaced by a colder satisfaction. Good. Fear is a language they understand. He turned his attention back to Hinata, deliberately turning his back on the cowed room.
About half an hour later, as a few more late students trickled in, the girl beside him stirred. Her long, dark lashes fluttered, and those pale lavender eyes slowly opened, focusing on him with dazed confusion before flooding with immediate, flustered recognition.
"Um… you're awake?" Naruto said, keeping his voice low and gentle. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have touched your forehead. I didn't know you'd… react like that."
Hinata shot upright, her hands flying up in a defensive, apologetic wave. "N-no! N-no! It's… it's my fault! I was too… I got too nervous! It's not Naruto-kun's fault at all…!" Her words tumbled over each other, her face a brilliant shade of crimson.
Seeing her utter sincerity, a real, unforced smile touched Naruto's lips. Not the sunny act, but something smaller, warmer. "Well… let's both do our best from now on, okay?"
That smile, directed solely at her, seemed to short-circuit Hinata's systems all over again. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, nodding so vigorously a strand of hair came loose. "Y-yes! I… I will do my best!" Her heart felt like a trapped bird trying to escape her ribs. Naruto-kun is… so kind… and his smile…
Just then, the classroom door opened, and Iruka walked in, a clipboard under his arm. The residual tension in the room shifted, morphing into a more manageable buzz of first-day anxiety. The demon fox incident was carefully not mentioned, a tacit agreement born of fear.
"Alright, settle down everyone!" Iruka's voice, practiced and firm, cut through the noise. "We'll start with roll call, then self-introductions. Hobbies, dreams, that sort of thing. Let's get to know each other."
One by one, students went to the front.
"Uchiha Sasuke. I like training with my brother. My dream is to become a powerful ninja." Cool, detached, already carrying the weight of his clan's name.
"H-Hyuga Hinata… I like… my ideal is… to become stronger…" A whisper that barely reached the second row.
"Yamanaka Ino! I like cute things and talking with friends! My dream is… to have lots of fun!" A bright, confident declaration.
"Nara Shikamaru. I like cloud-watching and shogi. I hate trouble. My dream is to live a peaceful, lazy life." A drawl that earned a few chuckles.
Finally, it was his turn. Naruto walked to the front, feeling dozens of eyes on him—some still fearful, some resentful, a few merely curious. He locked eyes with Iruka, who watched him with an unreadable, careful expression.
He plastered on the smile. The wide, earnest, Naruto Uzumaki™ smile.
"My name is Uzumaki Naruto!" he announced, his voice clear and carrying. "I like lots of things, and I hope to make lots of friends here!"
He paused, letting the generic statement hang in the air. He saw Iruka lean forward slightly, anticipation in his gaze. This is what you want to hear, right? This is the line you've written for your puppet.
Naruto's grin widened, becoming almost blinding in its fake sincerity. He threw his arms out wide, a dramatic, childlike gesture.
"AND MY DREAM," he declared, pouring every ounce of false cheer he could muster into the words, "IS TO BECOME THE HOKAGE! A GREAT HOKAGE, EVEN GREATER THAN ALL THE ONES BEFORE! BELIEVE IT!"
The classroom was silent for a beat, then erupted into poorly stifled snickers and scornful murmurs. "The demon fox? Hokage? As if!" "What a joke…"
Iruka, however, didn't laugh. He just looked at Naruto, and for a fleeting second, Naruto thought he saw something complex flicker in the teacher's eyes—not approval, but a kind of weary recognition. The script is being followed.
Naruto kept the brilliant, empty smile on his face as he returned to his seat. Inside, the sentiment was a stark, cold contrast.
My dream, he thought, the internal voice a stark whisper in the vault of his mind, is to gain the power to never have to perform this stupid, degrading play ever again.