Danzo Shimura wore a storm-dark expression as he strode through the underground corridors of the Root base. He ignored every subordinate who bowed along the way, heading straight for his most private chamber.
The heavy door slammed shut behind him, sealing off the outside world.
Calling it a resting room would be a lie—it was more like a shrine to his lifelong obsession.
On the most prominent wall hung a meticulously crafted replica of the Hokage ceremonial robe. The white fabric, trimmed with red flame patterns, gleamed seductively in the dim light.
At the sight of it, the burning desire for the Hokage's seat surged through Danzo like the deadliest poison—and the sweetest nectar. That craving breathed a sickly vitality into a body long corroded by power and darkness.
A feverish, almost deranged light shone from his single eye as it locked onto the robe.
Step by step, as if performing a sacred rite, he approached.
First, he discarded the cane he used as a crutch and disguise, his posture straightening slightly. Then he picked up the finest silk scarf money could buy in Konoha—kept ready at all times—and advanced with reverent care.
With painstaking gentleness, he wiped the already spotless replica of the Hokage's hat beside the robe, as though the slightest speck of dust would profane it.
He did this every day.
And every day, he felt compelled to do it again.
Satisfied, he tossed the expensive scarf carelessly onto the floor.
At last, his withered left hand trembled as it hovered over the fabric of the robe. He didn't dare grasp it—only brushed close, as if afraid the vision would shatter at a touch.
A sigh, thick with longing, resentment, and pain, escaped his throat.
"When… when will I finally be able to wear you openly?"
The whisper echoed through the sealed chamber, steeped in obsession and desolation.
---
Morning sunlight filtered through the window.
Naruto quickly changed into the winter clothes the Third Hokage had brought him the night before. The proper fit made him look far more energetic.
He took out the thick envelope, pulled a few bills free, folded them neatly, and slipped them into his worn wallet. The still-bulging envelope went under his pillow.
Done.
He clapped his hands, satisfied, and headed out.
Whether he hid it or not hardly mattered. Naruto knew that nearly everything he did in this so-called "home"—sleeping, training, eating—was watched by unseen eyes.
The ANBU assigned by the Hokage were always there.
And besides, in a village that shunned him as the "demon fox," no thief would ever dare approach this place. Fear kept them away.
In a twisted way, that fear was its own kind of security.
Naruto stepped outside and made his way to the secluded training ground beyond the village, where he'd agreed to meet his "teacher."
He hadn't waited long when a figure came sprinting toward him with exaggerated enthusiasm.
The man wore a green jumpsuit and the unmistakable bowl cut—but also sported a long, white fake beard that bounced comically as he ran.
"Yo! Naruto—right on time!"
The newcomer stopped in front of him, flashed a thumbs-up, and grinned so wide his teeth practically sparkled.
"This is youth—ah!"
He caught himself just in time, vigorously stroking the obviously fake beard.
"I mean… this is the vigor of youth!"
Of course, this was none other than Might Guy—just not under his real name.
There was a reason for the ridiculous disguise.
When Naruto had first approached him, asking for taijutsu training, Guy—though deeply moved—had refused. Naruto was the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki, a highly sensitive existence. As an elite jōnin directly under the Hokage, getting too close without authorization would invite trouble for both of them.
Guy might be hot-blooded, but he wasn't foolish.
Eventually, worn down by Naruto's persistence—day after day, rain or shine—and by the blazing "youth" in the boy's eyes, Guy found a compromise.
He bought the most conspicuous fake beard he could find and began teaching Naruto under the alias "Cheng Dai, a mysterious taijutsu master."
Thus, a bizarre sight appeared in Konoha: a white-bearded "Cheng Dai" with Might Guy's build and hairstyle, leading Uzumaki Naruto through brutal physical training every day.
Everyone could see through the disguise.
No one said a word.
"Grandpa Cheng Dai, let's start training already!" Naruto shouted, brimming with excitement.
"Very good—full of spirit!" Guy replied, flashing his trademark thumbs-up, the fake beard and shining teeth combining into a blinding spectacle.
Then his expression turned serious.
"However, Naruto, basic physical training is starting to slow in results for your body. The real challenge begins now."
From behind his back, he produced two seemingly ordinary leg weights.
"These were prepared specifically for you—Weighted Leg Wraps."
He handed them over encouragingly. "Don't worry, they're not heavy. To start, forty kilograms total—one on each calf. Once you adapt, we'll add more."
He said it as if forty kilograms were nothing.
For an ordinary adult, strapping that much weight to each leg would make walking itself a struggle—let alone enduring Guy's borderline sadistic taijutsu regimen.
But Naruto wasn't ordinary.
He was a trained ninja, with physical abilities far beyond normal. More importantly, he possessed the Uzumaki Clan's vitality—and carried the Nine-Tails within him.
His stamina, endurance, and recovery were on an entirely different level.
When he fastened the weights on, his body stiffened slightly as the heaviness set in. His movements grew sluggish, demanding more energy—but it wasn't unbearable.
After a brief adjustment, Naruto nodded.
"I'm ready."
"Excellent!" Guy boomed. "Then today's youthful—vigorous—training officially begins!"
He pointed dramatically.
"Ten laps around Konoha Village! If you can't finish, then three thousand kicks! Go!"
With that, he shot forward like a runaway beast.
Naruto drew a deep breath, lifted legs that felt filled with lead, and chased after him without hesitation.
Every step was heavier than before—
—but the fire in his eyes burned brighter than ever.