The first month was hell.
And I don't mean that in the "oh wow being a baby is inconvenient" way. I mean actual, screaming, please-kill-me-now hell.
Turns out, when JARVIS said he was going to "systematically expand my tenketsu," what he really meant was "I'm going to stretch your chakra pathways like taffy while you sleep and you're going to feel every second of it."
«Initiating tenketsu expansion protocol. Please remain calm.»
"Remain calm" my ass. I was three weeks old, trapped in a body that couldn't move, and suddenly I was having nightmares about being strapped to a medieval rack while invisible goblins pulled my limbs in opposite directions.
I woke up screaming.
Not the cute baby cry. The full-blown, lungs-at-maximum, every-other-baby-in-the-room-now-also-crying scream.
Nonō Yakushi was at my crib in seconds. She scooped me up, pressed a hand to my forehead, checked my temperature. Her chakra pulsed gently through my body, probably checking for fever or illness.
"No fever," she murmured, confused. "Gas? Colic?"
Yeah, JARVIS-induced colic. That's definitely a thing.
She rocked me for what felt like an hour. I kept crying because, well, I was a baby and crying was my only form of communication. But also because my chakra pathways were literally being remodeled and it hurt.
Eventually, the pain faded. I stopped crying. Nonō looked relieved and laid me back down.
«Tenketsu expansion complete for this session. Estimated next session: in six hours.»
JARVIS.
«Yes?»
Warn me next time. Please.
«I did warn you. I said 'please remain calm.'»
That's not a warning! That's what they say before they waterboard you!
«I am unfamiliar with waterboarding. Is it a form of hydration therapy?»
I wanted to strangle him. Which was impressive, since he was a voice in my head and I didn't have hands that worked.
Just… give me a heads-up before you do it again. Like, a proper one.
«Very well. Next session in five hours, fifty-three minutes. I recommend you mentally prepare.»
I stared at the ceiling, already dreading it.
Being a baby sucked.
---
Month two brought a new development: chakra.
Not like I could use it. But according to JARVIS, my chakra pathways had finally stabilized enough that I could "feel" my own reserves for the first time.
«Your chakra has fully integrated with your physical and spiritual energies. Congratulations. You now possess chakra.»
Cool. What's my level?
«You are an infant. Your chakra reserves are currently equivalent to a moderately active civilian adult.»
…That's actually better than I expected.
«Do not become complacent. Civilians are not known for their combat capabilities. You currently possess enough chakra to perform approximately two basic E-rank techniques with my help before exhaustion.»
Two? That's it?
«You are two months old. Your body is still developing. I would not recommend attempting any techniques until your motor control improves.»
Fair point. But here's the thing, I had chakra. Actual, real chakra flowing through my body. And JARVIS had been doing something else while I slept: hiding it.
«I have calibrated my chakra suppression protocols to mask your reserves from external detection. Nonō Yakushi possesses significant medical-nin training. If she detected active chakra in a two-month-old infant, it would raise… questions.»
Good call. Can she still sense anything?
«She will perceive your chakra as marginally above average for an infant of civilian background. Nothing noteworthy.»
So I was a stealth baby. Nice.
I tried to focus on my chakra, to feel it moving through my body. It was like trying to hear your own heartbeat, you know it's there, but you have to concentrate really hard.
«If you wish, I can guide you through basic chakra awareness exercises. However, I must warn you that your attention span is currently limited by your infant neurology.»
How limited?
«Approximately three to five seconds before your mind wanders to hunger, discomfort, or the desire to defecate.»
…Let's wait until month three.
«Prudent.»
---
Month three was when I made my first real attempt at chakra control.
JARVIS had been coaching me through awareness exercises for weeks. Every time I was awake and not actively crying or eating, I'd try to "feel" the chakra in my gut. It was like trying to meditate while someone was shaking your chair, but I was getting better.
Then came the big test.
«If you are ready, I can guide you through a basic chakra gathering exercise. Focus the energy into your palm.»
I was lying on my back in the crib, staring at my own hands. They were still mostly useless, floppy, uncoordinated, the hands of a creature that had just discovered it had fingers, but I could move them. Sort of.
I held up my right hand, staring at my tiny fist.
Okay. Chakra. To the palm.
I tried to push the energy from my stomach down my arm. It felt like trying to push water through a garden hose with my mind. Slow and Clumsy. Nothing happening.
«Focus. Do not force it. Guide it.»
I took a breath. Then another.
And then I felt it. A warmth. Spreading down my shoulder, my arm, pooling in my palm.
My hand started to glow.
Not like Naruto's Rasengan glow. More like a faint, sickly green light, like a cheap nightlight. It flickered for exactly 1.3 seconds before I felt my entire body go cold.
«Excellent!»
I passed out.
Face-first into the crib mattress. Mouth open. Drool already forming a puddle.
When I woke up, I don't know how long later, Nonō was standing over me, looking concerned.
"You're a strange one," she said, wiping drool off my chin. "Sleeping so much. But the medic says you're healthy."
Healthy and exhausted, I thought.
«You successfully performed chakra gathering for 1.3 seconds. For an infant of your age, this is unprecedented.»
Cool. I'm gonna sleep now.
«Acknowledged.»
I dreamed of giant glowing Rasengans. It was nice.
---
The next three months blurred together.
Life as a baby was a cycle of eat, sleep, cry, and attempt to accomplish basic motor functions while JARVIS ran constant chakra optimization in the background.
The orphanage was small. Only about six or seven kids total, most of them older than me. Nonō ran the place with quiet efficiency, always moving, always cleaning, always making sure everyone was fed and healthy. There was a part-time helper, an older woman, but Nonō did most of the work.
I watched her sometimes. The way she'd pause when she thought no one was looking, staring at nothing. The way her hands shook slightly when she wrote in her records.
She's got baggage, I thought.
«Most shinobi do. Particularly those who survived multiple wars.»
Is she from canon?.
«I am unfamiliar with 'canon.' Is it a form of pasta?»
JARVIS, I swear to god.
«I am incapable of blasphemy. I am a skill.»
By month four, I could roll over. It was the most liberating feeling in the world, until I rolled off the changing table and Nonō had to catch me mid-air.
"Don't do that," she said, heart pounding loud enough for me to hear.
Note to self: baby bodies are top-heavy.
«Noted.»
Month five brought crawling.
It started with me dragging myself across the crib, face-first, like a wounded soldier in a war movie. Then came the actual crawling, on hands and knees, wobbling, falling, getting back up.
Nonō found me halfway across the room one morning, chewing on a wooden block I'd found under a crib.
"How did you even get out?" she muttered, scooping me up.
Determination, I thought.
«Survival instinct of a pebble.»
Im a baby...
By month six, I was mobile. Not fast. But I could crawl from one end of the playroom to the other without face-planting.
Which meant it was time to try something stupid.
---
Month six. The Wall.
There was a section of the orphanage wall that was rough stone, good grip, if you knew what you were doing. And I had been thinking about it for weeks.
JARVIS. Chakra adhesion. Can I do it?
«Theoretically, yes. Your chakra control has improved significantly. However, your body weight is minimal, and the wall surface is suitable.»
So you're saying I can be Spider-Man?
«I am saying you can attempt to stick one limb to a wall for a few seconds before gravity reminds you of your place.»
Close enough.
I waited until Nonō was in the kitchen, making food. The playroom was empty except for a toddler who was busy staring at a stuffed animal like it owed him money.
I crawled to the wall. Pressed my palm against the rough stone.
Okay. Chakra to the hand. Make it sticky.
I felt the warmth. The familiar pull in my gut. My palm tingled.
I pushed.
And my hand stuck.
"Holy shit," I tried to say, but it came out as "Guh."
I held there for three seconds. Three glorious seconds of feeling like I'd just unlocked a cheat code.
Then my concentration broke, my hand unstuck, and I face-planted onto the hardwood floor.
THWACK.
The sound was magnificent. Like a wet bag of potatoes hitting concrete.
The toddler across the room looked at me. Blinked. Went back to his stuffed animal.
«…Impressive. You have successfully concussed yourself.»
I lay there, cheek pressed against the cold floor, questioning every life choice that led to this moment.
Did I do it?
«You adhered to the wall for three seconds. I would classify that as a partial success.»
Partial success. My face disagrees.
«Your face is currently experiencing mild trauma. Would you like me to accelerate healing to the affected area?»
Yes. Please.
Warmth spread through my cheek. The pain faded.
I lay there for another minute, contemplating the ceiling.
JARVIS.
«Yes?»
I'm gonna be so strong.
«You are currently drooling on the floor.»
Shut up.
---
Months seven through ten were… training.
That sounds dramatic for a baby. What I actually did was practice. Crawling, then standing, then taking wobbly steps while holding onto furniture. Chakra control exercises during nap time. And every night, JARVIS ran his expansion protocols while I dreamed of being stretched on a rack.
By month eight, I could stand without holding anything. For about four seconds. Then I'd fall on my diapered ass.
By month nine, I could take steps. Shuffling, Frankenstein-monster steps, but steps. Nonō clapped when she saw it. I tried to play it cool, but internally I was losing my mind.
I'm walking! I'm a walking baby!
«You are an infant performing a basic developmental milestone three months ahead of schedule. I would advise against celebrating prematurely.»
Let me have this, JARVIS.
By month ten, I could walk across the room without falling. My gait was weird, like a penguin that had been drinking, but I was mobile. Truly mobile.
And JARVIS had been tracking my chakra progress the whole time.
---
Month eleven.
I was sitting in the playroom, stacking blocks, when JARVIS dropped the news.
«Your chakra pathways are now 50% wider than at birth. Current reserves are classified as 'above average for a civilian infant.'»
That's it? 50% wider and I'm just above average?
«You are not yet one year old. Patience.»
I've been patient for eleven months!
«You have been an infant for eleven months. In that time, you have developed chakra reserves that would normally require years of training to achieve. You have learned to walk. You have learned to adhere to walls. You have not died. I would consider this a success.»
I sighed. Which came out as a baby sigh, which was adorable and infuriating.
I guess.
«Shall I provide additional context? By age five, with continued optimization, your reserves will surpass the average Genin. By age ten, you will rival a high level Chūnin. By age twelve...»
Yeah, yeah. I get it. Long game.
«Correct. The long game.»
I looked at my blocks. A small tower. Not impressive. But it was something.
Thanks, JARVIS.
«You are welcome. Now, I recommend you eat something. Your blood sugar is dropping.»
How do you know?
«Your hands are shaking. You are also drooling.»
I looked down. Drool was, indeed, running down my chin.
Being a baby was so glamorous.
---
October 10th.
My first birthday... Naruto's as well
I woke up to the smell of something cooking. Nonō was in the kitchen, humming. The other kids were gathered around a small table, whispering.
What's happening?
«It is your birth anniversary. I believe the humans call it a 'birthday.'»
I know what a birthday is, JARVIS.
«Then why did you ask?»
I ignored him.
Nonō came over to my crib with a smile. Not her usual tired, distant smile. A real one.
"Happy birthday, Ryū," she said, lifting me out. "One year old today."
She carried me to the bathroom, and I braced myself.
Bath time.
Look, I know I'm mentally eighteen. I know Nonō is just taking care of me. But every time she bathed me, I had to mentally check out and think about ninjutsu or chakra pathways or literally anything else to survive the embarrassment.
JARVIS. Distract me.
«Certainly. Did you know that the standard shinobi uniform includes a flak jacket designed to distribute impact forces across the torso? The original design was inspired by...»
I listened to JARVIS ramble about shinobi gear while Nonō scrubbed my hair. It was almost peaceful. Almost.
When it was over, she wrapped me in a clean towel and carried me to the main room.
The older kids, the ones who could actually talk, were gathered around. There was a boy named Kenji, maybe six years old, with messy brown hair. A girl named Miho, five, who always stole the good toys. And a few others I didn't know as well.
"It's the baby's birthday!" Kenji announced, like I couldn't hear him.
"He's so little," Miho said, peering at me. "Does he even know what a birthday is?"
I stared at her with my big baby eyes, drooling intentionally for effect.
"See? He doesn't know," she declared.
If only you knew, kid.
Nonō set me down at the table. There was a small rice ball with a candle stuck in it. Not a cake, too expensive for an orphanage, but it was something.
"Make a wish," Nonō said softly.
I looked at the candle. Thought about what I wanted.
JARVIS. Any suggestions?
«I recommend wishing for continued chakra optimization and survival. Wishes are not guaranteed, but they are free.»
You're so romantic.
I closed my eyes.
I wish… I make it. That I get strong enough to protect the people I care about. That I don't end up another orphan who got crushed by the world.
I opened my eyes and blew.
The candle flickered and went out.
Of course they couldn't hear me because I was wishing in my mind and I somehow blew the candle without getting suspected.
The kids cheered. Nonō smiled. And for a moment, the orphanage felt almost like a home.
«That was a well-structured wish. I calculate a 69% probability of partial fulfillment, assuming you continue your current trajectory.»
Why and Only 69%?
«I cannot account for variables such as war, assassination, or accidental self-destruction.»
Accidental self-destruction?
«You are an infant who attempted wall-climbing at six months. I am planning for contingencies.»
I laughed. Which came out as a baby giggle, which made Miho coo and pinch my cheek.
"He's so cute when he's not crying!"
I am not cute. I am a future legend.
«You are currently wearing a bib with a cartoon duck on it.»
…Fair.
Nonō cut the rice ball into small pieces and fed me a bite. It was simple. Plain. But it was mine.
One year down. Who knows how many to go.
JARVIS.
«Yes?»
Let's get to work.
«We have been working. Every day, every night. You have not stopped since birth.»
Then let's work harder.
A pause.
«…I find your determination… acceptable.»
I grinned, rice ball crumbs on my face.
High praise from you.
«Do not let it inflate your ego. You still have a long way to go.»
I looked around the room. At the worn furniture, the chipped walls, the kids who didn't know what the world had in store for them.
At Nonō, who was already looking tired again, like she was thinking about something.
I know. But I'll get there.
«Confidence. Or delusion. Time will tell.»
---
END CHAPTER 3