questions
After their intense training session, Kaito glanced over at Naruto. She was sweaty and dirt-smudged, her breath coming in light pants—a clear sign of her exertion. Yet, not once had she complained. She followed every instruction without hesitation or question, a testament to her unyielding spirit.
He stepped in front of her and gave a small nod, a rare gesture of approval. "Go home, take a bath. I'll meet you at Ichiraku in thirty minutes."
Her eyes lit up instantly, and she grinned, the grime on her face unable to dim her radiance. "You got it!" she shouted, already darting off toward her apartment, her sandals tapping a joyful rhythm against the stone as she disappeared around the corner.
Kaito watched her go for a moment, a faint smile playing on his lips, then turned and headed home himself. He valued punctuality, and Naruto's excitement was infectious.
Thirty minutes later, the curtain at Ichiraku Ramen swayed gently as Kaito stepped inside. The rich scent of pork broth and garlic hit him instantly—warm, inviting, and familiar. He walked up to the counter, meticulously wiped it down with a cloth from his sleeve, then did the same with the stool before sitting. His routine, a small comfort in his structured world.
Naruto was already there, perched sideways on her stool, watching him with an expectant gleam in her eyes.
"Is it really that serious?" she asked, eyeing him as he reached into his pocket and placed a folded stack of bills on the counter. The amount was clearly substantial.
He gave a brief, affirmative nod.
Her eyes widened, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Ten bowls of miso ramen, please!" she shouted with unbridled delight.
Teuchi, the kindly owner, chuckled as he started preparing the order, his movements practiced and efficient. "Back again already, Naruto?"
"She earned it," Kaito said, settling in, a subtle hint of pride in his voice.
Another thirty minutes passed in comfortable silence, punctuated by the slurping sounds of Naruto devouring her well-deserved meal. With her appetite finally satisfied and her energy still somehow intact, Kaito stood to leave.
"I'm heading to the library," he said, his voice calm and even. "You go back to the training ground and keep working on the leaf exercise. Don't stop until you can stick it for at least five minutes."
"Aww, I can't come with?" she pouted, her lower lip sticking out.
"You'd climb the shelves out of boredom," he stated simply, knowing her restless nature.
She pouted for a second more, then her expression brightened with a mischievous grin. "Alright. I'll master the leaf thing before you get back. You just wait!"
She ran off again, her spirit undeterred, a whirlwind of boundless energy. Kaito adjusted his collar and made his way to the village library, a place of quiet contemplation and hidden knowledge.
Inside, the air was quiet and still, broken only by the soft rustling of paper and the distant creak of floorboards. Kaito passed rows of towering shelves, his steps light and purposeful, heading for the restricted-but-accessible section labeled Academy-Approved Techniques. No advanced elemental jutsu here—only the foundational basics. Those would come after graduation and achieving genin rank. But even these simple scrolls held immense value, and he intended to make the most of them.
He scanned through the available scrolls with a discerning eye and pulled out a set of seven—each simple, foundational, and essential for any aspiring shinobi.
Basic Jutsu from the Konoha Academy Library:Clone Technique (Bunshin no Jutsu)
Rank: EDescription: Creates illusionary, intangible clones to confuse opponents.Focus: Emphasizes chakra division and balance. Naruto often struggled with this due to her excessively large chakra reserves, unable to precisely divide such a vast amount.Transformation Technique (Henge no Jutsu)
Rank: EDescription: Alters the user's appearance into another person, object, or animal.Focus: Trains chakra shaping and mental imagery, requiring a clear vision of the desired form.Substitution Technique (Kawarimi no Jutsu)
Rank: EDescription: Quickly replaces the user's body with an object (usually a log or another readily available item) to evade danger.Focus: Teaches reaction speed, spatial awareness, and precise chakra release for instantaneous movement.Body Flicker Technique (Shunshin no Jutsu)
Rank: DDescription: Rapid short-distance movement, making the user appear to vanish and reappear in a blur.Focus: Requires precise chakra control and timing for efficient, nearly instantaneous teleportation.Tree Climbing / Water Walking Exercise
Training Category: Not a ranked jutsu, but a fundamental exercise.Description: Allows the user to walk on vertical surfaces (trees) or liquid surfaces (water) by using controlled chakra flow to their feet.Focus: Essential for developing advanced chakra control and maintaining a constant, precise chakra output.Rope Escape Technique (Nawanuke no Jutsu)
Rank: EDescription: A simple technique to free oneself from ropes or bindings.Focus: Relies on small, precise chakra use to dislocate joints or create momentary weaknesses in bindings.Camouflage Concealment Technique (Kakuremino no Jutsu)
Rank: EDescription: Blends the user into their surroundings using minimal chakra and often a piece of cloth.Focus: An introductory stealth method, teaching basic chakra suppression and environmental awareness.
Though all these exercises were practical and important, only one truly stood out to Kaito as he read through them—the surface walking technique. With it, he wouldn't just be able to run up trees, defying gravity itself. No, he'd be able to run across water, a feat that demanded exceptional focus and consistency. More importantly, he'd be mastering chakra control in the process, developing the precise flow and output he knew he'd need for more complex jutsu later on. It was perfect. Exactly what he needed.
He committed every detail of each jutsu to memory, his eidetic recall making the process instantaneous, before leaving the library for Training Ground 7. As he strolled through the quiet village streets, a strange stillness settled over him. His instincts, honed to a razor's edge, suddenly flared. He stopped, eyes scanning the area, searching for any sign of movement, any anomaly in the peaceful afternoon.
Whoosh.
Reflex took over, faster than thought. In a flash, he drew his kunai from his sleeve in a reverse grip and slashed behind him, the blade a silver arc in the air.
Clang.
His attack was caught mid-swing. Someone had grabbed his wrist, halting the motion with practiced ease. His eyes flicked toward the figure—and he relaxed almost imperceptibly once he saw the familiar porcelain ANBU mask, its stylized features impassive.
"Tch. Just an ANBU," he muttered, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "What do you want?"
"The Hokage wishes to speak with you," the figure replied, their voice clipped and devoid of emotion, as expected from a masked operative.
Kaito sighed, already dreading what awaited him. Hokage summons rarely meant good news, especially when delivered by ANBU. "Fine. I'll be there in five minutes."
The ANBU gave a curt nod and vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving behind only the lingering scent of ozone.
"Great," Kaito muttered under his breath, adjusting the slight imbalance in his kunai holster. "This is gonna be a long day." He turned on his heel and headed in a new direction. The Hokage Tower wasn't far—just a few buildings from the library. A few minutes later, he arrived at its imposing doors.
Five minutes later, a precise, measured knock knock echoed through the Hokage's office.
"Come in," came the Third Hokage's voice from inside, raspy but clear.
Kaito opened the door and stepped in. The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, sat behind his desk, a gentle trail of smoke curling from the long pipe in his hand. His wise, aged eyes met Kaito's, and he offered a small, tired smile that spoke of years of burdens carried.
"Ah, Kaito. I have a few questions for you. Why don't you take a seat?" he said, gesturing to the sturdy leather chair in front of him.
Kaito nodded silently and sat down, the leather creaking beneath him. He maintained his stoic composure, ready for whatever interrogation was about to begin.
The Hokage took a deep inhale from his pipe, held it briefly, then exhaled slowly, the smoke drifting toward the ceiling like a silent ghost.
Hiruzen's Perspective
Hiruzen drew in a long, slow breath from his pipe, letting the smoke settle before exhaling gently. The wisps curled into the air like fading memories, each carrying a fragment of the past. His eyes settled on the boy seated before him—Kaito Shiranami.
There was no doubt in his mind: this child was a prodigy.
He had quietly assigned ANBU to watch over him—not just for Kaito's protection, though that was a factor, but primarily to keep him out of Danzo's reach. That man had a perverse talent for sniffing out potential and twisting it into something darker, something devoid of humanity.
His thoughts drifted back to a conversation months ago, in this very office.
"Hiruzen," Danzo had said, his voice measured but insistent, his single visible eye glinting with a dangerous ambition, "give Kaito Shiranami to me. I will train him into a weapon—no, a great shinobi. One that will protect the village without hesitation, a true asset to Root."
Hiruzen had clenched his fists beneath his desk, barely restraining his anger. "Absolutely not," he had replied sharply, his voice cutting through Danzo's calculated calmness. "Kaito is a genius, yes—but he is not yours to mold into one of your silent tools. I won't let him rot in your Roots, stripped of his individuality."
Danzo's eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his stoic face. "Then what will you do? Leave him to waste away in that pitiful academy? His potential will be squandered, like so many others who could have been magnificent."
"He trains harder than any genin I've seen, Danzo," Hiruzen said, his voice steady but firm. "He never misses a day, never shirks from a challenge. His progress comes from internal resolve, from his own drive, not external pressure or forced conditioning. He is his own genius—and that is far more powerful than any leash you could put around his neck."
Danzo sneered, a thin, cruel twist of his lips. "And how can you be so sure of such a romantic notion, Hiruzen? You always allow sentiment to cloud your judgment."
Hiruzen leaned forward, his voice dropping low with unwavering certainty. "Because I've seen it. He approaches problems differently. His solutions are more efficient, more precise than anything taught in the Academy. His instincts are sharp—he sees angles others miss, understands underlying truths."
Danzo took a step back, scowling, clearly displeased with the turn of the conversation. "I still believe—"
Hiruzen cut him off with a raised hand, a silent, absolute command. "I am the Hokage. This discussion is over. Kaito Shiranami is under my direct supervision."
Danzo's face twisted with anger, but he turned without another word. Just before leaving, he slammed the door with an ominous thud and muttered, just loud enough for Hiruzen to hear: "You'll regret this, Hiruzen. You always do when you cling to sentiment."
Hiruzen's eyes shifted back to Kaito, narrowing slightly as he considered his approach. He had to be delicate, yet direct.
"Tell me," he said quietly, his voice gentle but firm, "why did you pull a kunai on a villager today?"
Kaito didn't flinch. His gaze was calm, calculating, meeting Hiruzen's without a flicker of evasion. "Why are you even asking?" he replied, one eyebrow raised in a gesture of dismissive challenge. "You already know the answer."
Hiruzen frowned, a slight furrow forming between his brows. "And how exactly would I know that, Kaito?"
Kaito crossed his arms, his posture relaxed yet vigilant. "You don't need to pretend, Hokage-sama. I know ANBU occasionally sweep through my apartment. They're discreet, but not entirely undetectable."
That caught the Hokage off guard. His eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise. "How did you know?"
Kaito gave a half-smile, not of amusement, but something colder—controlled, analytical. "I clean my apartment every day. I know every scent, every shift in the air, every molecule of dust. Even if nothing is overtly out of place, a new scent lingers, a faint disturbance in the familiar order. ANBU may be stealthy, but they're not invisible to someone with a nose like mine, someone sensitive to every detail."
Hiruzen blinked, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "Y-you really are remarkably observant."
Kaito nodded, a subtle confirmation. "Yes. I've also smelled the same presence whenever I'm near Naruto. You've got ANBU watching her too, don't you? Not protecting—just… observing, keeping their distance."
His words stung, hitting closer to the truth than Hiruzen liked to admit. Hiruzen looked away for a moment, letting out a soft sigh before admitting, "You're right, Kaito. Their job is to intervene only if an outside threat appears—someone actively trying to harm or kidnap her."
"I see," Kaito said thoughtfully, his gaze never leaving the Hokage's face. "Then she must be important. Very important. But if she were just a normal child, there'd be no reason for such tight surveillance, for the constant watchful eyes, for the distance villagers keep, for the whispers behind her back… it all points to one thing, one uncomfortable truth."
Hiruzen's body tensed, a ripple of apprehension passing through him. "Why do you think she's important, Kaito?" he asked, his voice low, testing the waters.
"It's obvious," Kaito said calmly, his voice unwavering, as if stating a simple fact. "The villagers call her a monster. A demon. She was born six years ago—the same time the Nine-Tails attacked and then vanished. She has whisker marks on her face, a unique physical trait. And she walks through a village that won't even acknowledge her existence, treating her as less than human. She's the jinchūriki, isn't she? The host of the Nine-Tails."
Hiruzen stared, stunned into silence. His pipe slipped slightly in his hand, a trail of smoke suddenly stagnant. "H-how long have you known?" he finally managed, his voice barely a whisper.
"Since the day I met her," Kaito replied, his voice low but steady, filled with a quiet certainty. "Her eyes said everything the village tried to hide. They showed me the truth of her burden, the silent suffering."
Hiruzen let out a slow, weary breath, the weight of years of secrets pressing down on him. "I see…"
Silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid thoughts, with the raw, brutal honesty of Kaito's observation. But he had to return to the initial point.
"Even so," Hiruzen said firmly, his voice regaining its authority, "that still doesn't explain why you pulled a kunai on a villager, Kaito. That is an act of aggression, a direct threat to a Konoha civilian."
Kaito's eyes darkened slightly. His jaw tightened, a muscle clenching beneath his skin, and his voice dropped, laced with a cold, restrained fury that sent a shiver down Hiruzen's spine.
"Before I answer," he said coldly, his eyes narrowing to sharp slits, "I'll tell you a story. One that might explain my actions far better than any direct explanation could."
Hiruzen paused, sensing the immense weight behind his words, the profound gravity of the narrative Kaito was about to impart. Slowly, gravely, he nodded. "Proceed, Kaito."
Kaito continued, his tone flat, measured, yet beneath it lay a current of restrained, simmering emotion, a deep-seated pain. "There was once a fisherman who lived in a quiet coastal village. Every day, without fail, he caught a dozen fish. He kept three for his family—his loving wife and his beautiful little daughter—and gave the rest to his neighbors. The villagers praised his generosity, called him a good man, admired his kindness."
Hiruzen furrowed his brow, wondering where this somber tale was headed.
Kaito's tone grew heavier, each word weighted with a quiet dread. "Then came the famine. The ocean grew cold and empty. The villagers could no longer feed themselves, their stomachs aching with hunger. Yet the fisherman—somehow—still brought in a few fish each day. He kept sharing, even though it meant his own stomach growled at night, even though his family sometimes went without."
He paused, his eyes distant, lost in a memory, or perhaps a warning.
"But the sea grew crueler. His catches dwindled until he could only bring home one fish a day. Just one. He had to choose—his family or the village. So, with a heavy heart, he stopped sharing. Just for a while. Just until things got better, until the famine passed."
Hiruzen felt the twist beneath the surface of the narrative, a familiar pattern of human nature at its worst.
"The villagers, desperate and afraid, came to his door, pleading for food. He apologized, explained everything—how he couldn't even feed his own daughter, how his wife had fallen gravely ill from starvation. Most turned away disappointed… but one didn't." His tone dropped to a chilling whisper, a sudden, sharp edge appearing in his voice. "One villager—jealous, starving, resentful, desperate for a scapegoat—spread a vicious rumor. Said the fisherman made a pact with demons. That he'd hoarded food and cursed the village with his selfishness, bringing the famine upon them. The people, driven by fear and hunger, believed it. Madness replaced reason. And one night, consumed by their rage, they stormed his house while he was out fishing, desperately trying to find food."
A silence fell like a blade, sharp and cold, cutting through the air.
"They couldn't find the fisherman," Kaito continued, his voice devoid of all warmth, "So they took out their rage on the ones who were there. His wife. His child."
Hiruzen's breath caught in his throat. He saw it now, the raw, brutal truth of the allegory, the chilling parallel.
"When the fisherman returned," Kaito concluded, turning to him, his eyes hard as iron, gleaming with an unyielding resolve, "he found what was left of his family. Torn apart by the very people he'd once fed, the people he had tried to help."
"Do you understand now, Hokage-sama?" he said, his voice like ice, each word a hammer blow. "I will not be that fisherman. I will not stand by and let innocent people, especially those I care about, be destroyed by the ignorance and malice of others. Not again."
Hiruzen's throat was dry, his usual composure shattered. The weight of Kaito's words, the raw, personal pain behind them, was staggering. "…Yes, Kaito," he answered quietly, his gaze dropping from the boy's piercing stare. "Yes, I understand."
"If there's nothing else," Kaito said, already turning away, his posture rigid, "I'll take my leave. I have a student waiting."
Hiruzen gave a small, weary nod, watching Kaito's silhouette disappear down the corridor, the door closing softly behind him.
As the door clicked shut, Hiruzen let out a long, shuddering sigh, the smoke from his pipe now dissipating unnoticed. He looked at the empty chair where Kaito had sat, a grim understanding settling in his heart.
"…The future is uncertain," he murmured to the silent office, his voice heavy with the weight of leadership and foresight. "And it's shaped by the scars we choose to carry, and the promises we make to ourselves because of them."