"System, to what extent can the Animator observe this world?"
> [The Animator can observe everything in this world from the end of the Warring States period up to your current timeline—including the intense emotions and important inner thoughts of most people.]
"What about my thoughts? Can he hear those too?"
> [In principle, no. The system provides a layer of protection that occasionally generates irrelevant surface thoughts to conceal your true ones. After all, we're train-hoppers here—we can't afford to be discovered.]
The system had apparently accepted Naraku's metaphor without hesitation.
"Then what if I want him to hear me?"
> [You may temporarily disable the protection layer when desired, and re-enable it afterward. Alternatively, you can set up specific 'thoughts' for the system to present to the Animator.]
"Perfect."
Naraku nodded slightly. A plan was beginning to form in his mind. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself as if marching toward execution and headed home.
——
BANG!!
A bottle smashed against the floor, glass shattering across the room. The drunken man bent down, grabbed Naraku by his long black hair, and hurled the small boy into the wall. Before Naraku could react, the man's boot swung toward him—Naraku barely managed to dodge in time.
"Useless! Move faster!"
Reeking of alcohol, the man spat out curses as he continued the "training," not caring in the slightest about his strength or the child's condition. His brain, dulled by drink, was far beyond reason.
"You lost again to that Hatake brat—one who doesn't even have a bloodline limit?! Are you trying to die?!"
Naraku twisted away, doing his best to defend himself, but his reflexes couldn't keep up. A solid punch struck his back, forcing a muffled groan from his throat—only to enrage the man further.
"You dare make a sound like that?! You call that the voice of a ninja?!"
His hair was yanked again, forcing Naraku upright. The boy lowered his gaze, both to hide the simmering fury in his eyes and to avoid meeting his father's glare.
Abusive bastard. Just you wait—when I'm strong enough, you'll regret it.
"Damn it! If only Kazuko hadn't given birth to you! If I'd known you'd turn out this pathetic, I never would've let her keep you! Never!"
Naraku staggered back to his feet, focusing intently on every twitch of the man's body—trying to predict the next blow. The beating continued for what felt like forever before finally slowing to a stop.
Uchiha Shinji—Naraku's so-called father—stumbled away, muttering, and disappeared into his bedroom.
Naraku dragged himself to the bathroom mirror. His limbs and torso were mottled with purple bruises. His lip was split, and one brow was darkened by swelling. The delicate features reflected in the cracked glass looked utterly pitiful.
But that, he realized, was actually useful.
It'd make it easier to approach Kakashi.
So Naraku didn't even bother treating the wounds. Instead, he dug out a loose, wide-collared outfit—something that would reveal just enough of the damage—and set it aside for tomorrow.
Before sleeping, he mentally reviewed the plan one more time. Everything seemed solid. Only then did he close his eyes.
——
The next morning, at Konoha Ninja Academy.
The classroom buzzed with noise. As usual, students gathered in small groups. The girls chatted and giggled; the boys boasted about new jutsu or wrestled playfully.
Naraku slipped in quietly, tugging his sleeve to make sure his bruises stayed hidden. Head down, he walked to the last-row corner seat and sat down.
No one could discover his condition.
No one except Kakashi.
Luckily, Uchiha Naraku had always been a loner. His long hair hid half his face, and no girl had ever noticed how good-looking he actually was. Sitting silently in the corner, he blended right into the background—no risk of exposure.
"Good morning, Kakashi-kun!"
"You're looking cool as always!"
"Morning, Hatake-kun!"
The chorus of cheerful greetings echoed through the room. Naraku glanced up just enough to see Kakashi's face—calm, distant, and slightly annoyed, as if the attention were more of a nuisance than a compliment.
When Kakashi's gaze started to drift in his direction, Naraku immediately ducked his head again. He couldn't let their eyes meet yet—not before the right moment.
There would be a sparring session again today. They'd likely be paired as usual; no one else in the class could last long enough against Kakashi to make the practice worthwhile.
This time, Naraku had to make Kakashi notice him.
He tightened his sleeves, fingers trembling slightly from both nerves and anticipation.
——
"Next pair—Hatake Kakashi and Uchiha Naraku."
The two boys stepped forward. Kakashi finally noticed the visible marks on his opponent's face.
Had Naraku been training alone at home?
They took their positions, formed the Seal of Confrontation, and waited.
"Begin!"
Kakashi blurred forward instantly, kunai aimed at Naraku's ribs. Naraku's reactions were a bit slower than usual—he barely managed to block, stumbling back to regain distance. But Kakashi pressed harder, relentless and precise.
Naraku fought to stay upright, each movement sending pain rippling through his already-bruised body. Before he could even catch his breath, Kakashi closed in again, forcing him on the defensive.
The kunai sliced through the air, severing a strand of Naraku's hair. As he dodged, his loose clothing shifted, revealing more of the bruises beneath.
Kakashi's eyes narrowed. Strange… even extra training wouldn't cause injuries like that.
He didn't have time to think further—within a few exchanges, he had Naraku pinned.
The teacher's voice rang out.
"Winner—Hatake Kakashi. Seal of Reconciliation."
Most students assumed Naraku's wounds came from the match itself and didn't pay attention. But Kakashi hesitated, frowning slightly. Naraku had given up too easily this time. Something wasn't right.
——
The sun hung low, bathing the village in golden light. Shadows stretched long across the ground.
Kakashi wandered aimlessly instead of heading home. His father, Sakumo, was away again; there was no one waiting for him, so there was no hurry.
Passing by the riverside, he spotted a familiar figure sitting alone on the grassy slope—Uchiha Naraku.
The boy's newly cropped bangs revealed delicate brows and lashes. When he lifted an arm, his sleeve slipped down, exposing a wrist swollen and bruised. Without treatment, it might never heal properly.
Naraku touched it lightly, wincing at the pain, then pulled his sleeve back down.
Kakashi took a step forward, about to approach, when a harsh voice cut through the quiet.
"Hey! Uchiha Naraku!"
Three boys strode over, all wearing the Uchiha clan crest on their clothes. The one in front—clearly their leader—stood with one hand on his hip and the other pointing down at Naraku.
"So it's true. You lost to that Hatake brat again? What a disgrace to the Uchiha name!"
His two lackeys snickered.
"With that weak body, you don't even deserve the Uchiha name."
"Someone like you shouldn't even be allowed in the same clan as Master Genya!"
"Teach him a lesson, Genya-sama!"
Naraku almost burst out laughing. Their overacted arrogance screamed background extras. Still, he needed this scene to play out—and perfectly. He'd been wondering how to draw Kakashi's attention naturally, and the universe had just handed him a chance.
Emboldened by his followers, Uchiha Genya sneered, kicking Naraku to the ground and yanking him up by the hair. "Just as I thought—trash breeds trash."
Naraku's face darkened, anger flashing faintly across his features. "Don't you dare insult my father."
"Oh? Am I wrong?" Genya scoffed. He'd bullied Naraku plenty before and had never once seen him fight back.
If Naraku did retaliate, he might've even earned a shred of respect from him—a nod, maybe, that this weakling had finally found a spine worthy of the Uchiha name.
"Uchiha Shinji, that drunkard—he's brought nothing but shame to our clan. Can't even complete his missions sober! What is he if not garbage?"
"You—!"
Naraku lunged, tackling Genya to the ground. He raised a fist—but hesitated at the last moment.
Genya was the pampered son of a clan elder, doted on as a late-born treasure. If Naraku actually hurt him, he'd be hunted down for revenge. Better to pretend to fight and save his real move for later.
Besides, if he won too easily… how would Kakashi have the chance to come save him?
That split second of hesitation cost him.
Caught off guard that Naraku had dared to strike at all, Genya recovered fast. He kicked Naraku off, grabbed his already swollen wrist, and twisted sharply, forcing the boy to the ground.
Naraku gritted his teeth, eyes shut tight as pain shot through him—ready to endure whatever came next.