Thud! Thud! Thud!
The sound of fists hitting a worn training post echoed through the empty Uchiha compound. Uchiha Sasuke was drenched in sweat, his muscles screaming in protest, but he didn't stop. The memory of the power that had surged within him during the Chunin Exams—Naruto's raw, untamed Kyuubi chakra—was a brand seared into his mind. The feeling of being so utterly surpassed by the village's dead-last, the class clown, was unbearable.
"Naruto!" Sasuke snarled, slamming his fist down on a nearby table with such force that the carefully prepared bento box from Sakura Haruno bounced into the air. That idiot, that baka, not only possessed that terrifying power but now had an uncle who was even more formidable than Orochimaru! A dark, desperate thought began to take root in Sasuke's mind, whispering of a shortcut to the power he so desperately craved.
If only… if only Itachi were still here…
"No!" Sasuke shook his head violently, his eyes bloodshot. "I will kill him myself! I swore it!" He had vowed to be the one to exact vengeance, and here he was, contemplating relying on someone else for strength. The shame was a bitter taste in his mouth.
He bit his lip until he drew blood, the metallic tang focusing his resolve. To kill Uchiha Itachi, he would do anything. Anything. Even if it meant humbling himself before the man who was the uncle of his rival.
...
Meanwhile, back in the spacious and clean Namikaze residence, Uzumaki Naruto was behaving like a kid in a candy store.
"Whoa! Is this… a television?" Naruto stared, mesmerized, at the rectangular box in the living room. He'd only ever heard other kids at the Academy talk about them. Some shops in Konoha had them, but he was always shooed away before he could get more than a fleeting glance and a muffled sound from outside. He'd always dreamed that if his father, the Yondaime, were still alive, he could watch this thing from morning till night, dattebayo!
(Of course, if his mother, Kushina, were around, that fantasy would have been quickly and violently dispelled.)
"You like it? Take it to your room," Namikaze Raimon said with an indulgent smile, waving a dismissive hand. He had little interest in the primitive broadcasting of this world. The shows were few and boring, nowhere near as… educational as the hidden folders on his computer from his previous life.
The thought made him smirk. Obito wants to create a world with Rin… probably so they can finally study those 'materials' together in peace, right? He shook his head. That innocent boy probably doesn't even know about such things. Kakashi would be a more suitable partner for him.
This strange ninja world was full of bizarre bonds, after all. Look at Hashirama and Madara. Or Zabuza and Haku. What a pity he'd been resurrected too late; he would have loved to see just how pretty that trap, Haku, really was.
Naruto didn't need to be told twice. He hefted the television and scurried up to his new room like a squirrel with a prized nut. As an Edo Tensei, Raimon didn't need sleep—his chakra and stamina were infinite. He settled onto the living room sofa, letting the quiet of the night envelop him as he tried to recall the finer details of the Naruto plot. He'd been dead for a while, and his transmigration had already caused ripples. Some things were bound to be different.
"Ah, well. I'm an old fossil now," he mused aloud. "Best to leave some problems for the younger generation to solve."
He didn't want to interfere too much. His previous actions were out of necessity. Now, he just wanted to enjoy his second chance at un-life, play the role of the hidden elder, pass on his skills, and only step in during truly critical moments.
"Still, this Edo Tensei body is so limiting," he sighed, looking at his ash-dusted hands. He wondered if, when Nagato inevitably attacked Konoha, he could hitch a ride on that "Rinne Rebirth" technique for a full, proper resurrection. He didn't have Naruto's legendary "Talk No Jutsu," so he'd have to rely on his grand-nephew to secure his happy ending.
His thoughts turned to Naruto's current skill set, planning the training regimen to come. "The Flying Thunder God is an absolute must," he decided. Without the Nine-Tails constantly disrupting his chakra control, and with the innate talent of the Namikaze bloodline, it shouldn't be an impossible task for the boy.
He remembered trying to convince Minato to open a logistics company with him after the last war. "We'll make a fortune in transport! Faster and safer than any mission!" he'd said. But then he'd been cornered and "eliminated" by the Four Great Nations, and Minato… well, Minato had chosen the Hokage's path. A real shame. With their combined skills, the Namikaze family could have been richer than the Fire Daimyo. They could have even 'recruited' that financial wizard Kakuzu to manage their assets!
A final, curious thought crossed his mind before he settled into meditation. "I really do wonder… could I withstand Naruto's Sexy Jutsu?" What exactly had Kaguya Ōtsutsuki seen that stunned her for a full three seconds? He'd find out soon enough.
...
The first rays of morning sun streamed through the window, illuminating motes of dust in the air and falling upon Namikaze Raimon, who was still seated perfectly still on the sofa. Naruto was still fast asleep upstairs, probably having stayed up all night binge-watching whatever passed for entertainment in Konoha. Raimon didn't plan to wake him; he understood the allure of a new world opening up. It was like his first year of university, finally unleashed upon the internet cafes after a lifetime of restriction.
The night had been profoundly quiet, even more so than when he was alive. Hiruzen Sarutobi had likely 'encouraged' all the neighbors to relocate. In truth, the Third Hokage hadn't needed to do much; he'd simply distributed declassified battle records of Namikaze Raimon's exploits to the households in the vicinity. The descriptions of 'catastrophic posterior trauma' and 'self-inflicted nephrectomy' were motivation enough. The civilians had packed their belongings and vacated with a speed that would make a shinobi blush.
A slight smile touched Raimon's lips. "Hmm~ How interesting."
In his sensory perception, two familiar chakra signatures had just arrived and were now standing hesitantly outside his front door.
"Uchiha's broody second son and the Konoha wallflower," he mused. He wondered if he should play matchmaker for his nephew. A forced melon might not be sweet, but it could certainly quench a young boy's thirst.
Outside, Uchiha Sasuke stood with his fist raised, frozen mid-knock. His pride warred with his desperation.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
After a visible internal struggle, his knuckles finally made contact with the wood. Behind him, Sakura Haruno watched the door with nervous anticipation.
Creeeak…
The door swung open to reveal Namikaze Raimon, his handsome features softened and enhanced by the golden morning light.
So… so handsome! Sakura's inner self swooned, hearts practically appearing in her eyes.
BAM! Her inner, more sensible self delivered a powerful right hook to her lovesick persona. Handsome?! That's the Rectum Ripper! The Kidney Collector! Get a grip!
After a brief but violent internal debate, Sakura managed to school her expression into one of respectful terror.
"Can I help you?" Raimon asked, his voice a pleasant, magnetic baritone that made Sakura's knees feel weak all over again.
"Is… is Naruto here?" Sasuke asked, his voice tight with awkwardness. He couldn't just blurt out his real request. The fear of immediate and humiliating rejection was too great.
"Oh? Friends of Naruto? Please, come in," Raimon said, stepping aside with a welcoming gesture. His nephew finally had visitors; he wasn't about to scare them off by threatening their behinds. Not yet, anyway.
The two genin stepped inside, Sasuke visibly tense and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. They looked around but saw no sign of the blond boy.
Perhaps stirred by the noise, a sleep-rumpled Naruto appeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes.
"Sasuke?" he mumbled. Then his gaze slid right past his rival. "SAKURA- CHAN!"
Sasuke was utterly ignored. Naruto vanished back into his room and, in under five seconds, reappeared wearing his best orange jumpsuit, his hair hastily slicked back.
Sakura looked from the dorky, whiskered Naruto to the impossibly suave and handsome Raimon, then recalled the portrait of the Fourth Hokage in her textbook. She came to a swift conclusion: Naruto had seriously downgraded the family's visual appeal. If he just lost the whiskers, grew his hair out, and burned that jumpsuit, he might not be so bad.
Standing in the middle of the living room, thoroughly embarrassed and ignored, Sasuke's face flushed with humiliation. This was it. Swallowing the last shred of his Uchiha pride, he took a deep breath, stepped forward, and bowed deeply at the waist to Namikaze Raimon, his voice strained but clear.
"Please! Sensei! Teach me!"