"Shit!" Michael yelled as he applied ice to his knuckles.
Monday's incident had left clear consequences. The Iryo-nin said he had been on the verge of breaking his knuckles, and as if that weren't enough, he had also caught a cold.
His injuries would have healed sooner if he had taken the proper rest. Instead, he decided to go to the academy every day.
He was already quite behind; he couldn't afford to fall even further back. He had begun reviewing the curriculum for the first and second years, which focused on the importance of conditioning and recommended routines.
Chakra was only introduced in the third year, along with a decrease in physical activities in class. Children were encouraged to practice in their personal time. Along with that came an increase in weapons handling and combat practice; additionally, subjects like guerrilla tactics, mathematics, biology, and politics were covered. The fifth year consisted of a review of all skills needed to be a shinobi: combat, chakra control, crowd management, among other things.
He didn't have access to the sixth-year content yet, but his plan was to learn the first four years in just one. He believed he could cover all the theory; the problem lay in the skills of taijutsu, ninjutsu, and weapons handling.
In his first week at the academy, he had already received three one-sided beatings. His body was covered in bruises.
"It would be great to have a furry battery of demonic chakra to heal me," he said sarcastically.
He was still angry about not noticing the absence of the whisker scars. He believed he hadn't noticed due to inherited intuition.
The first time he had looked in the mirror, he was in shock due to his terrible appearance, so he hadn't noticed, but then his appearance became somewhat natural to him.
However, the buzzing in his head only appeared as bits of information or guidance; he hadn't received any combat skills or instincts from the previous Naruto.
He believed he was almost as bad as him, given the repeated occasions Kiba had called him a "loser." Furthermore, Iruka hadn't reprimanded him even once for his terrible performance.
Unfortunately, his list of problems didn't end there: his only advantage as a transmigrator turned out to be useless. This world differed significantly from the manga or anime.
Here, Naruto wasn't the Kyūbi's Jinchūriki; that honor, or curse, fell upon Mito Uzumaki. He couldn't say if they were related. As far as he knew, she could be the Fourth's daughter or an orphan, like Nagato.
He needed to get more information. He could try asking Mito, though he didn't think it was a good idea. Who would tell their whole family history to a stranger?
With that line cut off, he decided he would have to learn about the boy whose life he had stolen, and there was no better start than the place where it all began.
He put on a jacket and black pants to cover his bruises. He took his trusty kunai and went out in search of the orphanage.
He managed to get there without problems, thanks to his intuition. It was a large wooden building. Judging by its appearance, it could house hundreds of children.
He walked confidently toward the door, and before he could knock, he heard a female voice calling him: "Naruto?"
The voice sounded familiar. Turning around, he saw a nun carrying a shopping bag. The name came to mind, and he replied: "Miss Hisako. How are you? It's been so long."
Before he could react, the nun lunged and bonked him on the head. And, without giving him room to complain, she hugged him. He tensed up; he wasn't a fan of physical contact.
"Six months! Six months since you moved out and you haven't come to visit me once. Are you eating well? You haven't grown at all since the last time I saw you. Come, I'm going to make you something."
Without a chance to refuse, he was dragged into the kitchen. He felt a strange nostalgia walking through the halls. Upon arriving, he helped Miss Hisako put away the groceries while she prepared a simple lunch.
Her food was angelic; it humiliated anything he had cooked so far. They chatted a bit. He was especially evasive when she asked about the academy. Until she said: "Alright, that's enough. What do you need?"
The abrupt change left him frozen, like a thief caught in the act.
"Please, dear, you didn't come once since you moved out, and suddenly you show up," she said with an accusing look.
He couldn't help but feel ashamed. Although he wanted to blame the other Naruto, he couldn't, so he just looked at the floor with regret.
Michael wanted to ask many questions about who the boy was and what he had been like, but he knew he had to maintain some discretion. So he went straight to the most important one: "C-Can you tell me about my mother?"
He had concluded that he was probably the Fourth's son; they had too many similar features. So much so that he kept alert to ensure his hair didn't grow too long.
But on the other hand, Naruto Uzumaki's mother was a red-haired woman. Thanks to Uzumaki genes, Naruto could withstand the Kyūbi. So there was a possibility that Naruto Hakaze was the Fourth's bastard son, and that was why he didn't have the genetics to be a Jinchūriki.
Silence filled the room. He looked at his feet with fear. Hearing no noise, he slowly lifted his head. Her expression surprised him. He expected doubt or suspicion; he found something comforting.
Before he said anything, she interrupted him: "Come with me."
He followed her without hesitation. They left the orphanage and walked through the village; some villagers greeted Hisako with affection. They arrived at what was undoubtedly a cemetery. In the center stood a statue shaped like a flame.
"This is the cemetery where the Fourth Hokage is buried," Hisako explained before asking: "Do you know how he died?"
"He died killing the Kyūbi the day it attacked the village," he replied. He knew he hadn't killed it, but the history books told a different story.
Hisako made a slight, almost imperceptible grimace, but continued: "Correct. That day, hundreds of villagers and shinobi died because of the beast. They are buried here, alongside the Hokage who saved us."
"So my mother died in that attack?"
"Not exactly. Did you know demon chakra is toxic to us?" Hisako asked. He shook his head, and she continued: "If you're exposed too much, your skin starts to peel and melt."
She took off her white glove. Her hand was a fleshy red, as if the muscles were directly visible.
"I was close to where the Kyūbi appeared. Luckily, a shinobi managed to get me out. I was only exposed for a few seconds."
It was unpleasant to look at. He couldn't imagine how much it must hurt to have exposed muscle.
"Your mother wasn't so lucky. They found her after the Kyūbi had been defeated. Her entire body was disfigured, unrecognizable," she explained, her voice cracking. "She could only say one word: 'NARUTO'."
"The Iryo-nin did everything to save her, but her condition was fatal. She was pregnant, so they did their best so you could be born healthy. They assumed she was a kunoichi, because no civilian would have survived that long."
"And when you were born, they did the most humane thing: they let her go. A life of suffering awaited her, and she was only breathing thanks to life support."
Hisako began to cry.
"Where does my surname come from?" Naruto asked, his tone hollow.
Although on the verge of collapse, she replied:
"In Konoha, there is a tradition: children adopted by the village are given the kanji Ha. It means 'Leaf'; it represents that they are children of the village," she said after a brief pause. "The Third Hokage himself learned of your story and personally named you Naruto Hakaze."
They both stopped in front of a grave. Unlike the others, this one didn't have a name to identify it, but it did have an inscription:
Here lies a kunoichi worthy of respect, a mother who gave everything for her son's life. She bequeathed her Will of Fire to her son, Naruto Hakaze.