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Iruka Umino-sensei arrived in the classroom, his lesson plans tucked neatly under his arm. The rowdy Academy students, sensing the shift in the room's gravity, quickly settled into their seats, their chatter dying down to a dull hum of anticipation.
"Students, before we begin today's lecture, I have an announcement," Iruka began, his gaze sweeping across the rows of desks. "For the foreseeable future, we will be joined by a guest instructor who will be providing specialized guidance for your practical combat training."
Seeing that he had successfully piqued their curiosity, Iruka clapped his hands and gestured toward the door. "Might Guy-sensei, please come in."
As if on cue, a green figure blurred into the room like a localized whirlwind, coming to a sharp, steady halt beside the podium. The iconic green jumpsuit and the perfectly symmetrical bowl cut instantly drew every eye in the room.
"HELLO, STUDENTS! I AM MIGHT GUY!"
He flashed a wide, toothy grin—a display of dental brilliance so bright it seemed to catch the morning light and reflect it back as a physical flash. His voice was a booming tenor, vibrating with an almost exhausting level of vitality.
Huh?!
Naruto, sitting in his usual spot by the window, felt his eyes widen. His mental map of the day was instantly recalibrated. This isn't right. Why is Guy-sensei at the Academy? Shouldn't he be out on a high-rank mission or deep in the mountains undergoing one of his 'inhuman' training cycles?
Before Naruto could process the surprise, Guy continued, his infectious enthusiasm filling every corner of the room. "I am here by order of the Hokage-sama! My mission is to ensure that every single one of you experiences the true essence of youth! For the next month, I will be your combat instructor. Let us sweat together! Let us burn with the fire of effort! WOO-OH—!!"
"Guy-sensei is a Jonin who is exceptionally proficient in Taijutsu," Iruka added, attempting to provide a professional context for the green-clad whirlwind. "If you have questions regarding close-quarters combat or physical conditioning, he is the authority."
Proficient in Taijutsu?
A wave of skepticism rippled through the classroom. In the common understanding of the Konoha youth, Taijutsu was a discipline with a relatively low ceiling. When people thought of the pinnacle of physical combat, they thought of the Hyuga Clan's Gentle Fist—a refined, elegant art that utilized the Byakugan to strike at the body's internal chakra network.
Compared to the storied prestige of the Hyuga, this hot-blooded man in a spandex suit looked more like a theatrical performer than a "walking natural disaster."
Only Naruto knew better.
He looked at his teacher and saw the truth that the others were blind to. He knew that the man standing at the podium possessed the power to single-handedly dismantle a hidden village. Even without the final gate, Guy was a combatant who stood at the absolute apex of the shinobi world. And if he ever opened the Eighth Gate of Death?
Naruto suppressed a shiver. At that level, the laws of physics became suggestions. Unless one possessed the space-time mastery of the Fourth Hokage or the god-like durability of the Six Paths, a single kick from the Night Guy was a one-way ticket to the Pure Land.
Guy's gaze swept the room and locked onto Naruto.
Naruto is here too? A momentary pause was followed by a lightning-bolt realization in Guy's mind. He didn't need to waste breath explaining the merits of Taijutsu to these skeptical children. He had a living, breathing testament to his methods sitting right there in the back row. What better way to demonstrate the "Power of Youth" than to showcase the progress of one of their own?
The thought made Guy's blood boil with excitement. He could already see the sparks of passion flying across the training ground.
"ALRIGHT!" Guy slammed his fist into his palm, his eyes burning with an impatient fire. "Since you are all so eager to begin, we shall move the practical combat class to this morning! Let the clash of youth commence immediately!"
Iruka blinked, a massive mental question mark appearing over his head. "Wait... what? Guy-sensei, the morning is reserved for academic lectures. Practical combat is usually in the afternoon—"
But Guy was already radiating a kinetic energy that was impossible to suppress. Seeing the spark of excitement in the eyes of students like Kiba, Iruka simply scratched his head and offered a helpless, resigned smile. Oh well. It's his first day. Let them build some rapport through action.
"Very well," Iruka announced, raising his voice over the sudden cheers. "As Guy-sensei suggests, we will proceed to Training Ground Three. Everyone, move in an orderly fashion!"
"ALRIGHT!" Kiba shouted, practically leaping over his desk. The prospect of escaping a morning of theory was a universal victory for the more energetic students.
In stark contrast to the cheering crowd, Shikamaru Nara slumped onto his desk like a puddle of melting wax. He buried his face in his arms, let out a long, pathetic sigh. "Ugh... what a drag... why can't we just stay inside and sleep through history?"
Choji, unfazed, continued munching on his chips as he nudged his friend with a chubby elbow. "Come on, Shikamaru. He's Naruto's teacher."
Those three words carried a peculiar weight. Shikamaru's movement paused. He slowly, reluctantly lifted his head, scratching his pineapple-shaped hair.
"...Fine," he muttered. Troublesome as it was, if this man was the one Naruto respected enough to train with in secret, then perhaps watching him in action wouldn't be a total waste of time.
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