Chapter 18: Why the Fish Tastes So Good
With his strength surging, Naruto's awareness had expanded into a finely tuned sensor network. He could feel the weight of hidden gazes, the subtle pressure of chakra signatures in the periphery. No one in Konoha could watch him without his knowing it. He'd even discovered a particularly amusing pattern: Sundays were Kakashi's day off. And on those days, the Copy Ninja's favorite haunt seemed to be a certain… specialty bookstore in the more discreet part of town. On Sundays, Naruto was truly, gloriously unwatched.
His acquisition of the Shadow Clone Jutsu had been its own little masterpiece of manipulation. A month of planning. Subtle psychological nudges, casual comments about "forbidden scrolls" and "power beyond the Hokage," delivered via carefully timed Transformation Jutsu encounters. He'd played Mizuki like a poorly tuned instrument, guiding his greed and resentment until the chuunin instructor was practically salivating at the idea of using the "demon fox" to steal the Scroll of Seals.
Honestly, Naruto had thought at the time, this guy is dumber than a box of rocks. I practically had to draw him a map. But the payoff was perfect. He'd "followed" Mizuki's instructions, "stole" the scroll (left conspicuously unguarded, of course—a dozen ANBU eyes tracked his every move, two peeling off to report to the Hokage), and then played out the familiar script. He'd beaten Mizuki, "saved" Iruka, and delivered a heartfelt speech about loneliness and understanding that neatly untied the knot of hatred in Iruka's heart.
The report to the Third Hokage had been a foregone conclusion. Iruka, tears in his eyes, declared Naruto a hero, a good boy misunderstood. Mizuki was the villain. Case closed. Naruto got his jutsu, Mizuki got a prison cell, and a lost soul found a flicker of redemption. A perfect, self-contained little drama.
And the real prize? He could now, quite literally, beat himself up to get stronger. It was the most efficient training method imaginable.
But of all the developments over the past two years, the sweetest was his time with Hinata. It was a slow, gentle progression—holding hands, sharing quiet moments. He never pushed. Even if his eight-year-old body housed a far older consciousness, Hinata was still a shy, delicate eight-year-old girl. This wasn't about conquest; it was about building something real in the midst of the grand lie.
"Ah, it's Naruto."
Neji's greeting was loud, almost performatively casual. He'd changed. The paranoid edge was gone, sanded down by two years of getting soundly thrashed by Naruto in regular after-school "sparring" sessions, interspersed with heavy doses of what Naruto privately called the "Secret Art of Light: Talk-no-Jutsu." Neji's mental illness was, for all intents and purposes, cured. He no longer hated Hinata. His worldview had been forcibly broadened. He could now walk up stairs without a metaphorical mountain of resentment on his back.
It was the power of the fist… no, the power of the mouth.
Hinata, as ever, reacted by looking at her feet, her fingers beginning their familiar, intricate dance of shyness. "N-Naruto-kun is… so… handsome…"
Naruto dropped from the tree, landing without a sound. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and took one of her nervously twining hands in his own. It was a gesture that had become natural, comfortable. Hinata blushed but didn't pull away.
My future wife's hands are so soft, he thought with private amusement.
Neji watched, a faint twitch at the corner of his eye. He'd become… resigned to this. Mostly. They don't even try to hide it anymore. It's like being force-fed honey… it's sickeningly sweet.
Just as Neji was gearing up for a token protest, a boisterous voice cut through the clearing.
"Hey~ Naruto! Didn't expect you guys to be first!"
Inuzuka Kiba bounded into the clearing, Akamaru yapping at his heels. Kiba's sharp eyes immediately zeroed in on the joined hands. A wide, knowing, slightly wolfish grin spread across his face.
Naruto felt a flicker of self-consciousness and tightened his grip on Hinata's hand reflexively. Hinata seemed to shrink into herself, her blush deepening.
"It's Kiba. You looking at me like that… you want another sparring session?" Naruto asked, his tone light but carrying an edge.
Kiba threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Whoa, easy! I'm not stupid enough to challenge a monster like you again!" There was no malice in it, just the blunt acknowledgment of fact. Naruto's strength was an open secret among their group.
How had Naruto, the village pariah, won over these clan kids? It was a combination of factors. His undisputed top scores in practical exams. His overwhelming, almost casual strength. His easy-going, respectful demeanor—treat others with dignity, and they'd often return it threefold. For kids like Kiba, raised on codes of strength and pack loyalty, Naruto was irresistible. The warnings from their parents about the "dangerous Jinchuriki" had long since crumbled under the weight of lived experience.
Naruto just smiled and let it go.
Ten minutes later, the campsite was bustling. The full contingent of what would become the Konoha 12 (minus one brooding Uchiha) had arrived.
"It's so troublesome… I could be napping right now…" Nara Shikamaru groaned, already looking for a soft patch of grass.
"Shikamaru, don't be like that!" Yamanaka Ino scolded, tugging his ear. "We have handsome guys like Naruto-kun and Sasuke-kun here! It's fun! Show some energy!"
"Sasuke-kun…" Ino sighed dreamily, her gaze flicking between the blond boy holding Hinata's hand and the dark-haired Uchiha who was pointedly examining a leaf.
"Shikamaru, Ino's right," Akimichi Choji chimed in between crunches of potato chips. "You can't just sleep all day on your day off."
"Tch. Whatever."
The Ino-Shika-Cho trio bickered comfortably in the background.
The camping trip had been Choji's idea—a post-exam celebration. Ten kids, all future pillars of Konoha, gathered for a day of supposed relaxation.
"Ah, open up."
Naruto's voice was gentle. He held a perfectly grilled skewer of river trout, its skin crispy and golden, and brought it to Hinata's lips. He looked at her with a fond, almost proprietary expression, like someone offering a treat to a cherished, skittish kitten.
Hinata's shyness warred with her delight. This was a first—Naruto-kun feeding her! She obediently, nervously, parted her lips.
Naruto didn't tease. He guided the fish to her mouth, and she took a delicate bite.
The flavors exploded—clean, smoky, perfectly seasoned. Her eyes flew wide. "N-Naruto-kun… it's… it's delicious!" she breathed, her hands coming up to cup her flushed cheeks, her eyes curving into happy crescents. Food tasted infinitely better when it came from the person you adored.
"Hmm, not bad," Naruto agreed, taking a hearty bite from the same skewer, right next to her smaller bite mark.
Hinata's gaze snapped to the two sets of teeth marks on the shared piece of fish. "N-Naruto-kun… that…" she stammered, a whole new wave of implications crashing over her.
"Hm? What's wrong?" Naruto asked, feigning innocence, a playful glint in his blue eyes.
"N-nothing…!" she squeaked, hiding her face again. He knew exactly what she was thinking.
Despite the underlying currents of his larger mission, moments like this were genuinely enjoyable. Hanging out with Hinata, with this group of loud, flawed, earnest kids—it was a taste of a normal life he'd never really had.
As the day wound down and the sun began to dip, Nara Shikamaru, who had been observing everything with his usual lazy acuity, wandered over. He stood before Naruto, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
"It's really troublesome, Naruto," Shikamaru began, his voice quiet. "But I have to ask. Why are you so strong?"
The question cut through the post-picnic chatter. The others—Kiba, Choji, even Sasuke from his perch on a log—drew closer, their attention captured. They all wanted to know. They'd seen the shattered targets, felt the sheer, intimidating aura he could sometimes let slip. In a world where strength was currency, Naruto Uzumaki, the boy they'd been told to fear, was the richest one among them. And none of them could figure out why.
(End of Chapter)
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