Shimura Danzo strode through the corridors of Root headquarters with a stormy face, his expression so dark it seemed to drag the air down with it. He ignored every subordinate who bowed along the way and went straight to the most private room in the entire base.
The heavy door shut behind him, sealing him away from the outside world.
That room was less a place to rest than a shrine to the ambition he had clung to all his life. On the most prominent wall hung a meticulously crafted replica of the Hokage's robe. In the dim light, the white mantle with its red flame patterns glimmered with an almost seductive allure.
The moment his gaze landed on it, his thirst for the Hokage's seat surged through him again. It was like the most vicious poison, but also the sweetest nectar, flooding a body long since eaten hollow by darkness and power until only obsession remained.
Danzo's single eye shone with a feverish, almost worshipful light as he stared at the robe. He stepped forward slowly, as though performing some sacred rite.
First, he cast aside the cane he normally used as part of his disguise, and his posture seemed to straighten slightly. Then he picked up a silk handkerchief that had clearly been prepared in advance—the finest, softest fabric money could buy in Konoha—and approached the display one careful step at a time, as if afraid he might disturb a fragile dream.
He raised the cloth and gently, painstakingly wiped away the almost nonexistent specks of dust from the replica Hokage hat resting beside the robe. Even though he cleaned it every single day, he always felt compelled to wipe it once more, to keep it spotless, perfect, untarnished.
When he finished, he tossed the expensive handkerchief casually onto the floor. At last, his shriveled left hand trembled as he lightly brushed the robe's fabric, not daring to press too hard, as though even a little force might shatter the illusion.
A sigh squeezed out from the depths of his throat, tangled with longing, resentment, and pain. "When will I finally be able to wear you openly... and rightfully?"
The sound lingered in the secret room, heavy with bleak obsession.
***
The next morning, sunlight poured through the window and filled Naruto's apartment. He quickly changed into the new winter clothes the Third Hokage had brought him the night before, and the well-fitted cut made him look far more spirited than before.
He picked up the thick envelope, carefully pulled out several banknotes, folded them in half, and tucked them into his somewhat worn wallet. Then he casually shoved the still-bulging envelope beneath his pillow.
After finishing all that, he clapped his hands in satisfaction and got ready to head out.
Whether he hid it or not hardly mattered. Naruto knew better than anyone that in this so-called home, nearly everything he did—changing clothes, eating, training, sleeping—was almost completely exposed to the eyes hidden in the shadows.
The ANBU sent by the Third Hokage to monitor and protect him were always watching. And in a village that shunned him, no thief would dare break into the dwelling of the so-called "fox demon."
To most villagers, this place was ominous just to look at, let alone approach. In a strange way, that collective disgust had become a kind of safety.
Naruto opened the door and headed out.
When he arrived at the secluded training ground outside the village where he had arranged to meet his "teacher," he did not have to wait long. Soon, a figure came charging toward him with an exaggeratedly energetic gait.
The man wore a tight green bodysuit and had the unmistakable watermelon haircut that could not belong to anyone else. But for some reason, he had also glued on a long white fake beard that bounced comically as he ran.
"Yo! Naruto, you're right on time again!"
The newcomer skidded to a stop in front of him, gave him a shining thumbs-up, and flashed a grin so bright it could almost blind people. "This is the vig—cough, cough!"
He nearly blurted out "vigor of youth" from force of habit, but caught himself at the last second. Stroking that absurdly fake beard with great seriousness, he corrected himself in a booming voice. "This is what true spirit looks like!"
In truth, Might Guy had never taught Naruto under his real identity. That clumsy disguise existed for a practical reason.
When Naruto had first approached him directly and asked for taijutsu instruction, Might Guy had refused on the spot, even though he was moved by the boy's enthusiasm. He might be loud, but he was not an idiot.
Naruto was the Nine-Tails' jinchuriki, a position too sensitive to be taken lightly. As one of Konoha's elite jonin and a direct subordinate of the Hokage, forming an overly close relationship with the jinchuriki could easily bring trouble to both himself and the boy.
Later, however, Naruto's persistence wore him down. Day after day, rain or shine, Naruto had shown up without fail, and the pure fire of "youth" in his eyes moved Guy in a way few things could.
In the end, he came up with a compromise. He went to a prop shop, bought the most eye-catching fake beard he could find, and began teaching Naruto under the identity of a mysterious taijutsu master named "Grandpa Cheng Dai."
And so an absurd sight appeared in Konoha. Every day, a "mysterious expert" with a ridiculous white beard—but the exact same build and hairstyle as Might Guy—would drag blond Naruto Uzumaki around the village for brutal physical training.
Anyone with eyes could see through the disguise at a glance. Even so, the whole village tacitly chose to pretend otherwise, and not a single person went out of their way to expose him.
"Grandpa Cheng Dai, let's start training already!" Naruto shouted excitedly, practically itching to move.
"Very good! Very spirited!" Might Guy replied with yet another signature thumbs-up, his shining teeth and fake beard creating a deeply ridiculous combination.
But the smile vanished from his face almost immediately, replaced by unusual seriousness. "However, Naruto, basic body training is starting to lose its edge for your current condition. The real challenge begins now!"
As he spoke, he produced two pairs of weighted leg wraps from behind his back as if by magic. At a glance, they did not look especially heavy.
"Here—these are training weights I specifically prepared for you based on the limits of your body right now!" he declared. Placing them in Naruto's hands, he added in a tone far too casual for the number involved, "Don't worry, they're not that heavy. One for each calf. Just forty kilograms total. Once you get used to them, we'll add more!"
The way he said it made it sound as if he were talking about something trivial.
For an ordinary adult, strapping forty kilograms of metal to both legs would make even walking difficult, never mind the kind of high-intensity training Might Guy considered normal. That would be fantasy.
But Naruto was not an ordinary child. He had already undergone foundational ninja training, and his physical abilities far surpassed those of a normal person.
More importantly, he carried the Uzumaki bloodline, famous for its overwhelming vitality and stubborn endurance. As the Nine-Tails' jinchuriki, his recovery, stamina, and bodily resilience were all far beyond that of an average shinobi.
So while the total weight of forty kilograms was undeniably heavy for Naruto, who had already spent a long time forcing his body toward its limits, it was not unbearable. His movements instantly became much more sluggish than usual, and every action demanded more strength, but it was still within the range he could handle.
He only stiffened for a brief moment after the weights were strapped on, adjusting to the burden wrapped around his legs, before nodding at Guy to show he was ready.
"Very good! Then today's spirited training officially begins! First, run ten laps around Konoha Village. If you can't finish ten laps, then do three thousand kicks instead! Go!"
With a dramatic wave of his hand, Guy shot forward like a wild horse loosed from its reins.
Naruto took a deep breath. His legs felt as heavy as lead, yet he still chased after him without hesitation.
Every step was harder than before. But the light in his eyes only burned brighter.