Chapter no.9 Naruto

Chapter no.9 Meeting Konohamaru

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Morning had come slowly, and for once, Hiruzen was grateful. After last night’s chaos, a slow morning was more than welcome. He sat at his desk, surrounded by the ever-growing mountain of paperwork that seemed to taunt him with its endlessness. But today, his task was simple: going through the genin registration forms and finalizing the candidates for the jonin to choose from. A small smile crept onto his face as he reviewed the names, each one representing a future leaf of the village.

He could have let his team handle it.

They were more than capable of combing through those forms. Kami knew how much he relied on them to keep up with all the paperwork in Konoha. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it himself, but it ate away at his time—time he wished he had more of.

Then, as he reached the final registration form, his smile faltered, replaced by a frown. There was no form for Naruto.

Of course. How could he forget? Naruto hadn’t properly graduated.

What do I do now? He mused, rubbing his temples. He couldn’t just have the boy repeat the year like a failure or let him rot away in the genin reserves. But how could he make it happen without it seeming forced or showing blatant favoritism?

“Cat,” he called, his voice more stern than intended. In an instant, the Anbu operative appeared in front of his desk, her presence as silent as a shadow. The purple hair, the cat-like porcelain mask, and the katana on her hip—her most distinct features that spoke of her identity.

“Bring me Naruto Uzumaki,” he ordered, watching her bow before disappearing in a whirl of leaves and reappearing moments later with…with something he wasn’t prepared to see.

There he stood—Naruto Uzumaki—but not the Naruto Hiruzen was expecting. The boy wore armor, not just any armor, but an ensemble of metal that encased him from head to toe, gleaming in the soft morning light. A broken sword hung at his hip, and a beautiful shield rested on his back, looking as though they belonged to the armory of a royal samurai rather than to a twelve-year-old shinobi.

Hiruzen felt his breath hitch, his mind momentarily thrown into chaos. The sheer quality of his armor and weapons…he’d seen a lifetime’s worth of steel in two Great Shinobi Wars and in countless diplomatic missions to faraway lands, yet this was different. Better. This wasn’t something forged in their hidden village, nor by any blacksmith in the Land of Fire.

Steel of this caliber—he couldn’t help but wonder if even the samurai of the Land of Iron could create such a masterpiece.

“Naruto?” he finally managed to say, his voice cracking slightly, betraying his shock. How did this boy—a boy who could barely manage to keep his own clothes intact—end up with such equipment?

Hiruzen’s mind raced with questions, jumping to thoughts he shouldn’t entertain. If all of Konoha could be equipped with armor like this… The tactical advantage, the protection it could provide… His imagination started to run wild, but he knew better. He forced that line of thought to stop before it reached its conclusion. It was dangerous to think that way—to let greed seep into the core of his responsibilities as Hokage.

He took a breath and steadied himself. Right now, it wasn’t about Konoha’s military strength or potential armament. It was about Naruto. It was always about Naruto, wasn’t it?

“Yes,” Naruto said, taking off his helmet.

Hiruzen tried to hide his surprise, keeping his voice calm as he said, “That’s some unique…equipment for a ninja.” He was hoping Naruto might offer more, maybe an explanation, maybe a story about where he got it.

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Naruto replied stiffly, his tone formal and distant, like he was trying to play a role he wasn’t quite comfortable with.

Hiruzen felt a pang in his chest. The way Naruto said “Hokage-sama,” the way he stood there—rigid, like he was imitating someone else’s idea of a soldier—didn’t fit him at all. Naruto’s usual energy, his vibrant spirit, was buried under this new demeanor. He looked like a boy trying to wear a mask that didn’t belong to him, trying to be someone he thought he should be.

It was unsettling, but Hiruzen remembered what Inoichi told him, the words echoing in his mind: Naruto needs time to himself, to think and understand his own emotions. Give him a week before trying to reconnect.

A week. Kami, Hiruzen wasn’t sure if he could last that long without trying to fix whatever was broken between them, to find the old Naruto hiding behind that armor. But he had to respect Naruto’s process. The boy needed to come to terms with everything in his own way.

So, despite the questions burning inside him—questions he knew Naruto must have too—Hiruzen just said, “I don’t think that equipment is good for being a ninja.”

“Why not?!” Naruto snapped back, his eyes narrowing. The intensity in his voice took Hiruzen by surprise, like he’d struck a nerve he didn’t even know was there.

Why was Naruto so defensive about this armor? Whoever gave it to him, whatever it meant to him, Hiruzen realized it held a deeper significance—a history he wasn’t privy to. It wasn’t just about the armor; it was about something—or someone—that he didn’t know.

“Well, the armor is too heavy to be functional for a ninja,” Hiruzen said, trying to keep his tone even, to avoid triggering that defensive wall Naruto had put up.

“I have no problem fighting with it,” Naruto said flatly, his voice laced with a kind of certainty that suggested experience. Experience? That word stuck in Hiruzen’s mind. What had Naruto been through?

“Can you move around for me?” Hiruzen asked, and Naruto obliged, jumping to the side and running a short distance.

“Naruto,” Hiruzen said, his brow furrowing, “why are you using chakra enhancement?”

He almost didn’t expect the question to come out of his mouth, but the realization hit him hard. Chakra enhancement was a basic technique—channeling chakra into your muscles to increase speed and strength. So basic, in fact, that it wasn’t even considered a jutsu. Any child who’d mastered the leaf-sticking exercise could do it, but it wasn’t something you did constantly. It was draining, even for skilled jonin. For Naruto to do it for something as basic as moving in heavy armor was…

“Isn’t that how you’re supposed to move?” Naruto asked, genuine confusion on his face.

“Naruto,” Hiruzen asked, his voice steady, “how often do you use chakra enhancement like this?”

“All the time,” Naruto said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I just don’t use it when I’m sleeping.”

And in that moment, everything fell into place. Hiruzen finally understood. The reason why Naruto was able to perform his pranks and escape the chunin so easily—the reason why he was always one step ahead of everyone in those moments. It wasn’t luck or sheer stubbornness; it was because he lived in a constant state of chakra enhancement. While most shinobi could barely sustain it for a few minutes, Naruto—this boy with a chakra pool so vast it rivaled the best of them—could use it without even thinking.

Hiruzen swallowed hard, the weight of this realization settling over him. Naruto had been walking around with this untapped potential, this incredible reservoir of strength, and he didn’t even know how extraordinary it was.

And yet, Hiruzen couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d only scratched the surface of the changes happening to the boy standing before him.

“Who taught you this?” Hiruzen asked, his throat dry, each word sticking like sandpaper.

“The academy teachers,” Naruto replied with a casual shrug, and Hiruzen felt the blood drain from his face. He took a deep breath, struggling to contain the storm of emotions swirling inside him. The people he trusted—his own shinobi, the very educators he had handpicked to shape the next generation—had gone behind his back. They taught Naruto incorrectly but did it in such a subtle way that they technically weren’t wrong.

Chakra enhancement like Naruto’s was possible, sure, but nobody did it, even if they had the chakra reserves or control for it. Why? Because it was counterproductive, harmful even. Using chakra enhancement all the time would limit the natural growth of the body, making it dependent on chakra instead of building real muscle strength. It would stunt his potential in the long run, and that thought sent a chill down Hiruzen’s spine.

How much more had Naruto been taught incorrectly? Hiruzen wondered. How many more cracks were hidden in the foundation of his training, left there by those who were supposed to be guiding him?

He had to fix this. Somehow.

Hiruzen weighed his options. He could keep Naruto in the academy for another year, send in proper teachers to undo the damage, and rebuild what had been broken. Or he could let Naruto graduate, place him under the care of a skilled jonin sensei who could fix those flaws, who could guide him the way he deserved to be guided. The latter seemed more favorable. Not just for his growth as a ninja, but because Naruto needed connection—he needed teammates his own age, people he could relate to, trust, and maybe, in time, he could trust Hiruzen again too.

“Naruto,” Hiruzen said, steadying his voice, “remove your chakra enhancement.”

Naruto blinked at him, a bit confused, but then obeyed. The second he did, Hiruzen watched as the boy’s knees almost buckled, the floorboards beneath him creaking under the sudden shift of weight.

How heavy is that armor? Hiruzen wondered, his eyes narrowing at the sight. This wasn’t ordinary gear. It felt like it was designed to fight something far more dangerous than human foes, like it was made for battles beyond their world.

He shook his head, forcing himself back to the matter at hand. Hiruzen offered Naruto a reassuring smile, even though his mind was racing. “See? Try to wear lighter armor. It would be better for you on missions.”

“Can’t I just use chakra enhancement?” Naruto argued, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

“There are people who can sense chakra,” Hiruzen said calmly. “Sensors who could detect you from a mile away if your entire body is enhanced.”

Naruto clicked his tongue in annoyance, but before Hiruzen could say more, the boy threw a smoke bomb to the ground. Where did he even pull that out from? The room filled with smoke, but it was hardly enough to blind Hiruzen. He watched, his senses on high alert, as Naruto’s pants and shield seemed to vanish right before his eyes. And then, just as quickly, Naruto reappeared, dressed in a completely different set of clothes.

He changed his outfit in a second. A literal second. It was like he’d clicked a button and his entire gear had switched.

Space-time ninjutsu? Hiruzen thought, his mind reeling. How in Kami’s name had Naruto—Naruto of all people—stumbled upon something so advanced? In two days, the boy had given him more headaches than Danzo did in a year.

Hiruzen felt a creeping unease settle in his gut. Was Danzo somehow involved in this? Was he training Naruto in secret? No, no. Hiruzen dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it formed. Danzo was too careful, too paranoid to leave any trace of himself if he were meddling in this.

But the question remained, and it nagged at Hiruzen like a wound he couldn’t heal: What had Naruto been doing to get all these new abilities? Where had he learned them? And what else was he hiding beneath that armor and that stiff, soldier-like demeanor?

Naruto Uzumaki, the boy Hiruzen thought he knew, was becoming a puzzle he wasn’t sure how to solve. And for the first time in a long while, he was terrified that he didn’t have the answers.

Naruto was able to move faster now, but still, it was slow compared to other genin. Better, but…

“Do you want me to fight naked or something?” Naruto blurted out before immediately realizing his mistake and bowing slightly. That was a first. The boy’s humility took Hiruzen by surprise, though it didn’t last long.

“No,” Hiruzen said, trying to hide his amusement. “Just wear lighter clothing.”

“But what if I wanted to wear this armor, Hokage-sama?” Naruto asked, looking at Hiruzen with those determined eyes. He was still seeking guidance, even through his frustration and resentment. Hiruzen couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of hope. Even if Naruto was upset, he still asked for guidance—that had to be a good sign, right? Small steps, Hiruzen told himself. Small steps to regain Naruto’s trust.

“Well, another way without jeopardizing yourself on the battlefield would be to try weighted training,” Hiruzen suggested.

“What?”

“Weighted training,” Hiruzen explained. “You introduce weight onto your body to force it to grow and adapt. The idea is to make your body accustomed to the extra weight so that when you finally remove it, you’ll be much faster and stronger.”

Naruto’s eyes seemed to light up at the concept. Before Hiruzen could say another word, Naruto threw a smoke bomb to the ground. When the smoke cleared, he was back in his full armor, completely suited up.

“Why?”

“Weighted training,” Naruto replied with a smirk, moving around in his heavy armor. His movements were slow, clunky, but Hiruzen could already see the potential in the plan. Naruto might not be training at the level of Rock Lee or Might Guy, but this was a step in the right direction.

“Why am I here?”

“Oh, well, I almost forgot,” Hiruzen said with a chuckle, but before he could continue, the door to his office flew open, and he let out a groan as he saw who barged in.

Konohamaru, Hiruzen’s grandson, stood there, all six years of him, with his brown hair, blue eyes, and that small chip in his tooth. He wore that ridiculous grey helmet with a hole at the top for his hair to stick out, along with his grey shorts, a long blue scarf, and that yellow shirt with the red Konoha symbol on it.

“Incoming! On guard, ol’ man!” Konohamaru shouted, brandishing a shuriken as if he were ready to charge. But then, as if the universe itself couldn’t bear to see him succeed in his little assault, he tripped over his scarf and landed face-first on the floor.

Hiruzen closed his eyes, taking a long, deep puff from his smoking pipe. It was all he could do not to let out a tired sigh.

“I get it, it’s a trap!” Konohamaru mumbled, rubbing his forehead and looking around suspiciously.

Another voice interrupted, more anxious and frantic than the last. “A-Are you alright, Honorable Grandson? And for the record, there are no traps.” Ebisu, Konohamaru’s overly devoted tutor, burst into the room. His dark hair, brown eyes, and ever-present sunglasses made him look like a ninja who’d never quite left his teaching persona behind. He was in the standard Konoha shinobi outfit, lacking only the flak jacket.

When did my office become a playground?

Then, to top off this circus, Konohamaru pointed an accusing finger at Naruto. “Aha, so you tripped me! It was you! Right?!”

Naruto, not missing a beat, responded with a flick to Konohamaru’s forehead. “You fell over that stupid scarf,” he said plainly, his voice carrying a hint of irritation.

Hiruzen could only shake his head, fighting the urge to laugh.

Konohamaru rubbed the spot on his forehead, looking like he was on the verge of tears. Naruto didn’t seem to realize that those gauntlets of his packed quite a punch. Hiruzen sighed inwardly, seeing the situation escalate, especially when Ebisu burst out, “How dare you harm the honorable grandson of the Third Hokage!”

Hiruzen groaned at those words. He really disliked it when people measured someone’s worth based on their bloodline. The way Ebisu said it, as if Konohamaru’s value was solely tied to being Hiruzen’s grandson, grated on his nerves. And then there was Konohamaru’s smug little smirk—the one that clearly said he expected Naruto to apologize. It made Hiruzen realize the boy needed a lesson in humility.

“Hey, apologize to me!” Konohamaru demanded, puffing out his chest like a little rooster in front of Naruto.

Hiruzen watched closely, half-expecting Naruto to get mad and blurt out something in that blunt way of his. But instead, Naruto calmly said, “Fuck off.”

Hiruzen almost had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from reacting. Okay, so maybe Naruto was still Naruto after all. It was… oddly reassuring. Ebisu and Konohamaru looked absolutely stunned, their mouths hanging open like fish out of water.

“But… but I am the honorable grandson!” Konohamaru stuttered, his sense of entitlement dripping from every word.

“And I am the Squire of Oscar,” Naruto shot back with pride, and that’s when Hiruzen felt his heart skip a beat.

What? Squire of Oscar? What was he talking about? Hiruzen didn’t even know who Oscar was or why Naruto would claim such a title. The words didn’t sound like they came from their language, and the look of utter confusion on Konohamaru’s face showed he didn’t know how to respond either.

“Ha! What’s that? Something lame?” Konohamaru blurted out, his unfiltered six-year-old mind doing what it does best—cutting straight to the heart of things.

Hiruzen saw Naruto’s eyes darken at that. The next thing he knew, Naruto swung his fist and knocked Konohamaru clean on the head, the force of the blow sending the boy crumpling to the floor.

“Honorable grandson!” Ebisu screeched, ready to leap at Naruto in outrage, but Hiruzen stopped him with a mere tap of his finger.

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Ebisu said, barely containing his fury as he lowered his gaze in respect.

“Take Konohamaru out of my office,” Hiruzen said, his voice firm.

“But—“

Hiruzen pointed at Konohamaru, who was already starting to wake up. His helmet, the one Hiruzen had personally crafted with a barrier fuinjutsu to protect him from physical harm, had a visible crack. That helmet was supposed to withstand even a chunin’s blow without breaking, yet Naruto’s fist had done the impossible. The crack spoke volumes about the force Naruto had used. It made Hiruzen wonder—was Naruto so angry about Konohamaru’s insult that he didn’t hold back, even against a child?

Questions bombarded Hiruzen’s mind. Who was this Oscar? Why was Naruto suddenly throwing around titles and speaking as if he came from another culture? Was this armor connected to that name somehow? When did all this happen?

Before Hiruzen could dive deeper into his spiraling thoughts, a knock on the door drew his attention. Iruka stood there, looking like he’d just woken up from a night of drinking—his face pale and eyes bloodshot. He clearly had a hangover.

“Hokage-sama, may I come in?” Iruka said, his voice carrying a hint of embarrassment as he eyed Ebisu, who was helping Konohamaru to his feet. But Konohamaru didn’t let the moment pass; he scrambled to Naruto’s side, eyes wide with admiration.

“Teach me your skills, and I’ll become your disciple!”

Hiruzen blinked, and so did everyone else in the room. Naruto’s expression didn’t change. It was like watching a stone face come to life for a brief moment, only to harden again.

“No,” Naruto said, as blunt and straightforward as ever.

“But I need to become the 5th Hokage!”

Hiruzen held his breath, waiting to see how Naruto would respond, hoping to see some flicker of the boy who used to shout about his dreams of becoming Hokage, who wore his ambition on his sleeve like a badge of honor.

Naruto looked straight into Konohamaru’s eyes, enough to make the boy flinch.

“I don’t care!”

Konohamaru’s face twisted in frustration, and with a defeated sigh, he motioned for Ebisu to guide him away.
Hiruzen watched them leave, his heart sinking. One thing was clear now—Naruto didn’t care about being Hokage anymore. That dream, the one that used to light up his eyes with so much passion, was gone. And that realization hurt more than he cared to admit.

What had happened to the Naruto he once knew?