I stared into my newly purchased mirror, hung just beside the window to catch the best of the natural light when I checked myself out.
Man, I was handsome.
Not even in a vain way.
People in this world were just hotter—probably one of the perks of every human being having the potential for superhuman power. Yet, even by those unreal standards, I was handsome. Not soul-stopping gorgeous, but good-looking nonetheless. Back on Earth, I would've been the kind of guy girls wrote songs about.
It was a little disconcerting. Regardless, I wasn't supposed to look like this. Because right now, I had the Transformation Jutsu active.
And nothing had changed.
I could feel the layer of chakra over my body, shaped perfectly and humming steadily, exactly as it should be. I'd run through the hand signs flawlessly. So what was wrong?
Sigh. Another day, another issue. I was already late for class anyway.
I gathered my writing tools, shrugged on my outer garments, and headed out the door for another day of wholesome learning.
Scene break
I got to school and met an unusually chipper Hidachi. Her expression lit up even more when she spotted me—a strangely sincere and innocent smile from a girl dressed in all black, but kind nonetheless.
It was the only one I got that day.
Hidachi did me the favor of informing me who was who—whose father ran a conglomerate, whose uncle was a jōnin, whose mother was a noble's mistress. And so on and so forth.
It didn't really help, though.
I couldn't get these kids to give me the time of day.
Which was a problem. School was for networking. That was its explicit purpose, beyond teaching you how to learn (which, honestly, you mostly did on your own anyway). The point was I needed the connections I could form here—and it just wasn't happening.
I blinked into focus as paper was set on my desk.
Ah. I'd forgotten we had a test yesterday.
I looked at the fat, red "100" marked across it. Not surprised at all.
With a high school diploma alone, I could've been considered a great scholar in this world. With a college degree on top of that, I might as well have been Isaac Newton reborn.
A throat cleared. I looked up to see my teacher still standing over me.
"A score of one hundred is exceptional, Hanama-kun. Keep up the good work," she said, her smile so pleasant I couldn't help but smile back.
Then I noticed how silent the class had gone.
I glanced around to see every kid watching me with that particular kind of schoolyard venom reserved only for snitches and try-hards.
When I looked back up, my teacher's smile had stretched just a little too wide, just a little too kind.
This bitch.
Scene break
Things only got worse from there.
They went from ignoring me to actively antagonizing me. No one tried anything physical—except for one kid who tried to shove me and ended up pushing himself back while I remained planted.
I was just as shocked as he was.
The difference between shinobi and civilians had never been so stark. I thought I was just really athletic compared to them. But no—I was a whole different animal.
I could probably kill every student in this class without breaking a sweat.
I could probably do it with just my hands, without shedding a drop of blood.
And I was an academy dropout.
It was a disconcerting thought.
No one tried to get physical after that.
A low-level fear of being within arm's reach of me settled across the student body—even though I hadn't touched anyone. Everyone kept a clear distance… everyone except Hidachi.
She really was a kind girl despite her appearance and the sharp attitude she'd given me yesterday. She didn't seem to fear me like the others.
That fear didn't stop the rumor-mongering and insults, though.
I tried to remain unbothered. I really did. I reminded myself that I had the memories of a full-grown man rattling around upstairs.
Sadly, having detailed memories of adulthood didn't equate to experiencing adulthood. I didn't have the emotional weight behind those memories, and therefore none of the corresponding maturity.
In short, I was a fucking kid.
The fact it took me eleven years to realize that just showed how much of a kid I was.
It was frustrating—not being as mature as I thought. But regardless, I wasn't going to let a bunch of preteens get to me.
That was the plan.
I almost succeeded, too.
Then school let out, and I got a surprise.
"Izuku! Guess who?!"
My orange tornado of a friend screamed at the top of her lungs as she barreled into the school courtyard.
Naruko had come to my school, and it was my turn to blush as whispers picked up around me.
Stupid hormones. She was just checking on her friend—we were barely into phase one. Control yourself.
Then that blush shifted into a flush of anger when I heard what they were saying.
Mutters of "demon," "troublemaker," and "gutter trash" were bandied about.
I felt my blood pressure rise.
I didn't have much of a temper. Nothing in this life had ever truly stoked my ire.
Until now.
"Like attracts like. It's not surprising he's consorting with the demon whore," a boy to my left whisper-shouted, intentionally within earshot.
Crack!
"Ah! My nose!" he screamed.
Hm. Why was he screaming?
"It's bleeding! There's blood!"
Oh. I'd punched him.
Naruko stood wide-eyed.
I stared too. That had been nothing. A love tap, really—and it broke his nose?
I glanced around. Everyone was frozen.
Suddenly, the arm's length of distance they'd been keeping didn't seem nearly safe enough. The crowd cleared around me in an instant.
I caught sight of Hidachi, face in her hands, ears flushed red.
I sighed to myself. Of course, she'd be embarrassed. She'd been seen spending time with me publicly, and I'd just confirmed myself as a "savage"—exactly as expected of gutter trash.
Whatever. I'd had enough of these kids for one day.
I walked up to Naruko, threw my arm around her shoulders, and walked us out of there.
Scene break
Naruko was strangely silent.
I hoped I hadn't upset her by defending her. I knew girls could get weird about that—especially shinobi girls.
We walked in silence for a while until it became suffocating.
I was grasping for something to say when Naruko turned towards me. She had to angle her head to meet my gaze, her bright blue eyes glassy, her lower lip trembling.
"You shouldn't have done that," she whispered.
Oh shit. She was upset.
"What? No—"
"Now they're gonna hate you even more. I shouldn't have come to your school. I just thought—nevermind. I'm sorry, Izuku-kun." She sniffled, digging her toes into the dirt road.
She felt sorry?
Okay—wait. Let's not dismiss her. Maybe she actually had a reason to be sorry.
"Did you do something to those kids?" I asked.
"I might have pranked a couple of their parents' stores," she admitted after some hesitation.
I blinked.
That was plausible… but not deserving of anywhere near that kind of vitriol.
"I don't think that makes sense. Are you sure it's not some other reason?" I pressed.
Naruko tensed, clearly about to clam up. I sighed.
"All right. It's fine. You don't have to tell me."
I meant it—I wasn't even being manipulative.
I only realized how manipulative it sounded after the fact, when Naruko's eyes widened in panic.
"I don't know, okay?! The grown-ups just hate me for some reason! Ever since I was little—dattebayo!" Her voice got louder, the verbal tic slipping out uncontrolled as her emotions spiked.
"Okay, okay. I believe you. I promise," I said, placing my hands on her shoulders to calm her down.
Soon, her breathing steadied and we resumed walking back to my apartment.
I was still curious, though.
"If it's not anything you did… maybe it has to do with your parents? These kids can be pretty stuck up about that."
Naruko fell silent.
"I wouldn't know. Don't have a clue who my parents are. Even Jiji won't tell me," she said, voice still raw.
I hummed thoughtfully, filing away the "Jiji" comment for later.
"The only Uzumaki I know about is the Shodaime's wife," I said.
"What?!" Naruko exclaimed, shocked. "The First Hokage's wife was an Uzumaki?!"
"Yeah. Her name was Uzumaki Mito."
"That's crazy," she said, stars in her eyes. "Wait, if I'm related to the Shodaime, shouldn't that make me like royalty instead?"
"I guess? Do you know why your last name is Uzumaki? Any actual relation to the First?"
"I haven't thought about it." Naruko shrugged.
"What about you, though? Maybe we can gain some clues based on you. When's your birthday?"
Naruko grimaced but answered nonetheless. I blinked at the date.
"Isn't that the day of the Kyūbi Festival?" I asked.
Naruko nodded, looking even more timid.
It was unnatural. I didn't like it—so I tickled her.
She giggled and punched my arm.
Suddenly, I could relate to that civilian boy I'd decked.
Her light jab sent me sprawling.
"Izuku!" she yelled, running to help me up.
"It's fine, I'm alright, I'm alright," I waved off her concern, rubbing my arm.
"You've got a mean right, you know?" I said with a smile.
Naruko looked timid for a moment, then some of her bravado returned, her smile bright and sunny.
"Yeah! That's why you shouldn't test me. I'm gonna be Hokage someday, then I'll punch anyone that talks trash, dattebayo!" she said, pulling up her sleeve to flex her skinny arm.
I couldn't help but laugh.
Then my mind—always working, even when I didn't want it to—made a connection I couldn't ignore.
"Hey Naruko?" I asked, and she gave me her attention.
Her big blue eyes almost made me falter. I knew this question would bring her down, but I had to ask.
"The Kyūbi Festival is also the day the Kyūbi was defeated, right?"
Her mood dipped, but she didn't seem as sad—just attentive.
"Yeah," she said.
"Do you have any tattoos?" I asked, my heart beginning to race.
"Eh? Where would I even get them?" she asked, tilting her head adorably, her twin pigtails swishing.
"Have you checked… while molding chakra?"
She hesitated.
"Just do it. Please," I begged, unable to let it go if my outlandish theory was correct.
"Okay." Naruko blushed. "But let's go to your apartment first, dattebayo," she added, face bright crimson.
I wondered why she'd be embarrassed—
—until she dragged me into my apartment and just started undressing.
"Woah!" I yelled, covering my eyes.
"Naruko, what are you doing?!"
"Letting you check for tattoos?" she said, confused.
"You could use a mirror?" I offered weakly.
"Yeah, but I don't know what you're looking for. You do," she said, sounding petulant.
…Sadly, I couldn't argue with that logic.
I cracked an eye open and saw Naruko stripped down to her underwear—a chest wrap and a pair of boxers.
"You wear boxers?"
I don't know why that was the question I asked. I just did.
"Yeah!" she said brightly, wiggling her hips. "They're super comfortable and roomy."
I realized then that Naruko was an orphan and probably hadn't been taught propriety between boys and girls.
This was a situation ripe for abuse.
I wasn't even slightly tempted.
Not that I didn't find her attractive—I did, in a way no boy my age should—but the added context of a full-grown man's memories gave clarity to the tangled mess of frogs and butterflies in my throat and stomach.
I had hoped that I would not find girls my age attractive until I got older but it seemed, kid brain meant kid brian chemistry.
Still, this was Naruko.
My literal first friend.
I wasn't a saint—but I wasn't a monster.
Plus, pragmatically? Naruko wouldn't remain ignorant forever.
Whatever momentary fun I could have would be at the cost of a future of daily fun.
So explanations would have to be given.
Later.
"All right—mold some chakra," I said, turning to her, face burning red.
Naruko blushed too, but still gave me a cheeky smile before forming the Ram seal.
Suddenly, the sixth sense I'd gained after mastering the Ram seal—usually just a faint awareness—was inundated with chakra.
It felt like having photo-sensitive pupils and staring straight at the sun.
I didn't think I'd need to be a sensor to feel this.
It was extraordinary.
She was pushing out so much chakra that her hair swished in its wake. And the craziest part? It seemed endless. I could maybe support a hundredth of that output for a millisecond before dying—and Naruko didn't even look bothered.
But what captivated me most was the feel of it.
Chakra was one part physical, one part spiritual energy.
Feeling hers so intensely, so up close, was like feeling who Naruko was.
There was more sadness than I'd expected, and a lot of anger—a lot of anger.
But the rest?
The rest was like the first ray of dawn after a long, freezing night.
Hope, faith, love, courage, willpower, kindness, mercy, forgiveness… and a hint of mischief.
All wrapped in a sort of directionless compassion for everyone.
I was spellbound.
I could have stood there watching her forever.
But then I noticed the lines forming on her stomach—a spiral with eight symbols surrounding it.
And my heart sank.
It broke, too.
Because I knew what I had to tell her.
"So?" Naruko's voice broke my trance. I realized I was staring.
Well. No point in putting it off.
I turned around and headed for the kitchen.
Naruko asked what I was doing.
"I need tea for what comes next," I told her.
She replied emphatically that she hated tea.
I told her it was for me, not her—and that she should take a seat.
And put on a goddamn shirt!