You have likely noticed that this story shares elements with some other prominent crossovers on this site. You'll be glad to hear, however, that rather than being inspired by them, it was instead inspired by the rage I felt at seeing how those atrocities mutilated wonderful story ideas with their one-braincell writing and zero-dimensional characters.

Chapter Two - The Academy

Konoha was widely regarded as one of the more ethical ninja villages, though of course there was little room for morality in any place that offered the services of killers-for-hire. They placed great stress on teaching the 'Will of Fire' to their children, which was nationalistic, of course, but also encompassed lessons of love.

Given that Konoha made efforts to maintain their moral high ground, it was somewhat surprising to realize that one of their orphaned children, though recognized by the state, lived alone. The village payed for his apartment, delivered groceries to his home, and had a hidden guard posted to ensure his safety, but he had nothing in the way of parental figures. The authorities of Konoha took steps to ensure that nobody would ever realize, naturally.

But if someone had taken notice, the lack of discipline in the child's life would give rise to the extreme shock that Naruto's apartment was constantly, impeccably clean. There were no clothes on the floor, his bed was made the moment he woke up, and dishes were washed even while he was still cooking.

Presently, Naruto was putting away his plate, buzzing with excitement. He'd hardly slept the night before, his mind too consumed with ideas of what Academy life would be like. He would learn powerful jutsus, become the best at taijutsu, and everyone would look up to him! There would be so many new people to meet, so much to do, so much to learn, that he couldn't contain himself, instead pacing, doing pushups or pull-ups or whatever he could to try and expel this energy of his.

But now it was finally time to leave. He was going to be early, for sure, but that was good for first impressions, and he didn't think he even could wait any longer.

Half an hour early wasn't too much, right?

No. Definitely not.

So Naruto ran out the door, at first leaving without even closing it until he screeched to a stop with a strange look on his face, looking at nothing for a moment before treading back to close and lock his apartment.

As he sprinted off again, a following shadow looked on suspiciously. It was an ill-kept secret that the boy was the Nine-Tails demon beast's container, and the Hokage seemed to make efforts to post every shinobi in the village on guard duty at some point or another, likely to get them to guess the secret. It was only sensible to have your shinobi prepared, just in case the seal failed.

As for those who had figured it out, they had been sworn to S-rank secrecy. Again, sensible. Mizuki understood that the Nine-Tails provided great power to its host, but that power made hosts targets while they were young, rival villages often seeking to kill them off before the children could grow into their potential.

But Mizuki suspected that the seal might be weak, or perhaps broken thoroughly enough that the Nine-Tails had taken over the child's mind. With the discipline that Naruto displayed in his household chores, and the way he would sometimes have a strange distraction come over him, and the collection of other habits and mannerisms that did not belong in a child, there was bound to be some explanation that made the pieces fit together. Odds were that it had something to do with the Nine-Tails.

He wanted to ask other shinobi who knew Naruto's status, see if they knew anything more, but with even discussion of the fact forbidden, there was no possibility of doing so without consequence.

And he might have gone to the Hokage despite the enmity between them, were he not all but banned from the Hokage tower. He had tried to schedule an audience once, but the receptionist told him (with a little too much sweetness) that the next opening was not for several months. Really, he might despise Konoha, but he didn't want it destroyed while he was living there.

So Mizuki took it upon himself to spy on Naruto in his spare time, build a profile of habits, and discover the truth behind Naruto Uzumaki. And, if he found a way while he catalogued the child's psyche, he would subvert him into one of Orochimaru's agents. It would take months, maybe longer, but the payoff would be more than worth it.

-0-

At the Academy, Naruto marveled at the wide open space. Land was at a premium in Konoha, or at least in the official districts inside its walls. Living spaces were always built as tall as regulation would allow, and as close to neighboring buildings as they could get away with. But the Academy seemed to live in a different world, with a wide open lawn and a structure only three stories tall, built wide to have space for the necessary classrooms. A long fence to the sides of the building traveled far behind it, giving the promise of even more open land behind it.

"Hello there!"—someone spoke up behind him. A tall man was walking towards the Academy building.

"Hello," Naruto returned.

"First year at the Academy? You look about that age," the man said.

"Yeah! But I'm going to be the best!"

The man just chuckled. "Why don't you follow me—I know the man who'll be your teacher. In fact—" he looked around— "Don't tell anyone, but I'm the reason he got the promotion."

Naruto's eyes widened. "Whoah! You must be a super great ninja!" —he nodded solemnly— "I'll remember you when I'm Hokage."

"Glad to hear it," the man said, unaffected. "My name is Mizuki."

"Naruto Uzumaki!"

Mizuki smiled, and lead him inside the building. He spoke to the receptionist for a moment, then lead Naruto to the first year classroom. The room was huge, with high ceilings and desks that sat on a slope to the back of the room. There were a few students already present, studying or chatting or trying to study but distracted by chatting neighbors.

"Iruka! Good morning."

The teacher looked up from his notes and smiled, making the massive scar across his nose and cheekbones crinkle.

"Mizuki! What are you doing here?"

As the two began to talk, Naruto walked off to join the chatting group. There was a tall blond girl, one with pink hair, and a boy that looked bored, but wasn't saying anything.

"Hey, I'm Naruto Uzumaki," he said to the bored one. A limp hand extended to him.

"Shikamaru Nara."

"Nice to meet you. How old are you?"

"Same as you."

"Where are you from?"

"Southern area."

Naruto couldn't help but feel annoyed, and dismissed. Was it really so hard to put effort into conversation?

'Ask him what he's thinking.'

'What? Why? We just met, and he's being so rude.'

'He is thinking about something. He thinks it's far more important than anything going on around him. Ask.'

Naruto cleared his throat.

"Er—What are you thinking about?"

Nara frowned, looking up. "Mm—sorry?"

'It seemed like I interrupted an interesting thought.'

"It seemed like I interrupted an interesting thought."

"Well, yes. Just politics, though, nothing that would interest you."

'I'd like to hear it anyways.'

Naruto wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, true. But what was it?"

"The next shinobi world war."

Naruto squinted at him. "The Fourth ended the shinobi world wars."

Nara looked bored again. "Sure."

"No, he did! We haven't been at war with anyone since he ended them!"

"You're right, we haven't been at war," Shikamaru agreed, resting his head on the desk.

The two girls had stopped with whatever they'd been talking about, and were looking on curiously.

"What was that about a war?" —the pink-haired one asked.

Shikamaru turned his head on the desk to look at them. "Naruto was wondering when the next war would be."

Now the eyes were on him. Dammit, Nara.

"Er—yeah, I guess so."

"Why? Do you think we're going to war soon?"

"Well, no. Maybe in, like, a hundred years. The last one was before we were born. What's your names?"

"I'm Ino Yamanaka," the blond said, "and this is Sakura Haruno."

"Nice to meet you," he said, taking a seat next to Nara.

"Weird thing to say, if you don't think there'll be one soon."

Naruto shrunk back a little inside. "It was just a comment." He waved towards the teacher. "Anyways—What d'you think he'll talk about first?"

Haruno lit up— "Oh! He'll probably go over a syllabus first, but I bet we're learning chakra theory before anything else. I've read a little about chakra, but reading's never the same as a real class, you know?"

"Yeah, for sure," Naruto agreed, though he had never really read books outside of class.

"But I think for this first class, we'll probably just talk about the energies, and maybe learn the history and hand signs. But then later, we're probably going to have some sort of taijutsu class, or maybe tactics, and I'm sure they'll fit in some sort of chakra training, too."

He hadn't expected her to have so much to say.

"Do you always read ahead so much?"

Sakura seemed a bit embarrassed, and Yamanaka spoke up with a teasing tone. "She is such a bookworm! Really, you've got to get out of your shell more!"

"I do! I talk with you!"

"I'm only one person."

"Well—" Haruno's eyes cast around— "I talk with—what's your name?"

"Naruto Uzumaki—"

"I talk with Naruto, too! And—Nara!"

"Congratulations," Yamanaka ribbed her, "That's three. Two more and you'll have a full hand."

Sakura blushed and looked away.

"Well—Oh! Everyone else's showing up, finally!"

Naruto thought it was a rather clumsy attempt at changing the subject, but went along with it. Sure enough, students were beginning to come through the door one after the next, and soon, the teacher addressed the class.

"Good morning, all of you. We'll be starting off the day with a syllabus…"

I worry that I'm not being descriptive enough—my chapters continually refuse to grow, despite my watering with time and fertilizing with flowery, extended setting introductions. Dialogue, I think might help, but perhaps it is simply that I am not describing everything as fully as I should. Am I conveying myself fully? Am I doing well, but lacking in quantity of participatory characters? Ought I let conversations evolve further? Am I more Hemingway, or Steinbeck?

I really cannot know even with reviews, for as the best business marketers are aware, the solutions presented by survey respondents are tangential at best, and counterproductive at worst.