Disclaimer: I. Do. Not. Own. ANYTHING. Naruto related.
AN: New story~ New story~ Enjoy~
Summary:
Thrust into a world he knew so much yet so little about, Akira's only wish was to spend as fulfilling a life with his loved ones as possible, and — maybe, just maybe . . . become a little badass.
It wasn't meant to be though . . .
Those girls who failed to play their cards according to the rules had seen to that.
Young man, your fate is to become a sugar baby
Chapter 1: Wait, what . . .?
'So noisy . . .'
Muffled sounds leaked out through the closed door and the boy standing hesitantly before it had to stifle a sigh of exasperation.
Giggles, greetings, and the now familiar begging the less bright — or less conscientious — students had to go through for a last chance to not be met with their teacher's loving wrath.
Innocent stories of tasty dinners and the occasional blown-up recounting of a big brother or big sister returning home gloriously, after having saved god knows what pretty princess from the clutches of heaven knows what nasty missing-nin.
"Sigh . . ."
As much as Akira hoped for the contrary . . . those childish antics were part of his daily life.
Every day from nine to five — except weekends. And holidays.
If there's ever been a reason the seven-year-old boy wished to plant a wet smooch on the already balding head of the Third Hokage . . . his argument that ninja trainees were also children, and yes, they needed long periods of time to forget everything that their teachers had painstakingly drummed into their skulls . . . was definitely at the top of his one-item list.
Had it not been for this little thoughtfulness, Akira was quite sure he would have committed murder by now.
. . . Or suicide, more likely.
His heart wouldn't allow him to set fire to any of these leaves prematurely, no matter how close to the insanity they drove him at times.
'Aren't they even louder than usual . . .?' the boy wondered after a particularly loud squeal made him flinch and reconsider his regretfully forsaken decision to call in sick. He'd already done so four times this month only and . . . despite her overly doting self, matters of learning were of monumental importance to his mother.
"Sigh . . ."
Akira let loose one more groan and, at last, resolved himself to enter the room overflowing with boisterous children. Schooling his features to get rid of the perpetual Uchiha scowl, he put on a lazy smile.
As he slid open the door and forced his legs to carry him forward, the sight of his second most hated location in the entire Konoha Shinobi Academy mercilessly greeted him — the second-year, class A classroom.
"Morning~"
". . ."
For a moment, the heavens graced the poor boy with a tiny miracle, and, doing a world of good to his tense nerves, the classroom fell into silence.
But only for a moment.
"Akira-kun!"
"Morning~!"
"Tch."
"Kyah!"
"Akkun~"
"Tch."
. . .
A cacophony of greetings, calls, tongue clicks and more let loose once the not-so-tardy children filling up the room registered just who was the one who joined them.
Akira felt his smile crack a little, anxiety returning in full force.
An objective viewer would have scoffed at his reaction, seeing that the same scenario unfolded before his eyes every morning, ever since his second day of school. He should have gotten used to it by now.
. . . Except he didn't.
A pack of energetic puppies, each vying for his attention, had only been interesting for the first couple of times. After that, he discovered what it felt like to be an old man stuck in the middle of a cluster of hyperenergetic grandchildren.
'Is this the so-called age gap?' Akira thought morosely whilst he slowly made his way up towards his seat, politely greeting the classmates baring his way at almost every step.
It took the boy what felt like an eternity before, at long last, no other child felt the need to waylay him. He tiredly sat his buttocks on the uncomfortable bench and then slumped over his desk. A muffled groan escaped his lips.
What could they possibly find so fascinating about his person . . . he still failed to understand.
Sure, he was an Uchiha — that much was true. There had never been a shortage of careerists trying to buttlick their way into their hearts, be it for wealth or simply for the simple desire to forge a connection. Having some contacts in the single clan-manned clusterfuck that was the Konoha Military Police Force wouldn't hurt, right? Right?!
But!
The thing was — he was not the only Uchiha in the classroom! There were four others beside him!
And yet, he didn't see them get swarmed every day by excessively enthusiastic hordes of prematurely maturing children.
He couldn't blame the unfounded popularity on his status in the clan either, as his family was not high in the hierarchy. . . . Well, not anymore, at least.
'Inexplicable,' Akira complained for one last time and decided to drop the matter. They would give up sooner or later, for he didn't have any inclination to encourage or fulfill their silly expectations, whatever they could be.
Cheeks still glued to the table and eyes searching the skies through the neighboring window for any peculiar clouds, the boy extended a hand inside the storage shelf of the desk and started blindly hunting for something.
Soon, after skipping over a couple of notebooks and other miscellaneous things, a book found its way into his extended claws.
It was the right one, he judged. There was only one tome that thick inside his table.
Taking it out, Akira swiveled his head to look forward, his chin now the one in direct contact with the battered wooden surface.
It was said that these desks, along with those abominably hard benches that were guaranteed to have gifted some unlucky kids with untimely hemorrhoids during their long service, were among the last creations of the legendary Mokuton.
After the First Hokage, the fabled and sometimes overly vaunted Senju Hashirama, stepped down from his function on terms of poor health, he chose to focus his last years on accompanying the younger generation of his beloved village.
And later, when the Second came with the brilliant idea to open an Academy — a place where dreams met hopes and civilian kids mingled freely with the heirs of the distinguished Ninja clans — Hashirama couldn't stop the sudden surge of enthusiasm that overcame him, and before anyone could tell him off, he squeezed himself dry crafting the furniture necessary to populate the whole building.
. . . Or so the story goes.
Akira called it bullshit. His fair guess was that the Fantastic Four were being too miserly to spend some ryō to refurbish the classrooms. Why waste the money that could be used to buy even one more explosive tag when the First was there to take the bla—. . . credit?
For the sake of the children's well-being?
Ha ha. How cute.
Shinobi were those who endured, after all. There was no need for such extravagance as softer benches.
Sniggering softly for reasons known only to himself, Akira lovingly stroked the fading title scribbled on the cover of the old book.
Thoughts on higher shape transformation
A book he had scavenged from a dusty corner of the school's library at the end of his first year — the key to fulfilling his childhood fantasies.
It was a miracle he had found such a book in that place — not to mention the students, Akira was sure not even the teachers could make heads or tails of abstract concepts expanded inside its covers.
Hell! Had it not been for his remarkably wider . . . worldview, the book would have been akin to a scripture written in some dead language for him as well.
He sometimes wondered if the senior who had written the masterpiece was of the same kind as him.
It was either that or he was missing a tile or two up there.
"Fu fu."
The boy chuckled, reminiscing fondly about the day he chanced upon the book . . . and about how easy it had been to abscond with it.
For a school that is supposed to teach kids about the subtle subterfuges necessary to sneakily bulldoze one's way through all walks of life, one would have thought the management capable enough to come up with some serious anti-theft measures to protect their wealth of knowledge.
The only obstacle that had once stood between him and the ownership of the book has been a snoozing old retiree.
He hadn't even had to try.
Ding~~ Ding~
The sound of the bell announcing the start of the day's classes awoke Akira from his pleasant reverie. He quickly slipped the tome back inside the desk's storage, replacing it with a notebook and a pen.
The class had filled almost to the bream while he had been lost in thought, with only a few empty seats here and there . . . including the other two at his own table. Another thing that made no sense to him. For all his apparent popularity, he had no deskmates. And never had.
Well, not that he found the fact offending. He was rather grateful for their 'thoughtfulness'.
"Alright, quiet class!"
The sliding door burst open quite harshly, an equally jarring voice accompanying its rough handling.
A moment later, an unremarkable-looking man entered the classroom and made his way with vigorous steps towards the teacher's desk, stomping loudly when he climbed the podium.
Yamazaki Kaoru.
Thirty-seven this year. Single. Chūnin. No hope for any further advancement.
Also their homeroom and history teacher.
"Ok, class," the teacher called out and tapped a couple of times on his desk — his weapon of choice, a rolled-up newspaper. "I'm sure all of you are excited to hear the continuation of the 78th part of the 'Sarutobi Chronicles: Chūnin Age', but be quiet."
". . ."
"Good," Yamazaki nodded in satisfaction. That expression didn't last for long, however, for a dejected look took its place. "As much as it pains me to inform you of this, everyone's beloved Hokage-sama was of the opinion that his autobiography is far too advanced a topic for young minds such as yours."
The man cast his gaze over the classroom, his beady eyes taking in the saddened (hopeful) looks of the children. It seemed they'd gathered what he was about to inform them.
"Yes," a curt bob of his head was followed soon by a sole tear running down his greasy yellowish cheek. "Despite my desperate pleas to reconsider his decision, Hokage-sama ordered me to give you but a quick summary of this period of his life . . . and be done with it."
"!"
At that, Akira was by far not the only child to give a quick fist pump under the table. Without any exaggeration, those were the most welcomed words that have ever left the overly zealous teacher's mouth.
No matter how hot and bothered this middle-aged man was for the old monkey leading their village, there was a limit to how much one could exaggerate.
Sarutobi Hiruzen may have been a little conniving with his 'strongest Hokage of all times' propaganda in his desire to raise his lacking popularity and majesty amongst the sheep, but he was not wrong. No qualified leader could stand living in the shadow of their overachieving predecessors.
As a young Jōnin with nigh a great accomplishment to his name at the time of his appointment — and bearing the burden of leading his village through an ever-changing war — it was expected of him to become the new beacon.
This, in a nutshell, was the story behind the Third's inflated legend.
Most of the children in the Academy were not aware of that simple truth, however. Bar the members of the prominent clans, the kids of civilian descent were all beguiled into believing their leader's reputation held true.
Naturally, Hiruzen couldn't have been happier to become the object of their adulation. After all, the man was a staunch believer of the saying 'raise them from dollhood'.
There was a catch, though – occasionally, ninjas like Yamazaki Kaoru came into being. Recipients of his calculated magnanimity when at their most desperate time, their loyalty turned borderline fanatical. It didn't matter that they haven't had the chance to go with his carefully polished brainwa— . . . education system.
But that was not the problem. Zealots or not, Hiruzen could accept them all.
. . . What he couldn't accept though, was one of those fanatics ruining his good name!
Of the children who had started the Academy with the belief that he was the strongest Hokage ever, almost none remained! Most of them even scoffed at the mere mention of the story now.
And it was all Yamazaki's fault!
It was good to praise his strength and wisdom, but . . . why do you go telling the students that he, at the ripe age of ten years old, could casually hang three First Hokages and twenty Seconds!
Children were only stupid because of their lack of knowledge and experience, not because they were innately idiots! Even their pure and creative minds couldn't put together such an exaggerated crap!
Thus, it came as no surprise that Hiruzen forbade the teacher from spreading his bullshit.
. . . The above words may have been only the boy's quick speculation about how this blessing graced them, but Akira was fairly certain his guess was accurate. Knowing the man as he did and having had to tune out their teacher's phantasmagorical stories for months were enough of a basis to build on.
"As of today, we'll go into the Warring States period for a while and then slowly make our way to the foundation of the Five Great Ninja Villages," their sensei continued after making an almost physical effort to school his features. "Although not as glorious or interesting as the life of our great Hokage-sama, the subject's got plenty of noteworthy points."
At this juncture, the majority of the children couldn't help but cheer. The charm of learning about those lawless times was too irresistible for those who had been continuously exposed to the man's fangirling bouts.
An odd look on his face that stemmed from the incomprehensible behavior of his students, teacher Yamazaki softly shook his head. They would one day come to understand Hokage-sama's greatness for sure — he could guarantee it.
"Okay, okay. Calm down, calm down," the man raised his voice, once again emphasizing his words with a few well-placed snaps of the rolled paper. He only stopped when the kids' horseplay came to a lull. "Before we start our lesson, I have one more thing to announce. As of today, we are getting a new classmate. Please do enter the classroom, Uzumaki-san."
'Ah.'
Staring at the petite redhead nervously making her way in, Akira wanted to let loose a few tears of relief. After three years since he's regained the memories of his previous life and understanding just where he had ended up, the original plot was about to begin.
For obvious reasons, he had no desire to involve himself with any of the canonical protagonists. To this very day, he had shot down more than a hundred attempts of befriending offered by the golden retriever currently gawking at their class' new addition.
'I was a little worried, but it seems it was all for naught. I don't know what should I have done in the event this world was not canon-centric.'
The girl's advent only consolidated his hope: his knowledge of the future was legit!
"Silence! Silence!" Yamazaki continuously smacked the First Hokage's poor relic, the children's frenzy having peaked with the second announcement. "If you don't settle down, I'll take a note from Kudaratsu-Sensei's page and have you run laps until I get bored!"
". . ."
The effect was instant. Before the teacher had even finished the threat, pin-drop silence engulfed the room — the kids were chronically terrified of the notorious P.A. teacher's ruthless routine.
" . . . Tch, tch. Couldn't have you kept quiet from the get-to-go?" the man complained disappointedly. "Why do I have to always resort to this sort of ultimatum to grab your attention?"
In their defense, homeroom teacher Yamazaki Kaoru was quite the easy meat until someone managed to push all his wrong buttons. Hence their lack of respect.
". . ."
Seeing that no one dared to backtalk, the man's lips flashed a victorious smirk before recentering his focus on the redhead. The poor girl was quivering like a leaf in the wind by now, a do-or-die expression on her face.
He placed a hand on her small shoulder, trying to reassure her, "There's no reason to be scared, Uzumaki-san," Yamazaki assuaged. "They are all good kids. Come, now! Introduce yourself and tell us your dream. Who knows, maybe you'll find someone who shares your hopes."
If his words were enough to calm her down, Kushina didn't show it. Her trembling intensified, instead. "I-I'm . . . I'm . . . Uzumaki Kushina dattebane!"
". . ."
Well, her stuttering introduction was not enough to impress her new classmates. On the contrary, her apparent weakness was disdain worthy in their eyes.
". . . What's up with her? Does she think she can become a qualified ninja with a character like hers?"
One voice snarled derisively, and ten more followed.
"Right? Right?"
"And what's up with that hair? It's all red!"
"I agree. That bloody colour is way too ominous."
"Her face too. It reminds me of my football — red and round."
"Rather than a football, I think it resembles a tomato more."
"I hate tomatoes."
"I feel ya, bro. My mom always forces me to eat them."
. . .
Hurtful words started flying left and right, unmindful of the damage they were knowingly or unknowingly dealing to the girl.
"You guys . . ." Yamazaki whispered, a couple of blue veins blooming on his forehead. "DO YOU TAKE ME FOR WALL OR SOMETHING?!" he shouted angrily, his face reddening. "This is the last warning: behave or spend the rest of the day sweating your asses off! And you, Kushina! Quickly tell us your dream and then take a seat."
"Y-yes!" the redhead deferred, the man's furious countenance scary enough to stifle her own raising wrath.
Repeatedly clenching and unclenching her sweaty palms, Kushina took a deep breath. Her eyes swiftly scanned the room, as if looking for something — for someone.
"My dream is—"
A slight frown furrowed her eyebrows. Her search had ended in failure.
"My dream is—"
Just when she was about to let dejection swallow her, a pair of eyes caught her notice.
They were dark, like the deepest reaches of an abyss — so unlike her own dark plum ones . . .
But . . . they also shone with innocent hope — so much like the pair always accompanying her from inside the mirrors . . .
There was no judgement, no hate, no blame, and not a hint of disdain in the dark orbs silently regarding her — she only found fondness and curiosity.
As she stared back into those eyes, Kushina found herself relaxing, a lovely smile blooming on her face.
"My dream is—"
She muttered softly, her rosy lips slightly parted, and—
"My dream is to one day become Uchiha Akira's wife."
—and dropped a bombshell.
". . ."
". . ."
". . ."
'Wait, what . . .?'
In the deathly stillness shrouding the homeroom of the second year, class A . . . Akira thought he had heard the heart of a certain golden retriever break into a million pieces.
AN: I've long since flirted with the idea of trying my hand with a Naruto fanfic.
I had a couple of ideas to choose from, but, in the end, this one came on top.
It may not be apparent as of the first chapter, but I came up with a pretty funny concept — just wait to see the reason for Kushina's confession!
This is just my second time posting a story — with my first one being nowhere near completion — but I hope I'm improving!
Feel free to tell me what are your thoughts on this first chapter. Whether you do so through PMs or in the comments section, any feedback is welcome.
English is not my mother tongue so grammar errors and/or faulty wording attempts are bound to show up here and there. My vocabulary is kind of lacking also . . .
If you encounter any of those above, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix them.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter~
Until next time!