I, again, I feel like I should warn readers about the inconsistencies in tense and grammatical errors.

This story will not have the usual continuation chapters or outright indications of time skips. Don't also expect lemon warnings, I put the M rating for a reason.

FYI, those will take sometime before written.

Without further ado...the chapter


"Have you heard? Apparently the Kyūbi no Yōko isn't vanquished, but sealed."

A feminine voice echoed softly, the intent to pass on the gossip.

"What? I thought the Yondaime Hokage defeated the demon?"

Another feminine voice echoed, the strong sense of inquiry evident in her tone.

"Defeat doesn't equal death. The demon is said to be sealed in a child…a boy."

Such whispers were everywhere within the village, the news of Naruto Uzumaki having been turned into the Kyuubi Jinchūriki. Naturally, the name of the boy was not mentioned, simply an inaccurate description; a boy with whisker marks on his cheeks.

Well, maybe not inaccurate.

I was sitting on a park bench watching the children play on the swings and bars, thus the parents' gossip was in hearing range.

Remembering back at the story, I know that the villagers' hatred and fear of the Yondaime's child was not entirely motivated. It was portrayed as a matter of ignorance and unfounded fear.

What was the quote again? People who can't differentiate between a scroll and a kunai sealed in it?

It was laughable, to be honest. The way Kishimoto portrayed these people as simpleminded idiots who were simply scared of something they didn't fully understand.

But, it was never that simple, was it?

These people weren't as ignorant as many might think. They knew what the Kyuubi was and they knew what Naruto was. Jinchūriki weren't really an uncommon topic. Konoha citizens knew what they were, shinobi coming from war would discuss such topics in their conversations.

Konoha had the Kyuubi Jinchūriki, that was known among the populace, but since it was a well kept secret of who it was, the villagers never needed to panic. It also helped that past Kyuubi Jinchūriki never sought to use its power.

What also contributed to the peace was that the villagers never really experienced its power and devastation in the past.

But now they had, thus their fear of the whisker marked boy.

Jinchūriki were dangerous and valuable. Their danger didn't necessarily come from the host or the demon inside, but from the enemies of the village, and Konoha had a lot of enemies. The Yondaime made sure of that.

I smiled a bit, remembering just how traumatic the retelling of the Namikaze's Massacre was. Seriously, that's what foreign ninja called the battle.

What was more funny was that Minato didn't even kill that many people. I mean it was between a thousand and a thousand and a half. Compare that with A (Sandaime Raikage) who slaughtered near nine thousand shinobi and Minato was basically a pup.

Except Minato wasn't a pup. Because, while it took the Raikage three days to take that many, it only took Minato a minute at maximum. And while not relevant, Minato was facing against Iwa's strongest. For an estimation, think a mixture of Jonin and high Chunin, all gone without mustering any form of resistance.

But, I digress.

The topic was Naruto's inevitable mistreatment in the hands of the villagers. It would be entirely logical, mind you.

What kind of parent would allow their child to get close to a ticking time bomb? What wasn't to say enemies wouldn't target the Jinchūriki's friends to get to him? What about if the Kyuubi escaped again?

Naruto was a source of fear. And the people didn't like living in fear.

People weren't stupid? The villagers didn't just decide to fear nor hate Naruto out of ignorance. The was a reason why Jinchūriki were isolated.

It also didn't help that Naruto didn't know or understand what he actually was, thus the need for the villagers outright contempt. After all, association with the boy was equal to potential danger.

If the villagers didn't display contempt, they might be targeted.

The worst part was that no one could blame the villagers for their actions.

— Minato really screwed the pooch on this one.

I couldn't help but muse amusedly.

Hiruzen was a sentimental, incapable of refusing his successor's idiotic request. I guess we should add Minato on the bad parent list.

It really made you wonder if Danzo's approach could've been better?

Just so to clear things up, I didn't hate Minato, in fact I fucking worshipped the guy. I mean what he did to Kurama was frickin' brutal, it made me wonder where on Kurama's dislike list the man stood. And if Kurama could truly tolerate Naruto's presence.

I doubted it.

Naturally, my views on Naruto were shrouded with indecision and indifference. But, I had always wondered what would become of the boy if he wasn't a goofball, if he wasn't a bright spirit.

Let's not deny wet dreams about evil Naruto, such fantasies were normal for any fan with half a brain cell.

Still, I haven't decided just yet.

Looking up at the sky, I noticed the rapid approach of dusk. The academy wasn't necessarily boring but it did take a lot of time out of my daily life. Studies and physical conditioning.

It took me getting kicked by some no name clan scum to realise that I was fucking weak. My cheat ability had deluded me into thinking that I was strong, powerful, maybe even a pseudo god. It turned out I was just a moron.

Saving grace; Itachi brushed it off as me hiding my true capabilities. You got to love that big brain genius, pity I wasn't able to befriend him.

I was, however, able to confirm the relocation of his entire clan. That pretty much set the events leading to their extermination into play.

Well, not really, but I was pretty much washing my hands of my involvement, not that I did anything to begin with.

My conspiracy theory; the village had a sperm bank filled with clan member sperm. No one would exterminate a prestigious clan so easily.

I also had a conspiracy theory regarding the Rinnegan, but I would save that for a different time.

Now, I spend most of my days training my body, speed and reflexes.

It took me another couple of ass kickings to realise that proper fighting was not a conscious act, but a reflexive one. One needed to condition their muscles and reflexes so that their body could react reflexively to attacks and such.

It wasn't a matter of sensing, comprehending and then responding. No, it only took two steps, sensing and responding. Comprehension took time and might even lead to indecision.

It was a slow process, but my body and mind were slowly adjusting.

I brought my attention back and looked at the kids. A soft smile found its way on my face. Knowing that I was a grown man reincarnated, a small part of me felt disgusted. While I hated entertaining such thoughts, I knew that if my appearance was grown, such an act would have looked paedophilic.

Thinking of that, I wondered if Orochimaru was truly a pedo? Brian said there was a fifty-fifty chance that he was. Then again, Brian said there was a fifty-fifty chance that I was gay so not really someone you could trust with odds.

I spread my sensory ability wide — I had found a way to disable it — it felt like a net the way it fell on my surroundings. Bright spikes of chakra made themselves known, showing that this park wasn't just visited by civilians.

I guess a moment to unwind was still a necessity for superhuman.

No chakra flares, just calm chakra signals. I was still increasing my 'chakra to face' repertoire. In fact, I met a familiar face last week; Asuma Sarutobi. It took me a moment to truly engrave his image into my mind, a truly ordinary face.

I had also wondered the academy to see if other familiar faces could not be found. A fruitless endeavour, it turned out that anime just didn't do real life people justice.

A secret quest of mine, I had wanted to find the Slug Princess as well. You know, to behold her massive rack. No luck there too.

It turned out that she wasn't even there after the Kyuubi attack. Truly sad that one.

I sighed audibly before standing up from the park bench. A gentle gust caught me doing so. My long black hair, blue nagagi and black plain haori fluttered from it.

Remember what I said about my parents and nobility? Yeah, I dressed like a frickin' Hyūga.

— I really should look for some shinobi attire before graduation.

I didn't necessarily hate this style, and despite how it looked, it was actually comfortable. Not to mention it did wanders for my social life, you know, the ladies.

Still seven by the way.

The way home was also unproductive. I took the opportunity switching between my normal vision and my sharingan.

The mutations were still ongoing. I have acquired the photographic memory, by the physical enhancement and chakra sight were still difficult.

I didn't necessarily want the chakra sight, it would interfere with my natural sensory ability.

— Wouldn't mind keeping the crimson tomeo aesthetic sight though.

I smiled again, that was perhaps the most glaring thing about the sharingan. Then again, I've never been one for discretion.

— Nah, I think I'll keep the sharingan under wraps for now. I can even call it deception training.

I manoeuvred across the crowded streets, my shinobi training more than showing. Agility was my forte, especially since I had been practicing my wind transformation and application.

Ever wondered what would happen if one practiced elemental manipulation to its utmost mastery? Well, I had a few hypothesises and the most desirable is to be able to do what Suigetsu was able to do.

Hey, I never denounced optimism.

A few familiar signatures got caught in my sensory net, breaking me out of my childish muses.

Their signatures were minuscule, below even what civilians have. But, their refinement gave them away, and their fast pace. Kakashi was the one who gave them all away.

The ANBU.

He was the weakest among them, low A-rank if the bingo books were to be believed. This gave me a new found respect for the ANBU, seeing how the recruitment requirements were high standard.

They jumped from building to building, the white blurs the only visible thing of their existence.

My sharingan blazed as it studied their movements, capturing and saving them for future references. The fact that I was able to notice and spy on Konoha's finest gave me a sense of pride. An academy student spying on elites? Maybe I was really born to be a shinobi.

It took an instant to record the movements and chakra applications, and the next moment I was a child looking up at the stars.

Pretty little things.

Resuming my walk, I start pondering what I would have for dinner.

The wounds of the Kyuubi attack were still fresh, and I had taken to employ a few house hands to help with my massive home. I was basically a millionaire, nearing billionaire in this life, making a difference didn't seem like much.

Aya was a woman who handled my meals. A widow who lost her house and valuables during the attack. She was a nice lady with a bright personality. Still young and unbred so there was a chance for remarriage.

As for me, I just liked her because she reminded me of my nagging mother.

Passing a few buildings, I caught sight of Ichiraku Ramen. I had the honor of eating at the famed restaurant, but I found myself unimpressed with the quality. It wasn't necessarily bad, but it just wasn't something that one could repeatedly eat.

It made me wonder how Naruto turned it into a stable, and my thoughts started turning dark.

— We should really do something about your destiny, young Uzumaki. We can't have you become a copy of Kishimoto's vision.

I had also entertained the prospect of taking the Kyuubi away from the boy. With the way it was shown in the series, it would be a while until the higher ups found out.

Let's put a pin on that.

There was still time to come up with a proper solution to young Naruto. He was still a three month old infant, after all.

Unaware of my surroundings, I found myself at the doors of my home. The door opened without my say-so.

"Welcome home, Kimura-sama."

Aya greeted me with a bright smile. It was infectious, so I found myself smiling back.

— I wonder if you ever loved your late husband, Aya.


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