Early graduation.

For years, it had been the whispered dream of every academy hopeful—the ultimate badge of honor among their peers. It was a rare feat, one that marked the elite few who showed exceptional talent, discipline, and potential. Graduating ahead of time meant more than just skipping years of classes—it meant being recognized as someone special. A prodigy.

Naruto Uzumaki wanted that recognition. No, he craved it.

For as long as he could remember, the villagers' scornful glances and muttered insults had followed him like a shadow. The academy wasn't much better; most of the instructors barely hid their disdain for him. But Naruto didn't care—not entirely. He had a plan.

Standing in the sparsely decorated classroom, Naruto slammed a slightly crumpled form onto Iruka Umino's desk, grinning from ear to ear.

"Alright, sensei! I've got it! The application for early graduation!"

Iruka, who was hunched over a pile of graded quizzes, paused mid-scribble. His dark eyes narrowed as he scanned the document in front of him.

"Where did you get this?"

"From the principal's office!" Naruto declared proudly. "She said I could take the exam!"

Iruka blinked, his hand still clutching his pen. "She… gave you this? Just like that?"

"Yeah! Guess she could see I'm ready! I mean, it's obvious I've got what it takes to graduate early!"

Iruka sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. His mind flashed to the policy that had been in place for nearly a decade now—a policy that should have prevented exactly this from happening.

Years ago, the very idea of early graduation had been quietly buried after the Uchiha Massacre. It had been a necessary decision after Itachi Uchiha's prodigious rise to ANBU at only thirteen years old—an accomplishment that had come at the cost of his youth, his mental stability, and eventually, the lives of his own clan.

The Third Hokage had made it clear: there would be no more rushing children into a world of blood and death, no matter how talented they seemed. The tragedy of Itachi's trajectory had cast a long shadow over the Academy, and the ban on early graduation had been non-negotiable ever since.

And yet… here stood Naruto Uzumaki, clutching a paper that should never have made it into his hands.

Iruka exhaled slowly. The principal must have given this to him just to get him out of her office, he thought, his irritation mounting.

"Listen, Naruto," Iruka said, carefully weighing his words, "early graduation isn't something that's… available anymore. The Academy doesn't allow it."

"What?!" Naruto exclaimed, his face falling into an exaggerated scowl. "That's stupid! I'm ready! I've been training harder than anyone else in the Academy! I can handle it!"

"Really? Then show me a perfect Transformation Jutsu right now."

Naruto faltered, his bravado cracking. "Uh… I mean, I'm close! Just a little more practice and—"

"That's what I thought," Iruka said with a sigh. "Naruto, this isn't about wanting recognition or proving people wrong. Being a shinobi means putting your life on the line—and sometimes, making decisions that decide whether someone else lives or dies. It's not about how hard you work; it's about whether you're truly ready for the responsibility."

Naruto's expression shifted, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. But just as quickly, his frustration returned, and he crossed his arms stubbornly. "You're just like the others! You don't believe in me either!"

Iruka hesitated, guilt stirring in his chest. He didn't want to crush Naruto's spirit, but he couldn't ignore the reality of the boy's situation either. Still, perhaps there was a way to teach him a lesson without completely breaking his confidence.

"Alright," Iruka said finally. "I'll let you take the early graduation exam."

"Wait—seriously? You mean it?"

"On one condition," Iruka said. "No pranks. No disruptions. And if I hear even one complaint from another teacher, the deal's off."

"You got it, sensei! I'll be the most behave-ist student ever! Dattebayo!"

Iruka shook his head with a small, exasperated smile. "We'll see about that."

By the afternoon, Naruto found himself perched on his favorite stool at Ichiraku Ramen, his fists clenched tightly against the counter. The savory aroma of broth filled the air, but Naruto's normally bright mood was overshadowed by a simmering frustration.

"You seem upset, Naruto," a calm, weathered voice said from beside him.

Naruto turned his head to see Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage himself, sitting just a stool away. The old man's sharp eyes studied him with quiet curiosity, though his kindly smile softened their edge.

The boy sighed heavily, resting his chin on the counter. "I got laughed at today, old man."

"What's new, Naruto? You seem to deal with that a lot."

Naruto shot him a glare that would've made anyone else flinch. But this was Hiruzen Sarutobi—the professor, the God of Shinobi, and a man far too accustomed to the glares of irritated children. He simply ruffled Naruto's unruly blonde hair.

"I'm just joking, Naruto," Hiruzen said lightly. But as he saw the boy's scowl deepen, his tone turned more serious. "I thought you didn't mind being made fun of. You've always been good at brushing things off."

The ramen arrived, steaming and fragrant, and Naruto immediately brightened. He clasped his hands together. "Itadakimasu!" Then, as if his previous irritation didn't exist, he began devouring the noodles with vigor.

Hiruzen watched silently, the flicker of a smile on his lips, but his thoughts were heavy. He knew Naruto craved attention—it was obvious in everything he did. From his pranks to his loud declarations of becoming Hokage, the boy was constantly seeking validation. And who could blame him? An orphan with no family and a village that actively avoided him, Naruto had grown up in isolation.

Hiruzen hated it. Hated the way the villagers let their fear of the Nine-Tails dictate how they treated an innocent child. He had hoped, naively perhaps, that over time people would see Naruto for who he truly was, not what was sealed inside him. But hope was slow to change hearts, and the old man felt the weight of his failure every time he saw the boy's lonely eyes.

Still, Hiruzen thought, it wasn't all bad. Naruto was resilient. His energy and determination could brighten the dullest day.

But then Naruto spoke, his voice quieter than usual, and it pulled the Hokage from his thoughts.

"It was different this time," Naruto muttered, staring down into his half-empty bowl.

"How so?"

"I tried for early graduation," Naruto said. "And I failed. Everyone laughed at me… like all my hard work didn't mean anything."

Hiruzen's brow furrowed. He could hear the bitterness in Naruto's voice, the sting of humiliation still fresh. He understood the pain of failure, especially when it followed genuine effort. Yet it wasn't the failure that caught Hiruzen's attention—it was the mention of early graduation.

"Early graduation?"

"Yeah. I asked the principal to let me take the test. But it didn't go well."

Hiruzen's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. The ban wasn't a suggestion—it was an order.

If Naruto had taken an early graduation exam, it meant someone had blatantly ignored his decree. Hiruzen's jaw tightened. He would need to have a very serious conversation with the principal.

"Well, Naruto, failing isn't the end of the world. Learn from your mistakes, train harder, and next time, you'll show them all."

Naruto nodded slowly, though he still looked dejected. He lifted his chopsticks again but paused, seemingly debating whether to speak. When he finally did, his words froze Hiruzen in place.

"No worries, old man," Naruto said. "I stole the exam paper. I'll bring it to class tomorrow and show everyone how hard it is. Then they'll see it wasn't my fault."

Hiruzen blinked, the words hanging in the air like a storm cloud. Naruto said it so casually, as though it were nothing. But to Hiruzen, it meant everything.

The boy… had stolen the exam paper?

For a moment, Hiruzen felt conflicting emotions. On one hand, he was concerned—what had driven Naruto to such an extreme? On the other hand, he was… impressed. Stealing an official exam paper, especially at Naruto's age, wasn't something just anyone could do.

He had been receiving reports of Naruto's dismal performance at the academy for months now. His academics were below average, his ninjutsu barely passable, and his chakra control was a disaster. Yet if Naruto had managed to infiltrate the academy and steal an exam paper…

There was more to this boy than met the eye.

"Naruto, let me see the paper. Maybe this old man can help you figure out what went wrong."

Naruto hesitated. "Why? You're not gonna tell Iruka-sensei, are you?"

"Of course not. I just want to see how tough the questions were."

Still wary, Naruto reached into his pocket and pulled out a small scroll. With a puff of smoke, the exam papers appeared, slightly crumpled but intact.

Hiruzen took the papers, his expression unreadable as he scanned their contents. His sharp eyes moved quickly over the questions. The material wasn't particularly advanced, yet it required a solid grasp of the fundamentals: clone ratios, substitution timing, kunai trajectory calculations, and transformation accuracy.

He frowned. The questions weren't unreasonable for a student preparing to graduate, but for someone like Naruto—whose academic reports painted a dismal picture—this seemed like an unnecessary uphill battle.

"Did you struggle with the written portion?"

Naruto fidgeted uncomfortably. "Kinda. The questions were weird. Like, who cares what angle I'm throwing a kunai at? That's boring."

Hiruzen hummed thoughtfully. "Naruto, you do know that the angle of a thrown kunai affects how far it travels and how accurate it is, don't you? For example, if you throw at a steeper angle, the kunai takes a longer path and slows down before it reaches the target. But if you throw it flatter, it travels faster and straighter, giving your enemy less time to react."

Naruto blinked, staring at the old man like he'd just revealed the meaning of life.

"Wow, I didn't know that."

"Didn't you ask your instructors to explain this?"

"Yeah, I asked. But they never tell me anything. It's always, 'Oh, Naruto, isn't the answer obvious?' or, 'Oh, Naruto, don't ask dumb questions.'"

Hiruzen pressed his lips into a thin line, flipping through the exam papers again. This time, he wasn't just looking at the questions—he was looking at Naruto's answers.

And what he saw disturbed him.

The boy's responses weren't just incorrect; they revealed a complete lack of foundational knowledge. It wasn't laziness or simple ignorance—it was clear Naruto had never been properly taught. The answers reflected a student who was being guided with indifference, if not outright neglect.

Hiruzen's jaw tightened. If the academy couldn't be reformed to give Naruto the education he deserved, then the boy would have to be pulled out.

The Third Hokage would find him a teacher. Someone who could see Naruto's potential, someone who could guide him, someone who could protect him from the shadows that still lingered in this village.

Because Hiruzen knew one thing for certain:

The world wouldn't wait for Naruto to catch up. And when the time came, the boy would need every ounce of strength to survive.

Iruka Umino adjusted his flak jacket nervously as he approached the Jōnin Hall in the Hokage Tower, its grand double doors framed by two silent ANBU operatives. The Hokage's sudden summons had sent a ripple through the academy staff, and Iruka could still hear the murmurs of confusion and unease in the corridors of the school as he'd left.

The ANBU's presence wasn't unusual in the tower, but seeing them standing openly and guarding the entrance to a room filled with Academy teachers made Iruka's stomach twist.

As he stepped through the doors, his eyes immediately scanned the hall. The Jōnin Hall wasn't a place he visited often, reserved as it was for higher-ranked shinobi and strategy meetings. The room was vast, with high ceilings and wooden beams carved with intricate patterns of leaves and vines. A long podium stretched across the front of the room, facing rows of benches arranged in semi-circular tiers. It felt more like a courtroom than a meeting space.

Roughly twenty teachers from the Shinobi Academy had been summoned, filling the rows with subdued conversation. Some instructors fidgeted nervously, others exchanged quiet words, but all shared the same uneasy expressions.

Iruka took his seat near the center of the room, nodding to a few familiar faces as his gaze drifted toward the front. His stomach knotted again as he saw a group of ANBU stationed behind the podium.

"Something big is going on," murmured one of his colleagues—a woman with short brown hair and a sharp, angular face. "Do you think this has to do with the Academy's curriculum changes?"

"I don't know," Iruka replied honestly, though a sense of dread was already pooling in his chest. His thoughts flitted briefly to Naruto Uzumaki and the boy's early exam attempt earlier that day.

The door at the far end of the hall opened, and silence fell like a shroud over the room. Hiruzen Sarutobi entered, the Third Hokage's presence commanding the attention of every shinobi in attendance.

Even without his hat, the old man looked every inch the leader of Konoha. His face was lined with age and wisdom, but his dark eyes were sharp and calculating, scanning the room as though he could read the thoughts of everyone present.

The silence deepened as he reached the podium, gripping its edges lightly with his hands. The air in the hall was thick with tension. Iruka felt his heartbeat quicken.

"Good evening," Hiruzen began, his deep, steady voice filling the room. "I apologize for the late summons, but the matter at hand is of grave importance. As the instructors responsible for shaping the next generation of shinobi, your duty is one of the most critical in our village. Tonight, however, I am forced to confront an issue that threatens the integrity of that responsibility."

Murmurs rippled through the room, but the Hokage's raised hand silenced them immediately.

"I have reviewed disturbing evidence that points to deliberate sabotage within the Academy. Sabotage targeting not just any student, but Naruto Uzumaki—a child already burdened by circumstances beyond his control. If this is true, it is not only a betrayal of your duty as teachers but a betrayal of Konoha itself."

Iruka stiffened, his breath catching. Around him, he could see similar reactions from his colleagues—widened eyes, sharp intakes of breath, and a few incredulous whispers.

The principal of the Academy, a middle-aged woman with graying hair tied into a tight bun, rose from her seat near the front. She wore the standard instructor uniform, her expression a mix of confusion and indignation.

"Hokage-sama," she said, "surely there must be some mistake. The instructors at the Academy are dedicated to their duties. Naruto Uzumaki has faced difficulties, yes, but—"

"Enough."

Hiruzen's single word cut through the room like a blade. The principal froze, her mouth snapping shut.

"There is no mistake," the Hokage said. "I have seen enough to know that this is no mere oversight. This is deliberate."

The weight of his words settled heavily over the room. Iruka felt a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck.

"Hokage-sama, this is absurd! I've taught at the Academy for twenty years—I would never harm a student!"

"Why single out Naruto? The boy's been a troublemaker since day one. Perhaps he's failing because he refuses to listen, not because of sabotage."

Iruka noticed the man in the back, his hands trembling as he stared at the floor, as though willing himself to disappear.

The principal stood again, her voice rising. "Hokage-sama, with all due respect, I find it difficult to believe that any of our instructors would engage in such… such treachery. Surely there is another explanation."

"If that is the case," Hiruzen said, "then you have nothing to fear. I intend to find the truth tonight."

As he spoke, two figures stepped forward from the shadows behind him. The first was a man with long, ash-blond hair tied into a spiky ponytail, his light green eyes sharp and assessing. He wore a flak jacket over a black uniform, a red haori draped over his shoulders.

Inoichi Yamanaka, head of the Yamanaka clan and Konoha's Torture and Interrogation Department.

Beside him stood a larger, more imposing figure—a bald man with a rugged, scarred face and a steely gaze. His Konoha forehead protector covered part of his head, but even so, the burn marks and slashes peeking out were a grim testament to his experience.

Ibiki Morino, Captain of Konoha's Intelligence Division.

The room grew deathly quiet. Iruka felt a chill run down his spine as the implications of their presence sank in.

"As the Hokage," Hiruzen said, "I am giving you all a choice. You may submit to a memory search by Inoichi-san… or you may spend an hour with Ibiki-san."

As Hiruzen finished his ultimatum, the room remained heavy with silence. The weight of his words pressed down on everyone present, and Iruka felt the tension crackling like electricity in the air.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed Mizuki. The man sat stiffly, his hands trembling slightly as they gripped the edge of the bench. Sweat glistened on his brow.

"Mizuki," Iruka whispered. "You okay?"

Mizuki flinched as though burned. "I—I'm fine," he muttered, not meeting Iruka's gaze.

But before Iruka could press further, Mizuki's chakra flared. The sudden burst of energy made the room lurch, and Iruka's breath caught in his throat.

"Mizuki!" Iruka shouted, leaping to his feet.

The man bolted, forming a quick seal for the Body Flicker Technique. But before he could vanish, an ANBU operative moved like lightning, her blade slicing cleanly through Mizuki's neck.

His head hit the floor with a dull thud, rolling to a stop near Iruka's feet.

For a moment, no one moved.

A part of him still struggled to believe it. Mizuki, the man who had helped him grade papers and joked with him during lunch breaks, was now lying headless on the floor. How could this be real?

The Cat-masked ANBU who had struck stepped back into the shadows, her sword gleaming faintly.

Hiruzen sighed, the sound heavy with disappointment and exhaustion. "Inoichi," he said, "check that chunin's memories."

Inoichi stepped forward without hesitation, his expression unreadable.

Iruka barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on Mizuki's lifeless body, a cold sense of betrayal spreading through him like poison.

The Hokage's voice cut through the haze in his mind, calm and unrelenting.

"For those of you who remain… know this: I will not tolerate disloyalty within this village. If there are others among you who share Mizuki's intentions, I suggest you step forward now. Otherwise, submit to the investigation… or face the consequences."

Iruka swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. The room remained silent, but the weight of the Hokage's words hung over them all like a sword.

The moonlight illuminated the Hokage's office as Hiruzen Sarutobi leaned back in his chair, exhaling a cloud of smoke from his pipe. The room smelled of ink, parchment, and the faint scent of sandalwood that always lingered in the tower. Before him sat a mountain of papers—the product of hours of grueling investigation—and at the top of the pile were two thick reports, each bound with a single string.

One bore the precise, methodical handwriting of Ibiki Morino. The other carried the more fluid, almost clinical script of Inoichi Yamanaka. Both men had delivered their findings, and together, they painted a grim picture of the Shinobi Academy's failures.

Hiruzen removed his pipe and tapped it lightly against the edge of the ashtray, his thoughts heavy.

"Let's see," he muttered, opening Ibiki's report first.

Ibiki's Report

Subject: Investigation into Konoha Shinobi Academy Staff

Overview:
The interrogation process revealed significant negligence, willful disregard, and even outright hostility toward Naruto Uzumaki. Many instructors displayed signs of deeply ingrained resentment tied to the Nine-Tails incident nine years ago.

Findings:

Approximately 70% of the Academy staff admitted to ignoring Naruto's presence in the classroom. While they maintained a façade of professionalism, their negligence was evident in the boy's academic records and skill progression.

A smaller percentage—approximately 20%—actively undermined the boy, berating him publicly or subtly sabotaging his education. These actions ranged from withholding constructive feedback to deliberately excluding him from group activities.

The remaining 10% either avoided direct contact with the boy entirely or attempted to remain neutral, offering no meaningful support.

Notable Observation:
Interrogations revealed no centralized conspiracy. The instructors acted on their own individual prejudices, largely stemming from fear of the Nine-Tails. This fear, though understandable given the devastation of the Kyūbi attack, has evolved into a dangerous pattern of behavior that undermines Konoha's integrity and the Will of Fire.

Conclusion:
The staff's collective actions pose a long-term risk to Naruto's mental development and Konoha's security. Their inability to separate Naruto from the Nine-Tails reflects a failure of the shinobi ethos. Left unchecked, this behavior could instill resentment in Naruto and alienate him from the very village he is meant to protect.

Hiruzen closed the report and rubbed his temples. The words "dangerous pattern" lingered in his mind, circling like vultures. He had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that Mizuki would prove to be an isolated case. That some rogue element—maybe a spy or saboteur—was the root of the problem. A clear threat that could be excised with precision.

But this? This was worse.

This wasn't the work of a single enemy. It wasn't sabotage from outside forces. It was a sickness from within.

With a heavy sigh, he opened Inoichi's report next.

Inoichi's Report

Subject: Psychological Evaluation of Konoha Shinobi Academy Staff

Overview:
Following Ibiki-san's interrogation sessions, a number of individuals were subjected to forced memory extraction to corroborate their confessions and evaluate their psychological state.

Findings:

Mizuki: Analysis of Mizuki's memories revealed a connection to Orochimaru. Mizuki had survived one of Orochimaru's cursed seal experiments, though the specifics of his survival remain unclear. The experiment left him physically intact but mentally unstable, with a desperate need to prove his worth to his former master. Mizuki had been in the early stages of planning to steal the Forbidden Scroll of Seals and deliver it to Orochimaru, though his plan was incomplete at the time of his death. His hatred for Naruto stemmed primarily from fear—fear of the Nine-Tails' potential and what it represented.

General Staff: Memory extractions confirmed that most staff members harbored lingering resentment toward the Nine-Tails. This resentment, rooted in the trauma of the attack twelve years ago, has been misdirected at Naruto Uzumaki. While some instructors were aware of their bias, others were not, making their actions all the more insidious.

Psychological Concerns:
The pervasive fear and resentment among the Academy staff pose significant risks to Konoha's future. Allowing such sentiments to fester undermines the village's unity and perpetuates cycles of hatred. Moreover, Naruto's continued exposure to this environment is likely to breed mistrust, anger, and isolation—emotions that could manifest in destructive ways, especially given his status as a jinchūriki.

Recommendations:
Immediate intervention is required. Consider reassignment, reeducation, or dismissal of certain staff members. Additionally, Naruto Uzumaki must be removed from the Academy and placed under the guidance of a mentor capable of seeing his true potential.

Hiruzen let the report fall to the desk, his gaze distant. The words "mistrust, anger, and isolation" echoed in his mind, stark and uncompromising. Inoichi's conclusion only reinforced what Hiruzen already feared: Naruto's path was a precarious one, and the boy was teetering dangerously close to the edge.

He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.

What have I done?

For years, Hiruzen had excused the villagers' behavior. He had told himself that time would heal their wounds, that their hatred would fade as Naruto grew and proved himself. He had trusted the shinobi—the very people sworn to protect Konoha—to rise above their pain and see Naruto for what he truly was: the legacy of Minato and Kushina, a hero in the making.

But he had been wrong.

Has the Will of Fire been extinguished by their hatred?

The phrase felt bitter on his tongue. The Will of Fire—the belief that the village was a family, that every shinobi carried a duty to protect the next generation—had been his guiding principle for decades. It was the philosophy he had passed down to his students, the creed that had shaped Konoha.

And yet, here was the evidence of its erosion, laid bare in two damning reports.

This is my failure.

He had been too trusting, too complacent. He had turned a blind eye when he should have been watching. Perhaps it was his age catching up with him. Perhaps he had grown too soft, too removed from the day-to-day realities of his people.

He sighed, the weight of his years pressing heavily on his shoulders.

Even with the bitter truth staring him in the face, Hiruzen knew he couldn't simply purge the Academy staff. To do so would destabilize the institution and leave the village scrambling to replace a large portion of its educators. Instead, he had issued strict punishments:

50% of each offending teacher's salary would be redirected to Naruto's care and training fund.

All implicated instructors were placed under strict observation, with the promise of harsher consequences should their behavior persist.

But punishment alone wasn't enough. Naruto needed more.

"The boy needs a teacher," Hiruzen murmured aloud, his voice barely audible over the crackle of his pipe.

A proper mentor. Someone who could rebuild what the Academy had failed to provide. Someone who didn't see Naruto as the Nine-Tails or a burden but as the boy he truly was—a boy who could someday surpass even Minato.

The problem was finding such a person.

Hiruzen exhaled slowly, the faint curl of smoke rising toward the ceiling. His mind ran through a list of names—Jōnin, retired shinobi, specialists—but most were unsuitable. Jōnin were already stretched thin as team instructors. Most retired shinobi were either too old or too bitter.

And then, an idea began to take shape.

It was unorthodox. Risky, even. But perhaps… perhaps it could work.

He tapped his pipe against the ashtray once more, the faint embers glowing in the dim light.

"I suppose it's time to make the call," he muttered.

And with that, he rose from his chair, the decision cemented in his mind.

Author's Note:

Well, who do you guys think is going to be Naruto's new teacher? Let me give you a hint: it's not Kakashi or Jiraiya. It's a side character from Naruto, and they are a very famous teacher.