I slept like a rock. Apparently, waking up in an entirely different universe, meeting a massive chakra beast, and having a conversation with one of the most powerful men in the village was exhausting. Who knew?
The moment I stirred, my body felt heavier than usual—like the weight of everything that had happened had settled into my bones overnight. But there was no time to dwell on it. The academy awaited, and I needed to keep up appearances.
The day at the academy was largely the same. Iruka had us go through the chakra unlocking exercise again, mostly for the sake of the civilian kids who hadn't managed it the first time. I, of course, had no trouble reaching my chakra again, though this time I was careful not to show off. No need to draw more attention than I already had. I kept my head down, blending in as much as possible, even as I felt the occasional glance from Sasuke or the curious stare of Hinata.
Classes were standard—lectures on the history of the Hidden Leaf, basic kunai throwing practice (which I was embarrassingly bad at, a clear reminder that knowledge didn't equal skill), and group exercises meant to build teamwork. All in all, it was a day meant to reinforce what we had learned, but for me, it was a chance to observe. To truly see these people as more than just characters in a story but as real individuals with their own lives, struggles, and goals.
By the time the academy let out, my mind was already spinning with possibilities. I had knowledge—so much knowledge—of the future. But how I used it… that was the real question. Because in this world, my actions had consequences. And every step I took would shape the future in ways I couldn't even begin to predict.
I made my way to the forest just outside Konoha, careful to avoid any wandering shinobi or patrols. While I doubted anyone would outright stop me from training, I didn't exactly want to draw unnecessary attention. After all, I had already done enough of that in class.
Once I found a quiet clearing, I took a deep breath and sat down, pulling a single leaf from a nearby tree. The leaf sticking exercise—one of the most basic yet essential chakra control drills. I pressed the leaf against my forehead and channeled my chakra, willing it to stay put.
At first, nothing happened. The leaf fluttered to the ground, and I frowned. I tried again, this time focusing harder, but the same thing happened. It took a few more failed attempts before I finally got the balance right—the leaf clung to my skin, unmoving.
A small grin tugged at my lips. Alright, progress.
But I wasn't satisfied with just that. I grabbed another leaf and pressed it against my palm, channeling chakra to hold both in place simultaneously. It was harder than I expected—dividing my focus between two points felt like trying to pat my head and rub my stomach at the same time.
I kept pushing myself. Once I could maintain control of the two leaves, I challenged myself further, placing a third on my shoulder. The strain of balancing chakra across multiple points left my body tingling with effort, and sweat formed on my brow. But I refused to give up. This was the foundation I needed, the building block to every skill I hoped to master in this world.
Minutes turned into an hour, then two, and I barely noticed the passage of time. My body was exhausted, but my mind was alive, buzzing with the thrill of improvement. If I could maintain chakra control at this level, the more advanced techniques would come easier. This was how I would catch up. How I would survive.
Unbeknownst to me, a shadow lurked in the dense foliage, concealed even from the Anbu monitoring my movements. This presence was different—stealthier, colder, trained to be unseen. Their breathing was measured, their chakra suppressed to the barest whisper.
A single eye watched me through a porcelain mask, observing my progress with meticulous attention. The leaf sticking exercise, my unexpectedly strong chakra reserves, the control I was attempting to refine—it was all noted in silence.
The observer did not linger once enough information was gathered. With the precision of a trained phantom, they retreated into the depths of the forest, unseen and unheard. Their destination was clear—the underground base of Root.
Moments later, deep within a dimly lit chamber, the masked figure knelt before a man draped in shadow. Bandages covered half of his face, and his single visible eye gleamed with calculation.
"Report," Danzo ordered, his voice like a blade scraping against stone.
The Root agent bowed their head. "Subject Naruto Uzumaki is displaying signs of abnormal intelligence and rapid chakra control development. His behavior has drastically shifted from previous observations."
Danzo remained silent for a moment, digesting the information. His fingers tapped lightly against his chair.
"Interesting…" he murmured. "Continue observing him. If his growth continues at this rate… he may become either a valuable asset—" His eye narrowed. "—or a threat that must be eliminated."
The Root agent bowed once more before vanishing into the darkness, leaving Danzo to his thoughts.
Back in the clearing, I finally collapsed onto my back, breathing heavily. My limbs burned from exertion, and my forehead was slick with sweat, but a triumphant grin remained on my face. I had made real progress today.
As I stared up at the sky, watching the golden hues of sunset bleed into the deep blue of night, I felt something shift inside me. A new determination. A sharper focus.
I wasn't just going to survive in this world—I was going to thrive. No matter what it took.
Because this was my story now, and I would shape it with my own hands.
I decided that before the sun dipped below the horizon, I should take the time to get some groceries. My stomach was already reminding me that I hadn't eaten much throughout the day, and if I wanted to avoid waking up hungry in the middle of the night, I needed to stock up on supplies. Thankfully, I had the foresight not to stray too far from the village. The last thing I needed was to get lost in unfamiliar territory or, worse, run into someone—or something—I wasn't prepared to deal with yet.
As I walked through the familiar streets of Konoha, the warm glow of lanterns flickered to life, casting long shadows against the wooden stalls lining the marketplace. The air was thick with the scent of grilled skewers, fresh produce, and the faintest hint of rain from earlier in the afternoon. The chatter of villagers filled the space around me, merchants calling out their latest deals, children laughing as they weaved between shoppers. It was… peaceful. A stark contrast to the knowledge I held about what was to come.
I shook off the thought, focusing instead on the task at hand. Food. Essentials. Nothing fancy—just enough to last me the next few days. With that in mind, I made my way toward one of the smaller market stalls, scanning the selection before picking out what I needed.
The stall owner eyed me nervously, his gaze flickering between my face and the money in my hand. It was subtle, but I caught the way his fingers twitched, the slight hesitation in his movements. Clearly, he carried the same prejudice as many others in the village—wariness, perhaps even fear.
He rang up my purchases with forced politeness, his tone neutral, professional. Probably because he couldn't afford to turn down a paying customer. His stall wasn't exactly bustling with business, and the way his eyes lingered on the coins I handed over told me everything I needed to know. He needed the money more than he needed to uphold whatever grudge he might have held against me.
I didn't say anything about it. I just took my goods, offered a curt nod, and walked away. It wasn't kindness, but it wasn't cruelty either. And in a village where most people barely hid their distaste for me, that was about as much as I could ask for.
I headed home, my mind buzzing with an idea so ambitious it almost felt absurd. Why don't I bring technology here?
The thought sent a thrill through me. The shinobi world was incredible, full of powerful techniques and near-magical abilities, but it lacked so many advancements that could change everything. Medicine, infrastructure, even simple tools that could make everyday life more efficient. And if I played my cards right, introducing technology wouldn't just elevate my status—it would make me indispensable. A force that even the most powerful figures in the village couldn't ignore or cast aside.
I imagined it—building advanced weaponry, armor, maybe even my own version of an Iron Man suit, layered with chakra-reactive plating. The idea of soaring through the sky in Kurama Chakra Mode, practically untouchable, sent shivers of excitement down my spine. With technology, I could push past the limits of chakra alone, combining modern innovation with the raw, overwhelming power of a jinchūriki.
Of course, the challenge would be immense. This world wasn't built for rapid technological advancement, and I'd have to work in secret, carefully introducing ideas in ways that wouldn't seem too unnatural. Too dangerous. If people like Danzo caught wind of what I was planning too soon, I'd have more than just Root watching me—I'd have every major power in the Elemental Nations trying to control or eliminate me.
But that was a problem for future Naruto.
For now, I had the knowledge, the determination, and all the time in the world. After all, if I played this right… I wouldn't just be another ninja.
I'd be something more. Something unstoppable.
Or… I could do it so fast that no one could keep up. Instead of playing the slow game, I could push my advantage, develop technology at such an absurd rate that by the time anyone realized what I was doing, I'd already be beyond their reach.
If I became powerful enough, no one could restrain me. No one could turn me into a puppet. Not the Hokage, not Danzo, not even the Akatsuki when they eventually came for me.
With chakra-enhanced engineering, I could revolutionize warfare. Personal shielding systems, energy weapons, enhanced sensory tools—hell, even something as simple as mass-producing chakra storage devices would shake the foundation of this world. The ninja relied too much on tradition. I could break that tradition. Rewrite the rules.
I imagined myself standing atop the Hokage Monument, an Iron Man-style suit humming with raw power, my chakra surging through a fusion of science and ninjutsu. Flying through the skies, untouchable. No hand seals, no wasted movement—just sheer technological dominance.
If I played this right, I wouldn't just be Naruto Uzumaki, the jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails.
I'd be a one-man revolution. A living god of progress.
Then I shake my head, forcing myself out of that power-hungry spiral. This was the same mindset that had led me to emptiness in my past life—the pursuit of unchecked progress, of strength without restraint. It was intoxicating to think about, but I knew where that road led.
I didn't just want power. I wanted purpose.
If I truly wanted to be different this time, to live a life worth something, then I needed to make sure I had strong-willed friends. People who could challenge me, who wouldn't just nod along to my ideas but would question them, ground me when I lost sight of what really mattered. I needed bonds—real ones. Ones that couldn't be broken by ambition or fear.
Because what good was all the power in the world if I lost myself along the way?
My mind flashes to my first friend here—Hinata.
She's different from the others. Quiet but kind, always watching from a distance yet never with the same judgment the villagers carry in their eyes. I can't ignore the way she looks at me, the crush she's had since childhood. And that's something I'll have to confront eventually.
I hum to myself, deep in thought. Right now, the idea of a relationship feels… off. I might be physically Naruto, but mentally, I'm twelve years older. It doesn't sit right with me to pursue anything when there's such a gap in experience and understanding. Maybe in the future, when we're older, when we've both grown into who we're meant to be. But not now.
Right now, I need to focus on building my future, my own foundation in this world. Before anything else, I need to make sure I survive.
Though… I wouldn't be opposed to being overpowered in a ninja world.
I mean, come on—this is a world where gods walk among men, where a single shinobi can level mountains or summon beasts the size of villages. If I have the knowledge and potential to reach those heights, why wouldn't I take full advantage of it?
But there's a fine line between power and obsession. I know that better than most. If I throw myself completely into the pursuit of strength, I might end up losing myself in the process—becoming just another tool, another weapon.
That's why I need strong-willed friends. People who will challenge me, keep me grounded, and remind me of who I am. If I lose sight of that, then what's the point of all this?
A/N:
Thank you for your reviews! I am addressing some of your concerns with the story in this chapter. And with the 3rd hokage being so kind with Caelum/Naruto makes since to me because of the 3rds speech during his fight with Orochimaru. He seems like a good guy. Sure he was probably the worst hokage because he let so many things happen during his reign. But as a person I think he is a good person. Anyways rant done see ya next chapter!