Chapter 6: Growing

The next few months at the academy followed the same routine. At first, I had been eager—excited, even—to absorb everything I could about the shinobi world. This was the path to becoming stronger, to ensuring my survival in a world where power meant everything. But that excitement waned quickly.

Most of what we were taught, I already knew thanks to my knowledge of canon. History lessons about the founding of the Hidden Leaf, the Great Ninja Wars, and the legendary shinobi who shaped the world were nothing more than review. Even tactics and strategies, while interesting in a practical sense, felt more like reminders than revelations. It was frustrating in a way—knowing I had so much potential but being stuck in a structured curriculum meant for beginners.

The only days that truly sparked my interest were the ones where Iruka allowed us to "train" our chakra. For most of the class, it was a struggle. The civilian kids were still getting the hang of basic control, and even some of the clan kids had trouble refining their abilities. But for me? It was like second nature.

At first, I did what was expected—sticking leaves to my forehead and maintaining chakra flow without exhausting myself. But as time passed, I started to experiment. I played with my chakra, molding it in different ways just to feel it move within me. It was warm, comforting—almost like an extension of myself that had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged.

I would send tiny pulses of chakra through my fingers, making them tingle with energy. I practiced shifting my chakra in waves, feeling it flow from my core to my limbs in a smooth, steady rhythm. On particularly boring days, I'd entertain myself by forming harmless little chakra constructs—barely visible threads of energy that disappeared the moment they lost shape.

Of course, I was careful. I didn't want to draw too much attention, so I kept my experiments subtle. To everyone else, it probably just looked like I was deep in concentration, refining my control. But in reality, I was learning the nuances of my power—how to wield it with precision rather than brute force.

It was in these moments, when my chakra pulsed warmly within me, that I felt truly at ease. The world around me faded away, and for just a little while, I could lose myself in the feeling of raw potential, waiting to be unleashed.

I found chakra control to be surprisingly easy—far easier than it should have been, contrary to what I knew from canon. By all logic, I should have struggled with it just like Naruto did, my reserves too large and unruly to manage properly. But that wasn't the case. Instead, control came naturally to me, as if my chakra bent to my will without resistance.

At first, I thought it was just luck. Maybe I had unknowingly developed some technique or trick that helped. But after some reflection, I realized the truth—chakra wasn't just about raw power; it was a balance of physical and spiritual energy. The latter was tied to mental discipline, and that's where things clicked.

I wasn't the same Naruto who had spent his early years neglected, untrained, and desperate for acknowledgment. I had memories, experiences, and knowledge that extended beyond what a child should have. My mind was sharper and more disciplined, and with that came a natural refinement in my ability to wield chakra.

I didn't want to call myself a genius—I hated the label. It implied some natural-born talent, some unfair advantage, when in reality, my edge came from years of accumulated wisdom, trial, and error. But… I couldn't deny it either. Compared to my peers, I was leaps and bounds ahead in ways they didn't even realize.

It was both a blessing and a burden. Because if I could break expectations so easily, what else could I change? And what consequences would that bring?

Speaking of my peers, I quickly rose to the top of the class. At first, I considered holding back entirely, keeping my true abilities hidden to avoid unwanted attention. But that plan quickly felt pointless. For one, the Hokage already knew about my past life, so there was little point in pretending I was just another struggling academy student. And two, no matter how much I tried to blend in, the truth would come out eventually. People weren't blind, and sooner or later, someone would notice that I wasn't just getting lucky—I was genuinely skilled.

That said, I knew better than to show all my cards. I was careful with what I let slip. I demonstrated enough ability to cement myself as a top student, excelling in taijutsu, ninjutsu, and even basic strategy, but I made sure not to go overboard. I couldn't afford to reveal that I had already mastered tree walking and water walking when most students didn't even know those techniques existed yet. That would only raise suspicions. Instead, I let my chakra control appear above average but not perfect, struggled just enough in kunai throwing to seem natural, and made sure not to outperform Sasuke too much—no need to throw gasoline on that rivalry before it even started.

Balancing it all was tricky. Too much talent, and I'd attract attention from the wrong people—I'd be holding myself back for no reason. So I played the long game. I let my natural growth speak for itself, showing gradual improvement instead of sudden leaps in skill.

And, in the meantime, I made sure to observe my classmates just as much as they observed me. Because if I was going to shape my future in this world, I needed to know exactly who I was dealing with.

Hinata's progress was honestly one of the most satisfying things to witness over the months. Little by little, she started coming out of her shell, gaining confidence that was barely there when we first started at the academy. At first, it was small things—she stood a little straighter, hesitated a little less, and pushed herself harder during training. But as time went on, the change became more pronounced.

Her stances became more solid, her strikes more precise, and her Byakugan control improved to the point where even some of the instructors took notice. She was no longer just the quiet heiress sitting in the background, overshadowed by the expectations placed on her—she was making a name for herself. So much so that, by the time the rankings were released, she had officially claimed the title of Kunoichi of the Year, knocking Sakura out of the spot. That alone was a major achievement, considering how much emphasis the academy put on book smarts, something Sakura had always excelled at.

But the most noticeable change? She could actually talk to me now without stuttering. That, more than anything, told me how far she'd come. She still had her moments of shyness, sure, but gone were the days when she would turn beet red and faint at the mere thought of holding a conversation with me. Now, she could look me in the eye, hold her ground, and even throw in a teasing remark or two when I least expected it.

Honestly, I was proud of her. She wasn't just following the motions anymore—she was actively trying to better herself, to break free from the doubts that had been weighing her down for years. And if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that this version of Hinata? She was going to be a force to be reckoned with.

There had been one glaring issue, though—despite my rapid improvement in chakra control and the sheer size of my reserves, I had no actual jutsu to practice beyond the basic academy techniques. It was frustrating. What was the point of having all this power if I didn't know how to wield it properly?

At first, I thought I could find something in the library. Maybe some beginner scrolls or techniques that weren't considered classified. But after searching through every available resource, I quickly realized how naïve that idea had been. The only jutsu accessible to the public were the standard ones taught at the academy—replacement, clone, and transformation. Beyond that? Nothing. Not even something as simple as a low-level elemental technique.

And honestly? It made perfect sense. The village wouldn't just leave its techniques lying around for enemy spies or reckless civilians to stumble upon. Shinobi techniques were meant for those trusted with them, not for just anyone who walked in off the street. Even if I was a student at the academy, I was still technically a civilian until I graduated. That meant no access to clan techniques, no elemental jutsu, nothing beyond the absolute basics.

It was a frustrating limitation, but not an impossible one to work around. If I couldn't rely on easily accessible sources, then I'd have to get creative. After all, knowledge wasn't my problem—resources were. And if there was one thing I was good at, it was finding solutions where others saw dead ends.

So I went to the third.

"I would like to request access to some jutsu scrolls," I said, keeping my tone polite but firm. I stood before the Hokage, my hands clasped behind my back in an attempt to exude confidence without seeming demanding. The office was filled with the scent of old parchment and ink, the faint glow of the evening sun casting long shadows across the room.

Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, regarded me carefully, his wise old eyes peering at me over his clasped hands. There was no immediate rejection, nor was there an immediate approval—just quiet contemplation. I knew he was weighing the risks, considering what he already knew about me and what this request could mean.

"I understand," I continued, maintaining eye contact, "that you may not fully trust me. Not yet. I can't blame you for that. My knowledge, my experiences from my past life—it's a lot to take in. And I know that trust is something earned, not given freely." I paused, letting my words settle before I pressed on. "But I don't want these techniques for power-hungry reasons. I want to grow stronger so I can protect myself… and this village. I have no clan, no secret scrolls passed down to me, and no mentor guiding me. If I'm to be a shinobi, I need more than just what the academy offers."

Sarutobi exhaled slowly, the smoke from his pipe curling into the air like a lingering thought. His gaze never wavered, though I could see the gears turning in his mind.

"To ask for such things at your age is ambitious," he finally said, his voice calm yet unreadable.

I nodded. "I know. Which is why I don't expect you to simply hand me anything without something in return." I straightened my posture, my fingers tightening slightly behind my back. "I'm willing to trade knowledge for knowledge."

The Hokage raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but also cautious.

"I know things about this world that haven't happened yet," I explained. "Not everything—I can't predict every event with perfect accuracy. But I do know key moments, major threats, and dangers that could cripple the village if left unchecked." I hesitated, then added, "I don't want to be a puppet, and I don't want to be seen as a threat. I just want to be prepared. To be strong enough to stand on my own two feet."

For a moment, there was only silence between us. The Anbu stationed in the shadows remained still, their presence a quiet reminder that this conversation was being closely monitored.

Finally, Sarutobi leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the wood. "A tempting offer," he murmured, his expression unreadable. "But knowledge of the future is a dangerous thing, Naruto. If mishandled, it can cause more harm than good."

I swallowed, holding my ground. "Then let's handle it carefully. I don't need access to everything—just enough to get started. I'll prove to you that I can be trusted."

Sarutobi studied me for another long moment before sighing. "You are… an enigma, Naruto," he admitted, a small, almost amused smile tugging at his lips. "Very well. I will consider your request. But do not expect to be handed forbidden techniques on a silver platter. If I grant you access, it will be under strict conditions."

I nodded, relief washing over me. "That's all I ask."

A part of me knew this wasn't a complete victory—there would still be limits and restrictions. But it was a step forward. A chance to finally take control of my own growth. And that was more than enough for now.

I hummed in thought. What knowledge should I give Hiruzen? There were so many things I knew—future events, looming threats, betrayals waiting to unfold. But I had to be careful. Information was power, and if I gave too much too soon, it could alter things in unpredictable ways.

But there was one thing that would remain a problem for as long as I allowed it to fester. A thorn in my side, in the Hokage's side, and in Konoha's future.

I met Hiruzen's gaze, my voice calm but firm. "Root is still active."

The reaction was instant. The Hokage's eyes widened, his normally composed expression flickering with shock before hardening into something unreadable. His fingers, which had been gently holding his pipe, stilled completely.

A heavy silence settled between us, and I could almost hear the sharp intake of breath from the Anbu hidden in the shadows.

For a moment, Hiruzen didn't speak. He simply studied me, as if trying to gauge just how much I truly knew.

"…That is a serious accusation," he finally said, his tone quiet but carrying the weight of authority.

I nodded. "It is. But it's also true."

The Hokage's grip on his pipe tightened slightly. "What proof do you have?"

I exhaled slowly. "I don't have direct proof—not the kind you'd normally require. But you and I both know Danzo isn't the type to let go of power just because you ordered him to." I let my words sink in before continuing. "Even if you disbanded Root on paper, you never truly dismantled it. Danzo's influence runs deep. His agents are still operating in the shadows, gathering intelligence and training in secret. Do you really think a man like him would simply abandon his life's work?"

Hiruzen closed his eyes briefly, a deep frown settling onto his face. When he opened them again, his gaze was sharper, more calculating. "And how did you come across this information?"

I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral. "I told you before—I know things. This world isn't exactly new to me. I don't need to witness Root's movements firsthand to know they exist. Just like I don't need to see the sun to know it will rise tomorrow."

The Hokage leaned back in his chair, the weight of my words pressing down on him.

If he truly thought Root was gone, he would have dismissed my claims outright. But he hadn't.

Because deep down, he already knew.

He was just hoping he was wrong.

"…This is not something I can act on without evidence," Hiruzen admitted, his voice quieter now, as if the walls themselves could be listening. "Danzo has always operated in the shadows, and confronting him without proof would be… difficult."

I tilted my head slightly. "Then find the proof. Send your own Anbu to investigate. If I'm wrong, then you'll have nothing to worry about. But if I'm right…" I let the words hang in the air.

The Hokage exhaled, rubbing his temple. "You are proving to be quite troublesome, Naruto."

I smirked. "I get that a lot."

Hiruzen sighed again before giving me a long, assessing look. "I will consider your request for the jutsu scrolls. But know this—if you are playing a dangerous game, you may not like the consequences."

I met his gaze without hesitation. "I'm not playing, Hokage-sama. I'm just making sure I survive."

With that, I took a step back, waiting for his final decision. The seeds had been planted. Now, all I had to do was wait and see what would grow.

Hiruzen's expression shifted from contemplation to outright shock. His brows furrowed deeply, and I could see the flicker of emotions crossing his face—confusion, wariness, and perhaps even a hint of disappointment.

"This may be a hard ask… But may I request that you not disband Root?" I said seriously, my tone leaving no room for misunderstanding.

The Hokage's mouth parted slightly, as if he was about to object, but I raised a hand to cut him off before he could speak.

"Hear me out," I continued. "The only reason I'm suggesting this is because there are big things coming. Things that Konoha isn't fully prepared for. I know you value the Will of Fire, and I respect that. But if the village is going to survive the storm ahead, it needs every advantage it can get—including a force that specializes in the shadows."

Hiruzen's jaw tightened. His fingers tapped against the armrest of his chair, a telltale sign of his inner turmoil.

"But," I stressed, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination, "that doesn't mean keeping Root as it is now. Certain policies need to go. The emotion-draining, the indoctrination—that is inhumane and cannot be excused. Root shouldn't be a den of mindless soldiers; it should be an intelligence network, a tool that you control directly. Not Danzo."

The Hokage's grip on his pipe tightened. "You ask for much, Naruto. Too much."

I nodded. "I know. But I also know that Danzo has already planted his roots deep into this village—too deep to simply rip out without consequences. If you try to destroy Root completely, it won't vanish. It'll just go deeper underground, out of your sight. And that? That's even more dangerous."

Silence filled the office, thick with tension. The weight of my words settled heavily between us, and I could tell Hiruzen was measuring them carefully.

Finally, he exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You truly are troublesome."

I smirked. "You're not the first person to tell me that."

The Hokage studied me for a long moment before sighing. "I will take your words into consideration. But this is not a decision I can make lightly."

I nodded. "That's all I ask."

With that, I stepped back, my mind already racing with possibilities. If Hiruzen even partially took my advice, the future could shift in ways I couldn't predict. Root, if reformed properly, could be a powerful asset rather than a lurking threat.

And if he didn't listen?

Well… I'd just have to make sure I was strong enough to handle what came next.

I let a small smirk creep onto my face, tilting my head slightly as I broke the heavy silence hanging in the air. "So… my jutsu?" I asked, my tone light, deliberately shifting the mood from the grave discussion we'd just had.

Hiruzen, still lost in thought, blinked at me as if remembering I was still in the room. His previously tense posture eased ever so slightly, and I swore I saw the ghost of a chuckle escape him.

"You certainly don't waste time, do you?" He mused, shaking his head.

I shrugged, the smirk widening. "Hey, I came here to make a trade. I gave you some very valuable information. Seems only fair if I get something in return, right?"

The Hokage exhaled, the weight of our conversation still evident in his expression, but I could tell he appreciated the change in pace. He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the desk before finally nodding.

"You've always been a handful, Naruto," he said, amusement creeping into his voice. "Very well. I will grant you access to some jutsu scrolls. But nothing too advanced—only what is appropriate for your level."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Come on, Jiji, I think we both know my level isn't exactly normal."

Hiruzen gave me a knowing look. "Yes, which is precisely why I won't be handing you anything beyond what you can handle responsibly."

I huffed, crossing my arms. "Fine, fine. Just don't expect me to stay at 'appropriate' levels for long."

The old man chuckled, standing up and making his way to a nearby cabinet. "That, Naruto, I have no doubt about."

A/N: Sorry for the chapters of no action, but I feel it's important to address his progression. I considered making the Hokage give him Anko as a sensei. But realistically I think she would be busy becoming an interrogator. And he knows Naruto is disciplined enough to handle a few jutsu without a teacher. Also, would you guys prefer a time skip to the exam or these partial time skips?