Ryuu walked into the garden, sulking like a man who'd just been betrayed by his own taste buds.
He had just eaten broccoli.
And not just any broccoli—boiled, bland, mushy betrayal-in-vegetable-form.
"How do people tolerate that thing? I swear to Kami, if I ever have to eat broccoli again—forget the training arc, I'm demanding a refund," he muttered, the lingering taste still haunting his soul like a bad breakup.
Shaking off the trauma of green vegetables, Ryuu arrived at a secluded part of the orphanage. This spot, connected to the back wall, was mercifully cut off from the chaos of the main playground. Thick trees and overgrown bushes formed a natural barricade against both noise and tiny humans.
Not that I'm not a tiny human, he thought, conveniently ignoring the fact that he too was three years old.
The peaceful silence here was perfect for what he had planned: training.
He'd come up with a basic workout routine during breakfast (between gagging on broccoli and silently reevaluating his life choices). Bending down, Ryuu prepared to start the first set: ten pushups, followed by twenty-five squats, and then a sprint between two large trees about seventy meters apart.
The plan was simple. Five total sets.
After each set, a one-minute break.Each new set would reduce the pushups by one and squats by three.The sprint would remain unchanged, because Ryuu believed in suffering equally.
He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and began.
After five minutes, Ryuu was only on his second set, but his body already felt like it had declared mutiny.
'I suppose chakra isn't that big of a cheat code after all.'
Still, he pushed forward—more out of spite than willpower—surprising even himself by surviving the ordeal with all his limbs intact.
Although, to be fair, he was currently sprawled out on the ground like a retired rice sack, unable to move a single muscle. A minor detail.
What made it worse? He had Japanese class in a few minutes. All the orphans over the age of three had to attend those mandatory language lessons, courtesy of the village's education policy.
Great. Now I get to sit next to those tiny powerhouses again.
Seriously, where did those kids get that kind of stamina from?
Sure, he'd been handed a second life with a chakra starter pack, but apparently, this version didn't come with infinite energy.
Did I just get scammed or what?
By the time 4 p.m. rolled around and the outside play bell rang, Ryuu had dragged himself back to the secluded corner of the garden he'd started calling his lair. His body still ached from the morning's workout, muscles sore in places he didn't even know existed.
Still, he figured some light chakra training wouldn't kill him.
Probably.
And he knew the perfect beginner technique: the leaf-balancing exercise.
In the Naruto world, it was known as one of the most basic chakra control drills—so basic that even Academy students could pull it off. He wasn't sure whether that made him feel better or insulted his intelligence, but either way, he bent down, picked a leaf off the ground, and placed it in his palm.
He concentrated.
Focused.
Held his breath slightly.
Then let go.
The leaf immediately tumbled to the ground faster than his excuses during P.E. class.
"Guess gravity doesn't like to joke around in the ninja world either."
Trying and failing once.
Then again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
"What did I come here to do again? Oh right—conduct an important scientific experiment on how long it takes a leaf to fall less than a meter."
Ryuu was pissed.
He didn't know how many times he had tried to stick the leaf to his hand anymore. Honestly, if he had approached his ex this many times, he'd probably already have a wife and two kids.
What made it worse? He could feel that he wasn't making any progress.
He was trying to will his chakra to move, to do something, but it seemed his chakra had commitment issues.
It wanted to play hard to get.
He was drawing blanks on what to try next. His confidence was crumbling faster than his posture during squats. Just as he was about to mentally throw in the towel, a single solution came to mind.
Meditation.
How had he forgotten the ultimate cheat code?
One hundred problems, one solution: sit cross-legged and vibe until your problems disappear.
Without wasting another second, he flopped down into a meditation pose like a guy who had tried everything else and was now spiritually bankrupt.
At first, he focused only on calming his breathing and quieting his mind. Once those two were under control, he turned his focus inward—toward the faint warmth radiating from his chakra core. Thanks to being a transmigrator, he was hyper-aware of it, almost like a sixth sense. So, for the next hour, he simply tried to feel his chakra. To will it to move. To maybe jiggle slightly, even.
Sometimes it listened.
Most of the time, it ghosted him.
He was starting to get restless. His legs were numb. His stomach growled. His patience had long since packed up and left.
And just as he hit his breaking point, a loud bell rang out.
7:00 p.m.—dinner time.
Ryuu's eyes snapped open in disbelief.
What do you mean it's 7?! According to his internal clock, only an hour had passed!
But it was already dark outside.
He scrambled to his feet, brushed the leaves off his clothes, and made his way toward the courtyard where the other kids were finishing up a very dramatic game of tag.
He thought he was safe—unnoticed.
But one pair of eyes had locked onto him.
Ren.
Ren had noticed how Ryuu looked exhausted lately. Sure, Ryuu was always kind of a loner, but in the past he'd spent his alone time napping under trees or lying around doing nothing.
Now? He kept vanishing to the same spot and returning like he'd wrestled a bear.
Something didn't add up.
Ren had always wanted to be friends with Ryuu. But Ryuu had a wall around him—always pushing others away, never letting anyone in too close.
Still, Ren had watched how he acted. And this wasn't normal.
Ryuu was too lazy to be doing anything this intense willingly.
Ren didn't eat much that night. His mind was spinning.
Even in bed, the thought haunted him.
And then, as the lights dimmed, he sat bolt upright.
Eyes wide.
It all made sense now.
What if Ryuu isn't Ryuu anymore?!
What if… a shape-shifting monster had taken his place?
What if it was after the Hokage?! What if this was the first step in a terrifying plot to destroy the world?!
In Ren's mind, he had cracked the case.
A real ninja mission.
A traitor in their midst.
The fate of the village resting on his tiny shoulders.
But he couldn't confront the imposter yet—not without proof.
So, he made up his mind.
He would follow Ryuu.
Find out who he was meeting.
Unmask the monster.
And avenge his friend.
For the next seven days, Ren operated in what he proudly called "stealth mode."
What it actually looked like: peeking from behind bushes, rolling across open spaces like a rogue tumbleweed, and very conspicuously hiding behind trees that were too thin to cover even half of him.
Every time Ryuu disappeared after classes or meals, Ren was right behind him—hunched over, ninja headband slightly crooked, eyes narrowed in deadly suspicion.
And every time, he watched Ryuu go to the same isolated area, pant heavily, and collapse dramatically after either working out or failing at the same leaf exercise. Again. And again. And again.
And yet, Ren remained convinced.
"This is exactly what a monster would do to throw us off," he whispered to himself from behind a leaf he was holding in front of his face like it was a full-body cloak.
No matter how many times Ryuu just stared at his hand like it had betrayed him, or yelled at a leaf like it owed him money, Ren didn't budge. If anything, this erratic behavior was further evidence. Monsters were clever. They faked failure. Played the long game.
By the end of the week, Ren had a full notebook labeled "Operation Expose the Beast." It was mostly filled with doodles of Ryuu doing push-ups and some arrows pointing to the word "SUS." Written in crayon.
On the eighth day, Ryuu was sitting beneath his favorite training tree, massaging his shoulder after failing to stick the leaf to his palm for the 156th time, when he felt it again.
The stare.
That weird tingling sensation on the back of his neck.
Yep. There it was.
Ren. Hiding behind the same tree as always. But this time he was upside down for some reason. Spy logic, probably.
Ryuu sighed internally.
"Ren's staring at me again. I either have a secret admirer, or he's trying to figure out if I'm a spy… or neither. He probably just thinks I'm some monster who took his friend's place or something."
He squinted.
Ren ducked.
This was getting out of hand.
Maybe he should just walk over and tell him he wasn't a shape-shifting demon. Or better yet, point out that he was too exhausted to even hold a leaf, let alone destroy the Hokage.
But Ryuu decided against it.
Let the kid have his fantasy. After all, who was he to ruin someone else's main character arc?
The next afternoon, as usual, Ryuu dragged himself to the secluded clearing, muttering threats under his breath about squats and broccoli. He had just finished sprinting and was lying flat on the grass, limbs sprawled like a crime scene outline, when a rustle came from the bushes.
He didn't bother opening his eyes.
"Ren, I can see your foot sticking out. Again."
A guilty pause.
Then Ren stepped out, trying to look casual and completely failing. His face was tense—determined, suspicious, dramatic.
"You've been acting weird lately."
Ryuu cracked one eye open. "Says the guy who's been hiding behind bushes for a week like a failed side quest NPC."
Ren ignored the insult—and what the hell even was an NPC?—walking up a few steps closer, squinting like Ryuu was a jigsaw puzzle that had personally insulted his intelligence.
"You've been coming here every day, doing… weird things. Like screaming at leaves. And collapsing dramatically."
"It's called training." Ryuu sat up slowly, groaning as his back cracked. "Though I won't lie, I am starting to think the leaf's winning."
Ren didn't laugh. His frown deepened.
"That's just it. You never trained before. You barely moved before. You used to nap more than old man Yoshi. And now suddenly you're running, sweating, doing ninja stuff. That's not normal."
Ryuu blinked at him.
Then, with a sigh and a faint smirk, he muttered under his breath:
"Ren's staring at me again. I either have a secret admirer, or he's trying to figure out if I'm a spy… or maybe he just thinks I'm some monster who took over his lazy friend."
Ren's eyes widened. "Wait—you heard that?!"
"You're not exactly stealth incarnate, dude." Ryuu picked up a leaf and flicked it at him. "Next time, at least wear green."
Ren flushed red at the remark and shouted, "I was worried, okay?! You were acting weird—doing ninja stuff you never did before!"
Ryuu burst out laughing.
Seeing a toddler being embarrassed, shy, and angry all at once—while desperately trying to hide it—was hands-down the funniest thing he'd seen all week. Ren scowled harder, cheeks darkening to a deeper crimson.
"It's not funny!" he mumbled, almost too quietly to hear. "What if you were some shape-shifting monster? What if… what if you weren't really you anymore?"
Ryuu's grin softened. He hadn't expected that.
It wasn't just suspicion or fantasy-ninja drama. Ren had actually been scared.
Holding back another chuckle, Ryuu sat up straighter, trying to meet him halfway.
"I'm glad you worry about me that much," he said, his voice finally serious. "But as you can see, I'm no monster. I just… decided I don't want to be weak anymore."
He glanced down at his scraped hands, then back at Ren.
"The idea of staying useless forever? Of watching everything I care about fall apart and not being able to do anything about it? That scared me more than broccoli. So yeah… I'm training."
Ryuu stretched and shot Ren a grin. "Alright, little ninja, you've been spying on me long enough. How about you join my training? I could use the company."
Ren's eyes widened. "W-What? Me? But I don't know anything about... that stuff! I'm not strong like you!"
Ryuu shrugged. "Well, you'll never get stronger sitting around. Come on."
Ren shuffled his feet, clearly uncomfortable, then suddenly blurted out, "Okay, but... if you ever turn into a monster or something... I swear I'll protect everyone. I'll stop you. No matter what."
Ryuu blinked, his teasing grin softening as he saw Ren's serious face. Ren was beet red now, looking everywhere but at Ryuu. "I-I mean, if something goes wrong..."
Ryuu fought back a laugh, trying to keep it together. "Ren, I'm not turning into a monster anytime soon. But I appreciate the offer." He patted Ren on the back, smirking. "You've got a big heart, kid. Let's train together. And maybe, just maybe, you'll work on not getting spotted next time."
Ren flushed deeper. "I wasn't... spying... I was just... trying to figure out what you were doing! It's not weird or anything!"
Ryuu snickered. "Sure, sure. Next time, at least wear green if you're gonna be a ninja."
Ren groaned, redder than ever. "I hate you."
Ryuu grinned. "That's the spirit."