When Natsu entered Eden of the Beast once again, he felt the familiar surge of power that coursed through the air, a mingling of nature's energy and the primal force of the Nine-Tails. This place was a paradox, both serene and dangerous—a sanctuary filled with untapped power. The landscape stretched out before him, a vast, ancient forest with towering trees whose canopies formed a natural roof over the world below. The deep rumble of the waterfall echoed in the distance, blending with the gentle bubbling of the hot spring nearby.
Natsu stood at the edge of the clearing, taking in the sight of the red and blue spider lilies that bloomed around the area. Their soft glow illuminated the surroundings, casting long shadows that seemed to dance in the dim light. The red lilies pulsed with energy, fierce and wild, while the blue lilies radiated calmness, their light soothing and gentle. These flowers had become a part of his training, silent companions that guided him as he worked to strengthen his chakra control.
Above it all, the presence of the Nine-Tails loomed from within its cave, far in the distance. Though caged, its powerful energy permeated the entire forest, a reminder of the beast's latent strength.
Natsu's goal was clear. He needed to improve his clones. The last time he had trained here, his clones had been unstable, flickering out of existence before they could be of any real use. He knew now that his problem wasn't his technique, but his control. His chakra was spread too thin, lacking the focus it needed to hold the clones together.
Tonight, he would change that.
He had learned about the core—a concentrated point of energy within each clone that acted as a stabilizing force. By creating this core, he could make his clones more durable, more reliable. But creating a core required precision and patience—two things Natsu had struggled with. His control was still rough around the edges, his chakra often fluctuating wildly when he tried to focus it. But he was determined to master it.
Slowly, Natsu walked to the center of the clearing, the sound of the waterfall growing louder behind him. He closed his eyes, feeling the pulse of his chakra inside him, like a current waiting to be harnessed. This time, he would do it right.
"Clone Core Training," he muttered to himself, reminding himself of the steps he needed to take. He wasn't just going to summon clones—he was going to create stable cores for each one.
He formed the familiar hand seals for the Shadow Clone Technique, but before releasing his chakra, he focused on a single point within the clone—a core of energy. He imagined it as a small, glowing sphere in the center of the clone's chest, a nucleus that would hold the clone together.
With a deep breath, Natsu released his chakra, pushing it into the clone. There was a puff of smoke, and when it cleared, a clone stood before him—but almost immediately, it flickered, its form wavering before it collapsed into smoke.
Natsu frowned. The core hadn't held. He had poured too much chakra into the clone, making the core too large and unstable. The energy had spread unevenly, and the clone hadn't been able to sustain itself.
He tried again, forming the seals and concentrating on creating a smaller core this time, something more controlled. Another puff of smoke, and another clone appeared. But again, it flickered and dissipated, disappearing into the air before it could even move.
Frustration bubbled up inside Natsu, but he forced himself to stay calm. This was a process, he reminded himself. He wouldn't master it right away. He had to find the balance between too much and too little chakra. The core couldn't be too weak, or the clone would vanish, but if it was too strong, the clone would be rigid and unnatural.
He tried again.
This time, he focused on keeping the core small but stable, allowing just enough chakra to flow into the clone without overwhelming it. A third puff of smoke filled the air, and the clone stood before him, its form more solid than before. But as Natsu moved closer, the clone wavered and flickered out of existence.
He sighed, feeling the strain on his chakra network. This was harder than he had anticipated. The more he tried to focus the chakra, the more it felt like it was slipping through his fingers, like trying to hold water in his hands. His control was too unrefined, too chaotic.
But Natsu wasn't one to give up easily. He stood in the center of the clearing, his body tense with determination, and closed his eyes. He took a slow, deep breath, letting the energy of the Eden of the Beast fill him. The pulse of nature's energy, combined with the Nine-Tails' power, flowed through the forest, giving him strength.
He formed the seals again, but this time, he took his time, visualizing the core more clearly. He imagined it as a small, glowing sphere, perfectly balanced. It didn't need to be large or overwhelming—it just needed to be stable. He gathered his chakra slowly, letting it pool in his hands before pushing it into the clone.
There was a burst of smoke, and when it cleared, the clone stood before him. This time, it was different. The core held. Natsu could feel it—the steady pulse of chakra that radiated from the clone's center, holding it together. The clone didn't flicker or waver. It stood solid, its eyes focused and alert.
A small smile tugged at the corners of Natsu's lips. He had done it. The core was stable. But this was only the beginning. He needed to see if he could summon more clones, to push himself beyond just one.
He formed the seals again, focusing on creating multiple cores—four, to be exact. He could feel the strain building as he divided his chakra between the clones, but he remained focused, pouring the energy into each core, making sure they were stable before releasing the technique.
"Shadow Clone Technique!" he called out, his voice filled with determination.
A large burst of smoke filled the clearing, and when it cleared, four clones stood before him, each one solid, each one with a stable core. Natsu could feel the connection between them, the steady pulse of chakra that flowed through the cores.
But the real test wasn't just in creating the clones—it was in maintaining them. He directed the clones to move, to see how well they could hold together under pressure.
One clone sprinted toward the trees, moving swiftly and smoothly. Another began practicing hand-to-hand combat, its form remaining stable with each punch and kick. The third clone approached the waterfall, testing its endurance under the crashing water, while the fourth remained by Natsu's side, practicing jutsu techniques.
The cores were holding. The clones moved without flickering, their forms solid and reliable. Natsu could feel the strain on his chakra network, but it was manageable. The training was working.
For hours, Natsu continued his training, refining the cores, adjusting the flow of chakra, and testing the limits of his clones. He tried different techniques, seeing how the cores reacted under different conditions. Some clones flickered out of existence when the core was too weak, while others became rigid and stiff when the core was overloaded.
But with each attempt, Natsu grew more confident. He could feel himself getting better, his control improving. The red and blue spider lilies seemed to pulse with energy as he trained, their glow filling the air with a sense of power and balance.
Finally, as the night stretched on, Natsu stood in the clearing, surrounded by four stable clones. He was exhausted, his chakra nearly depleted, but there was a deep sense of satisfaction within him. He had done it. He had mastered the Clone Core Training, and his clones were now more durable, more reliable than ever before.
As he dismissed the clones, watching them disappear in a soft puff of smoke, Natsu smiled to himself. He had made real progress tonight, and he knew that with more training, he would continue to improve. The Eden of the Beast had become his training ground, a place where he could grow stronger and hone his skills.
With a final glance at the glowing spider lilies, Natsu turned and walked back through the forest, his heart filled with determination. He was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.
Before leaving the Eden of the Beast, Natsu stood in the clearing, surrounded by the red and blue spider lilies. He was physically exhausted from his earlier training, but there was one more technique he wanted to try before he left—the Clone Memory and Information Transfer technique—something he had always heard was so easy for Naruto. Stories had circulated about how Naruto could summon hundreds of clones, send them out to train or gather information, and when they were dispelled, he would absorb all their experiences effortlessly. Why was it so difficult for him?
Natsu had grown up hearing tales of Naruto's uncanny ability to learn and process things faster than anyone through this technique. It seemed so simple, so natural, the way Naruto could seamlessly absorb the memories of his clones without a second thought. Yet here Natsu was, struggling to even process the memories of two clones, let alone the hundreds Naruto had mastered. The disparity gnawed at him—why was it so hard for him?
He clenched his fists as he summoned two clones, determined to figure out where he was going wrong. He sent them off—one to explore the far side of the clearing, the other to observe the energy surrounding the hot springs. When they returned, Natsu braced himself, dispelling the first clone. The flood of memories came as expected—the rush of images, sounds, and sensations crashing into his mind all at once. His head pounded with the effort, his vision blurring as he tried to process the clone's experiences.
It wasn't just the overwhelming information—it was the intensity of it. The clone's senses were vivid and immediate, as though Natsu was standing in two places at once. The feel of the damp ground beneath the clone's feet, the faint mist hanging in the air, the sensation of the wind against his skin—it all came in an uncontrollable rush. When he dispelled the second clone, the sensation doubled, his mind bombarded with too much information for him to process at once.
He stumbled back, collapsing to one knee, the pressure inside his head unbearable. His chest tightened with frustration. Naruto had made this look so easy, and yet, for Natsu, it felt like his brain was being torn apart each time he attempted to absorb more than one clone's memories.
"Why... is this so hard?" he muttered through gritted teeth. His fists dug into the ground, and the pulse of frustration beat in time with the chakra rushing through him. This should be straightforward—just absorb the clones' memories, learn from their experiences, and grow. But instead, it felt like his mind was being shredded each time he tried. The memory transfer was supposed to be a tool to make him faster, stronger, and more efficient. Yet every attempt seemed to knock him back harder.
He stood up, summoning the clones again, sending them off to different parts of the Eden of the Beast. This time would be different, he told himself. He was going to focus, try to manage the flood of memories in smaller pieces. He had to.
But when he dispelled the first clone, the same thing happened. The memories hit him like a wave, crashing over him, disorienting his senses. He barely had time to process the first rush before the second clone was dispelled, and the surge doubled in intensity. The pressure in his head was unbearable, and his stomach churned with nausea as he staggered, nearly falling over from the sheer overload.
"How did Naruto do this?" he whispered, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He had heard the stories of how Naruto would train with hundreds of clones, absorbing all of their experiences as if it were nothing, using it to multiply his training efficiency tenfold. It was supposed to be easy, second nature, but for Natsu, it felt like trying to live through several lives at once, each one pulling him in a different direction. His head throbbed, his vision blurred, and the world around him seemed to spin.
The frustration bubbled up inside him. Was this a flaw in his chakra control? Was it something wrong with the way he was handling the technique? It seemed so simple in theory, yet the execution was proving nearly impossible. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He had to figure this out—he couldn't afford to fail. Not here, not now.
He summoned more clones, this time sending three into different directions. This was supposed to make him better, faster. But right now, it was breaking him. He watched as the clones darted off into the distance, his heart pounding in his chest as he prepared for the inevitable rush of memories when they returned.
Once the clones had completed their tasks, he began the process again. Dispel the first one. The flood of memories hit, the weight of the clone's experiences pushing against the boundaries of his mind. Dispel the second one. The rush doubled, and he could feel the strain in his chest, his breathing becoming shallow. His mind screamed in protest as he absorbed the third clone's memories, the pain behind his eyes almost blinding him.
Natsu collapsed to his knees, his fingers clawing at the dirt as the wave of disorientation finally broke him. The memories wouldn't stop flooding in, each one bringing with it more sensory overload, more confusion. Naruto had done this with ease, over and over again—so why couldn't he?
Natsu closed his eyes, trying to calm the storm raging in his head. The idea of absorbing multiple clones' memories seemed so simple in theory, yet here he was, failing over and over again. He knew this was key to unlocking greater potential, to learning faster and becoming stronger. And Naruto had done it effortlessly, growing at a rapid pace while Natsu struggled.
After what felt like hours of trying and failing, Natsu slowly began to piece it together. He had to focus on the key points, the most important memories, instead of letting the full flood of sensory overload consume him. It wasn't about absorbing everything at once—it was about filtering out the unnecessary details and locking onto what truly mattered.
With a deep breath, he summoned two clones again. This time, as they went off to perform their tasks, Natsu focused his mind, preparing for the flood of memories—but instead of letting it wash over him, he would filter it. When the first clone returned, he dispelled it, focusing only on the crucial information—the path it had taken, the feel of the terrain, the chakra signatures it had sensed.
The rush was still overwhelming, but he managed to stay on his feet. His vision was clearer this time, the strain on his mind less intense. When the second clone returned, he did the same—filtering out the unnecessary details and honing in on the key points.
It wasn't perfect. His head still pounded, his body still ached from the strain. But he had made progress. For the first time, he could feel the memories start to settle within him without completely overwhelming his senses. It was far from the ease Naruto had shown, but it was something.
He wouldn't give up. This was his journey now, and while it was far more difficult than he'd imagined, he would keep pushing forward. He had to. If Naruto could master this technique, then so could he.
Natsu stood up, determination burning in his chest. This training would continue—he would learn from every failure until this technique became second nature. He would match Naruto's skill one day, no matter how hard it was right now. This was just the beginning.
As Natsu stood back up, his legs shaky from the strain and his head pounding with the lingering effects of the clones' memories, he knew the road ahead was long. This wasn't going to be easy, and he was still far from mastering the Clone Memory and Information Transfer technique. But there was progress—small, but undeniable.
His chest rose and fell with slow, deep breaths as he stared at the red and blue spider lilies glowing softly around him. The Eden of the Beast was a strange, paradoxical place—soothing yet dangerous. Just like the training he was putting himself through. He wasn't sure if it was the power of the Nine-Tails lingering in the air or the natural energy surrounding him that kept pushing him to the edge, but every step here felt like walking a tightrope. One mistake could cause him to fall.
But that was how he needed to train now—right on the edge of his limits.
Natsu summoned three more clones, the soft puff of smoke familiar but now carrying the weight of anticipation. He instructed them to explore different parts of the forest once more, feeling the flicker of their individual chakra signatures in the back of his mind. This time would be different, he told himself. He was going to stay in control, no matter how overwhelming the feedback became.
As the clones set off, Natsu closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. In and out, slow and steady. He needed to brace his mind for the incoming flood, not let it hit him all at once like a tidal wave. Instead, he had to filter it like he had managed to do in his previous attempts.
When the first clone returned, Natsu could feel its presence even before he dispelled it. He hesitated, taking a slow, deliberate breath before dispersing the clone's chakra, releasing its memories. The rush hit him, but this time, he stayed focused on what mattered—the clone's movement, the terrain it had traversed, the flow of chakra it had sensed in the air. Everything else, the unnecessary sensory details, he pushed aside.
The second clone came soon after. This time, Natsu felt the familiar pang of nausea, the creeping disorientation as the memories flowed into his mind. But he held firm. Focus. He sifted through the information, filtering out the sounds, the smells, and the extraneous sensations that always seemed to overwhelm him.
When the third clone was dispelled, Natsu's body tensed as the surge of memories hit him again, but this time, it wasn't as overwhelming. His brain was adapting, learning to compartmentalize the experiences and focus only on the critical aspects of the clone's journey.
He was still exhausted, his body aching from the strain, but he had stayed upright this time. The technique was finally starting to make sense—slowly, painfully, but it was working. He wasn't where Naruto had been in those stories, summoning hundreds of clones and absorbing their memories with ease, but he had made progress. He was closer to understanding how it worked.
As he stood in the clearing, feeling the cold breeze on his skin, Natsu couldn't help but wonder how Naruto had made it seem so effortless. Maybe it wasn't just about the raw power of the clones but about the mindset. Naruto's ability to absorb memories so easily might have come from a life spent constantly adapting to pressure, always pushed to the limits of his abilities. That's where Natsu was now, standing at the edge of what he thought was possible, forcing his mind and body to catch up.
He wasn't there yet, but he would be. He would push harder.
Natsu summoned five clones this time. The exhaustion tugged at his muscles, and the pull on his chakra network felt like a weight slowly dragging him down, but he ignored it. This was the only way forward. He couldn't allow the fatigue to stop him. These clones would go deeper into the forest, each exploring different areas that he couldn't reach himself. When they returned, the wave of information would be even more intense than before.
The clones dispersed, and the seconds dragged on, his heart pounding in anticipation. When they returned, it would be the real test.
The first clone returned, and as Natsu dispelled it, the flood of information hit him hard. His body tensed, and for a moment, he felt that familiar wave of disorientation, threatening to throw him off balance. But he fought it back, sorting through the memories, forcing himself to filter out the excess.
The second and third clones came soon after, and with each dispel, the strain increased. His head felt like it was splitting open, the weight of the memories pressing against his mind like a vice. But Natsu gritted his teeth and held on. He would not collapse this time.
By the time the fifth clone returned, Natsu was barely standing. His body screamed at him to stop, to rest, but he refused to let go. He dispelled the final clone, and the flood of memories surged into his mind. This time, it felt like he was being crushed under the weight of it, the information hitting him like a physical blow. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he thought he might fall.
But he didn't.
Through sheer willpower, Natsu stood his ground, his hands shaking as he absorbed the final wave of memories. He had done it. It had taken everything he had, but he had managed to hold on. The flood of experiences from five different clones—each with their own perspective, each with their own sensory overload—had been absorbed, and while it wasn't perfect, it was progress.
He fell to his knees, gasping for air, his body trembling from the strain. The Eden of the Beast seemed to hum with approval, the energy in the air thick with tension and power. Natsu could feel the weight of the Nine-Tails watching him from its distant cage, as if it, too, was observing his progress.
He had failed so many times during this training, collapsing under the pressure of the memories, but now, even in his exhausted state, he knew he had taken a crucial step forward. It wasn't easy, and it might never be as easy as it was for Naruto, but Natsu had made it his own. He had fought for every bit of progress, clawing his way through the failures to find success.
The road ahead was still long, and this was only one aspect of his training. But now, he had something he hadn't before: the ability to gather information, learn faster, and adapt using his clones in a way that would make him more formidable in battle and training.
As he stood up, his legs unsteady beneath him, Natsu knew there was no turning back now. This was his path, and he would push through every obstacle, every failure, until he stood at the pinnacle of his strength. Even if the memories tore at his mind, even if the strain nearly broke him, he would endure. He would master this technique, just like Naruto had, no matter how hard it was.
Natsu left the clearing, the distant rumble of the waterfall following him like a distant promise of more challenges to come. He would be ready.
Once again, Natsu was jolted awake by the sharp sting of cold water hitting his face. His body shivered involuntarily as the icy liquid soaked through his clothes and into his skin. The familiar, mocking voice of the nanny followed, laced with even more cruelty than usual.
"Get up, you filthy demon brat," she sneered, her eyes glinting with disdain. "You stink worse than garbage. Wash up, and don't take all day. Breakfast is waiting… if you even deserve it."
Natsu blinked the water from his eyes, feeling the familiar sting of both cold and humiliation. But something caught his attention as the nanny tossed a bundle of clothes onto the wet bed. A thin, worn sweater fell onto the mattress, and atop it, a ripped, old scarf that looked strangely familiar.
For a moment, Natsu's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened as he stared at the scarf. Wasn't this the same scarf Naruto had worn as a kid? The same frayed edges, the same red fabric… The image was burned into Natsu's mind from all the stories and images he had seen. Naruto had worn this very scarf in his youth, holding on to it as a small comfort during the harsh and lonely years of his childhood.
The nanny's sharp voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Quit staring at it like it's something special, brat. It's just an old rag. Put it on, wash yourself up, and get downstairs. You're already wasting everyone's time."
Natsu's heart sank as he slowly pulled on the sweater and wrapped the scarf around his neck. It was as thin and useless against the cold as he had expected, but the weight of the scarf's history made his chest tighten. The thought of Naruto having lived through this—wearing this very scarf through countless cruel mornings—was too much. He pitied Naruto, more deeply now than ever before. How could anyone remain pure in the face of such relentless cruelty and rejection?
As he made his way to the bathroom, Natsu felt a deep sadness settle over him. Naruto's life had been so much harder than he had ever truly realized. The harsh treatment, the cold, the loneliness—it was all so much worse when you lived through it, rather than just hearing stories about it. How could Naruto have lived like this day after day, with nothing but the cold and people's hate surrounding him?
Natsu washed quickly, the cold water doing little to shake the chill that had settled into his bones. The cracked mirror above the sink reflected his tired, sorrowful expression. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the scarf around his neck once again. He couldn't understand how Naruto had kept going—how he hadn't broken under the constant strain.
When Natsu finally made his way downstairs, he saw the other children already gathered around the worn-out table in the dining area. The room was dim, the morning light barely filtering through the dirty windows, and the atmosphere was the same as always—silent, heavy, and filled with a sense of resignation.
Natsu took his usual spot at the end of the table, his stomach twisting with hunger and dread. The nanny moved through the room, handing out meals to the other children—small portions of bread, fruit, and lukewarm soup. The meals were simple but at least edible.
When she reached Natsu, her sneer deepened. She dropped a bowl in front of him with a clatter, followed by a piece of rotten bread that smelled foul and a glass of spoiled milk. The smell hit Natsu immediately, sour and rancid, turning his stomach.
"Enjoy your meal, demon," the nanny mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's what you deserve."
Natsu stared down at the pitiful excuse for food, his heart sinking even lower. This was how Naruto lived. Day after day, rejected and treated like he was less than human. The constant rejection and cruelty that should have hardened his heart had instead been met with Naruto's persistence to remain kind and hopeful.
Natsu tried to force down a bite of the bread, but it was too rotten to stomach. His mind wandered as he pushed the food away, unable to shake the feeling of pity for the life Naruto had endured. How had Naruto stayed so pure? How had he not turned bitter or cruel? Most people would have given in to the anger, the frustration, and become consumed by it. But not Naruto.
Then, Natsu remembered something—the stories about Ashura and Indra. Ashura, the younger son of Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki, the progenitor of chakra. Ashura, who represented peace and cooperation, and whose spirit was said to have reincarnated through generations. Was it possible that Naruto had inherited more than just Ashura's will? Was Ashura's spirit the reason why Naruto had remained so pure?
The more Natsu thought about it, the more it made sense. Naruto's rival, Sasuke, had been the reincarnation of Indra, Ashura's elder brother, who had inherited power and strength but had also carried a deep darkness. Indra had bestowed certain benefits on Sasuke—the Sharingan, the immense power of the Uchiha clan, and the ability to awaken the Rinnegan. But Ashura… what had Ashura given to Naruto?
It wasn't power. Naruto hadn't been born with great strength or an advanced bloodline. He had been born with almost nothing—an orphan, hated and feared by his village. Yet Naruto had something Sasuke had struggled with all his life: a pure heart.
Maybe that was Ashura's gift, Natsu realized. Maybe Ashura hadn't given Naruto power or special abilities. Instead, he had given Naruto a spirit that was unbreakable—a heart that could remain kind, even in the face of overwhelming hatred. That purity was Naruto's true strength.
Natsu sat in silence, the rotten bread and spoiled milk forgotten as he absorbed this new understanding. It wasn't that Naruto had been born without blessings. He had been blessed in a different way—with an unshakable will, a pure spirit that refused to bend or break, no matter how cruel the world around him became.
The weight of the scarf around Natsu's neck felt heavier now. He understood why Naruto had been able to endure this life—why he had kept fighting, kept believing in people, even when they had given him no reason to. Ashura's spirit had been with Naruto the whole time, guiding him, giving him the strength to remain pure in a world that tried to turn him bitter.
And now, Natsu had to carry that same spirit. He couldn't allow himself to be consumed by anger or hatred, no matter how hard things got. Naruto had lived this life and come out the other side stronger, kinder, and more determined than ever. Natsu would do the same.
With a deep breath, Natsu stood up from the table, leaving the spoiled food behind. His heart still ached for Naruto's childhood, but he knew now that there was a reason behind Naruto's ability to remain pure. And now, it was his turn to honor that legacy.
As Natsu walked away, leaving the rotten food untouched, the tension in the room grew thick. He could feel the nanny's gaze boring into his back, but he didn't turn around. He kept his steps steady, though his heart raced in his chest. He knew this wasn't over. The nanny wasn't the kind to let him simply walk away without consequences.
"Where do you think you're going, brat?" she growled, her voice echoing through the dining hall. The other children froze, their eyes flickering nervously between Natsu and the angry figure of the nanny.
Natsu paused but didn't turn around. He didn't want to escalate things, but he couldn't bring himself to eat the spoiled food. Not after everything. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves.
"I said, where do you think you're going?" she repeated, her voice sharp and laced with venom. "You think you can just leave without finishing your food? You think you're better than the rest of these brats? You don't talk back to me, demon!"
Before Natsu could explain....
The nanny had kicked him, her foot slamming into his small, frail body with vicious force. Natsu gasped, his body doubling over from the impact. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, radiating from his abdomen as his vision blurred. He tried to stay on his feet, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the cold floor, clutching his stomach.
Natsu found himself staggering after the brutal kick to his stomach. The pain spread quickly, sharper than anything he'd felt in his old life, and before he could catch his breath, he was doubled over on the floor. His body, too small and weak, couldn't handle the force. Blood dribbled from his mouth, staining the cold, dirty floor beneath him as he gasped for air, his vision swimming from the impact.
The nanny loomed over him, her cruel expression twisted with satisfaction. She didn't care that he was just a child, didn't care that his body was still too fragile to endure such abuse. In her eyes, he was nothing more than the demon fox's vessel, undeserving of any kindness or care. To her, he was a target for her anger, a convenient outlet for her hatred of the unknown, and in that moment, Natsu felt the full weight of her contempt.
"You think you can talk back to me, you worthless brat?" she spat, her voice laced with venom as she glared down at him. "You think you can just leave without finishing what I gave you? You should be grateful I'm even feeding you at all."
Natsu tried to speak, to say anything in his defense, but the pain in his stomach stole his breath, and all that escaped his lips was a strangled gasp. He could feel the blood pooling in his mouth, the metallic taste making him feel sick as he clutched his abdomen. His body trembled, not just from the pain but from the sheer helplessness of the situation.
As he lay there on the floor, trying to push himself up, the realization of his fragility hit him like a wave. He wasn't strong enough yet—his body was too small, too weak to handle any real fight. And the cruel reality of this life as Naruto hit him all over again. Naruto had been treated like this, day after day. Kicked, mocked, treated like dirt, yet somehow, he had never let it break him.
"Get up!" the nanny barked, her foot kicking at the spilled bowl of spoiled food. The sound of it crashing against the floor echoed in the quiet dining hall. The other children sat frozen, eyes cast down at their own meals, too scared to even glance in Natsu's direction. They were used to this treatment—used to seeing Naruto singled out and beaten down. And none of them would step in to help.
Natsu tried to rise, but the pain in his abdomen was too much. His body screamed in protest, and his vision blurred as he coughed again, another small spatter of blood staining the floor. How had Naruto survived this? How had he remained so strong, so pure, after enduring such endless cruelty?
As he lay there, struggling to find the strength to move, a memory of Ashura flashed through his mind—the stories of Naruto's connection to the younger son of Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki. Ashura, who had inherited not great power, but great spirit. Was this why Naruto had never turned bitter or angry? Had Ashura's spirit been guiding him, giving him the strength to endure when everything around him seemed to push him toward despair?
Natsu's fingers clenched against the cold floor as he fought to steady his breath. Naruto had endured all of this, and so would he. He wouldn't let this place break him, no matter how weak his body felt now. Ashura's spirit was a part of him, just as it had been a part of Naruto. And with it, he could find the strength to push through, just like Naruto had.
He forced himself up to his hands and knees, ignoring the burning pain in his stomach. He wouldn't give the nanny the satisfaction of seeing him completely beaten down. Not today. Even as blood dripped from his lips and his body trembled from the effort, he pushed himself up, trying to stand.
The nanny sneered down at him, clearly irritated that he was still trying to resist. "You're pathetic, just like that demon inside you," she spat. "You'll never be anything but a monster, and you deserve every bit of this."
Her words cut deep, but Natsu held his ground. He wasn't going to let her break him. He couldn't. Naruto wouldn't have given up, and neither would he. Even if his body was weak now, he would grow stronger. He had to. For Naruto's sake, and for his own.
Slowly, painfully, Natsu stood, his hand pressed against his stomach, trying to keep himself steady. His legs wobbled beneath him, but he managed to stay upright. The pain was unbearable, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the resolve building inside him.
Without saying another word, he turned and began walking toward the door. Each step was a struggle, but with every step, he could feel a new determination rising within him. This wasn't just about survival anymore—it was about honoring the strength Naruto had shown, about proving that he could endure just like the boy whose life he now shared.
"Where do you think you're going?" the nanny snapped, her voice sharp and laced with anger. "Don't think you're getting away with this! You'll starve if you don't eat what I give you, you ungrateful brat!"
Natsu paused for just a moment, his hand gripping the edge of the doorway as he fought back the dizziness swirling in his mind. He didn't turn around to face her, didn't give her the satisfaction of seeing his pain. Instead, he kept his voice steady, though quiet.
"I'll be fine," he said, the words barely above a whisper, but filled with a strength that surprised even him. "I don't need your food."
The silence that followed was thick with tension, but Natsu didn't wait for her response. He stepped out of the room, leaving the nanny behind, still trembling with rage. He knew she would come after him later, but for now, he needed to escape—to breathe, to gather himself.
As he made his way back to his small room, the pain in his stomach flaring with each step, Natsu's thoughts turned once again to Ashura. It all made sense now—why Naruto had been able to stay kind despite everything. Ashura had given Naruto more than just power. He had given him the ability to withstand the worst that life could throw at him without ever losing his heart.
And now, Natsu had to do the same. He couldn't let this place, this cruelty, break him. His body might be weak, but his spirit… that was where his true strength lay. He would endure. He would grow stronger.
With one last glance down the hallway, Natsu clutched the scarf around his neck, Naruto's old scarf, and felt a sense of calm wash over him. He would survive this—just like Naruto had. No matter how much pain he had to endure, no matter how hard the nanny or anyone else tried to bring him down, he would survive.
And one day, he would be strong enough to make sure no one else suffered like this again. Just like Naruto.
Natsu wiped the blood from his mouth, feeling the sharp sting of pain radiating from his stomach. He had to get out of there, and fast. He didn't have time to sit around and recover—not while the nanny and the orphanage continued to treat him like this.
Without a second thought, he formed a quick hand sign and summoned a shadow clone. The familiar puff of smoke appeared, and standing before him was a perfect copy of himself, albeit with a serious look on its face.
But something was off. He could only summon one clone. The realization hit him as his breath slowed. Normally, shadow clones should be easy for someone like him to summon in numbers—Naruto had mastered this technique and could call upon dozens, even hundreds. So why could Natsu only manage one?
He stared at the clone for a moment, his mind racing. Was his chakra low, or was his chakra control still lacking? It didn't make sense. He should be able to summon more than this, even if his chakra reserves were small. Maybe it was the damage from the earlier attack, or maybe his chakra pathways hadn't yet fully adapted to the strain of being in Naruto's body.
But there was no time to figure it out now. The clock was ticking, and he couldn't risk the nanny finding him again so soon. At least this one clone should be enough to handle things for a while.
Natsu sighed, satisfied for the moment. He stepped over to the small window, the cold draft brushing against his face. It was cracked and barely let in much light, but it was just big enough for him to slip through.
"Take my place here," Natsu whispered to his clone. "Just lie low and act like nothing's wrong. Don't let anyone figure out you're a clone."
The clone nodded without a word, understanding the unspoken weight behind Natsu's instructions. They didn't need to say much—the clone was strong enough to handle whatever might come next, and if things went sideways, it could hold its ground long enough for Natsu to return.
With one last glance around the room, Natsu took a deep breath and leapt out of the window, slipping into the open air. The cold wind hit him as he landed softly on the ground outside, his body still aching from the earlier blow. There was a sense of freedom in the air, a brief reprieve from the suffocating walls of the orphanage.
As he moved away from the building, his mind wandered back to his chakra control. Why couldn't he summon more clones? Was his chakra really that low, or was he still struggling to adapt to this body? He had inherited Naruto's skills, but it seemed like his control over them was still imperfect, still raw. It was frustrating—he had the knowledge, but his body wasn't cooperating.
Still, he couldn't dwell on it now. He needed to clear his head, figure out his next steps, and recover from the injuries the nanny had inflicted. For now, his clone would hold things down inside the orphanage, and Natsu would take the time to reflect on everything he had learned.
The night air felt refreshing on his face as he disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind the cruelty and pain of the orphanage—if only for a little while.