Yeah, Shadow Clones really sped things up. And since clones are considered a technique, I could send them off to train or read books during school hours... in the library... in silence… Damn, I was even jealous. Especially considering that in my first few years, I tried to spend my time alone, in silence, with books. So, I had a strong attachment to that kind of pastime.
Oh, right, here's the description of the technique itself. I kind of forgot about that.
Shadow Clone Technique:
The user, by using their chakra, creates copies of themselves. The number of clones depends on the amount of chakra spent. These clones are not independent beings and cannot act of their own will. They can improve chakra control, practice techniques and strikes, and even handle intellectual tasks, but they provide no physical benefits. They cannot increase stamina, strength, agility, or develop necessary bodily reflexes, nor can they enhance speed or chakra pathways.
Clone damage equals 50% of the original's damage.
With your current chakra control, you can create up to two clones.
Your intelligence allows you to process the information from three clones without side effects.
Chakra cost per clone: 700 units.
Yeah, the technique really is costly. No wonder it's dangerous—most genin don't even have that much chakra. I didn't even want to think about how much the original Naruto had by the end of the Academy. Though, control played a big role too. And mine was terrible.
Throughout the day, I created four clones. Yeah, yeah, health risks and all that, but I cheated a little with the system by dispelling them while lying in bed. Sleeping in my own bed negated the negative effects of the extra clone… though the increasing "Masochist" skill hinted that things weren't that simple. On the bright side, it slightly increased my intelligence—though not as much as the luck boost I got after Danzo taught me the technique. The system apparently saw the whole event as an incredible stroke of luck.
Time passed steadily. Eventually, I realized that I didn't really need more than four clones. One attended the lectures for medical ninjutsu, another studied in the school library or worked on technique scrolls from Itachi, and a third trained chakra control and technique execution. Even that felt like overkill. Why would I need a whole army of clones? Things were already going well. For the first time, I truly felt that my days had become a little freer while also being far more productive than when I had to do everything alone.
Time kept flying by. The next course introduced academic techniques.
By the way, my Escape Technique worked… strangely. Unlike most of my classmates, I didn't slip out of bindings, nor did they untie themselves like they did for the Uchihas, Shikamaru, or Ino with Choji—though in his case, the ropes just stretched over his stomach even without techniques. Instead, when I applied chakra, the bindings simply tore apart. After my third attempt, the system rewarded me with a new skill: Chakra Burst. Yeah, having too much chakra wasn't always a good thing—especially with my lack of control.
On the other hand, Substitution Jutsu worked effortlessly… though I still didn't understand where the logs came from. I figured out that either you needed to prepare the battlefield beforehand, or your chakra would automatically swap you with an object proportional to the amount of chakra used. But I still couldn't tell what exactly I was substituting with. Also, my version of the technique cost four times the normal amount, which was excessive even considering my penalties.
I didn't have enough control for Transformation Jutsu yet, but that was solvable—the requirements weren't too harsh. As for Illusion Clones, those were definitely not for me. With my Terrible Control, there was no way I could even reach Below Average proficiency.
But taijutsu was perfect—I had been sparring exclusively with Rock Lee for a while now. None of my other classmates even tried competing with me. Of course, I still couldn't beat the Green Beast yet, but that was to be expected. Besides, I was juggling so many different disciplines that it was only natural for true specialists in their fields to beat me for now. But once I built up my skills, I'd start winning through a combination of different techniques.
Oh, right—since I had some free time now, Ino asked me to train her. At first, I wanted to refuse—after all, I had a unique fighting style. But then I remembered Ino's match with Sakura in the Chunin Exams, as well as her early struggles in taijutsu. And I realized that while my style might be unique, Ino only had one life. I didn't want it to be cut short. If I could help make her life easier and protect her from unnecessary problems, why wouldn't I?
It seemed like Ino read all my thoughts just by looking at my face… Well, what could I say? She matched the twins in terms of perceptiveness, and the new screenshot was pretty good too.
And so, time kept moving forward.
The tenth anniversary of the victory over the Fox arrived.
---
Naruto's Apartment – Evening
One of the four residents of the apartment sat in the kitchen, staring at the lights and the people wandering the streets outside. The room itself was filled with a strange, heavy atmosphere.
Neither his guardian nor Hana knew what to say.
Like many times before, Naruto refused to join the celebrations, politely turning down all his friends and acquaintances—even Sae, Ae, and their mother.
Indifference, boredom, and a hint of regret were visible in his gaze, directed at the streets below. Too mature for a child. Too childish for an adult.
Standing nearby, Hana, washing dishes, kept glancing at Naruto with concern, trying to figure out why he was acting this way.
Yes, she knew that this holiday wasn't exactly a joyful occasion for a jinchuriki. But even the drunkest villagers wouldn't dare cross the line—especially with him being in the company of two ANBU and the heir of a clan.
Then why?
Something flickered at the edge of her consciousness, but she just couldn't grasp the thought.
Hitomi and Yugao were simply lying on their beds, relaxing, resting, and lost in not the most pleasant thoughts. Yugao, too, had a strange feeling, as if she had overlooked something. And it wasn't the first time.
A knock on the door pulled them out of this heavy atmosphere. Demanding yet light.
Walking to the door, Uzuki swung it open, and immediately, a polite greeting followed—too polite for an exchange between equals. Hana noticed this right away—being the heir of a clan, even one like the Inuzuka, she could read such nuances effortlessly.
"Mother." The young woman stated upon glancing into the corridor.
Despite her mother's apologies and the chance to return, Hana never went back and never forgave her. So, a chill was unmistakable in both her words and gaze.
Striding quickly into the kitchen, Tsume ignored both her daughter and the one following behind her, as well as Hitomi, who had appeared in the doorway. Instead, her sharp eyes took in the melancholy Naruto, the empty table, and the freshly washed dishes. Her gaze darkened dangerously.
"Alright, these two… They either weren't informed, or they dismissed it as unimportant at first. And later, they just forgot. But you, my daughter—you were supposed to know! Only kids his age are unaware of the full situation and certain nuances. Tsk, young and foolish su— kkhm, individuals! And you two aren't much better. You could've at least asked your superiors about your charge's behavior! Or did you not even think to?" Tsume practically growled.
If looks could kill, Hitomi would have already been guilty of murdering the head of a sizable clan. Then again, Tsume wasn't far behind—her glare alone could have wiped out a battlefield.
But, of course, gazes couldn't kill—not unless you were an Uchiha.
Gritting her teeth, Tsume abruptly strode to the table. (Hitomi had to summon all her willpower to suppress the urge to throw a kunai, rationalizing that Naruto wasn't in any real danger.)
Then, Tsume placed a scroll on the table. With a swift motion, she unsealed it—revealing a medium-sized cake.
Naruto, dazed, stared at it.
So distracted, in fact, that he missed the moment when something warm and soft—not just an object—ended up between the chair and his lower back.
"I should have done this much sooner, but… Happy Birthday, Naruto." A surprisingly gentle voice spoke above him—the voice of Tsume, who had just pulled him onto her lap.
"Funny… This is the first cake in all my ten years. The first time I've ever celebrated my birthday." Naruto murmured quietly, his eyes hidden behind his bangs.
At that moment, Hitomi felt an overwhelming wave of guilt.
She had skimmed through his file. Didn't study it properly. Didn't know. Forgot. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter—they had been living together for four years now, and yet this was still his first celebration.
Beside her, Yugao looked ready to sink into the floor. She knew exactly why she had failed so terribly. She had barely glanced at Naruto's personal details, assuming she'd only be babysitting the jinchuriki for a few months at most. And, in the beginning, she had harbored a slight bias against him—something she now regretted deeply.
So she had barely skimmed over his personal history, and that neglect was now hitting her like a kunai to the gut.
Hana wasn't faring much better.
She had known about this fact, but back then, it hadn't seemed important. She had never imagined she'd even meet the village jinchuriki, much less live with him. The idea had been absurd.
But fate had its own plans.
And now, long-buried information flared back to life, just like the red blush burning across Hana's cheeks after her mother's words.
Meanwhile, Naruto moved subtly, turning and burying his face against Tsume's body.
"Can I sit like this for a bit?" His voice was quiet and hesitant.
No matter how self-sufficient someone was, a moment of genuine care could reach anyone. And with a child's body, the emotional weight of the moment only deepened.
"Of course." Tsume
replied softly, gently stroking his hair, while her gaze burned into the three guilty figures standing nearby.