Chapter 6: Shadows and Sundials
Naruto had just stepped beyond the school gates when he felt it—a subtle, focused presence tailing him, a prickle on the back of his neck. Suppressing a sigh, he deliberately altered his usual route, his steps casual as he wandered toward the familiar, deserted stretch of the riverbank. The sun was a molten orb sinking behind the Hokage monument, painting the sky in spectacular shades of crimson, orange, and purple, all reflected in the slow-moving water.
He stopped at the water's edge, his shadow long and thin on the grass. Without turning, he called out, his voice calm. "You can come out now, Sasuke. You've been following me since I left the school. Is there something you need?"
A beat of silence, then the rustle of leaves. "Hn. I didn't expect you to notice." Sasuke stepped from beneath the low-hanging branches of a willow tree, her expression as cold and composed as ever. She walked until she was directly in front of him, her dark eyes blazing with a fierce, uncompromising intent. "Uzumaki Naruto. You were holding back this morning. Now, I want you to fight me seriously."
"Huh?" Naruto feigned confusion, scratching his cheek. "I really lost to you. What, is beating me once not enough? Do you need to humiliate me again to feel better?" He was genuinely taken aback that she'd sensed his restraint; her instincts were sharper than he'd credited.
Her frown deepened, a small crease of profound dissatisfaction between her brows. With a swift, fluid motion, she drew a kunai from her pouch, the polished metal catching the dying light. She didn't point it at him threateningly, but held it at her side, a clear statement of intent. "This time, I am fighting with the intent to kill. So you will take it seriously. Otherwise, you will die by my hand."
Naruto stared at her, a wave of exasperated innocence washing over him. "I have zero interest in this rematch. Is winning or losing really that important?"
"I must surpass every potential opponent," she stated, her voice flat and absolute, her gaze boring into his. "That is reason enough."
"And I said I'm not interested…" Naruto shrugged, turning his back on her with deliberate nonchalance. He took a step, then launched into a quick sprint, hoping to lose her in the gathering twilight.
He heard the soft shush of grass as she gave chase immediately. Her speed was impressive, forcing him to push his own pace, weaving through familiar backstreets until he reached his apartment building. He slipped inside his room, closing the door and leaning against it for a second before flopping face-first onto his neatly made bed.
A moment later, his door slid open without a knock. Sasuke stood in the doorway, slightly out of breath, her eyes scanning the interior. For a fleeting instant, surprise flickered across her face. The room was starkly, almost militarily tidy—no ramen cups, no scattered clothes, just clean surfaces and a sense of severe order. It was the last thing she expected.
Naruto didn't lift his head from the pillow. His voice was muffled. "Student Sasuke, I'm home now. Are you seriously going to keep pestering me?"
"Hn. I must fight you." But her declaration sounded slightly less certain here, in this quiet, private space that contradicted every assumption about him.
"Not interested. I'm in bed. If you're so determined, go ahead and kill me. I'm too tired to move." He made a show of waving a dismissive hand and then went completely still, his breathing slowing as if he'd fallen instantly asleep.
Sasuke stood rigidly in the doorway, her knuckles white where she gripped the frame. She watched the steady rise and fall of his back, the utter vulnerability of his pose. The kunai felt heavy in her hand. Kill a sleeping, unresisting opponent? That wasn't victory; it was slaughter, and it had nothing to do with measuring strength. It was the act of a monster, not a ninja seeking to prove herself.
A conflict of frustration, wounded pride, and something resembling shame warred in her chest. Finally, with a sound that was half-growl, half-sigh of pure vexation, she slammed the door shut with a force that rattled the wall.
Only when her footsteps had faded down the hall did Naruto open one eye, a slow, thoughtful smile touching his lips.
The following days, then months, then years, fell into a rigorous, self-imposed rhythm. The Shadow Clone remained his greatest secret weapon, exponentially accelerating his training in chakra control, theory, and physical conditioning. Each morning, before the village fully awoke, he ran its perimeter and trained in its hidden clearings, his limbs gradually weighted with lead strips sewn into simple bands. The goal was not bulk, but dense, efficient strength and relentless stamina.
Four years flowed by like the river near the Academy, constant and shaping. The day finally arrived—the graduation exam. Naruto woke at dawn as usual. His simple white shirt and dark pants were clean and practical. At eleven, he was taller, his frame lean and corded with muscle developed through thousands of hours of unseen effort. His eyes, the same bright blue, held a calm depth that had not been there before.
In the bustling classroom, a cacophony of nervous energy reigned. Some students fidgeted, others bragged to hide their fear, a few sat in silent focus. Uchiha Sasuke sat alone in the front, a silent island of icy composure. Hinata cast anxious glances toward the empty back-row seat.
Iruka stood at the front, Mizuki beside him with his perpetual, benign smile. "Today determines your path!" Iruka's voice boomed over the chatter. "From students to shinobi! The road will be hard, and you will face danger, but you must hold fast to the will to protect your comrades and your village!"
He began calling names. One by one, students performed the Clone Technique—the basic, illusory double that was the graduation benchmark. Most succeeded, creating shaky but passable copies. A few failed, their faces crumbling with despair.
"And lastly…" Iruka's eyes scanned the roster, then the empty seat. His heart sank. "Has anyone seen Naruto?"
Whispers spread. Late on graduation day? Even for him, that's a new low.
Iruka waited, hope fraying with each passing minute. He knew Naruto's hidden capabilities were far beyond this simple test. But rules were rules. The boy's consistent, mid-to-low academic performance provided no grounds for an exception he could argue.
As the final student—a boy who created three wobbly clones—finished, Iruka's shoulders slumped. "The examination is concluded. Those who have passed will receive their forehead protectors and be assigned to three-man cells tomorrow. Do not be late."
The room emptied, a mix of jubilant cheers and quiet sobs. Iruka gathered the failed forms, his mood grim. He had truly believed Naruto would choose today, of all days, to step forward.
As he left the building, stewing in disappointment, he nearly collided with the boy himself.
"Naruto! You idiot!" Iruka's worry erupted as anger. "Where have you been?! Today was the exam! The one day you couldn't afford to oversleep!"
Naruto offered his trademark sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry, Iruka-sensei. I really did oversleep. The alarm didn't go off."
"Sorry isn't good enough! You failed! You don't get a forehead protector! You can't be assigned to a team tomorrow!" Iruka ran a hand over his face, exasperated. "Even I can't just hand you one. I'll… I'll go speak to the Hokage. Maybe we can arrange a special test later. But it won't be in time for tomorrow's assignments." He hurried off, muttering about irresponsible kids and last-ditch appeals.
Naruto watched him go, a pang of guilt touching his heart. Iruka's concern was the realest thing in his life here. But the plan required this failure.
He wandered to the training field and sat under their familiar tree, waiting. He hadn't overslept. He had trained through the morning, then deliberately timed his arrival for after the exam. He needed to fail publicly. He needed to be the desperate, failing student for one specific person to take the bait.
As if on cue, a friendly, sympathetic voice broke his reverie. "Naruto? That's a real shame about the exam."
Naruto looked up to see Mizuki approaching, his expression the picture of kindly concern. The old fox shows his fangs.
"Yeah… it sucks," Naruto mumbled, putting on a convincing show of dejection.
"You know," Mizuki said, leaning in as if sharing a great secret, "there might be another way. The exam is only once a year… unless a student demonstrates exceptional skill in a high-level technique. There's a special scroll in the Hokage's residence, the Scroll of Seals. It contains powerful, forbidden jutsu. If you were to… learn one of those… no one could deny you graduation."
Naruto's eyes widened with perfectly feigned, desperate hope. "R-Really? A special scroll?"
"Of course. I can't give you details, but… meet me by the old woodshed at midnight. I'll tell you more then. It's a secret, though. Not a word to Iruka. He's too much of a stickler for the rules." Mizuki's smile was a masterpiece of duplicity.
"Okay! I'll be there!" Naruto nodded vigorously, the picture of a gullible boy offered a lifeline.
Mizuki patted his shoulder, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes before he walked away.
Naruto's excited expression smoothed into one of cold calculation as soon as the man's back was turned. The hook was set.
That night, the moon was a brilliant, watchful coin in a cloudless sky, bathing Konoha in silvery light. A shadow, moving with more stealth than one would expect from a supposed academy failure, slipped through the silent streets. Naruto navigated not by Mizuki's vague directions, but by the detailed internal map of the village he'd built over four years of predawn runs.
He moved past the designated meeting point without a glance, heading instead for a secluded, heavily wooded area on the village outskirts. There, nestled among ancient trees, was a nondescript, heavily guarded building—the true repository of the Scroll of Seals. The guards were elite, but their patterns were known to the Hokage's office, and by extension, to the mind that had planned this night.
Using a combination of misdirection he'd practiced for this moment—a carefully thrown pebble, a brief, distant rustle—he created a tiny gap in their synchronized patrol. It was all he needed. He was a blur, slipping past the perimeter and into the building's shadow, not through the main entrance, but through a high, fortified window whose lock he had studied the schematic for in the academy library's restricted architectural section.
Inside, the air was cool and smelled of old paper and incense. In the center of a spartan room, on a simple pedestal, lay a massive, ornate scroll. The Scroll of Seals. He didn't hesitate. He hefted it—it was surprisingly heavy—and secured it to his back with a pre-prepared strap.
His exit was less graceful. The moment the scroll left the pedestal, a silent alarm was tripped. He heard the shift in the guards' stance outside. Time was up.
With a burst of speed that would have shocked his classmates, he shot back out the window just as the door burst open. He hit the ground running, the scroll bouncing against his back, as cries of "Intruder!" and "Sound the alarm!" erupted behind him.
He didn't run for the village. He ran for the dense training forests, exactly as he was supposed to. The game was in motion. The hunter was coming, and Naruto was the carefully placed bait, ready to turn the trap on its creator. The night's real lesson was about to begin.