Chapter 43: "Magical Boys and Their Extremely Confused Mothers"
In which I master transformations, drain my magic, and emotionally bond over sparkly transformations and plot holes.
Miu stood barefoot in the middle of the dojo courtyard, morning breeze rustling her hair like a shampoo commercial with deep feelings. The sky was clear. Birds were chirping. And her heart? Complicated.
"Grandpa," she said, turning to the mountain-sized man behind her, who somehow radiated both wisdom and "could snap a tank in half for giggles" energy. "I want to go to school."
Hayato Fūrinji, the man, the myth, the human earthquake, raised one snowy eyebrow and set down the boulder he had been casually using as a tea table.
"A school?" he said. "As in… backpacks and classrooms and cafeteria pizza?"
Miu nodded. "I want to try a normal life."
The old master smiled—but there was something wistful in it, like he'd heard this song before and it always ended in minor chords. "Ah… normal."
That one word dropped into the air like a punch with regret wrapped around it.
"Normal is different for everyone, Miu," he said, his tone turning gentle. "But for us... it's a little complicated, don't you think?"
Miu didn't respond right away. She looked at her hands. Hands that could shatter wood, stone, and the spirit of anyone dumb enough to try to steal her lunch money. She knew he wasn't wrong. But she also couldn't ignore the ache in her chest every time she passed kids laughing together on the street, making dumb jokes about pop quizzes and weekend trips.
"Grandpa… I don't want to give up martial arts or who I am. I just… want to experience things. Friends. Classmates. A school festival where I can wear a yukata and not have to body-slam someone before the fireworks go off."
Hayato chuckled—his deep, rumbling laugh shaking a nearby bird out of a tree.
"You wish to experience the joys mortals enjoy," he said softly. "And that is not wrong, Miu."
She looked up, hopeful.
"But what you seek," he added, "a life without Ki? Without danger? Without our world following you? That is something you can never have. Your family, your power, your spirit—it's all tied to it. You live in a world where demons, warriors, and madmen exist. You cannot turn that off like a light."
Miu's lips trembled, but she nodded. Somewhere deep down, she'd always known that.
"But," Hayato continued, placing a warm, weathered hand on her shoulder, "what you can have is a little peace. A little joy. If your heart desires a school life, even for a while… then go. After summer, we shall enroll you."
Miu blinked. "Really?"
"Of course," he said. "If Kisara attends that school, then so shall you. Who knows? Perhaps this time with these new friends will help you find what it means to be… you."
There was silence for a moment—until Miu leapt forward and hugged him. It was like watching a lion tackle a mountain lion, but gentler.
"Thank you, Grandpa."
He smiled, patting her head like he used to when she was small. "Just remember—if anyone tries to bully you…"
"I break their spine, got it," Miu grinned.
"Good girl."
They stood like that for a while—warrior and granddaughter, strength and softness wrapped into one moment of rare, simple clarity.
And somewhere in the back of her heart, Miu began to believe that maybe… just maybe… her story didn't have to be about what she couldn't have.
Maybe it could be about what she chose to have.
Even if that included homework.
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After surviving another day of please-break-my-skeleton training at Ryozanpaku, I finally got home to the Hyoudou residence—aka the House of Slightly Concerning Energy Levels and Very Confused Parents.
Technically, I'm Naruto Uzumaki. But on paper (and according to the mirror), I'm Issei Hyoudou. Which is still weird. Like, really weird. Imagine going to bed as a shinobi demigod and waking up with a new name, a new school uniform, and parents who think your biggest problem is algebra.
Anyway, I didn't waste time. I bee-lined for the bathroom, tossed my sweat-soaked training clothes into a corner (I swear they made a thud), and sank into the tub like a soldier returning from war. A very hot war. With occasional acupuncture and the looming threat of death by muscle soreness.
"Aaaaah," I exhaled dramatically. "Water. Sweet, non-punchy water."
"You look like soggy tofu," Ddraig said in my head, sounding way too smug for a dragon that lives in my arm.
"Soggy tofu that survived Apachai's hugs of doom," I muttered. "Let me enjoy this."
For a moment, I thought I'd get a full minute of peace.
"About that Ryuto boy," Ddraig said casually, like he wasn't about to destroy my mental stability. "He's stronger than you."
I sat up like the water had just turned to lava. "WHAT?!"
"Calm down," Ddraig said. "I didn't say he always will be. I'm just saying… if you fought him right now, you'd be folded like a lawn chair at a wrestling match."
"That's comforting. Really putting my anxiety to sleep."
I sank back into the water, processing the reality check like it was a punch to the face—which, knowing Ryuto, it might be soon.
"So how long would it take for me to, you know, not get folded?" I asked.
Ddraig hummed. "With Boosted Gear? Maybe… four or five minutes to hit your true power level from your ninja days."
"And in that time?"
"He'd beat you into next week."
"Oh good. Just what I wanted to hear while naked in a bathtub."
I sighed. The truth was, Ryuto had real Ki master training. The kind that didn't come from anime binge-watching or being besties with a talking dragon. He probably trained in dark caves or with villains who laugh too much.
And me? I'd been at Ryozanpaku for… two days. Two. Entire. Days.
I may have spirit energy and a gauntlet that can double my power every ten seconds, but that only works if I stay alive for that long.
Still… I wasn't exactly known for giving up.
"I'm close to awakening Ki," I muttered, staring at my hands like they were about to spontaneously combust. "I can feel it, Ddraig. It's like the energy's just… waiting to explode."
"Well, don't do it in the tub," Ddraig deadpanned. "You'll short out the plumbing and probably die naked. Not a good legacy."
"Gee, thanks."
But honestly? He had a point. I needed time. Just a little more time to get everything aligned. My body, my spirit energy, the whole shebang.
Tomorrow, I'd wake up early. Hit the dojo. Push myself harder. Get punched more. Maybe die a little emotionally.
But I would awaken Ki.
Because Ryuto may be a childhood friend turned villain with boss music on standby—but I was Naruto freaking Uzumaki. Even if my ID says otherwise.
And I don't lose.
…Usually.
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So, after getting roasted alive by Apachai for four hours, soaking in a bathtub like an old man, and having my ego drop-kicked by Ddraig's "You'd get folded like a lawn chair" talk, you'd think I'd call it a day.
Nope.
Apparently, Naruto Uzumaki (a.k.a. Issei 2.0) does not sleep when there's magic homework.
Because somewhere in between fighting god-tier martial artists and figuring out the Boosted Gear, I also picked up beginner illusion magic. You know, for fun. But what I really wanted was transformation magic.
Why?
Well, let's just say waking up every day in someone else's body—even if that someone has a pretty solid setup—is still super weird. I mean, Issei's parents are nice and all, but I miss my face. I miss my whisker marks. I miss my gravity-defying hair and that little confident grin that made people underestimate me right before I wrecked their day.
Also, turning into yourself via magic? Top-tier glow-up potential.
"Ddraig," I said, flipping open the dusty old spellbook. "Help me out. You're the Red Dragon Emperor, right? Transformation should be baby math to you."
"I once ruled a continent with nothing but my claws and the ability to breathe fire," Ddraig said with great drama. "But sure, let's do makeover magic."
He actually sounded excited, which was weird. Like a teacher who secretly loves tutoring because now he can brag about how smart he is.
"Transformation is about the soul," Ddraig lectured. "You don't change the body first. You change the image your soul puts out—and the body follows."
Which was weirdly deep. And made sense, actually.
See, because my soul was still Naruto-shaped and not Issei-shaped, this meant my magic was already fighting to turn me back. All I needed to do was use the transformation formula correctly.
"Now repeat after me," Ddraig instructed, pulling up the incantation like a PowerPoint in my head. "Visualize your true form. Focus on the runic seal. Pour your magic into it like chakra—controlled, slow, but full."
I held my breath, focused on the formula… and BAM.
The change was instant. A swirl of light, a shimmer of air, and suddenly—
I was Naruto again.
My original body. Thirteen-year-old, ninja brat, shadow clone-loving Naruto. The bath mirror showed a short, scrappy kid with bright blue eyes, three familiar whisker marks on each cheek, and spiky golden hair that refused to obey gravity.
And… wow, I forgot how short I used to be.
"That's adorable," Ddraig said. "Too bad you'll get carded at every fight club."
He wasn't wrong. Everyone else at Ryozanpaku was tall. The average student looked like they could audition for a fantasy RPG cover. Me showing up as Middle School Naruto would just confuse everyone. "Is that a student or the team mascot?"
So I thought: What would I look like at sixteen?
I visualized it. My height, pushed up to 180 cm. My body—lean, defined, but still muscular. Hair a little longer, more mature. Same eyes, same grin, but with a little bit of cool mystery in there. Y'know, the kind of look that says "I can fight gods and still be back for ramen."
And then I cast the transformation again.
Boom.
I was now Teen Naruto. The sixteen-year-old version of me I'd always imagined if life had gone on normally. Tall, strong, and still unmistakably me. It was weirdly emotional, like meeting your future self—but in the mirror.
Ddraig even went quiet for a moment.
"Well," he said eventually, "you definitely don't look like someone who gets folded in five minutes anymore."
I smiled, cracking my knuckles. "Time to make this new body worthy of the Boosted Gear."
Because if Ryuto wanted a fight… he'd better be ready for this Naruto.
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Okay, so after pulling off Naruto: Glow-Up Edition with the transformation spell, you'd think I'd take the rest of the night off, maybe eat some ramen, and watch reruns of magical girl anime with Issei's mom.
But no.
Because apparently I hate relaxation and love exploding things in the name of "training."
Wind magic. That was the goal.
Back in my original world, wind was my jam. It was my affinity.
So, naturally, I figured wind magic would be a walk in the park.
Spoiler alert: it was not.
It was more like, "Please understand the quantum mechanics of air molecules, draw this IKEA rune without messing up a line, and pray your eyebrows don't catch on fire."
But I wasn't a quitter.
So I took my new, very tall body out to the backyard, where the wind was blowing and the plants were probably unaware of the imminent danger.
I cracked my knuckles and pulled out the spellbook.
Wind Bullet: Beginner-level wind spell. Focus air into a compressed projectile and launch it at a target. Simple. Elegant. And theoretically not destructive.
Yeah, right.
"Okay, Ddraig," I muttered. "Time to make like Avatar Aang with an upgrade."
Ddraig's voice echoed in my head like a slightly annoyed schoolteacher.
"The rune alone will work. But if you want real power, you need to understand the nature of wind. Its movement. Its unpredictability. Its freedom."
"Right," I said, raising my hand and trying to focus. "Wind moves from high pressure to low pressure. It flows in spirals around obstacles. It's invisible, but can cut through steel if shaped right…"
Honestly, I sounded smart. Like Naruto Uzumaki, Professor of Magical Aerodynamics. But even with that, I still had to get the feeling right. I had to see the air.
I visualized it: a sphere of spinning wind, tight and pressurized. A little Rasengan-like, but more… airy? Like punching someone with the weather.
I drew the rune in front of me with glowing blue lines, channeled magic into it, and released the spell.
BOOM.
A compressed ball of air shot out like a cannonball—and took out the garden gnome. Sorry, Issei's mom. That gnome had a good run.
The wind bullet fizzled after hitting a tree, leaving some leaves spinning dramatically like anime confetti.
"Not bad," I muttered. "Still weaker than my old Wind Style moves, though."
"That's because you're just feeding it raw power," Ddraig said. "You're casting the spell, but not weaving it. Understanding magic lets you bend the cost, sharpen the force, and add finesse. Casting with brute force is like throwing a rock. Understanding turns that rock into a missile."
Translation: Be smart, not just strong.
I tried again. This time, I felt the wind. How it curled around my body. How it brushed across my fingers. I imagined the path it would take, the spiral of motion it needed, and why the compression created cutting force.
I drew the rune slower. Focused deeper.
Whoosh—CRACK!
The second Wind Bullet blasted a chunk off the tree bark and left a clean gash across a thick branch.
"Oh yeah," I grinned. "Now we're talking."
Magic was harder than chakra—but also cooler in a way. It felt more... personal. More like crafting than just throwing out an attack.
And best part?
I didn't even explode the house.
Progress.
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After firing off what felt like fifty Wind Bullets and almost turning the backyard into a bald prairie, I was exhausted. Like, chakra-core-empty, battery-dead, someone-carry-me-home kind of tired.
So naturally, I did the most heroic thing possible with my remaining strength:
I plopped down on the couch with Issei's mom and watched Magical Princess Celestaria X: Galactic Love Turbo.
And yes, I chose that show. Don't judge me. You try fighting a Muay Thai monster for four hours in a ten-ton suit and not want something with glitter and friendship lasers.
Issei's mom blinked at me when I walked in.
"Um… Naruto?"
"Yup!" I said with my best sunshine smile, even though I looked like someone who belonged in a teen heartthrob drama.
Her eyes scanned me up and down. "You… look older."
"I am," I said. "Technically. Magic puberty. Totally reversible."
She stared for a second longer, then sighed and grabbed the remote. "You're lucky I've read enough manga to roll with this."
"Best mom ever," I grinned, flopping next to her and grabbing a handful of popcorn.
But I could still feel her glancing at me like she was mentally rewriting every baby photo and graduation picture.
"How am I going to explain this to the neighbors?" she murmured.
"Plastic surgery?" I offered helpfully.
She narrowed her eyes. "You're not wrong. But what kind of plastic surgery makes someone taller, Naruto?"
"…Experimental."
Halfway through the episode, Celestaria transformed into her starfire battle mode and blasted the villain-of-the-week with a beam of rainbow vengeance. It was beautiful. Sparkly. Probably illegal in twenty-seven dimensions.
Issei's mom got emotional. "I love how she protects her friends even when she's scared."
"I know, right?" I sniffled. "That's the real power of love. Also—her hair grew three feet during that transformation. How?!"
"She keeps it in a space pocket, obviously."
We were bonding. Through sparkles. Through space magic. Through shared trauma of raising (or being) ridiculous boys.
Eventually, the credits rolled and I stretched, my magical energy starting to recover.
"By the way," I said, "if the transformation ever becomes a problem, I can cancel it anytime and turn back into Issei. No ID issues, no awkward dentist visits."
She looked relieved. "Good. Because I don't think I could convince the principal that my son just hit a second growth spurt in one afternoon."
"Or that he suddenly has abs," I added helpfully.
"Or a jawline sharp enough to slice bread."
We shared a look, and then burst out laughing.
It was weird. Being someone else. Living in someone else's life. But moments like these—quiet, human, oddly heartwarming—made it all feel okay.
I wasn't just training to be strong. I was building something. A life.
And tomorrow, I'd keep building.
But for tonight, I watched sparkles and ate popcorn with a woman who still called me her son.
And honestly?
I didn't mind.