It was a clear day in Konoha. The afternoon sun and summer breeze caressing the verdant canopies of the training ground I found myself on this lovely day. The grunts of an eleven year old boy serving to set the atmosphere for the days activities
Lee huffed and puffed his body contorting into an array of shapes and positions that would have broken lesser men and most women too.
His green spandex could barely be seen under all the seal tags covering his body. His bowl cut was matted against his head with sweat and he was slightly out of breath, while holding poses that would have turned the stomachs of gymnasts everywhere.
What a beast.
"Alright Lee, take five."
"Truly a youthful display Lee!" The bombastic roar of one Might Guy followed Lee taking a break from his contortionist routine. And wasn't that a surprise, the 'crippled' academy student had somehow gotten the attention of a Jonin!
Jonin weren't jokes. If some of the feats I read about in the history books are taken into consideration then every Jonin was capable of at least one B-rank jutsu. In battle! Usually with little to no hand signs!
If my reading of things was correct, that meant on top of mastering the skills that all ninja must—Stealth, espionage and deception—they were capable of what I had come to think of performing the DnD equivalent of one fifth or sixth circle spell.
While being physical powerhouses.
Monsters.
And Might Guy was a monster among monsters, given he was a taijutsu specialist and earned his rank on that merit alone, meaning he was capable of taijutsu on the level of B-rank ninjutsu.
Let me clarify.
That means that with taijutsu alone, Might Guy could reshape landscapes and clear battlefields. I was in the presence of what was essentially a physical god. I did my best to remain respectful.
"How is it coming along, young Izuku!" Guy asked me with a beaming smile, his bowl cut and flack jacket waving in a wind that I didn't feel.
I did my best to ignore it.
"I'm slowly getting a feel for Lee's chakra responses, Gai-San." I said as respectfully as possible.
"A few more sessions and I should be able to begin transcribing seals for his use" I was tempted to use the -sama honorific but that might imply that I'm placing him on the same level as the Hokage.
As terrified as I was of antagonising Guy, I had no intention of even testing the Hokage's ire, not even out of ear shot. If such a thing existed inside konoha's walls.
"To be so capable with fuinjutsu at such a young age! Truly, your youth burns bright!" Guy exclaimed with a radiant smile. I would have blushed at the praise—coming from such an accomplished shinobi—if I didn't already know what was coming next.
"Though, I am curious," he continued, his smile no less bright, "how you came across such knowledge."
This wasn't a question born of idle curiosity.
I was perfectly aware that to have any hope of privately pursuing my dreams of mystical might, I couldn't do it in secret, not completely at least. I would have to expose some of what I could do eventually.
I might have been able to put that off if I hadn't decided to befriend Lee, thereby gaining the attention of his jonin mentor, but Lee was a great guy and I couldn't bring myself to regret our meeting.
Just had to play the cards I was dealt.
"I'm completely self-taught actually." I said keeping my gaze locked on the open scroll at my feet as I spoke. Sorting through the raw data my seals had gathered.
"I purchased a storage scroll," I said, carefully choosing my words. "Out of curiosity. I experimented with it and, over time, managed to learn a few things."
Might Guy's eyes lit up, his ever-present smile unwavering. "To acquire knowledge through self-initiative and diligence—most impressive! Truly commendable!"
I returned the smile, though mine was more subdued. I had not forgotten this was an interrogation, no matter how nice Guy was about it.
He tilted his head slightly. "I must know!—why would someone with such splendid youth and evident aptitude fail to graduate from the Academy?"
I was certain he already knew. He would have definitely done his due diligence and my academy file was something easily acquired for someone of his rank. Still, I answered him.
"I lacked the physical aptitude required to keep pace with my peers," I admitted. "Had I remained enrolled for another year, I might have managed to pass. But I came to the conclusion that I was not suited for the life of a shinobi."
Guy's expression shifted, eyes narrowing with intensity. "That is a gross misjudgment," he declared. "You are a remarkable young man, one whose youthful spirit burns so brightly it stokes the flames of passion in my most treasured student! The Will of Fire is alive within you—do not dismiss your potential so lightly!"
"With respect, I believe you are mistaken," I said. "My reasons are not rooted in doubt over my capabilities, but rather in conviction."
I paused briefly before continuing, voice steady.
"In my personal reading, I encountered the tale of Madara Uchiha—how he lost nearly all of his brothers to the ravages of war. They were prodigiously gifted, yet even that could not spare them."
Guy opened his mouth, likely to offer words of encouragement—perhaps a lecture on perseverance and the fire of youth. But I spoke before he could.
"Their deaths are not what disturbed me," I said. "It was the fact that they were killed."
His expression shifted, the intensity dimming into a thoughtful quiet.
"Some of Madara's siblings were barely more than toddlers—children on the battlefield, capable of killing grown men, yet still undeniably children. And someone was ordered to kill them. That order was given, and it was followed."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lee had ceased his cooldown stretches. He was listening now, silent and still.
"I understand that shinobi come in many forms. Some might revel in such acts. Others may carry them out with shame, with sorrow. But they would still carry them out."
I looked Might Guy directly in the eyes. The eyes of a master shinobi. No deception would go unnoticed, only truth would work here.
So that's what I gave him.
"If I were given that same order—even from the Hokage himself—I do not believe I could comply. I could not bring myself to commit such an act in defense of my village. That is when I understood: I am not meant to walk the path of the shinobi."
XXXXXXXXX
The breeze shifted as Might Guy landed soundlessly on the window ledge, crouched in the orange light of the dying sun. The paper shutters parted just slightly at his touch. He entered in silence, boots barely whispering against the wood floor as he approached the desk where Hiruzen Sarutobi sat, as still and unassuming as a stone in a stream.
Guy stood tall and offered a respectful bow, crisp and deliberate.
"Hokage-sama."
Hiruzen's eyes, deep-set and veiled behind pipe smoke, lifted to meet him.
"You could have used the door, Guy-kun." The God of Shinobi said, his voice Genial and kind.
"Indeed," Guy admitted, a faint smile ghosting his lips. "But then the walls would hear me coming."
Hiruzen inclined his head, amused. "And what message travels so quietly that even doors must be avoided?"
Guy's smile faded. "A boy."
A beat of silence passed.
"The kind we've failed before?" Hiruzen asked, voice mild, though something sharpened behind it.
"Perhaps." Guy crossed his arms behind his back, posture straight. "Izuku Hanama. Former Academy student. Wise beyond his years. Remarkably self-taught in fuinjutsu, which caught my eye. And his manner caught the rest."
"Self-taught?" The Hokage tapped the bowl of his pipe against the edge of an ashtray. "That path has thorns. Few walk it far."
"He has the feet for it," Guy said. "He's quiet, observant. Not the sort to boast. When pressed, he speaks carefully—as if every word were a shuriken with a target he cannot afford to miss."
"Dangerous, then," Hiruzen said. It wasn't a question.
"given the right tools and motivation," Guy replied. "He does not lack ability. But he lacks… compliance."
Hiruzen's expression didn't shift, but the pipe stilled in his hand. "Explain."
"He told me a story," Guy began, stepping forward into the stream of sunlight that pooled across the floorboards. "Of Madara Uchiha and the children he called brothers. Of how they died. Not in the dying, but in the killing—that's where his doubts began. He understands what it means to take life. Understands it too well, perhaps."
"Too well… or too soon," Hiruzen mused, some nostalgia seeping into his tone. "And yet he walked away from the Academy."
Guy said. "In clarity. He knew he could not follow certain orders. And he was wise enough to leave before such a choice became real."
The Hokage gave a small, tired sigh. "And what do you see in him?"
The same thing I saw in Lee, Guy thought. The same ember. But this one burns cold. Quiet.
Like young Itachi once did.
"He is a different kind of flame," Guy said aloud. "Not one that burns bright in battle. But one that could light another path—one we do not often walk."
"Hmmmmm." Hiruzen leaned back slightly, pipe forgotten in his hand. "And if this boy, with his strong ideals, were to stand at a crossroads between loyalty and morality—what then?"
Guy did not hesitate.
"Then he would choose the path that let him sleep at night. And I cannot say that is the wrong one."
The old Hokage studied him for a long moment. Then, with a small nod, he set the pipe down.
"Wisdom is a two edged blade, Konoha was not kind to the last child possessed by it." Hiruzen said with a deep melancholy.
"We must prevent a repeat of past events." he continued, eyes sharp.
"Then you'll permit continued contact?"
"I will," Hiruzen said. "Cautiously. Guide him, if he'll allow it. And when the time comes, bring him to me."
Guy bowed once more. "Yes, Hokage-sama."
He turned to leave, and as he placed a foot upon the window frame, Hiruzen spoke again, quietly.
"Guy."
He looked back.
"Be sure of the boy's heart. The clever ones are always the first to be used—and the last to be forgiven."
Guy nodded once. No flourish. No grin. Just understanding.
Then he vanished into the wind, the window closing behind him with a soft click.
XXXXXXXXX
Phew.
Hopefully, that would be enough to get them off my back.
Making it abundantly clear to Guy that no matter how talented I might seem, I lacked the stomach and grit necessary for the shinobi life… it seemed to work. Not that I lied—because I didn't have it. Not really. Hopefully, my cowardice—by shinobi standards—and my supposed squeamishness would get me written off as a non-threat. Not a fighter. Not a wartime asset. Just a weird civilian with a knack for scrolls.
Which was exactly what I wanted.
Konoha was my home. I'd fight for it if I had to. But I wasn't about to run off and murder whoever the mission scroll pointed at just because some noble was flashing a sack of ryo.
No. I'd land myself a desk job, pick up a babe or three, and become an archwizard in the meantime.
It was late. I was heading home—a path I'd walked so many times I could probably trace it in my sleep. In fact, I was walking it with my eyes closed, hands relaxed at my sides while I practiced chakra shaping through mental hand seals.
Dog. Boar. Snake. Hare. Tiger. Bird. Ra—
My chakra slipped from my control the moment I tried to replicate the Ram seal without using my hands. Again.
Frustrating. So frustrating that, this time, I lost patience and tried to brute force it. I wrestled my chakra down, twisting and kneading it like wet rope, smacking it into shape. It was less molding and more a beatdown.
I spun it, shoved it, mashed it—searching for that same feeling I got when physically forming the Ram seal. That shift. That tension. That snap of focus.
Just as I was about to give up, something shifted.
The texture changed.
Where before my chakra had always felt like loose spools of cotton that needed constant pressure to hold their shape… Now it was clay. No—putty. Malleable. Responsive. Willing.
And the moment that happened, the world exploded.
Suddenly, I could feel everything. Chakra bloomed into my senses like fireworks. Insects buzzing in the grass. Squirrels darting through trees. Even—
A flicker of chakra, hiding in a bush, watching me.
My eyes snapped open and locked onto it.
A small squeak. And then it bolted.
They ran. Which meant they could run. Which meant they were definitely shinobi. Civilians didn't move like that—through trees, fast and quiet, just like a Konoha-trained ninja.
Why would a shinobi be spying on me?
More importantly—why would they run?
Dusk deepened as I chased them, the village disappearing behind us. Eventually, they reached a clearing and paused—maybe to check if I was still following, maybe because they thought they'd lost me.
That was when I realized this might be a trap.
And that's when I saw her.
She was beautiful. Blue hair so dark it looked black wherever the moonlight didn't catch it. A heart-shaped face, soft pouty lips, a button nose—and eyes. Strange, haunting, pupil-less white eyes.
A Hyūga.
Shit.
I was being stalked by a fucking sorceress.