Hokage Tower, Konohagakure no Sato
Present Time
POV: Our Incredibly Intelligent and Above All Humble MC
Nick found himself observing the situation before him.
After letting out all his frustration—in a totally manly way, of course—he'd been put back in the crib next to his now-calm sisters.
Well, Mito was calm, curling up beside him like a puppy wanting to nap. Naruko, on the other hand, had grabbed his hand and was now using it as an improvised pacifier.
Which, technically, was adorable.
Also disgusting, considering the amount of drool his hyperactive sister was producing.
But at least it allowed the adults to continue talking about the prophecy without further interruptions.
"Are you absolutely certain about this, sensei?" Minato asked, his voice laden with that tension Nick was already learning to recognize. "Why would the prophecy change now?" Nick watched as Jiraiya's gaze drifted toward him and his sisters before speaking.
"That's precisely why I rushed back from Mount Myōboku as fast as I could," the Sannin said, returning his attention to Minato and Kushina. "I believe it's connected to your children's birth."
His parents were already showing signs of concern—Kushina tensing visibly, Minato's brow furrowing in that way that probably meant his genius brain was processing all possible implications at supersonic speed.
Meanwhile, Nick was certain that if they paid attention to him right now, they'd see the most blank expression a baby could ever manage plastered across his handsome—not cute, handsome—face.
He already knew where this was headed.
As an expert connoisseur of garbage-tier fanfics, he'd already identified the Bad Trope in full swing. But while he could detect the main trope, there remained one extremely important detail that depended on what Jiraiya would reveal now.
Let him explain.
In the glorious cesspool called the internet, countless Bad Tropes fanfics existed with the "Naruto betrayed" theme. But the one he found himself in had two subdivisions authors loved to exploit.
The first was the milder one—if you could call it that.
After the Kyūbi sealing events, Jiraiya of the Sannin gets urgently summoned to Mount Myōboku—whether he'd participated in the attack or not.
Here's where that senile toad drops the bombshell that the prophecy has changed. In this version, they usually give him some unnecessarily poetic phrase that boils down to: "Train the sisters, the other one's worthless and useless to us."
Then little Naruto gets forced to watch his parents obsessively pamper—and the word barely scratches the surface—the two sisters while neglecting him to the point of literally forgetting to feed him.
Why? That's something he himself questioned. Truth is, it makes zero sense. He could, in some twisted way, understand favoritism. But forgetting someone exists for no reason? Or not noticing the entire village is out for his blood?
Oh, right. His sisters are also supposed to be idiots who manufacture any excuse to keep their parents from training him to 'keep him safe and protected'. He remembered lines like: "But Onii-chan isn't a Child of Prophecy, wouldn't it be safer if he stopped trying to become a shinobi?" Or the classic "Onii-chan isn't a jinchūriki like us, he won't be able to keep pace with us."
Tch.
The click was mental—his baby body couldn't produce it physically yet.
A rough situation, certainly. Though the other option—in his humble opinion—was worse.
Events play out almost identically, but two key details change everything drastically.
First, the prophecy doesn't just tell everyone the sisters are humanity's hope—though it includes that—but adds a lovely little phrase along the lines of: "And watch out for the other brat, he's gonna be about as pleasant as stepping on a land mine."
That alone typically riles up the village's upper brass. But there's more: a failure during the sealing process.
Doesn't matter how minor. Any hint the seal isn't functioning properly ends with little Naruto's ass getting booted straight to the curb.
Well, more like the orphanage. But you get the picture, right?
The rumors circulating about him throughout the village were proof he might be in this second scenario.
He just needed final confirmation.
In these fics, Minato and Kushina tend to be far more unstable and irrational. Sure, there were exceptions. In some versions, both get pressured by "political" and "strategic" concerns— whoever thought using Naruto as bait so everyone believes he's the only jinchūriki and leaves his sisters alone was a genius, right?—forcing them to abandon him anyway.
Things get much worse for Naruto because he doesn't even have someone watching him as an infant—abandonment in the first scenario usually happens gradually, at least he's relatively safe the first few years—forcing him to juggle threats not just from the village, but from his own deranged parents.
So, which was the better option for Nick?
Despite what many might think, it was the second one.
And no, he hadn't lost his mind.
Besides, he wasn't talking to himself. ROB had blatantly called this 'entertainment', so someone was definitely watching.
Probably laughing their ass off at his expense.
Bastard.
Without question, either option would traumatize a helpless child. Hell, even an adult!
But Nick wasn't some helpless kid.
Poison couldn't kill him. Even decapitation wouldn't finish him off.
While that wouldn't spare him from potential torture-induced insanity, Unbreakable Will would ensure that regardless of what happened, he simply wouldn't break.
All he had to do was survive. Get far enough to unlock Spatial Domination. Then everything would become easier.
Here's where anyone would wonder:
So why is the second option superior? Wouldn't growing up in an environment where you're at least safe initially be easier? Having parents who ignore you would help!
And the answer would be yes… if not for the accompanying Bad Tropes in that scenario.
Truth is, while Naruto gets constantly ignored in that plotline, simultaneously everything conspires to suppress him. Those around him constantly manufacture reasons to prevent him from growing stronger.
The ANBU who conveniently vanish when villager mobs hunt him? Suddenly they're breathing down his neck when he attempts a single push-up. Leading to psychotic Minato and Kushina literally restraining him to prevent training.
And don't get him started on his eyes. He wouldn't be shocked if in that scenario they got discovered quickly and sealed away 'for his own good'.
All his advantages would eventually help overcome those obstacles—that was fact—but he'd hemorrhage too much time. Time he wasn't sure he had.
In canon, the Ōtsutsuki arrived when Naruto hit thirty-two. In this world they'd mobilize earlier —how much earlier remained unknown—and they'd be exponentially stronger.
So losing entire years could spell Game Over.
That's why the second option ultimately proved superior.
Far worse things would happen during his early years, but the same reasons forcing his parents to abandon him would also prevent them from interfering and hampering him.
Plus, the separation would help Kushina and his sisters develop an obsession with reclaiming him once they hit the 'oh god, what have we done? We need to get Naruto back at any cost' phase.
Nick wouldn't squander the opportunities they'd hand him. Conquest Quota wouldn't complete itself.
Though he'd need to watch out for Danzō. That old bastard kidnapping him was standard in that scenario. And he had zero interest in a tongue tattoo.
Nope. Not happening.
His lengthy—but necessary—reflection had to pause so he could focus on the conversation nearby.
Missing the prophecy and failing to confirm his situation would be catastrophic.
So he concentrated on the solemn Jiraiya, who had apparently been patiently waiting for him to finish his internal monologue—wait, had he actually been waiting? No. Impossible. That would be absurd—.
"This time the Great Toad Sage's prophecy was unusually specific for our current circumstances," Jiraiya said while producing a scroll.
Nick still couldn't read Japanese.
Fortunately, Minato handled that part.
His father unrolled the scroll with careful hands—almost reverent—and began reading aloud:
"Three children born as one, power split yet soul entwined. Two shall guard the dawn's embrace, one shall walk alone, confined.
The child of sun and moon alike, branded deep with ancient mark, shall tread through ash and endless night—his flame too fierce, his path too dark.
Should the three flames share one hearth, the sleeping terror shall unearth. The Beast shall wake with hunger dire, and leaf and sky shall drown in fire.
Yet parted from his sisters' light, the world is spared the endless blight. For two shall mend where one must roam—the wheel of fate demands its toll.
One must fade that two may shine; the price of peace is by design. The orange flame must dim from sight, or dawn itself shall fall to night." Silence.
Complete and utter silence filled the room.
Nick observed how Kushina tensed further—her hand gripping the crib's edge so tightly her knuckles bleached white. Minato had closed his eyes, processing, analyzing every word.
And Jiraiya…
Jiraiya looked exhausted. As if he'd aged a decade during the return trip from Mount Myōboku.
"'Three children born as one,'" Minato repeated slowly, opening his eyes. "'Power split yet soul entwined.' That's us. The triplets. The sealing."
"'Two shall guard the dawn's embrace,'" Kushina continued, her voice barely a trembling whisper. "'One shall walk alone, confined.'"
"The child of sun and moon," Jiraiya murmured, dragging a hand down his face. "Blonde like Minato, brilliant eyes… Naruto."
"'Branded deep with ancient mark,'" Minato added, and Nick felt every gaze shift toward him. "The seal. The whisker marks. The possession the shinobi witnessed." Well… here we go. Not like this was unexpected anyway.
"'Should the three flames share one hearth,'" Kushina read again from the scroll, "'the sleeping terror shall unearth. The Beast shall wake with hunger dire, and leaf and sky shall drown in fire.'"
"But parted from his sisters' light," Minato closed his eyes again, as if the words physically wounded him, "the world is spared the endless blight."
"'Two shall mend where one must roam,'" Jiraiya quoted from memory. "'The wheel of fate demands its toll.'"
Kushina was the most visibly distressed.
She couldn't mask her discomfort at the prophecy's implications.
"'One must fade that two may shine,'" she whispered. "'The price of peace is by design. The orange flame must dim from sight, or dawn itself shall fall to night.'" Silence descended again.
Nick watched the three adults process the implications. He could see the gears grinding in their heads—especially Minato's, whose expression cycled from denial to comprehension to horror within seconds.
"No."
Kushina spoke the word so calmly that Jiraiya froze mid-motion.
"Kushina—"
"No," she repeated, eyes locked on the babies in the crib. "Not happening."
What? Come again? What's with this woman? This is the part where you start bawling and bidding me farewell for the greater good!
Meanwhile Minato glanced up from the scroll. Looked at his wife. Then back at the scroll.
"Sensei," he said after a beat. "It's not happening."
Jiraiya blinked. "Excuse me?"
"We're not doing it."
"Minato, the prophecy—"
"I don't give a damn about the prophecy."
Oh. Nick hadn't heard Minato curse before. Honestly thought he was constitutionally incapable.
Jiraiya shared that surprise, because his jaw went slack for a second.
"The Great Toad Sage's prophecies aren't something you can just—"
"Aren't something you can disregard, yes, I'm aware," Minato interrupted. He ran fingers through his hair—a gesture Nick was learning to recognize as 'I'm stressed but strategizing'. "He predicted Uzushio's fall. He predicted the war. He predicted you."
"Precisely—"
"But that doesn't mean I'm handing over my son." Silence.
Kushina hadn't torn her gaze from the crib. "The girls will be the world's saviors. Fine. We'll train them." "Kushina—"
"Naruto can't be near them. Fine." Her voice had gone flat. Too controlled. "We'll keep him separated."
"How?" Jiraiya asked, genuinely curious now. "How exactly do you plan to—?"
"We alternate," Minato stated. "Me with the girls, Kushina with Naruto. Then we switch. Different houses. Different schedules."
"That's—"
"Workable," the Hokage finished. "Difficult, yes. Complicated, without question. It'll probably make our family dynamic… unconventional. But workable."
Jiraiya scrubbed his face. "Minato, you're talking about splitting your family down the middle —"
"I'm talking about NOT abandoning my day-old son based on some toad's fever dream."
"It wasn't a fever dream!"
If Nick could talk, he would've strongly disagreed with that assessment.
"Oh no?" Minato crossed his arms. "Then what would you call it?"
"A divine glimpse into the future, Minato! Prophecies aren't jokes or something to mock!" Exactly! Tell him, Jiraiya! This baby needs to get abandoned so he can work in peace!
"I've been examining the seals," Minato said, pivoting tactics. "Constantly. Since the sealing. Want to know what I've discovered?" He waited.
"Nothing," he continued when Jiraiya didn't respond. "All three have been together over a day. The seals are stable. Naruto hasn't shown additional signs of instability. Zero indicators of problems."
"One day hardly constitutes sufficient time—"
"It's enough to know it's not as immediate as the prophecy implies." Jiraiya opened his mouth. Closed it. Sighed heavily.
"I can't believe you're doing this."
"Well, start believing it, dattebane," Kushina said, finally turning to face him. Her eyes were bloodshot but dry. "Because that's exactly what's happening." Another silence.
"Fine," Jiraiya conceded. "Fine. Do it your way." He didn't sound pleased.
But he also didn't sound like he'd continue fighting.
"However," he added, raising one finger, "if anything—and I mean anything—goes sideways. If the seals show instability. If there are any signs the Kyūbi is reacting—" "We'll handle it," Minato cut in.
"—you inform me immediately," Jiraiya finished firmly. "Crystal clear?" Minato and Kushina exchanged a glance.
"Crystal clear," Minato agreed.
Jiraiya sighed again. Deeper this time. "You're going to be the death of me. You're literally giving me heart palpitations."
"You still look spry," Kushina commented, the faintest trace of humor creeping into her voice. "I'm only forty-two and I feel ninety after this conversation." An awkward pause.
"But…" Jiraiya looked toward the crib containing the three babies. "I understand your reasoning. And I'd probably make the same choice." It wasn't approval.
But it was something.
Something that only complicated matters for him, dammit!
"Just remember, Minato. The Gods always have their reasons." Jiraiya's continued seriousness still threw Nick off.
"We mortals aren't in any position to second-guess them."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, in the Infinite White Void
Time: Several minutes before Gamamaru entered an astral journey (not pipe-induced) and received the new prophecy
POV: ROB
ROB lay sprawled across the void face-down, legs kicking behind him like a schoolgirl journaling about her crush. Beside him sat a box of kiddie crayons, the type with ridiculous names like 'Majestic Mountain Purple' and 'Dolphin Splash Blue'.
His face showed intense concentration, tongue poking out slightly from the corner of his mouth as he scribbled.
If anyone could peer over his shoulder—and honestly, who'd want to hang out in the infinite void watching a cosmic entity do… whatever this was?—they'd see him writing on paper with letters resembling drunk chicken scratch more than actual language.
Muttering to himself throughout.
"…itself shall fall to night," he finished with a dramatic flourish of the orange crayon— appreciate the irony—.
Suddenly he sprang up, buzzing with excitement, bursting with pride over his masterpiece.
"Nailed it!" He dusted off his hands like he'd just completed something worthy of the Renaissance masters. "Now I just gotta stick it where it belongs."
A screen materialized before him, displaying files with highly recognizable names as he scrolled.
Dragon Ball Z
Bleach
Death Note
One Punch Man
Fate/Stay Night My Hero Academia
And many, many more.
ROB scrolled through the list—blazing through entire universes with the same casual disregard someone shows browsing Netflix—until finally locating a specific one.
"There you are," he murmured, tapping the folder labeled NARUTO with one finger.
The folder expanded, revealing subfolders organized with a meticulousness suggesting even omnipotent cosmic entities dealt with filing systems.
Canon Events
Character Files
Timeline Variants Prophecies
ROB tapped the last one.
Instantly, a scroll manifested in the air before him.
And this wasn't just any scroll.
This was art.
It radiated pure gold—not the cheap stuff from Christmas decorations, but the kind that could reduce dragons to envious tears. The words inscribed upon it were illegible to mortals, characters that seemed to shift and flow even as one observed them.
Every stroke possessed an elegance no one could hope to replicate. The kind of artifact that belonged in museums. Or temples. Or clutched by some Chosen One destined to save reality.
ROB stared at it for exactly two seconds.
Then grabbed it with both hands.
Crumpled it into a paper ball.
And chucked it over his shoulder without ceremony.
The sacred scroll—the original prophecy, penned by the Great Toad Sage himself during a divine trance, meant to guide the shinobi world's future—bounced once in the infinite white void and vanished.
Probably into some cosmic dumpster where all the being's trash ended up.
ROB, unbothered by the dimensional sacrilege he'd just committed, proceeded to grab his own paper—the one that still looked like it had been scrawled mid-earthquake by a five-yearold with ADHD—and slapped it in place of the original.
The screen flickered.
PROPHECY FILE UPDATED
CHANGES SYNCHRONIZED
TIMELINE ADJUSTMENTS: IN PROGRESS
The screen closed with a satisfying chime.
ROB wiped his forehead like he'd just finished intense physical labor.
"Mission accomplished," he declared with the satisfaction of someone who'd assembled IKEA furniture without leftover pieces.
He paused.
"Well, technically my work's always done since I'm omnipotent and time's meaningless to me, but you catch my drift."
Another pause.
"Hold on, who am I even talking to? Nobody's here. I'm alone in the infinite void." A longer pause.
"…I seriously need a hobby."
And with that, ROB snapped his fingers and vanished in a light flash—probably off to harass some other poor soul in another universe.
Leaving behind only the infinite white void.
And somewhere, in some dimension, at some point in time—past, present, and future simultaneously because that's how this works—Gamamaru, the Great Toad Sage, experienced a very bizarre astral journey.
One involving a prophecy written with crayons.
Which, naturally, he interpreted as a divine vision of the future.
But hey, who was he to question the gods' will?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
POV: Nick/Naruto Uzumaki
"Alright. Here's the game plan."
Minato had entered what Nick now dubbed Hokage Mode.
"Nothing discussed here leaves this room." No wiggle room in his voice. "We're not telling anyone about the prophecy. That'll keep the Council from freaking out and turning even harder against Naruto." Hold up.
What?
Nick processed those words slowly. Maybe he'd misjudged which scenario he'd landed in. Maybe it was the first Bad Trope type after all.
Which would be annoying, but at least explained why Kushina was so clingy with him. Not that she wasn't with the girls, but with him it was more intense.
While that trope focused on Naruto's neglect, it wasn't uncommon for the Kushinas in those worlds—and his sisters too—to become obsessed with keeping Naruto 'safe'. And they'd end up doing catastrophically counterproductive things for him.
Which meant Nick needed to start drafting contingency plans now.
Looked like he'd need to leverage Sealing Arts far earlier than anticipated. The Uzumaki library must contain something useful about seal manipulation. If he could engineer a significant enough 'accident'—without killing himself in the process—he might get himself kicked out anyway.
And if that failed… well, he'd need to get creative with excuses to vanish for days without making it obvious he'd been training.
"Even more than they already are?" Jiraiya's voice interrupted his thoughts. "What went down at the meeting?"
Ah, right. The meeting.
The previous one hadn't ended well. The screaming match between the high council—plus Kushina, who possessed remarkable lung capacity and hadn't appreciated a single comment about him—just kept escalating until Minato called it off and promised to reconvene when everyone calmed down.
"Poorly," Minato responded with a grim tone. "Catastrophically."
"Between the attack's aftermath and the Council hellbent on finding a scapegoat…"
Translation: ME
Nick thought irritably, recalling the garbage they'd hurled at him.
"…we couldn't even begin preparations to get fully operational."
Jiraiya made an exasperated expression hearing his student's words. "Told you empowering the civilians was a terrible idea. They'll only create more headaches." Wait a goddamn minute.
Hold the phone.
Was all this Minato's fault?
This blonde pretty-boy moron.
All this time he'd assumed Hiruzen had allowed the Civilian Council to gain power. That this blonde idiot was merely dealing with the Sandaime's political legacy. But no, apparently Minato himself had handed them that authority.
Why the hell would he do that?
I take back every positive thought I had about you, Nick told himself with genuine irritation.
I'm sleeping with your wife when you start neglecting her because of the paperwork mountains those pompous parasites will bury you under.
"We've already had this discussion, sensei," Minato said with a barely perceptible sigh. "We need to better integrate the village's civilian population if we want Konoha to improve holistically."
"Besides," he added, and his tone shifted enough that everyone paid attention, "I've already devised a plan to get them off our backs."
Well, everyone except Mito and Naruko. Mito continued sleeping peacefully. Naruko had decided now was the perfect time to attempt grabbing her own foot with Everest-climbing determination.
"We're going to lie to them," Minato said with the same casualness he'd use discussing weather.
"We're lying to them?" Kushina and Jiraiya repeated simultaneously, both sounding equally baffled.
"We'll capitalize on the failure everyone witnessed after the sealing," Minato explained as the other two adults began processing the concept. "We can't stop the rumors, but we can twist them to our advantage."
What's this guy plotting now?
"We'll inform everyone at the meeting that harming Naruto or subjecting him to excessive stress will trigger the same reaction they witnessed." Oh.
Oh.
That was… pretty clever.
Where the hell was this brain when he approved forming the Civilian Council? Nick wondered ruefully.
"That way the existing rumors will debunk themselves and nobody'll want to harm him,"
Kushina concluded, her mood visibly brightening. "Perfect, dattebane!"
"Yes… though it might also result in others isolating him," Minato admitted, because nothing could be entirely positive. "But at least he'll be safe."
Jiraiya sighed. Long and deep. "You're calling the shots, Minato. I'll back your play." Yeah, Jiraiya, back him up. You'll also end up dead, buried under a paperwork avalanche.
…He was still pissed at Minato. What were they gonna do? Take him to court?
"I'll schedule a meeting for tomorrow morning," the young Hokage said, returning to his commanding tone. "I expect your presence, sensei." Not a request. An order gift-wrapped as a request.
"You got it," Jiraiya responded.
And with that final note, the adults exited—leaving one baby sleeping peacefully, another who'd somehow managed to grab her brother's hair and was attempting to eat it—when had that happened?—and one very, very irritated baby.
Nick stared at the ceiling.
Mentally sighed.
And began strategizing exactly how he'd manipulate his own seal to engineer a "controlled accident" that would extract him from this situation.
Because if he'd learned anything during his brief stint in this world, it was that he couldn't just trust things to work out on their own.
He'd need to seize control of his own circumstances.
Like always.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Time Skip
Hokage's Office
For Nick, it was obvious that anyone glimpsing his baby face right now would be thoroughly confused. After all, it was more than slightly odd for a newborn to display such a wickedly smug expression.
The reason?
"D-Did you really need to make all those sounds, Kushina?" Minato's face had gone crimson as he processed mission reports—from the enormous backlog he'd accumulated. "I-It's not my fault. Naruto's just too enthusiastic when I'm feeding him, dattebane!" Hehe.
Who could blame him? Kushina had been making some very interesting sounds and rather amusing faces moments ago.
NSFW – External link only. Patreon does not allow this image to be hosted directly:
Genius and Prodigious served purposes far beyond simply learning shinobi arts.
Besides, women in anime worlds were considerably more sensitive.
And Kushina had been his personal practice dummy since he could get his tiny, mischievous hands on her.
Though, to clarify, he wasn't doing this purely for entertainment. Or because he was a pervert.
As Aizen-sama taught us, everything you do must serve a grander objective. Something simple mortals can't grasp with their inferior minds.
…
….
……
He was conditioning Kushina.
At this stage, given how things were progressing, it seemed they wouldn't send him to the orphanage. Which would leave him in the scenario where everyone and their grandmother would somehow prevent him from training peacefully.
His primary plan remained engineering a significant seal malfunction that would force them to ship him off.
But what if that didn't work?
Minato and Kushina didn't seem inclined to let him go.
So he needed alternative strategies.
And that brought us to him playing with Kushina's generous assets.
That woman is a wet dream come to life.
The way her moans had filled the air in the room just moments earlier, as he traced slow, teasing circles around her areola with his small tongue—pure music to his ears—.
Kushina had clearly liked it rough too.
She'd gotten especially loud when he'd clamped down with every ounce of his—admittedly limited—jaw strength and tugged hard on her nipples.
How she'd shivered every time his little hands squeezed those huge, heavy breasts as hard as he could had been all the proof he needed.
An absolute delight.
But I won't bore you with further details.
Right now he wanted her accustomed to him making that type of physical contact with her.
This was a world affected by the NSFW scenario and by Bad Tropes that were inherently lascivious by nature.
Regardless of which bad trope version activated, the ecchi/hentai logic—he still wasn't sure how amplified that characteristic was in this world—was more certainty than possibility.
And he only needed to glance sideways to see a prime example.
Nick observed Minato drowning under mountains of reports and permit requests.
One might assume Minato was neck-deep in work because the Kyūbi attack was recent and naturally there was much to handle.
But to him, things couldn't be more transparent.
Days, months, and years would pass, but Minato would continue shouldering this exact workload for the rest of his miserable existence regardless of what happened in the village. Hell, the guy hadn't even attempted using shadow clones to assist himself.
His secretary—quite the looker if he could say so, though she seemed familiar—had offered to help with the burden and he'd refused, claiming it was his "responsibility."
This was an extremely widespread Bad Trope regarding Naruto. Observable in nearly all of them: perpetually swamped husbands who left their wives neglected.
Normally Naruto benefited from this later in life.
Once he surpassed the phase where he was the entire village's punching bag and entered the 'I'm going to exact revenge on these bastards by stealing their women' phase.
But him?
He wasn't some innocent child desperately craving anyone's affection like Naruto had been.
He was an adult trapped in this infant body. And while poor blondie didn't recognize those details until later—when he started exploiting them—he planned to capitalize on them now and as thoroughly as possible.
Kushina might be content and calm currently. But as time passed and Minato kept arriving late daily? Going straight to bed? Missing dinners, anniversaries, and much more?
She'd grow increasingly frustrated.
Months—possibly years—of pure dissatisfaction would accumulate.
Making it far easier to persuade her into things she'd normally refuse without hesitation.
And he intended to start sooner rather than later. The more dependent she became on him, the better his position.
If he managed to get her on his side from the start, he could even navigate most inconveniences from the scenario where they were supposed to favor his sisters.
When Minato and the others attempted their nonsense, he'd deploy Kushina to resolve the problem with a well-placed ass-kicking.
While he continued training and preparing for incoming enemies.
It was a masterful plan he'd designed to flip off this Bad Trope and definitely not just because he wanted to seduce this redheaded MILF.
He was a strategist first and a horny bastard second.
That was gospel truth and he'd die on this hill.
Anyway, moving on with the agenda—currently they were waiting for Jiraiya.
The scheduled meeting wasn't far off, but the old toad was already running late. Had he gotten sidetracked with some woman en route?
Knock, knock, knock.
"Enter," came the busy Hokage's curt response.
Then Nick watched the aforementioned secretary enter.
Yeah, she was familiar.
The two visible adults—well, visible to normal eyes; there were two ANBU he could spot hiding in the ceiling, he'd noticed his vision constantly improving through mere usage—had mentioned something about her being a Jōnin who'd retired due to political complications.
Some jackass with excessive rank in the Fire Court was stirring up trouble following a mission she'd participated in.
All that conversation happened while he was being used as a chew toy by Mito and Naruko in a crib shoved in the corner.
For once, Mito had reached consensus with Naruko that his cheeks were remarkably elastic and therefore excellent entertainment.
Ufff
The trials of being the older brother.
And yes, he knew he was born last, but he still had twenty-four additional mental years, ergo he was the eldest.
Of course, all of it being observed by an overly cheerful Kushina.
Yeah, keep laughing, Kushina. They can play with my cheeks now, later I'll play with yours…..
Minato also seemed to be considering reassigning the secretary somewhere she'd be more valuable.
Where? He had zero clue. Plenty of positions could be filled by a retired Jōnin.
"Yondaime-sama, Jiraiya-sama has arrived per your request…" she announced upon entering.
Damn. Not only did she rock the sexy secretary aesthetic, she also sounded thoroughly serious and professional.
"…and he's accompanied by Danzō-sama."
Hearing that, Nick went rigid for a heartbeat.
Could this be the legendary Bad Tropes moment?
Has my canon event finally arrived?
"He claims he needs to speak with you urgently before the meeting." Yep, definitely.
My time has come.
"Ugh…"
Nick watched with satisfaction as the young Hokage suffered.
Sure, Danzō was probably showing up with the sole purpose of screwing him over.
But Nick was painfully self-aware that he could be quite petty.
So watching Minato—who'd be one of his biggest problem-makers, whether intentionally or not—endure all this crap soothed and comforted his tiny, vindictive soul.
"…Show them in, Igawa-san. And please, no further interruptions."
Igawa? Yeah, He definitely remembered that from somewhere.
The woman bowed in a manner that made her already form-fitting secretary outfit struggle heroically to contain her impressive curves, accentuating them in ways only a world like this could permit.
Nick appreciated the view, but was more focused on Minato currently.
The guy didn't even glance in Igawa-san's direction. Too absorbed in his work and stressed about the surprise visit.
…Heh. Poor Kushina. She doesn't stand a chance against me. That fat ass might as well be signed, sealed, and delivered already.
That's when the door opened.
Entering first was Konoha's infamous War Hawk, and trailing behind him, Jiraiya.
But Nick's brow furrowed the instant he spotted them.
Something wasn't adding up here.
Danzō wasn't wearing the bandages around his face.
Everyone could see the scars surrounding his closed eye.
And as if that weren't enough…
Nick scrutinized Jiraiya carefully. Maybe to everyone else the pervert appeared normal, but his eyes weren't like everyone else's.
Traces of foreign chakra coiled around the Tenketsu scattered throughout his head.
Nick immediately shifted his gaze to Danzō's head.
He could observe how his chakra network was redirecting increasingly larger quantities toward his closed eye.
What the hell is this?
That damn fossil shouldn't possess any Sharingan at this point in the timeline.
And Shisui, at best, would only have his base Sharingan, not his brainwashing Mangekyō.
"So, what is it you wan…?"
Minato's sentence died mid-word.
Everything transpired in a fraction of a second.
The eyelid that should be concealing Danzō's useless eye snapped open.
And everyone could see what lurked beneath.
A Mangekyō Sharingan.
Deteriorated. The patterns that made those eyes legendary appeared faded. And its blood vessels were starkly visible, pulsing across its sclera.
Before Minato and Kushina could react, it was already over.
Nick could only watch as both their eyes glazed over and their expressions went slack.
Danzō's Sharingan began hemorrhaging uncontrollably, and Nick noticed how the Tenketsu within it shut down entirely.
Leaving the eye defunct.
But what the hell are the ANBU doing?
Their Hokage is under assault!
As if on cue, the two ANBU positioned in the ceiling launched directly toward Danzō's position.
That's it! Be useful for once in your damn lives!
Even if they couldn't scratch the mummy, the commotion would surely draw other ninjas inside the tower.
Both elite shinobi—supposedly—descended in perfect synchronization. Nick could barely track them visually. He was certain that without his eyes he might not have even caught their blurs.
And then…
..
….
……
Then… both dropped to one knee before Danzō, bowing to him.
YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!
USELESS MINATO!
Of all the damn ANBU he could've chosen for guard duty today, why'd both have to be Danzō's emotionless drones?
WHY?
Ultimately, all he could do was continue observing as one ANBU approached the old man and with surgical precision extracted the eye—apparently useless—from its socket. Meanwhile his ROOT companion produced a scroll.
After a small smoke explosion, a normal eye materialized floating in greenish liquid inside a jar.
Looks like they had this whole operation planned.
He really shouldn't be surprised.
The first ANBU—a medical ninja if he'd guessed correctly—retrieved the eye from inside the jar and positioned it within Danzō's empty socket.
Nick watched with morbid fascination as the ANBU passed his hands—now glowing green— over the freshly grafted eye.
The nerve endings began reconnecting gradually and the old conspirator's network started reestablishing and channeling a current of chakra toward the eye, making it appear identical to his healthy one.
The entire procedure barely consumed a couple minutes.
And as if nothing had ever occurred, Danzō now stood before Minato—who remained in his trance and hadn't budged from his position.
The ANBU had returned to their ceiling posts and only the old mummy remained "conscious" in the office.
That's when he began speaking.
"Minato Namikaze." Danzō's voice was measured. Almost cordial. "Yondaime Hokage of Konohagakure. The Yellow Flash. The prodigy who ended the Third War through sheer presence."
He paused, studying the Hokage with that calculating gaze he'd probably honed over decades.
"And yet, here you stand. Believing you can conceal critical intelligence about this village's future from me."
Nick now harbored a strong suspicion they hadn't been as alone as they'd thought when Minato received Jiraiya's prophecy.
"Spy seals," Danzō continued, almost conversationally. "Marvelous tools. Especially when positioned in locations nobody thinks to inspect. Like, say, a room housing three newborn infants."
Ooh, so all those seals he'd spotted on the walls weren't part of the tower's security?
No, they probably were and Danzō had concealed one among them. Easier to hide something in plain sight when it appears part of the group, he concluded while continuing to focus on the mummy's monologue.
He watched him circle the desk slowly, his steps measured and purposeful.
"Three children. One prophecy. And a naive Hokage who thinks he can defy destiny with… what was it? Taking turns? Separate houses?" A dry chuckle. "Pathetic."
Meh, wasn't terrible—at least for him—that would grant him more time to train and be alone with Kushina.
Minato would barely have time to breathe between all his work, so the entire childcare burden would fall on Kushina.
"I didn't anticipate needing to deploy this on you," Danzō admitted, gesturing casually toward his newly replaced eye. "Kagami's final eye. I had to use it on Hiruzen countless times throughout the years. Warping his ideals. Dulling his resolve. Ensuring he never interfered excessively with what was necessary."
He paused, seemingly savoring the memory.
"But you, Minato. You're different. A shinobi genius, undoubtedly. Swift. Lethal. Efficient." Another step. "But politically… you're a child masquerading as an adult." Ouch. What's happening here? Is this roast Minato day?
"You permitted that corrupt Civilian Council to accumulate power," Danzō continued with something resembling contempt. "Those corpulent merchants and third-rate nobles that Koharu, Homura, and I can manipulate effortlessly. You allow them to believe they possess influence. That they matter."
Well, can't argue with him there, especially since I'll be the one dealing with their garbage.
He stopped directly before the desk, staring into Minato's glassy eyes.
"And then you presume you can hide a prophecy from me. From me." The office silence was absolute.
This was premium entertainment. Countless internet degenerates would sacrifice a limb to witness the legendary Bad Tropes Danzō deliver his villainous speech.
Though he suspected many would prefer watching Hiruzen receive the sermon.
Everyone loved when after the entire damn speech the old monkey whipped out his I am the Hokage card and shut everything down.
"Before arriving here," Danzō said, his tone shifting more pragmatic, "I took care of Tsunade and Jiraiya. Both could easily detect your abnormal behavior following this. I couldn't risk their interference."
And that's it? Is he stupid?
They're not the only ones who know Minato and Kushina well.
Kushina and Mikoto appeared to be friends.
Or at least that's what Kushina's flashback in the anime suggested.
"Now," Danzō continued, producing what appeared to be a prophecy copy from his clothing, "let's discuss what this truly means."
He unrolled the scroll with deliberate movements.
Was the scroll necessary? Guess Danzō has a flair for dramatics after all.
"'Three children born as one, power split yet soul entwined. Two shall guard the dawn's embrace, one shall walk alone, confined.'" Danzō glanced up from the scroll.
"Three children bound by singular destiny. Power divided. Two symbols of hope and one condemned to isolation." His eyes—the healthy one and the freshly implanted one—focused on their crib in the corner.
"The 'confined' child isn't a victim of circumstance. He's a necessity."
If he's referring to the necessity of screwing me over then he's spot on.
Bad Tropes revolves around tormenting Naruto until he develops a spine and then uses it to bitch-slap everyone.
"The child referenced must be separated from his family," Danzō declared with the same composure he'd use discussing weather, "and guided by those who comprehend duty's burden."
I'm on board with the first part since it benefits me, but the second is horseshit.
The old man just want to shove me into ROOT and transform me into one of his puppets.
"'The child of sun and moon alike, branded deep with ancient mark, shall tread through ash and endless night—his flame too fierce, his path too dark.'" Danzō approached the crib closer.
"'Branded deep with ancient mark.'" He pointed toward Nick. "The Kyūbi seal. 'His flame too fierce.' Unstable chakra. Destructive potential. 'His path too dark.' His fate is intertwined with chaos and darkness."
Unstable chakra isn't remotely possible regarding me. My eyes won't permit it.
But this ancient fool doesn't know that and won't if I have any say in the matter.
He stopped directly beside the crib, peering down at the three babies.
Mito and Naruko were embroiled in an epic struggle to establish dominance over his poor cheeks—which were flushed from constant abuse.
And Nick… Nick could only stare up at this old bastard and wonder: Would I get away with flipping him off?
"This power," Danzō continued, "cannot be entrusted to idealists. Hiruzen was excessively soft. Jiraiya is overly sentimental. And you…" He glanced briefly toward Minato. "You're too naive."
Didn't you literally just say moments ago you spent years using those pink eyes you nabbed from what you think is Shisui's ancestor to prevent Hiruzen from ending your subscription to life?
"'Should the three flames share one hearth, the sleeping terror shall unearth. The Beast shall wake with hunger dire, and leaf and sky shall drown in fire.'" Danzō allowed those words to settle.
"A direct warning. If they remain together, the beast will awaken." His tone hardened. "Therefore, separation isn't cruelty. It's obligation. And he must not merely be isolated—he must be controlled, monitored, and shaped to prevent the prophecy's fulfillment."
Yeah, right. Nick would've rolled his eyes if it wouldn't raise suspicion. Because your track record with "controlling" and "shaping" people has been so stellar, hasn't it? Go ask all those ROOT kids how that worked out.
"'Yet parted from his sisters' light, the world is spared the endless blight. For two shall mend where one must roam—the wheel of fate demands its toll.'" Danzō consulted the scroll again.
"The world will be spared if he remains distant from his sisters. The price must be paid." He looked up. "The wheel of fate demands sacrifice. And I shall be the executor of that inevitable sacrifice."
Inevitable? The only inevitable thing is your death, and I'm dead serious. You don't survive in canon, and in bad tropes it's usually even worse.
"'One must fade that two may shine; the price of peace is by design. The orange flame must dim from sight, or dawn itself shall fall to night.'" Danzō closed the scroll.
"One must fade for the other two to flourish. Peace's price is woven into destiny's fabric." His expression remained unchanged. "Konoha's peace is only achievable if the child—the 'orange flame'—vanishes from public view." He paused deliberately.
"Not necessarily death. But yes, concealment. ROOT will become the ideal sanctuary: a place devoid of light, identity, or bonds. There he can be 'dimmed' without destruction."
Oh, how magnanimous of you, Nick thought sarcastically. You're not going to kill me. You just want to obliterate my identity, erase my emotions, and convert me into a disposable soldier.
What a benevolent man.
"The fire must be controlled to avoid harming the great tree," Danzō concluded, his voice dropping to something almost reverent. "His light doesn't belong to daylight, but to shadow." He straightened, withdrawing from the crib.
"I won't permit your idealism and sentimentalism to plunge this village into chaos, Minato." His tone was final. Absolute. "The prophecy is explicit. Destiny has spoken. And I shall be its instrument."
He pivoted, heading toward the door.
"When you awaken from the trance, you'll recall this conversation as a hazy dream. A sensation of unease. Nothing more." He paused at the threshold. "But your mind will have already accepted what must be done. What has to be done." And with that, he departed.
The two ANBU in the ceiling remained motionless.
Jiraiya stood frozen, unmoving.
Minato and Kushina continued in their trance.
And Nick…
Nick remained there, in the crib, being used as a plaything by his sisters who seemed to have negotiated a temporary truce.
Processing everything he'd just witnessed.
Looks like he'd be shipped to the orphanage after all, which meant the plan to tamper with his seal could now be shelved.
Shame he couldn't continue with Kushina's conditioning.
But that's life. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose.
Naruko chose that moment to yank his hair with particular vigor.
Ouch.
Can't even think peacefully around here.
Then he heard knocking at the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Yondaime-sama," the secretary's voice carried from beyond the door, "nearly the entire high council has assembled in the war room."
And just like that, as if someone had flipped a switch, the glazed expressions of Minato, Kushina, and Jiraiya cleared.
All three blinked, disoriented.
"When…?" Kushina started, scanning the room confused.
"The meeting," Minato said, his hand moving toward his forehead as if it ached. "We need to… we need to attend the meeting."
He stood, still somewhat unsteady, and headed toward the crib.
"Let's bring the children," he murmured, lifting Nick carefully.
Kushina gathered Mito and Naruko, still appearing confused but following her husband.
Jiraiya trailed them silently, his expression contemplative.
And Nick, cradled in Minato's arms, could only hope the meeting wouldn't drag on too long.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Time Skip: 4 hours after the meeting with Danzō
Location: ????
POV: Nick/Naruto Uzumaki
Well, that could've gone worse.
Nick stared at the ceiling of his new "residence" with the same expression someone might have discovering their five-star hotel was a roadside motel with bedbugs.
The crib he was lying in creaked with every breath he took. Literally. He could feel the rotted wood protesting under his weight—and he was just a couple-days-old baby.
If he had to bet, this relic had probably survived the First Shinobi World War. Maybe it had even witnessed Hashirama's birth.
With his eyes he could see every crack in the structure, every weak point where the wood had splintered over time.
One sudden movement and this thing would collapse like a Game of Thrones fan's expectations during the final season.
The room wasn't much better.
The walls were riddled with cracks. Some wide enough that even with normal eyes he'd be able to see through them.
The ceiling was a masterpiece of architectural negligence. The wooden beams were covered in mold—he could see it clearly, small colonies of fungi thriving in the dampness—and one of them had a concerning curve that suggested at some point in the near future, gravity would win that battle.
He hoped he wouldn't be underneath when that happened.
Though, being honest, The Heart would probably keep him alive even if the whole damn ceiling decided to surrender to physics.
The window—and he used the term generously—was a wooden frame with more holes than glass. Wind blew through it freely, carrying the distinctive aroma of… dampness? Rot? The dead hopes and dreams of previous orphans?
Hard to say.
At least in the Land of Fire winters shouldn't be too brutal. Probably. Hopefully.
Because if he was wrong, his baby ass was going to experience what it meant to be a popsicle, and that wouldn't be pleasant. Even if his physical constitution was already ridiculously superior to a normal baby's.
He'd confirmed that during the trip to this place. The ANBU who'd transported him—definitely a woman, don't ask how he knew—had passed through one of the temporary processing areas where they were gathering the new orphans.
He'd seen other babies. Small, fragile, crying their lungs out as they were moved from place to place.
And then there was him.
Bigger. Heavier. With a chakra network that, though underdeveloped, already showed signs of being denser than most of the children present.
Naruko and Mito didn't count for comparison. Those two were constantly bathed in Bijū chakra. He could see it with his eyes—small filaments of red-orange chakra filtering from their seals into their tiny chakra coils passively.
Meanwhile, he had to rely on his own enhanced biology and The Heart to not die from something stupid like hypothermia or infection.
Which, let's admit it, was useful. The Heart ensured that nonsense like "extreme weather" or "stray kunai piercing through the window in the middle of the night" weren't enough to kill him.
From his position in the crib, he could see through the shattered window to the outside.
There was a tree growing nearby, close enough that some branches almost brushed the wooden frame. It was an old tree, probably contemporary with the building.
Beyond the tree, he could see parts of the orphanage's "yard"—if you could call that compacted dirt and dead grass a yard.
There were children out there. Several of them, different ages, wandering without real purpose.
The curious thing was how all of them, without exception, avoided approaching this section of the building.
As if there was an invisible line none dared cross.
It wasn't hard to guess why.
They'd surely been warned to stay away from here already.
But that wasn't a problem for him.
Because see, despite this orphanage being about to explode with new residents—fresh orphans courtesy of the Kyūbi—he, Nick, had the exclusive privilege of a private room.
His own personal suite, if you wanted to be generous with terminology.
Alone.
Isolated from all the other children.
In the furthest, oldest, and most structurally questionable part of the building.
For those not getting the message: they'd segregated him.
Actively.
They'd stuck him in the shinobi equivalent of "out of sight, out of mind" and given him a room probably used to store things nobody wanted but didn't want to throw away either.
And honestly, he couldn't be more satisfied with the arrangement.
Yes, it was garbage. Yes, it probably violated about seventeen health and safety codes. Yes, there was a non-zero chance he'd die crushed if the ceiling finally decided to give up.
But he was alone.
Nobody constantly watching him. Nobody interfering with what he did. Nobody wondering why the three-day-old baby seemed to be observing everything with the intensity of someone planning a heist.
This was, paradoxically, perfect.
Now, you're probably wondering: How the hell did he end up here?
Why wasn't he in some secret basement under Konoha, waiting for Danzō to start his "training"?
And what color was the ANBU's underwear who brought him?
Well, I'll tell you all about the first two questions.
The third you can keep to yourself because that was classified information he wouldn't share.
The council meeting wasn't short.
And against all odds—against all Bad Trope logic—it didn't start with half the council demanding his head on a pike.
That came later. Patience.
When they arrived, everyone was already settled in their respective positions in the war room.
The civilian side was on the left. The shinobi side on the right.
Danzō already had all his bandages on again.
The old mummy didn't want to raise suspicions—after all, he never took them off.
Though, and here was the funny part, Minato's secretary—Igawa-san—had seen him enter the office without the bandages.
Loose end number one.
He was starting to see a pattern here.
Minato: supposed tactical genius. Approves a Civilian Council that hands political power to fat merchants and third-rate nobles.
Danzō: experienced manipulator with decades of conspiracy under his belt. Leaves evidence of strange behavior with at least one witness.
It was like watching two chess players, except one was playing checkers and the other was eating the pieces.
The Incompetent Ninjas Bad Trope had to be active.
There was no other logical explanation.
That trope was the result of authors with questionable writing skills who needed to make their characters look competent somehow, so they made everyone else stupid by default.
The protagonist seems like a genius not because he's intelligent, but because everyone else has the IQ of a rock.
If that trope was active here… well, it would explain a lot. Certain behaviors he'd observed. Certain decisions that made no sense.
He'd need to watch more shinobi in action to confirm it, but the circumstantial evidence was… damning.
Anyway.
The meeting started when Minato sat in his chair and called for order.
I won't bore you with every detail. Mainly because the first hour was pure administrative filler.
Reconstruction plans. Resource allocation. Debates about which buildings were priority. Budget discussions that made Nick's eyes glaze over with boredom.
The interesting part came when they started discussing financial cuts.
Because turns out rebuilding half a village is expensive. Who would've thought?
And since this directly affected the Civilian Council's wallets—they had to be good for something, right?—suddenly everyone was paying attention like their lives depended on it.
Which, being honest, they probably did. If their businesses collapsed, so did their political influence.
And that's where Nick saw something interesting.
Someone new in the civilian group.
A woman who definitely hadn't been at the previous meeting.
Platinum blonde hair. Features that seemed very familiar to him. Sitting among the merchants and lesser nobles with an expression that was half boredom, half superiority.
Oh. Oh no.
That had to be Mebuki Haruno.
Sakura's mother.
Damn.
If there was one person in Bad Tropes who was consistently annoying, manipulative, and intractable, it was her.
In most of those crappy fics, Mebuki was the ultimate Karen. The woman who somehow had climbed socially—usually through questionable and probably illegal means—to insert herself into power circles where she had no right to be.
And if she followed the same pattern here… Nick could work with that.
Blackmail was an ugly word. He preferred "asymmetric negotiation with motivational incentives."
And if he could extract some personal benefits in the process… well, he was a businessman. He had to diversify his investments.
The shinobi side of the room was more… varied in their reactions toward him.
Fugaku Uchiha barely looked at him. He was more focused on the documents before him, probably calculating how this situation affected his clan.
Shibi Aburame was similar. Occasional glances, but nothing suggesting particular interest. The Aburame were pragmatic. If you weren't an immediate threat or useful ally, you were irrelevant.
The minor clans—the ones Nick could barely identify—were openly hostile.
And then there was Tsume Inuzuka.
She was… different.
She didn't look at him directly. Her eyes followed Kushina, who sat beside Minato with Mito and Naruko in her arms.
And the expression on Tsume's face was unmistakable.
Pity.
Not contempt. Not anger. Pity.
If he remembered correctly—and his memory was good, thanks Genius and Prodigious—in several Bad Tropes, Kushina and Tsume were friends. Not best friends, but close enough.
Which meant Tsume probably knew this situation was terrible for Kushina.
Nick could sense Kushina's emotions from here. Empath wasn't subtle when the person in question was experiencing an internal whirlwind of conflict, guilt, anger, and sadness.
It was like watching an emotional kaleidoscope. Fascinating and slightly disturbing.
Minato wasn't much better. His expression was controlled—Hokage Face activated—but his emotions were a barely contained mess.
And most interesting: there were still no signs of Danzō's mind control.
Not in Minato. Not in Kushina. Not in Jiraiya, who stood near the wall, watching the meeting with a serious expression.
The chakra traces Nick had seen earlier—those subtle filaments that coiled around the tenketsu in their heads—had vanished.
As if they'd never existed.
Which raised interesting questions about what the hell Danzō had done.
Because it wasn't Kotoamatsukami. He was sure that jutsu was permanent and didn't leave its victims with vague memories and a sense of discomfort.
Besides, if Danzō really had Kotoamatsukami, why the hell would he be playing these political games? He'd hypnotize Minato to resign and appoint himself Hokage.
Or hypnotize Hiruzen to name him successor years ago.
No. This was something else.
Emotional manipulation, maybe. Temporary suggestion. Something that pushed victims in a certain direction but left them enough autonomy so they could—with effort—resist.
Which would explain why Minato hadn't handed Nick over to ROOT like Danzō wanted.
There was still room for the victim to make decisions. Only those decisions were… colored. Influenced.
Besides, Danzō had mentioned that was his last eye.
But Nick couldn't trust his words. Paranoia was a job requirement.
The meeting continued.
Eventually—inevitably—the topic turned to him.
And things got tense.
Minato stood up. Hokage Mode fully activated.
And proceeded to reveal a prophecy.
Emphasis on a.
Not the original version Jiraiya had brought.
A new version.
Edited. Condensed. Conveniently vague in the right details.
Minato's version said:
"Naruko and Mito are the Children of Prophecy. They'll save the shinobi world from a future threat. Naruto was… compromised during the sealing. He must be kept away from his sisters to prevent possible accidents." Short and sweet.
If Minato had revealed the complete prophecy, half the council would've demanded Nick's immediate execution. The other half would've demanded locking him in a seal for the rest of his life.
This version at least left room for… something.
Not much. But something.
The council, predictably, exploded.
The civilians started shouting about danger. About how they couldn't allow "that thing" to remain in the village. About how this was proof the Kyūbi should've been destroyed instead of sealed.
Mebuki Haruno was particularly vocal. Her voice rose above the rest, demanding "decisive action" and "protection for civilian families."
Nick mentally added her to his list of People to Screw Over Eventually.
It was a long list. He was fine with that.
The shinobi side was more calculating.
Some—mainly the minor clans—agreed with the civilians. Get rid of the problem before it became a bigger problem.
Others, like Fugaku and Shibi, remained silent. Watching. Waiting to see which way the political wind blew before committing.
And Danzō…
Danzō maintained his perfect poker face, but Nick could sense his emotions.
Anger. Frustration. Disgust.
The old man expected Minato to hand him directly to ROOT. To declare Nick too dangerous for the public environment and hide him in the shadows where Danzō could mold him into whatever he wanted.
But Minato didn't do that.
Instead, the Yondaime Hokage let the council shout and argue for almost a full hour.
Let them exhaust themselves. Say all their concerns, fears, and ridiculous demands.
And then, when the room finally calmed—everyone exhausted from their own indignation— Minato spoke.
His decision was simple:
Naruto Uzumaki would be sent to an orphanage.
Not to ROOT. Not to a secret prison. Not executed in a "tragic accident." An orphanage.
Any clan was strictly forbidden from attempting to claim, adopt, or interfere with his life.
Revealing his parentage—apparently the rumors about the new defective jinchūriki didn't include family details—or his jinchūriki status to younger generations was prohibited.
And anyone who tried to harm him would be treated as a traitor to the village and executed— this was Bad Tropes, he doubted they'd even inform him if something happened to him.
End of discussion.
The council wasn't happy—Danzō particularly looked like he'd bitten into a lemon—but they couldn't argue against the Hokage without seeming to openly challenge his authority.
And so, after four hours of shouting, veiled threats, and political posturing, Nick was handed to the silent ANBU who'd been present during the entire meeting.
Kushina looked devastated. Her emotions were a mess of guilt, self-directed anger, and a deep sadness that would probably haunt her for years.
Minato wasn't much better. His Hokage mask was cracking at the edges.
And Jiraiya stared at the floor, unable or unwilling to make eye contact with anyone.
This was a relief.
Because honestly, Nick had been preparing for the worst.
That old mummy had almost made him soil himself—again—with his little Sharingan trick.
But in the end, Minato had found a crack. A space to maneuver within whatever Danzō had planted in his mind.
And instead of handing Nick to ROOT, he sent him to the orphanage.
Which, being honest, was probably the best possible outcome.
And that brought them here.
The ANBU had carried him through Konoha's streets.
The journey was… revealing.
The destruction was worse than he'd anticipated. Entire buildings reduced to rubble. Streets where the pavement was destroyed, leaving only compacted earth and craters.
Bodies were still being recovered from the debris.
Civilians worked alongside shinobi, cleaning, rescuing, trying to rebuild some sense of normalcy.
And in the middle of all that, groups of children. Small. Scared. Many covered in bandages or in shock.
Orphans. Hundreds of them.
All courtesy of one hour of rampaging Kyūbi.
The ANBU brought him directly to this orphanage—one of several, but apparently the most "convenient" for his situation—and sought out the matron.
An older woman. Retired ex-chūnin apparently.
Gray hair. Wrinkled face. And eyes that looked at Nick with a barely disguised malice that would've been comical if not for the fact this woman literally had control over whether he ate or not.
The ANBU explained the situation. Briefly. Clinically.
Baby. Jinchūriki. Isolation necessary. Hokage's orders.
The matron nodded. Took Nick with hands that weren't exactly gentle.
And if the ANBU noticed the obvious hostility, she said nothing.
She vanished in a shunshin, leaving Nick in the hands of someone who would've preferred seeing him dead.
Fantastic.
The matron carried him through the orphanage—passing rooms full of children, some crying, others just staring into space—until reaching this section.
The east wing.
The part of the building that hadn't seen maintenance in decades.
She opened this room's door—which creaked in a way suggesting the hinges were about to give up—and without ceremony, deposited him in the crib.
"The Hokage said keep him alive," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "Didn't say anything about keeping him comfortable."
And with that, she left. Closed the door. And left Nick alone in this room that smelled of dampness and broken dreams.
…
Well.
Could've been worse, he told himself again.
At least he wasn't in ROOT. At least Danzō didn't have direct access to him. At least he had room to maneuver.
But for the love of—
Did the room have to stink this much?
Nick sighed. Mentally, because his baby lungs didn't cooperate with dramatic sighs.
This was life now. A decrepit room, a crib that was a safety hazard, and a matron who'd probably spit in his food if she had the chance.
Living the dream.
He lay there, staring at the moldy ceiling, processing everything that had happened in the last few hours.
Eventually, his eyes drifted toward the window.
Toward the tree outside.
Nick focused his vision.
Everything was in the intention, his powers were there, he just had to concentrate and he'd find them.
That's when his own chakra—the tiny spirals barely formed in his center—began to pulse.
Not much. Just a little. As if responding to his focus.
It felt… weird.
Not painful. But strange. Like something inside him that had been asleep suddenly remembered how to function.
The chakra moved. Slowly. Clumsily. Rising from his center toward his head.
And then…
Then he felt it.
Like someone had flipped a switch in his brain he didn't know existed.
Suddenly, the world felt… more. More present. More tangible. As if before he'd been looking at everything through fogged glass and now the glass had been cleaned.
He could feel the chakra. Not just see it with his eyes, but feel it.
The tree outside. The building around him. The small currents in the air.
Everything had chakra. Everything was connected.
And he…
He could touch it.
Nick focused his attention on a single leaf. One particular leaf on the branch closest to the window.
Green. Slightly withered at the edges. Hanging from a stem that was already weak. Perfect.
He concentrated every gram of his pathetic baby chakra reserves. Felt it move—painfully slow, like cold honey—from his center toward his head.
And murmured—more mentally than vocally, because his baby mouth could barely form coherent sounds:
"Blue."
Nothing.
Nothing happened.
The leaf kept hanging there, swaying slightly in the breeze, oblivious to his attempts at gravitational manipulation.
…Damn.
Nick forced more chakra. Pushed with everything he had—which wasn't much, even with his perks he'd barely been born recently, but damn if he wasn't going to try.
His head began to throb. A dull pain that promised to become a migraine if he continued.
His chakra coils protested, depleting at an alarming rate.
But he kept pushing.
Because giving up wasn't an option. Because he needed this to work. Because if he couldn't even pull a damn leaf from a tree, what hope did he have against everything else?
"Blue," he repeated, putting every gram of intention behind the word.
And then— Snap.
The leaf detached.
Not elegantly. Not with the precise control Blue would eventually have.
It simply… let go. As if the stem had finally surrendered to pressure.
And then it began to fall.
Nick could feel the pull—weak, pathetic, barely stronger than normal gravity—tugging the leaf toward him.
It wasn't control. It was more like… aggressive suggestion.
The leaf wobbled in the air, spinning erratically, losing altitude faster than the pull could compensate.
But it kept coming toward him.
Slowly. Painfully slow.
Like watching internet load on dial-up.
Seconds passed that felt like minutes. The leaf descended, spun, was caught by a small wind current, almost veered off completely—
And finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it landed on the crib's edge.
It perched there for a moment, swaying precariously.
And then fell inside, landing right beside his tiny hand.
Nick stared at it.
A leaf. A simple, stupid, withered tree leaf.
His head throbbed with an intensity suggesting his brain was seriously considering going on strike. Each pulse was like someone hammering the inside of his skull with a small but enthusiastic mallet.
His chakra coils were empty. He could feel them—or rather, feel the absence of energy in them. Like lungs after running a marathon, except the marathon had been pulling a leaf from a tree.
His entire body felt heavy. Exhausted. As if he'd been awake for days instead of minutes.
This was pathetic, he thought with the last spark of coherent consciousness he had left.
Totally and completely inefficient.
He'd used almost his entire chakra reserve to pull off a single leaf.
One. Leaf.
In Jujutsu Kaisen, Gojo could levitate while maintaining Infinity active 24/7 and still have energy left to fight Special Grades like it was nothing.
He could barely pull dead vegetation from a tree without almost passing out.
The difference was… humiliating.
But.
Nick looked at the leaf again.
Green in the center, brown at the edges. A small tear where the stem had detached. Insect marks on the surface.
Insignificant. Miserable. Barely worth mentioning.
And real.
A small smile—or the closest thing to a smile his baby face could produce—formed on his lips.
Because yes, it was pathetic.
Yes, it was inefficient.
Yes, he'd probably just used the equivalent of an A-rank jutsu's worth of resources to accomplish what an Academy kid could do with a kunai.
But it worked.
Blue had worked.
Not perfectly. Not efficiently. Not even particularly well.
But it had worked.
Which meant he was on the right path. When you're at rock bottom, the only way is up.
And if he could use Blue now, in this pathetic baby body with chakra reserves that barely qualified as existing…
What could he do once he grew up? Once his coils fully developed. Once he had years of training and practice.
Once he unlocked Red. Purple. Limitless in its entirety.
The smile widened slightly.
This was a start.
A miserable, pathetic start that would probably leave him with a headache for hours.
But a start nonetheless.
Nick let his eyes close. Exhaustion was catching up fast, pulling him toward unconsciousness with the subtlety of a freight train.
His last conscious image was of the leaf, still resting in the crib beside him.
Tangible proof this wasn't a dream. That his powers were real. That he had a chance.
That he was going to survive this world, become absurdly strong, and eventually… Eventually make everyone who screwed him over deeply regret their life choices.
But first.
First he needed a nap.
Because pulling leaves had left him wiped.
And as darkness claimed him, his last thought was:
Next time I'm going for a branch. Just to prove a point.
.................................................................................................................................................................................
Outside the room, in the East Wing hallway
The matron—a woman named Natsumi who'd served as a chūnin during the Second War before a leg injury ended her career—leaned against the wall near the door.
She hadn't gone in to check on the baby.
She didn't plan to unless necessary.
The Hokage's orders had been clear: keep him alive. Feed him. Make sure he didn't die.
They hadn't said anything about treating him well. About providing comfort. About acting like he was anything more than the walking bomb he was.
Her son had died during the Kyūbi's attack.
Her only son. A promising twenty-four-year-old chūnin who'd been helping with evacuation when one of the Bijū's tails reduced his building to rubble.
They found him two days later. Barely recognizable.
And now she was supposed to care for the vessel of the same beast that killed him.
The irony was almost comical.
Almost.
Natsumi looked toward the closed door, her expression hardening.
She'd keep him alive. Because those were the orders. Because defying the Hokage was treason.
But she didn't have to like it.
And she definitely didn't have to do more than the bare minimum required.
The brat would survive. But nothing more.
With that thought, she pushed off the wall and walked down the hallway, her uneven steps— courtesy of her injured leg—echoing in the old building's silence.
She had other children to supervise. Real children who deserved her attention.
The jinchūriki could wait.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[END OF CHAPTER 3]
Author’s Note:
It’s a real shame, isn’t it?
I made sure to clearly show what my plans were if the “Nick stays with the family” option had won—but RNJesus decided the MC should be thrown straight out onto the streets.
Luckily, one of the earlier rolls turned Danzo into an exaggeratedly evil Bad Trope, which gave me a reasonably solid excuse for the MC to be abandoned.