Chapter 7: The Scripted Trial
The lack of any substantial defense around the building was, in itself, a glaring message. Naruto slipped past the token perimeter with ease, his movements a blend of the stealth he'd practiced and the sheer, obvious invitation of the setup. Inside the sparse, single-room structure, his suspicions were confirmed. There, on a simple wooden dais under a beam of moonlight, lay the legendary Scroll of Seals. It was almost theatrically placed.
A trap so transparent it's insulting, he thought, a wry smile touching his lips. Only the Third Hokage would orchestrate something this blatant. He's not just allowing this; he's staging it. The old man was using Mizuki's treachery as a vector, creating a scenario where Naruto could "steal" a technique uniquely suited to him, under the guise of desperation and manipulation. It was a test, a gift, and a lesson in village politics, all rolled into one.
Hefting the surprisingly weighty scroll, he moved. He didn't flee into the deep wilderness. He went to the designated meeting spot in the forest outside the village, a place easily monitored. If he was being watched—and he was certain he was, by the Hokage's crystal ball—he needed to play his part convincingly. Dashing off to some secret nook to study would break the script and raise uncomfortable questions about his foresight.
In the moon-dappled clearing, he unfastened the scroll. The complex seal on its clasp should have been impenetrable to an academy student. It yielded to his touch without resistance. Definitely a setup.
Then I'll play my role, he resolved, unrolling the thick parchment.
The first technique inscribed was exactly as he'd anticipated: the Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu. The forbidden art that divided the user's chakra into hundreds of tangible copies, a technique that would kill anyone without monstrous reserves. His heart beat faster. This was the key, the exponential multiplier for training and combat he had been waiting for. He committed the intricate hand seals and the precise chakra circulation patterns to memory with intense focus, etching them into his mind.
Eagerly, he unrolled the scroll further, expecting a treasury of Konoha's forbidden lore. What he saw next sent a cold trickle of understanding down his spine.
The rest of the scroll was not filled with legendary kinjutsu. Instead, it contained dense, philosophical tracts on the Will of Fire, historical treatises on clan cooperation, and complex sealing theory paragraphs that led to no practical technique. There were no other ninjutsu. Not a single elemental release. The entire, revered Scroll of Seals, in this instance, contained only one actual technique: the Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu.
That cunning old fox! The realization was both frustrating and impressive. Sarutobi Hiruzen had anticipated everything. He knew Mizuki would target Naruto. He knew the Nine-Tails' chakra would make Naruto the only viable candidate for this specific forbidden technique. He had prepared a "Scroll of Seals" that was, for Naruto tonight, a single-purpose gift wrapped in village legend. The Third was not just letting him cheat; he was personally curating the cheat, while maintaining deniability and observing his every reaction.
A surge of rebellious irritation rose in Naruto's chest. This feeling of being a pawn on someone else's board, his path meticulously arranged by a benevolent but controlling hand, grated against his independent spirit. He was a transplant, a soul used to self-determination. Yet, the cold, rational part of his mind acknowledged the reality. He was an eleven-year-old Jinchuriki with hidden strength but no political power. To defy the Hokage's unseen guidance now would be foolish. For the moment, playing along was the smartest move. Low profile. Follow the script.
With a quiet sigh, he tossed the scroll aside, a deliberate show of frustration for any unseen watchers. He sat cross-legged on the forest floor, closed his eyes, and focused inward. The theory of the Multiple Shadow Clone was an advanced extension of the standard Shadow Clone he'd mastered. The principle was identical—perfect chakra division and physical manifestation—just on a catastrophic scale. His years of obsessive chakra control practice, the foundation he'd built brick by brick, now provided the stable platform for this leap.
He ran through the hand seals: Ram, Boar, Tiger, Dog, Bird, Monkey, Ram again—a longer, more complex sequence than the standard clone. He focused on the immense reservoir within, not prying at the cage, but drawing from the vast sea of his own natural chakra that swirled ahead of it.
"Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
Poof! Poof! Poof! Poof! Poof!
The air around him erupted in successive clouds of white smoke. Not three, not five. Dozens. Over twenty identical Narutos stood in the clearing, stretching, looking around, each a perfect physical copy. The sensory feedback was immediate and staggering—a sudden, dizzying influx of multiple perspectives, sounds, and sensations flooding his main consciousness. It was overwhelming, like hearing a deafening chorus all at once. He gritted his teeth, applying the mental discipline he'd cultivated, forcing the torrent of information into a manageable stream.
In the Hokage's office, viewed through the crystal ball, the collective intake of breath was audible. Elite jonin and council members watched, their earlier anger now replaced by stunned disbelief. The Forbidden Technique, the one that demanded chakra levels beyond normal human limits, had been performed on the first attempt by the boy they'd just condemned.
"He… he formed that many? On his first try?"
"That's Konoha's Forbidden Jutsu! The chakra cost…"
"Uzumaki Naruto… what is he?"
Even the Third Hokage, who had orchestrated this, allowed a flicker of genuine astonishment to show on his weathered face before it was hidden behind a puff of smoke. The boy's aptitude was exceeding even his optimistic expectations.
Iruka, who had been pleading Naruto's case, stared, his mouth agape. Then, a fierce, proud smile broke through his worry. That's my student!
"Enough," the Third said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Iruka. Bring them back. It is time to end this farce."
Back in the forest, Naruto dispelled the clones in a single, concussive puff of smoke, the backflow of their experiences and minor fatigue settling into him. He took a deep, steadying breath. The technique was his.
It was then that Mizuki arrived, not as a conspirator, but as a predator revealing his trap. His friendly mask was gone, replaced by a sneer of triumphant malice.
"Did you enjoy your little lesson, monster?" Mizuki taunted, his voice dripping with venom. "It's a pity you won't get to use it. You see, you were never meant to graduate. You're not even a real person. You're the container! The Nine-Tailed Demon Fox that destroyed the village! The reason everyone's parents are dead! You're the monster they all hate!"
The words were meant to shatter. Naruto, however, didn't need to feign a reaction. A cold, detached part of him analyzed the rhetoric, but the body he inhabited, the memories etched into its very cells, resonated with a pain that was not his own, yet was. He let his head hang, his blond hair shadowing his eyes, playing the part of the broken, revealed outcast.
Mizuki reveled in the perceived victory. "Now, you've served your purpose. Time for the fox to return to hell!" With a grunt of effort, he hurled a giant, multi-bladed shuriken—the Fuma Shuriken—its edges glinting lethally in the moonlight as it spiraled toward Naruto with a keening whistle.
Now, Naruto thought, for the emotional climax.
As calculated, a figure burst from the treeline. Iruka, his face a mask of desperate determination, placed himself squarely between the whirling blades and Naruto.
THUNK-SHICK!
The sound was sickening. The shuriken embedded itself deep in Iruka's back, between his shoulder blades. He staggered but didn't fall, blood already darkening his flak jacket. He ignored the wound, turning his head to look at Naruto, his eyes fierce with unwavering conviction.
"DON'T LISTEN TO HIM, NARUTO!" Iruka roared, his voice strained with pain but thunderous with emotion. "You are NOT a monster! You are Uzumaki Naruto! You are my precious student! My friend!"
Mizuki snarled, drawing several kunai. "Sentimental fool! Die with your precious monster, then!"
The kunai flew, aimed to finish the job. Iruka, blood loss sapping his strength, could only twist, trying to shield Naruto completely with his body.
In that moment, watching this man willingly sacrifice himself based on a lie Mizuki told but a deeper truth he felt, Naruto's calculated detachment dissolved. A raw, genuine warmth surged through him, burning away the last of the script. In this world of shadows and lies, Iruka's protection was brutally, beautifully real.
I am not alone.
His head snapped up. The feigned despair was gone, replaced by a piercing, electric calm. His blue eyes tracked the incoming kunai with preternatural clarity.
Swish!
He moved. Not with the explosive, ragged speed of a desperate boy, but with the smooth, efficient motion of a trained fighter. He was suddenly in front of Iruka, a kunai seemingly appearing in his own hand from his pouch. His arm became a blur.
Ting! Ting! Ting!
Three precise, sharp chimes rang out in the night. The thrown kunai were deflected, knocked aside to stick harmlessly into the surrounding trees.
Naruto stood protectively before his wounded teacher, his stance grounded, his gaze now locked on a stunned Mizuki. The act was over. The pretense of weakness was shed. The moonlight gleamed on the Konoha forehead protector he didn't yet officially own, and in his eyes, a new, unscripted fire had been lit.
"You're wrong about one thing, Mizuki-sensei," Naruto said, his voice quiet but carrying an iron weight that hadn't been there before. "He's not the one who's going to die tonight."