Chapter One: So Long, Konoha – Hello, Weird Monster Land
You know that feeling when your best friend turns into a power-hungry emo, joins a snake man with a tongue problem, and then your godfather drags you on a three-year field trip across the world? Yeah. Welcome to my life.
I'm Naruto Uzumaki. Thirteen. Loud. Hungry. Hero-in-progress. And apparently, a magnet for homicidal freaks who want to suck a monster out of my belly.
I should probably explain.
So, like, five days ago, I tried to stop my best friend Sasuke from leaving the village. Keyword: tried. He knocked me out after our epic battle at the Valley of the End—real dramatic, lots of screaming and punching and emotional flashbacks—and now he's off to train under the creepiest snake ninja in existence.
And me? I'm about to get on a boat to a whole other continent. Why? Because my new sensei, the famous Sannin Jiraiya, thinks it'll be safer that way.
"This continent's too hot right now," he said. "Too many bad guys sniffing around for tailed beasts like you. We need to go off-grid."
Off-grid apparently means across the ocean to a place where, rumor has it, monsters roam wild and free and people don't use chakra. Which sounds insane—but also kind of cool.
We were walking the forest road to the Land of Waves when Jiraiya looked over and caught me sulking.
"You'll snap your lips off if you keep pouting like that," Jiraiya said, not even looking at me. He just walked ahead like he was some wise old monk from a drama flick, minus the part where monks aren't perverts.
I scowled. "I'm not pouting."
"Sure. And I'm not the strongest, handsomest man in the world."
"You're definitely not."
He barked a laugh.
Truth was, I was pouting. Not just because I missed home, but because I felt… unfinished. Like the ramen I didn't get to slurp before leaving. I hadn't brought Sasuke back. I hadn't become strong enough. And now I was headed off to some monster-infested, chakra-less land like a runaway genin.
I didn't even get a farewell party.
Jiraiya looked back over his shoulder. "You're thinking about him again, huh? Sasuke?"
My fists clenched. "I could've stopped him. If I was just a little stronger—"
"Nope," he interrupted. "Wrong attitude. You will get stronger. That's why we're out here. And believe it or not, I actually came prepared."
He pulled out a scroll from his massive sleeve and twirled it like a baton.
"I'm not starting you on elemental ninjutsu yet," he said. "Your chakra control's still all over the place. Trying to teach you wind-style would be like handing a bazooka to a toddler."
"Wait—what's a bazooka?"
"Exactly. Instead," he continued, "I'm teaching you Clone Explosion Jutsu."
I blinked. "Clone… explosion?"
"You make a Shadow Clone, it walks up to your enemy, and boom." He clapped his hands loudly. A few birds flapped out of a nearby tree, offended.
My eyes widened. "That's—awesome! I've got clones down already!"
"Yeah, and that's why this is perfect. It builds on what you know and forces you to learn precision chakra control. No more flinging clones around like confetti."
I nodded fast. "Okay! But if you don't teach me after this, I am running home. I'll get a frog to carry me!"
He smirked. "Noted. Now shut up and walk faster. We've got two more days till we reach the Land of Waves, and I want to see at least three chakra-bursting accidents from you by then."
That night, while we camped under the stars, I started practicing the jutsu. The forest echoed with mini explosions, curses, and Jiraiya yelling things like "No! The clone, not the log!" and "How are you still alive?!"
But for the first time since leaving Konoha, I wasn't thinking about goodbyes or Sasuke's back turning away. I was thinking about moving forward.
Even if that forward included monster-filled lands, clone shrapnel, and my weirdo mentor's advice.
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By the time we reached the Land of Waves, I had officially discovered something better than ramen.
Explosions.
I mean, sure, ramen's great, but ramen doesn't level buildings. My clones used to be these cute distractions that poofed after one punch. Now? They were walking bombs. Literal Naruto-shaped grenades with attitude problems.
"Kid," Jiraiya had said back on the trail, brushing soot off his sleeve, "try to not blow up the training field this time."
Spoiler: I blew it up.
But Jiraiya didn't get mad. In fact, he smiled like a proud parent watching his kid nuke a sandcastle.
That man might be the most terrifying teacher I've ever had.
He even got hands-on with it—literally. At one point, he stood behind me, pressed his fingers against my back, and guided my chakra flow like I was some kind of living puzzle box.
"Focus here. Feel that? That's the threshold. Too much, and you'll explode before the clone does. Too little, and your clone will just burp smoke."
I still wasn't sure how I felt about the whole "exploding-yourself-by-accident" thing, but I was sure about one thing:
This was awesome.
By the third day, I could make a clone explode hard enough to knock down a stone wall. With better control, Jiraiya said I could probably take out a city block.
"Don't actually do that, though," he added quickly.
So yeah, I was feeling good when we finally stepped into the misty harbor town of the Land of Waves.
And then I saw him.
"Inari?!"
The boy spun, his eyes wide—and then that familiar too-grown-up-for-his-age grin spread across his face.
"Naruto?!"
We collided in the middle of the dock like a couple of boars headbutting. He was taller now, wearing a proper toolbelt and looking more like a mini-construction worker than the sad kid I remembered. But he was still Inari. Still family.
Behind him was old man Tazuna, who blinked like I was a ghost.
"By the Sage! You're alive! And—taller!"
"Believe it!" I beamed.
Jiraiya trailed behind, scratching his chin. "Friends of yours?"
"Yeah!" I said. "This is the family I helped save back when Zabuza tried to murder us with a giant sword! Y'know, good times."
Jiraiya muttered something about "Kakashi's weird missions," but didn't question it.
The reunion was fast but warm. Tazuna insisted we stay the night, and Inari practically dragged me by the arm to show me all the "cool stuff" he'd been working on—blueprints, a finished bridge, even a mini catapult (don't ask).
Dinner was loud, happy, and full of people who remembered the lonely orphan ninja who once stood up to danger when everyone else was afraid.
For the first time in weeks, I felt like a hero again.
And that was before the next morning, when I saw the ship Jiraiya had hired.
It was big. It was creaky. And it had a captain who looked like he'd rather wrestle a sea king than carry ninja across the ocean.
"Monsters?" the captain muttered as he loaded supplies. "You mean the continent with walking lightning rats and fire-breathing lizards? You sure you want to go there?"
Jiraiya just grinned. "Kid loves danger. And I like research."
I blinked. "Wait, fire-breathing what now?"
Captain shrugged. "I just steer the boat."
I stared at the distant horizon.
This was gonna be a wild three years.
You'd think a sea voyage would be relaxing.
You'd be wrong.
The moment we set sail from the Land of Waves, Jiraiya turned from "fun pervy uncle" to "ancient war immortal with a clipboard." And that clipboard had one goal:
Turn me into a beast.
"This is our chance, Naruto," he said, while I was hanging upside down from the ship's mast with chakra glued to my feet. "No distractions. Just water, sky, and the sound of your own screaming."
Comforting.
The training schedule was a nightmare designed by a madman. And the madman was also my sensei.
Apparently, walking on water was beginner stuff. Try doing karate on it while tied to a boulder with exploding clones throwing punches at you. That was level two.
"Sleep hanging from the side of the ship," Jiraiya ordered. "Build awareness."
I protested. The ocean protested harder with a wave to the face at 3 a.m. on night one.
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You'd think I'd mastered substitution already.
You'd be wrong again.
Jiraiya made me use it against flying fish attacks and surprise kicks. "Do it faster. Again. Again. AGAIN."
Also, chakra-enhancing my punches made them strong enough to shatter boulders—so the fish attacks got... messy.
Transformation jutsu? I had to hold it for an hour while reciting the multiplication tables. I now know exactly how many times 7 goes into 49 while looking like an old lady.
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Jiraiya didn't just spar—he tag-teamed with clones. I had to fight off three of him while wearing weights that made me feel like a meatball in concrete shoes.
He taught me the basics of:
Karate – "Discipline your strikes!"
Muay Thai – "Use your elbows, Naruto!"
Judo – "Flip them with love!"
Taekwondo – "The higher the kick, the more impressive you look!"
Grappling – "Yes, you can choke someone with your legs!"
At some point, I stopped feeling pain and just started hearing boss music in the background.
Weapons Training: Because Flying Chains Are Cool
"Kunai are your bread and butter," Jiraiya said, handing me six of them.
I nodded.
"And this," he added, pulling out a chain with a spearhead, "is dessert."
Turns out Uzumaki used these in the old days, and Jiraiya wanted me to master it.
I had to twirl it, throw it, recall it with chakra—and one day, I'd learn to float it with my mind. That sounded awesome.
Except right now, it just kept wrapping around my legs and dunking me into the ocean.
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"You can't cast 'em," Jiraiya said, "but you can break them."
So every evening, he'd trap me in illusions of me losing my ramen, falling into a pit, or watching Sasuke do his smug smirk dance.
Trauma? Sure.
But I got good at snapping out of them.
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Calligraphy practice? Let's just say my hands cramped more than a Genin on their first mission.
Still, I learned how to write:
Explosion Seals (because more explosions!)
Storage Seals (for snacks!)
Weight Seals (Jiraiya's weighed like anvils in his)
I had to master writing the characters over and over until they were perfect. "Uzumaki seals," Jiraiya said, "are a family art. You'll make your mom proud one day."
I blinked at that.
He didn't explain.
I didn't ask.
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Jiraiya slapped bracelets on my wrists and ankles. Each one added weight like they were cursed by gravity immortals.
"Two hundred kilos without chakra. One tonne with," he grinned.
I nearly sank through the floorboards.
But after a week, I was doing pushups on the ocean with them.
By the end of the month, I could bench-press despair.
So yeah, by the time land appeared on the horizon—a jagged green continent full of mystery, magic, and supposedly monsters—I wasn't just Naruto anymore.
I was Naruto 2.0: Exploding Clone Edition.
I didn't know what waited for us on that foreign land.
But I did know one thing.
I was ready to punch it in the face.
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The thing about ninja is, we don't really do subtle.
Case in point: we were sailing toward a foreign continent to avoid world-ending criminals, carrying a teenage time bomb with anger issues and more chakra than sense (me), guided by a toad sage who thinks "subtlety" is just another word for "don't peep too loud" (Jiraiya).
So when the boat creaked over the crest of a wave and the horizon exploded with colors and creatures straight out of a fever dream, my brain short-circuited.
"Hey, Ero-Sennin… I think the sea's broken."
Jiraiya squinted ahead. "That, kid, is Kanto."
He said it like that explained everything. As if it wasn't completely normal for giant orange sea dragons, blue floating jellyfish, and literal sky snakes to be flapping around like it was just another Tuesday.
"What are those things?" I pointed at a sparkling red fish bouncing out of the water like it had somewhere to be.
"That's a Magikarp. Useless."
A split second later, a giant serpent erupted from the ocean like it heard him.
"GYAAARRRRAAAA!"
I screamed. I'm not ashamed of that. Have you ever had a skyscraper-sized murder eel roar in your face?
"Okay," I wheezed, gripping the rail. "Definitely not useless."
"That's Gyarados," Jiraiya said like he was talking about the weather. "You don't want to fight one of those without a plan. Or a summon. Or five."
And then—because my sanity hadn't been abused enough—some guy rode that Gyarados like it was a surfboard. He was even smiling.
"Are these… summons?" I asked, wide-eyed.
"Not quite. They're Pokémon. Bonded partners. They grow with their trainers."
A bird the size of a house soared past us then—feathers glistening gold, its tail trailing sparks. A Pidgeot, Jiraiya said. Flying-type. Casual as ever.
Meanwhile, I was having a quiet mental breakdown.
Because this was not the Elemental Nations. This was some bizarre alternate universe where people befriended monsters instead of flinging kunai at each other.
"Why don't we have stuff like this back home?" I asked.
"We did," Jiraiya said. "A long time ago. Before shinobi wars made the creatures avoid us. We ruined the peace. They stayed here."
I looked around at the sea serpents, fire birds, and bubble-blasting octopuses and felt very small. Like I'd stepped into one of those bedtime stories Old Man Hiruzen used to tell. Only this one had a high chance of me being eaten.
A flock of bird Pokémon flew overhead—Pidgey, Spearow, and one angry-looking thing Jiraiya called Fearow. Trainers clung to their backs like it was normal.
I turned to Jiraiya. "Are they going to attack us?"
"No," he said. "Unless you challenge them to a battle."
"Do I have to throw a kunai or something?"
Jiraiya smirked. "They use Pokéballs. You'll see."
Great. Magic orbs, monster pets, and no user manual. At least the ramen couldn't be that different, right?
We finally pulled into Vermilion Port, where the docks were swarming with humans and Pokémon alike. A giant crab was hauling cargo. A pink puffball was humming to itself. Some yellow rat-looking thing with red cheeks zipped past, leaving a trail of sparks.
I turned back to Jiraiya. "Are you sure this isn't a genjutsu?"
"If it is," he said, patting my head, "it's a very expensive one."
Honestly, I didn't care. I wanted one of those monster things. I wanted to fly, swim, throw lightning, or maybe just hug that sleepy turtle on the pier.
One thing was clear: the Elemental Nations had been holding out on me.
And I was about to make Kanto regret letting me in.