The old man might've been happy, but he was still endlessly busy.
As for Naruto, even though his system had given him an absurd SSR subordinate like Yakushi Kabuto when he signed in that morning, the exhaustion from last night's grind and the excitement of the morning had drained him dry. Once the rush faded, he slumped back into his usual state of gloom.
He wanted nothing more than to take a nap, but time was already ticking. With no choice, he splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, and headed for school. Today was the day of class assignments.
Not that there was any suspense. He already knew how the teams would be split. His squadmates would be Sasuke Uchiha and Sakura Haruno, under the command of none other than Hatake Kakashi.
Yes, that Kakashi—the Copy Ninja, wielder of the Sharingan, a man said to fight at the level of whoever stood in front of him. Against weaklings, he was unimpressive; against monsters, he could turn into one himself. His strength was unpredictable, a bottomless well. Son of Hatake Sakumo, Konoha's White Fang, Kakashi was a living legend.
If this had been the old Naruto, he would've been over the moon at being on the same team as Sakura. But now? Nothing. Not a flicker. What was the point? Sakura was nothing but a shallow, lovestruck "green tea" girl, the kind who would gladly let Naruto die if it meant protecting Sasuke.
Every time he remembered Sakura begging Naruto to bring back that traitor, Sasuke, no matter the cost, he'd wanted to throw something at the TV. What the hell? You're asking him to risk his life just to bring back your crush?
Shameless. Absolutely shameless.
Naruto clenched his fists. No—since he had crossed into this world, he would never again live like the "good boy" of society, begging for scraps of approval. From here on out, he would walk the path of kingship. He would become the ruler of the shinobi world.
But for now… the king needed clothes. Because clothes made the man, and the man must keep his dignity.
Truth be told, Naruto wasn't bad-looking at all. He didn't act smug like Sasuke, nor did he have his airs. Cleaned up properly, Naruto could rival Sasuke—and maybe even outshine him. His foundation was solid; after all, his father, the Fourth Hokage Minato Namikaze, wasn't just a genius in ninjutsu—he was also infuriatingly handsome. Naruto had inherited plenty of those good genes.
Don't laugh, brothers. It's like when you see Hu Ge's official photos versus the ones he posts himself. You'd swear they were two different people. But no—they're the same guy. Facts don't care if you believe them.
Naruto's first stop was a children's clothing store. He should've been shopping in the adult section at his age, but reality hit hard: his wallet was thin. He could barely afford food, let alone clothes. Often he had to starve one meal just to gorge at the next, leaving him stunted and malnourished. Children's clothing was all he could manage.
The morning streets were mostly empty, just a few shinobi rushing about—likely on missions or returning from them.
After checking multiple shops, Naruto finally found clothes he liked.
"Boss, how much for this?" he asked.
The shopkeeper, a chubby middle-aged man, waddled out from the back with a smile. The first customer of the day always had to be welcomed warmly.
But the instant he saw Naruto—Konoha's "demon fox"—the smile vanished. His face twisted with disgust. Snatching the clothes from Naruto's hands, he scrubbed at them as though tainted, sneering as though he'd just touched filth.
"I don't sell to you."
Naruto's eyes narrowed. "The hell? You were grinning a second ago, and now you're acting like you swallowed something rotten? What's your problem?"
"My problem is you!" the man spat. "This is my store. I sell to who I want, and I don't sell to who I don't! Especially not to you, you demon fox brat. Selling to you would be a curse—I'd rather burn my stock!"
"Fuck you!" Naruto snapped. "I'm taking it today whether you like it or not! Here's one tael. No need for change."
Slamming the coin onto the counter, Naruto grabbed the clothes and turned to leave.
The shopkeeper roared, "Robbery, is it? That's one hundred taels, you little bastard! You think you can walk away with one measly tael?!"
He snatched up a clothes pole and swung it at Naruto's head.
"If Heaven does evil, it can be forgiven. But if man brings disaster upon himself—he won't live to regret it!"
With a bang, two shadow clones appeared instantly. One caught the pole mid-swing, while the other planted a solid kick to the fat man's chest.
The shopkeeper, all two hundred kilos of him, flew like a cannonball, crashing through racks and shelves before slamming into the back wall.
His scream echoed down the street, drawing attention. Passersby crowded around, muttering.
There stood Naruto at the shop's entrance, while the groans from the back left no doubt—the store owner had been beaten, and by none other than the "demon fox" himself.
"Did you hear that? He attacked a villager!" someone shouted.
"Kill him!" another cried. "Kill the demon fox before he brings more disaster on Konoha!"
But Naruto was not the same boy they used to bully and scorn. Surrounded by an angry mob, he didn't panic. He stood tall, calm as could be, carefully folding the clothes he had just "purchased" with his single tael.
The crowd gawked as Naruto, the so-called "demon fox brat," ignored their shouts and calmly began changing clothes right there in the street. Their anger spiked instantly. This kid's gone mad! Who does he think he is?!
But the moment he tied on the Konoha forehead protector and adjusted the cloak, the jeers faltered. A strange murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Wait… doesn't he look like someone?"
"Yeah… I can't put my finger on it, but he definitely resembles somebody important."
"Look at that cloak. That style—it feels familiar, but I just can't place it…"
Naruto stood tall, the headband gleaming on his brow. For the first time, the villagers caught a glimpse of something beneath their hatred. Maybe it was the cut of his jaw, maybe the fire in his eyes, but suddenly the "demon fox boy" didn't look so despised. He looked… striking.
Meanwhile, the fat shopkeeper wasn't faring nearly as well. Naruto's kick had been merciless. The man had tried to cave in Naruto's skull with a pole—Naruto had returned the favor by driving a boot into his chest.
The once-boisterous boss, who had been screaming at the top of his lungs, now lay collapsed in the back room, groaning weakly. His body was hidden from sight, but his pained cries echoed out, raw and pitiful.
One brave soul rushed inside to check. Moments later, he staggered back out, face pale.
"He… he can't move. Looks like a bone's broken. Every time he tries to shift, he screams bloody murder."
"Get a doctor! Quickly!" someone shouted.