"Naruto hasn't gone out for half a month?"
Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Third Hokage, frowned deeply as he read the latest report from the Anbu Black Ops. His office, usually quiet with the rustle of papers and the occasional chirp of birds from the open window, now felt heavy with concern.
"Yes, Hokage-sama," the Anbu agent replied, kneeling before him. "He's locked himself in and barely responds to knocks or deliveries. We've been keeping watch—he hasn't left the premises."
Sarutobi set down his pipe, eyes darkening with worry. For a boy as young and energetic as Naruto, being isolated for so long could only mean something was wrong. And for him, the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki, it was even more troubling.
"This won't do," Sarutobi muttered under his breath. "Not at all."
He stood up, draped his Hokage cloak over his shoulders, and made his way to Naruto's apartment.
Knock knock.
The old wooden door creaked open to reveal a small, sweaty, and very flushed face.
"Grandpa Third Hokage!" Naruto beamed, wiping sweat from his brow.
The apartment looked like a storm had passed through it. The floor was scattered with towels, empty bowls, scribbled notes, and a very faint aroma of instant ramen.
Sarutobi blinked. "Naruto… what exactly have you been doing?"
"I've been training! Like a real ninja! I made a plan!" Naruto said proudly, puffing out his chest. "Look!"
He darted over to the table and held up a sheet of crumpled paper, waving it around like a prized possession.
Sarutobi took it and adjusted his glasses. In large, messy handwriting, it read:
100 push-ups
100 sit-ups
100 squats
10 km run
Every. Single. Day.
"Huh…" Sarutobi muttered. "Quite the program."
"I call it the Saitama Training Method!" Naruto grinned. "Super strong! Super invincible!"
Though he didn't understand the name reference, Sarutobi couldn't help but smile. The training seemed absurdly intense for a three-year-old, yet Naruto's spirit was shining brighter than ever. More than anything, the Third Hokage was relieved. Naruto wasn't crushed or defeated—he was trying to rise.
"Well then," Sarutobi said warmly, ruffling Naruto's hair, "that's quite the training plan. I'm proud of you, Naruto. Keep working hard, and you'll grow strong, I'm sure of it."
Naruto's eyes sparkled at the praise.
"Grandpa Third, can I ask you for something?"
"Of course."
"Can you teach me the Transformation Technique? I figured if I can transform into someone else, people won't look at me like I'm a monster anymore. I just… I want to buy stuff without being chased out."
Sarutobi's smile wavered for a second. He saw right through the hopeful tone and into the pain underneath. Naruto's bright blue eyes—eyes so much like his father's—were filled with desperation.
After a moment of silence, he nodded.
"I'll have someone deliver you the chakra control scroll and the Three Basic Ninjutsu scrolls. You can start learning them."
Naruto jumped in joy, yelling, "Yes! Thank you, Grandpa Third!"
Sarutobi left, heart heavy and light all at once.
After the Hokage left, Naruto looked down at the small statue hanging from his neck. It was a sapphire-blue idol, no taller than his pinky, and polished to a glowing sheen. It looked like nothing special—but to Naruto, it was his treasure.
The Wishing Statue.
It had appeared the morning after the worst day of his life. A day when the villagers had nearly torn him apart with words and stones. But that night, he dreamed of someone—an invisible figure—learning, training, growing. He experienced endless scenes of battle, practice, books, scrolls, techniques, and wisdom.
And when he awoke, the statue was there.
Somehow, it answered wishes.
Naruto had tested it. A scraped knee healed overnight. A nasty bruise vanished by morning. Even his fever went away after whispering a wish.
It wasn't perfect. Sometimes the wish didn't fully come true. But to Naruto, even a little miracle was everything.
He clutched it now, his fingers warm against the cool surface.
"I wish… I wish I had a training plan that could make me stronger than anyone… strong enough that no one will ever bully me again. I want them to respect me. I want to be their light!"
The statue glowed faintly.
When Naruto opened his eyes, the training plan had appeared on his desk. Neatly written. Bold and simple.
Saitama Training Method.
The first few days were the hardest.
Push-ups made his arms shake like jelly. Sit-ups left his stomach screaming. Squats made his legs feel like logs. And the ten-kilometer run? He collapsed halfway through the first time and had to crawl back home.
But he didn't stop.
"I'm Uzumaki Naruto! I'm gonna be Hokage someday!"
By the third day, Naruto's body was sore all over. Even lifting his chopsticks was a battle. His lips were dry, his hair messy, his face constantly red from exhaustion.
Still, every morning, he'd whisper a wish to the statue:
"I wish for strength…"
"I wish to recover faster…"
"I wish for less soreness…"
And every morning, his body felt a little better.
On the fourth morning, he woke up to find a tiny crimson vial sitting next to his pillow. A potion, glowing with a soft internal light. It had a small tag: Specialist Recovery.
He gulped it down without hesitation. The pain in his limbs vanished like mist under the sun.
His eyes widened. "This thing is awesome!"
That day, he doubled his effort.
Naruto's routine became legendary—at least among the Anbu assigned to watch over him.
"He's insane," one Anbu whispered to his partner, hidden in a tree. "He's only three. Three! And he's doing more training than most genin."
"He passed out running yesterday," another said. "And when he woke up, he apologized to himself for not pushing harder."
Day by day, Naruto's endurance grew.
Where before he collapsed after forty push-ups, now he could push to eighty. He still struggled with the full hundred, but he refused to stop.
He ran through the village each morning, his tiny legs pumping, arms swinging wildly. Sweat poured off him, but his eyes never dimmed.
Villagers stared.
Some mocked.
"Look at the demon fox pretending to be a ninja."
"What a joke…"
But others just watched in silence. Some even began to see something in him—something familiar. A spark of determination, maybe. A kind of unyielding drive that reminded them of a certain yellow-haired hero from years ago.
At night, Naruto collapsed into bed, body aching.
He whispered toward the statue again.
"I wish… tomorrow I can do a full hundred push-ups without crying."
The statue shimmered softly, like it heard him.
"Someday," Naruto mumbled as his eyes drooped, "I'll be strong enough to protect this village… even if they hate me…"
Sarutobi Hiruzen received another report three days later.
"Status update on Naruto Uzumaki."
"Go ahead," the Hokage said.
The Anbu hesitated. "He's… still training. Harder than ever. We're a little concerned. His body can't take this kind of pressure for too long. He's just a child."
Sarutobi sighed. "But he's not just a child. He's Naruto."
One week later, Naruto stood at the edge of the forest behind the academy.
The sun was high, and his clothes were soaked with sweat.
"One hundred push-ups—done."
"One hundred sit-ups—done."
"One hundred squats—done."
"Ten kilometers—done."
He raised his arms in triumph, wobbling.
"I did it! I really did it!"
Suddenly, his legs buckled. He collapsed with a heavy thud, but his smile didn't fade.
"I'm getting stronger," he whispered. "Bit by bit. They'll all see one day."
Above him, the clouds drifted slowly. The wind rustled the leaves.
A whisper echoed in his mind:
"Tian Xingjian, the gentleman is self-improving. The terrain is Kun, the gentleman carries things with great virtue…"
Words he didn't fully understand, yet felt deep in his soul.
A promise.
A path.
A destiny.
Back at home that night, Naruto cleaned up, drank another strange potion from the statue, and wrote in a little notebook he'd started keeping:
Day 12:
Did all of it. Barely made it.
Felt good.
Villagers still mean. Don't care.
Someday… I'll be Hokage.
Believe it.