Train. Eat. Repeat. (A Naruto Fanfic)

Nohara-sensei was angry.

Not at his annoying student's newfound ability to use elemental transformation. No, that lessened his workload for the coming weeks. He'd be more appreciative if the menace tutored the other two anomalies into using the technique as well.

His displeasure stemmed from ANBU. More specifically the ones monitoring his youngest genin. With their prying eyes, information made it back to Sandaime-sama before he had the opportunity to mediate.

Shinobi were a suspicious bunch. No matter how vague something came across. They'd always look for a deeper meaning. For them. Nothing was as it seemed. Everyone and everything were a potential threat. It was why they had ANBU in the first place.

Most shinobi thought the group was there to protect the red hat. Which was, for the most part, incorrect. The Hokage was the strongest in the village. Someone fully capable of defending themselves against several attackers. The ANBU were actually there to act as an extension of the Hokage. The main form of security and surveillance on everything going on around the continent. That included stalking their own comrades. The unemotional shinobi in the animal masks were, by all reports, the best at espionage. And to a greater extent assassination.

Konoha's personal assassin's guild had a type. So, you could probably make an intelligent guess as to who was behind the mask. But no one truly knew the shinobi that were a part of the special unit. So much so, that there were rumors that the members only knew each other by codename. A rumor that was shamelessly passed off as common knowledge. Nohara-sensei wasn't privy to all the details involving the group. He was a family man by the time the red hat's advisors developed ANBU.

They weren't governed by the same rules as the majority and were often tasked with spying on their friends and family. Waiting to have them beheaded by a single command. The Land of Fire had a relatively high standard of living and wasn't a place that drove people to missing-nin. But if they did try to flee village security. There was no one who could breach the borders without facing a hoard of black and grey. Anyone aspiring to escape, would have to fight off people who didn't care for their own lives.

If you got out alive then you earned it.

Since the groups formation there were only two deserters. Both happened to be of the Sannin.

Sending shinobi to stop them was a waste of resources. Most opponents couldn't do anything but slow them down. There was a better chance of sitting around and waiting for them to kick the bucket. And these two "spoiled" adults. Went about taking extreme measures to avoid ageing.

Though ANBU had the morality of a rabid monkey, if Konoha needed something done. Then she could depend on the tanto wielding army within her army. A unit cut off from the rest for how socially inept they were. A group of arrogant children. Steel pipes so far up their asses, you could smell the rust on their breath. A unit too strict to break even the more obscure of protocol.

Due to ANBU intervention. Said protocol made it mandatory for him to file four reports about this incident.

The first of the four. A verbal recount in the presence of the Hokage. That was standard procedure. So, he didn't mind. He'd probably wind up including it in his end of week report anyway.

The meeting went by as it usually did. The only difference was that old man Hiruzen was actually beginning to look like an old man. Like he aged twelve years in the past three days.

His face was sagging with a heavy frown and his eyes showed signs of sleeplessness. It was all warranted. Nothing positive happened to the man since the Nine Tailed Fox attacked. His wife died, there was still unease at the border and then less than twenty-four hours ago. His favorite student went full madman disappearing somewhere in the Eastern forests.

Everyone worth their flak jacket knew the man was twisted. No one could say they were shocked. They were more surprised that Sandaime-sama didn't realize it. Orochimaru showed glimpses of psychopathy before he hit puberty. If anything, People would sleep better knowing that they no longer shared Konoha's walls with the snake.

He didn't agree with how blind the man was to that reality. But even Nohara-sensei couldn't bring himself to imagine one of his many students going crazy. And he successfully educated a small army over the years. Then he remembered his current power-hungry maggots and realized that it wouldn't be too hard for them to lose touch with morality. They were already proving twisted enough to fight each other with everything they knew. In a spar. It wouldn't be a stretch to imagine them reveling in the death of their enemies.

After his meeting with Sandaime-sama. Which the old man spent avoid eye contact the entire time. He headed over to the jonin operations building and recited his report, verbatim, to his commander.

Nohara Raichi was a respected shinobi amongst Konoha-nin. He served with every ounce of blood in his veins as any good soldier would. Then after years of doing so, He had to report to the likes of someone almost two decades his junior.

To make matters worse the man didn't even want to hear his report. Just let him rift through the entire five-minute monologue with a disinterested look on his face.

The Nara were a famously placid bunch. But this guy clearly never listened to what was being said. He just sat there until it was over. Like he was being paid to do it.

Nohara-sensei always resigned to the thought that as long as he followed his orders he wouldn't mind. That as long as he did his job right and focused. He wouldn't be bothered by subjective thoughts.

But for the love of the sage. If he could get through another report with the commander. Without throwing the man into a genjutsu that would make his ears bleed. Then he'd just ascend into the Pureland for his great show of patience.

After the torture was over. He finally had the chance to head home.

Settle down.

Remove his sandals.

Stretch his legs.

And write two well detailed summaries for the stuck-up low lives of ANBU. One of them for the archives and the other just because the young pricks liked to waste the time of others.

They didn't even need the extra written report.

One fact that regarded ANBU, was their complete lack of storage facilities. All they had were training grounds. No storage rooms. No changing areas. Just places to practice their drills, but as he learned from experience. Jonin, shinobi elite, could be written up for insubordination if they did not submit a statement for record. He wrongfully assumed that he reported to either the Hokage or jonin commander only. Not to everyone who forgot what it was like to feel things.

And all this because some orphan could spit fire. That in itself wasn't even important. Anyone who experienced war knew that children could use these techniques before they could form complex sentences. Plus, the orange-haired ape was a war orphan. That could alleviate any suspicions from them. He just hoped that they wouldn't take it too seriously. The last thing he needed was another group shadowing his classes.

That would just increase the number of reports. And he couldn't have that.

XxX

The brain is a valuable organ. For shinobi it was the most important of them all. Sure, at first glance you wouldn't realize it and a stylized forehead protector wasn't doing the opinion any favors.

You'd think more would go into defending the thing.

Still the piece of wrinkly meat really was important in their line of work. Of course, this favor came about due to what the brain was capable of. It all routed back to information with hidden villages. Grey matter just so happened to be the source of all information that has and will ever exist.

To those who say otherwise. How do you know what you're seeing is actually what you're seeing? That's right your brain said so. The thing even went about naming itself.

Considering this burden the brain developed a way to not overload itself with information. With a poorly worked method of automatic filing.

The moment you took in new information. It determined what would be committed to long term and short-term memory. There was no conscious way to change the set limit. It just happened. So, no matter how hard you tried to train your memorization. If the ball of neurons didn't think it was important. Then it would be deemed unimportant. Worst of all you wouldn't even realize it.

This was something Kobaru learned the hard way.

After the session with Nohara-sensei. He helped the nameless genin, from the impromptu spar, back to the barracks. Ensuring that his chakra adapted to the very being of the other boy's physical form. Why? Because no ban could stand in his way. He'd catch up to Chusei no matter the consequences.

He had a clone transform into the boy and sent him off to the library. Sure, he couldn't hold the disguise all evening. But it wouldn't matter once he got passed the front desk. Honestly security at the library was lacking. Getting in was arguably the easiest part. From there, the plan was to learn as much about nature transformation as he could. Soon he too would be spitting and shitting fire at his friends and foes.

In the meantime, the original could work on developing his fighting style with two willpower clones. The main focus of his training was to increase his reaction time.

He could already identify patterns in an opponent's offence. Quick deductions were what his fighting style depended on. So far, he was fast enough to tank the attack and counter immediately. But if they hit him too hard, they'd be nothing left to tank with.

Nagisa was the source of his newfound motivation. She was able to read his three-way attack. Devise the perfect response. Then execute it all within the span of a second. Something she did without having any glow in the dark eyes.

If he could somehow meld his bastardized intercepting fist, with her level of reaction time. He would be virtually unstoppable.

In order to do that however he'd have to employ his retired technique. One that involved him getting beat up every day for the next year or so until he figured her out.

Not that it mattered when it came to the others.

It appeared that every time he took a step forward. His "cell" would take a giant leap. He was slowly becoming immune to them doing surprising things. After all they were fully minted shinobi. While he was thrust out of the academy because they needed more hands in the field.

The reader clone spent the rest of the day soaking in knowledge, while Kobaru finished up with his training. He helped his parents prepare dinner. Ate dinner. Washed up. Then sat in bed ready for his clone to bombard him with new information. He rid himself of the slight anxious feeling that this was going to go horribly wrong. This was with good reason. One of the known drawbacks of the technique was death by over stimulation.

There was no honor in dying of a self-induced seizure.

He tried replacing his thoughts with positive whims. Imagining himself performing the advanced form of ninjutsu and how he'd fit it into his repertoire. He would be well versed in the basics and could probably teach himself useful attacks. With all the time the clone spent reading. He would at the very least know where to go from his current ability.

That was not the case.

The Kage Bunshin had many flaws. So much so that even the advantages came across as two sided. Clones had the ability to pass on knowledge, but it had to be a strong understanding on what was being transferred. Otherwise, you'd wind up learning nothing at all. So, in combat it would serve as a useful tool to provide quick updates. As what they saw was immediate fact.

In Kobaru's case. If he excluded his quick walkthrough on how to perform the academy three. His grasp on ninjutsu ended at knowing how to freely manipulate his chakra's movement. The only thing required to learn those three techniques.

Right when he decided to call it a night and get some sleep for the next day. His copy gave up his studies and all the information rushed into his head like a bolt of lightning. The shock prompted him to let out a pained scream. Which he tried and failed to muffle with his pillow. His brain in a desperate attempt to not... well... DIE. Decided to half ass the job of memorization. Retaining damn near nothing in the process. And what did remain, his grasp on it was so poor that he couldn't use it anyway.

Which brought him back to his current level of skill.

He understood technique's by doing. If he wanted to learn a cartwheel. He couldn't just read about it all day. Or watch someone perform it until he learned through diffusion. He acquired every bit of skill through trial and error.

He unlocked his chakra through a shot in the dark. He sat down, meditated, then clinched at chakra until he had it. For his taijutsu he got his ass kicked every Monday's, Wednesday's and Friday's. For his water walking. Well, he couldn't even count what he did as water walking. But he could move on the surface using a blanket of energy, so it counted. Even then it took him painfully long.

So, with his grand plan of learning nature transformation. He efficiently wasted his entire time.

Overlooking his inability to learn through reading alone. Only gaining a miniscule understanding over one of the most common shinobi art. Every time he used one of the advantages for the jutsu. He wound up discovering more disadvantages. This one was primarily his inability to decipher a slew of information. But his opinion remained. The clones were a work in progress. A framework passed down for other people to hopefully understand. Then improve on.

It was either that or someone composed a detailed manual of what can and can't be done. As well as a list of the many many disadvantages. So good shinobi could avoid learning the ninjutsu version of a glass canon.

Until then he would work on a technique that could bring the creator back to life. Then another technique that resulted in the slowest and most painful death that one could imagine.

He put his silent raging on hold when he felt the eyes of an unwanted audience on him. It appeared that screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night. Would gather attention.

The only part in the house that had actual lights installed was the kitchen but he could clearly see his parents standing in the doorway. His father looked like he was barely awake and his mother had a slightly irritated glare. She was the first to voice her concern.

"And what's wrong with you now?"

"Uh..." he stared at the red head trying to formulate a lie which has always gone well for him, "I can't sleep."

His father nodded with a hand on his chin then turned to leave, "alright then good luck with that."

"Can't sleep so you scream like that?" she asked grabbing her husband and dragging him into the room. A small smile made it's way onto his face at the sight. Kane pushed the man to Kobaru's other side falling face first into a mound of blanket, but made no attempts to get up. She shook her head at him then pinned her son with a smile, finger combing his hair as she did so, "is that teacher of yours being mean to you?"

When is he not?

"It's not that," he replied dropping his eyebrows to scowl at her, "I'm just. Well you wouldn't understand."

She scoffed at him, "I've lived through two magic ninja wars. Try me."

"Well..." he plastered his face with a grin that would make Chusei jealous, "I learned how to walk on water earlier today."

She sat staring in silence before scoffing again, "took you long enough," then folded her arms in thought, "Isn't this something that you should know already? In Uzushio they were teaching the children that by the time they were six. No wonder the clans refused to join Konoha. The level of education here is a cry for help."

Kobaru tilted his head then glanced at his father's prone frame. He was definitely asleep by now, "Um... Uzu what?"

"Wait they don't teach you guys about that either!" she all but yelled. Her features rife with disgust, confusion and a tinge of sadness, "I can't believe this. Some sister village they turned out to be," she replaced the discontent with another boisterous smile and looked at her son, "There's never a better time than now I guess. Wanna hear a story Ko-chan?"

"A story?" It was his turn to scoff. Her storytelling was rare but whenever she did try to pass on imaginative entertainment. It would be fables of mythical creatures and princesses, with plots far too childish for him to care about. He was too old to sully his time with wild tales of nothing. He was konoha-nin. The Land of Fire's weapon of choice. The most powerful shinobi in all of...

"It's about the two mightiest clans in the history of our continent."

"The who?"

"The two mightiest clans in the history of the continent," she repeated with a slight edge in her voice and far less enthusiasm. It was a sign that he was asking too many questions for her thin patience.

"What happened to the stories like The Bunny Rabbit Who Could?" he asked going against all his instincts pleading for him to shut up. Desperate to clarify his concerns.

"We didn't want you romanticizing the idea of being shinobi," Kane smiled at him running a hand through his hair once more, "look at the good that did."

"In retrospect we shoulda kept the stories of princesses hidden. The only thing we'd be worrying about was getting you a nice husband" his father chuckled his voice muffled by the blankets. The man quickly righted his mistake after feeling the intense glare of his wife burning the back of his head, "...you were at The two mightiest clans in history."

"Anyway..." she rolled her eyes then finally took a seat next to her son. Allowing a brief moment before finally starting the tale, "East of the Land of Fire sits an archipelago of nine islands. Benisu, Nanakusa, San, Jingai, Kubo, Tobirama, Lake country and Crow country."

"That's eight."

"Yeah I'm just making sure you're listening, 'cuz this is important," he bobbed his head to confirm his attention, "At the very south of the chain was Whirlpool Country. Home to the two migh..."

"...tiest clans in the history of the continent," Kobaru drawled tilting his head side to side. His mother was not amused and just as the more experienced Museigen he realized the error of his ways, "sorry it's your story."

"While other clans throughout the three continents were fighting each other into extinction. The red heads of the Uzumaki and feline eyed people of the Arashi clan. Lived on the island in peace with each other. Working together to ensure their children learned and grew in a safe environment. Allowing time to mature and pass on their prospective techniques. They were more or less a hidden village before that whole hiding in something came about. Those Senju and their need to make everything more complicated than it should be."

"The Senju were awesome," his father added his two cents.

"The Senju are dead."

"So are those two clans."

She stared at the man for a while formulating her next statement carefully, "If you know what's good for you Taro you'd stop interrupting me."

"Yes dear."

"Anyway..." she sighed, "During an expedition aimed at mapping the islands near the land of fire. The Senju brothers bypassed the sea storms. Bringing the people to realize that their was more to the world than an endless sea of whirlpools. In an attempt to explore this new world. The islanders sent a group back with the brothers. Because there was nothing threatening about the men that could completely disable a country's first line of defense.

"As soon as they arrived on the mainland there was a shift in the ecosystem. Every clan around the elemental nations at the time recognized that there was a new apex predator in town. What made everyone more scared. Was that they were aligned with The Clan of a thousand skills. Who were already feared for their ingenuity.

Now they also had to deal with red heads whose energy was as potent as humanly possible. With scholars who could break down the very existence of space and time. With just a few squiggly lines here and there.

"The Arashi, could utilize nature transformations to augment their speed, strength and dexterity. By extension a select few had the ability to call on natural disasters directly. Changing the landscape of a battle field with a flick of their wrist. A skill that lead to their namesake.

"After two years of continuous growth between the three clans. Moving more people to Fire Country. Teaching the Senju the coveted techniques and essentially putting everyone else out of favor. Hashirama, that poor fool, realized that his treaty with us... I mean the two clans made the other nations uneasy. Proposing to our dignitaries. That WE deploy a family of shinobi from each clan to these other countries. In a childish attempt to restore balance. Our leaders saw this as the greatest insult since the dawn of time and politely rejected it.

"Afterall they spent time with a mainland clan. Teaching the brothers how to call on the power of nature. And how to manipulate space and time. All they received in return was potential to expand their genepool. As expected the councils voted for them to leave. Except for the Senju heir's future wife and a few thrill seekers that ventured further west. They returned to the island and until that tree sprouting idiot kicked the bucket. They were safe from the intervention of th-"

"So wait!"Kobaru stopped her waving his hands in front of his face, "where are these two clans now?"

"Well they're dead," she narrowed her eyes at him, "and I'd get to that part if you weren't saying something every two seconds."

"Wow two mightiest clans my butt," he muttered then jumped at his opportunity to ask another question, "you said that the Arashi people had cat eyes are we by chance rel-"

"Nope," his father said quickly turning around to look at the boy, "What your mother forgot to mention is that they were also known for their bright orange hair."

"That and they needed the squiggly Uzumaki writing to keep their nature energy in check. Or they developed psychotic tendencies. Without that they culled their young to prevent birthing wild animals," his mother added.

His father rolled over onto his back and snorted to himself, "I wish I had cool squiggly lines all over my body."

"That's... an uncomfortable drawback. What about you? Didn't they teach you any squiggly writing?"

"Eh no. My mother was a civilian in the clan and she didn't like shinobi life too much," she shot a smile at her husband, "Much like Taro I took on my father's line of work."

The two adults shared a laugh at their overbearing similarities.

Kobaru didn't have to hear it to know that the strongest country, had fallen to an attack by multiple nations. What he couldn't understand was why Konoha would omit the knowledge of the two clans that played such an important role in their history. It's not that they didn't explore clans of other villages. Thanks to the education system he could correctly identify and differentiate allegiance based on physical appearance. Still not even a second was dedicated to the two powerful sects that briefly resided in Fire Country.

More importantly how did these clans manage to go from revered to extinct all within a hundred years. Something like that shouldn't be possible.

As a matter of fact none of the three clans were alive today. If it wasn't for the two Senju faces carved into the rock. Would they also be lost in time? Written out of history by whoever passed on this information

What profit would Konoha gain from hiding something that they were revered for?

This made no sense.

"So where was I?" His mother said recovering from her laughter, ready to continue her story, "about four years before the third war. After several years of peace. Thirty thousand enemy shinobi attacked..."

XxX

Survival was a basic human instinct.

It was integrated with our very being. To activate when we needed it the most. One shot of adrenaline would be enough to give you a fighting chance in most situations. A burst of energy that improved on what you already had. Prompting an overflow of reflex that the majority doesn't know about.

Nagisa was not included in that poorly informed populous. So she couldn't for the love of the sage figure out what caused her to freeze up.

It was almost like the ball of yellow and orange appealed to her reptilian brain. Bypassing the two overlying layers and locking her in place for the incoming barbecue. If that was a real fight. She would wind up hospitalized. Or if her instincts are as lackluster as she suspected. Then she'd be dead.

There was no excuse she would have to increase the difficulty of her training. And that is what she did. The first six hours of the session went uninterrupted. Then she heard someone very noisily making their way through the underbrush. She left it unattended. As long as they didn't try to come too close she'd be alright.

That was until she realized that her audience had spectators of there own. From not too far behind two masked shinobi, maybe three years older than their target. Were perched on safe branches.

Nagisa didn't have land in her name, so she usually chose a random spot with a tree that she could hit until her knuckles bled. Thankfully her village was overrun by wooden giants. Leading her to be spoiled for choice. One particular clearing she liked wasn't as travelled as the others. So, she once again needed to know how her orange haired attacker kept finding her.

The actual shinobi tails remained shaded in the canopy of the trees. He was hiding too. Behind his own Cedar tree about twenty feet to her left. Putting his poor skills up for viewing. With hair like that he had a better chance hiding a rainbow.

"How do you keep finding me?"

"..."

Nagisa turned to look directly at the tree. The dope's foot still out in the open.

"I can see you Chusei."

He walked out and sread his arms wide in mock-surprise. As he made his way towards her, "I didn't know you trained in this spot. I come here all the time."

"No you do not."

"It doesn't matter," he waved off her statement, "So what are you doing out here so late? Do you normally train until the police start midnight patrols?"

"Yes," she nodded and started off in the direction of the barracks.

"Oh," he sighed then allowed her to walk away in the silence. Until he decided against that, "I'm sorry about the whole trying to get you with a flame bullet thing."

She stopped and formed a solid fist, "do not pity me. Spars are safe simualtions of battle. They are supposed to present a challenge. If I was unable to react accordingly then it is simply my fault," she sighed before starting off again, "by the way there are two people following you around now."

He snorted, "I know."