Chapter 3: Operation Brain Buff and Body Gains
POV: Naruto Uzumaki (Now Featuring Angst and Eggs)
Let me tell you something nobody warned me about before dropping me into a new body, a new house, and a new world with—plot twist!—actual loving parents.
It's awkward. Like, "eating-breakfast-in-someone-else's-room-to-avoid-eye-contact" awkward.
There I was, sitting cross-legged in Issei Hyoudou's perfectly average bedroom, eating what was easily the best breakfast I'd had in months. Pancakes. Eggs. Rice. Some miso soup. Homemade by the new "mom," who smiled like I hadn't hijacked her kid's soul.
And they thanked me.
"Training hard, huh?" the dad said with a big proud grin.
"You're such a good boy," the mom added with sparkles in her eyes.
I wanted to cry. Or maybe punch a wall. Or both.
Because the truth was… I wasn't their kid. I was Naruto Uzumaki, world-class ninja, future Hokage, ramen connoisseur, and now—apparently—accidental soul swapper.
"Man, this food is so good," I muttered as I devoured the last bite like it had personally insulted me. I was eating double portions to bulk up. I figured the first step in Operation: Become Awesome Again was turning Issei's body into less squish, more smash.
Once the food was gone and my stomach was doing that happy little jig it does after a good meal, the reality slapped me in the face again. Hard.
If Pervy Sage didn't figure out a way to bring me back by tomorrow, I'd be stuck here. Like, permanently.
In a regular body. In a regular world. Going to regular school.
Oh, and did I mention I have no idea how to be regular?
"I gotta do something," I said to myself, pulling out a notebook and scribbling down a list like a man on a mission. It went something like this:
Step 1: Train this body. Get strong. Taijutsu upgrade.
Step 2: Learn martial arts. Bruce Lee this body up.
Step 3: ???
Step 4: Become awesome.
But then I stopped at a terrifying realization.
School.
Issei was a student.
And me? My grades were always… let's call them "passably terrible." And now I had to act like I'd been through an entirely different education system, in a totally different world, using big words like "algebra" and "trigonowhatever."
Cue instant panic attack.
"I'm gonna mess up this guy's whole life," I groaned, grabbing my head like it might stop the incoming disaster. "His GPA's gonna flatline. His social life? Toasted. What if he has a girlfriend?! Oh, man. I'll destroy that too."
I paced the room like a caged animal. "No. No, I can't ask his parents. They'll just get suspicious. I need help. A tutor. A guide. Someone who won't report me for forgetting how to write kanji."
I flopped back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh worthy of an anime protagonist.
"This isn't just about me anymore," I muttered. "I have to study for Issei. His future depends on it. I'm basically babysitting his life."
I stared at the ceiling. A future Hokage shouldn't be this stressed over school.
"Gah! Thinking is not my thing!" I shouted to no one in particular as I jumped up and cracked my knuckles.
Training. Yeah. That was something I could do. No algebra required.
"Time to punch some air and feel better about life," I declared.
With that, I threw on a hoodie, stretched out Issei's noodle arms (soon-to-be-non-noodle), and marched outside to begin training.
Because if I couldn't math… I could definitely kick.
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Good news: I didn't have to take any midterms.
Bad news: I still inherited the aftermath of barely passing them.
Apparently, Issei had managed to scrape through his exams using the ancient technique of "I'll study just enough so they don't take my holidays away." That meant I—Naruto Uzumaki—got to skip all the stress and roll into a two-week winter break like a king.
A very underprepared, body-swapped, over-thinking king.
But hey, no complaints. It gave me time to think and, more importantly, train.
I put on my joggers (they were way too loose; this body seriously needed some work), layered up with a shirt, jacket, and pants, and stepped outside into the cold morning air. The sun hadn't fully risen, and the temperature bit at my nose, but it was nothing compared to the training fields back home—or climbing a snowy mountain while Kakashi yelled "faster" for the hundredth time.
I started jogging. Nothing fancy. Just getting my blood flowing and memorizing the neighborhood as I went.
That was a trick I learned from years of ninja life—know your terrain. I had to act like Issei, and it would be really suspicious if I got lost going to the local grocery store.
So I ran. Past sleepy houses, closed convenience stores, and flyers flapping in the wind. A lot of them were for things you don't see back home: lost cat, missing dog, karate dojo accepting winter trainees.
That last one caught my eye.
I slowed down, staring at the poster.
"Shinomiya Dojo – Winter Warrior Training Camp – Beginners Welcome!"
"Experienced masters. Safe, guided learning. Strength. Discipline. Honor."
"Discipline, huh?" I muttered.
Exactly what I needed. I couldn't just train this body the same way I trained mine. I didn't know the limits here. If I broke Issei's arm trying a Shadow Clone technique, I wasn't going to get a friendly lecture from Tsunade—I'd get grounded and sent to the hospital.
'I need a teacher. A real one. Someone who knows this world's martial arts. Someone who won't let me wreck this body trying to do a spinning back kick I saw in a movie.'
I made a mental note to check it out later. For now, I kept jogging—past more shops, houses, and even an open manga café. I tried not to look at the suggestive posters in the window. Seriously, Issei…
That's another thing. I had to deal with this guy's reputation.
Everyone who knew Issei Hyoudou thought of one thing: pervert. Like, capital P, bold font, double underline. I couldn't believe the stuff lying around his room in plain sight. Magazines. DVDs. A body pillow that I immediately kicked under the bed.
But… somehow… no one questioned the change in behavior.
Instead of suspicion, I got relieved smiles. Like they were happy their resident horndog had chilled out.
'I'm so glad they're happy instead of asking questions. If anyone started poking too hard, I don't think I could bluff through it.'
I silently thanked whatever cosmic force spared me the awkward interrogation route.
Finally, after half an hour of steady jogging, I made it to the park. It was quiet, peaceful, and mostly empty. The perfect training ground. I took a seat on the cold bench and looked around, my breath forming small clouds in the air.
Trees stood bare. Grass crunched underfoot. A lone crow cawed somewhere in the distance.
My eyes drifted, scanning the area out of habit, and paused for a second—maybe hoping for a miracle.
For her.
Serafall Leviathan.
I hadn't seen her since the body swap, but that didn't stop me from searching. Even now, I scanned the horizon like some dork in a romance anime. It wasn't logical, but… it was instinct.
She had helped me before. Maybe she could help me again.
But no pink magical girl outfit appeared. No sudden burst of magic. Just silence, wind, and winter.
I sighed.
'I can't depend on miracles. Not anymore. If I want to survive here, to protect this body, to figure out what happened and get back—I need to rely on myself.'
That meant training. Learning. Planning.
And maybe… schoolwork.
The horror.
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After half an hour of jogging that somehow felt like running from a pack of angry ninja dogs, I finally decided to stop. My lungs were screaming, my heart was pounding like I'd just sprinted away from a giant toad, and every muscle in my body felt like it was yelling, "Dude, what the heck?"
I sank onto a park bench, gulped down some water like a camel in the desert, and tried to catch my breath. The cold air burned my throat, but I didn't care—I was alive, and that was something.
After a minute or two, I stood up, legs all wobbly like jelly, and decided it was time to stretch. Because apparently, this whole "new body" thing didn't come with ninja conditioning built-in.
I stretched like a cat waking up from a nap—reaching for the sky, touching my toes (okay, almost), twisting side to side. Ten minutes of stretching later, I felt slightly less like a rusty tin man.
Then I turned my attention to the park's training equipment. Honestly, it looked like a medieval torture device for muscles. Bars for pull-ups, benches for sit-ups, weird machines that looked like they belonged in a spy movie.
"Alright, body, let's do this," I muttered. No fancy jutsu or chakra needed—just old-fashioned sweat and tears.
First up: pull-ups. Big mistake.
I grabbed the bar, pulled with all my might, and… clunk. I barely made it halfway before my arms trembled and I let go like the bar was on fire.
"Come on, Naruto, ten pull-ups. That's nothing for a ninja," I said, trying to psych myself up.
First try: six. Second try: seven. Third try: eight.
I was dying.
Next, push-ups. Twenty? Easy, right? Wrong. My arms felt like noodles after five, and my face turned a weird shade of red as I gasped for air.
Sit-ups? Don't get me started. Twenty of those felt like I was trying to lift a boulder with my abs.
I collapsed on the grass, muscles screaming like I had just wrestled a hundred shadow clones.
"So. Freaking. Pathetic," I grumbled. Yeah, this was not my usual ninja stamina.
But then a little voice inside (okay, it was probably the spirit of Jiraiya yelling "Get up!") reminded me: This isn't your body, Naruto. You've got to tough it out. That kid—you—has to live in this body, face real dangers. You can't afford to quit.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, gritted my teeth, and got back on the machines. Round two wasn't much better, but I pushed through.
By the time I finished, my arms were shaking so hard I thought they'd fall off, my legs felt like lead, and I was pretty sure I'd invented new swear words.
The third round? Forget it. If I tried that, I'd probably pass out and wake up in a hospital bed wondering what the heck just happened.
I flopped down under a tree, muscles aching, and let out a long sigh. This was gonna take patience.
"I'll work at night," I promised myself. "Slow and steady."
As I sat there, rubbing my sore legs, I couldn't help but laugh a little. Ninja training in a new world? Yeah, this was gonna be one heck of an adventure.
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It had been an hour since I started my "training" session—which mostly consisted of me staring at the sky, trying not to cry because my muscles felt like they were made of jelly. Just when I was about to drift into a nap under the nice shady tree (not exactly ninja-style, but hey, I deserved a break), I heard a small voice.
"Big brother, what are you doing?"
I opened one eye and spotted a little girl standing nearby. She had short brown hair, bright black eyes, and looked like she belonged in a manga about adorable neighborhood kids. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt—probably freezing but didn't seem to care. A few feet behind her was a boy holding what looked like a badminton racket or some weird stick thing.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to look less like a zombie and more like a human. "I'm resting," I said, giving her my best 'cool older brother' smile.
"You shouldn't sleep outside like that," she warned, tilting her head like she was scolding me. "Something bad might happen."
Heh. Thanks, little kid. You're really putting my ninja instincts to shame here.
I got up and stretched, wincing a little as my muscles reminded me they were not used to this level of torture. "Okay, I won't sleep outside next time. What are you playing?"
"Badminton! Do you want to play?" she asked with a hopeful grin.
I blinked. Badminton? I barely knew the rules for dodgeball, let alone this. But hey, new friends = new opportunities. And any excuse to stop torturing my arms was a good one.
"Sure, but I don't know how to play," I admitted, cracking my knuckles.
Turns out, the little girl was Honoka Shirahama, and the boy with the racket was her older brother Kenichi—who was roughly my age but didn't act like it.
Kenichi was super polite, kinda shy, and definitely not a natural athlete—because after the first game, I totally crushed him. Not to brag or anything, but losing felt pretty good when you're used to feeling useless.
Playing badminton felt… weirdly relaxing? I mean, here I was, a ninja-in-training stuck in some random kid's body, actually having fun with real kids. It was a nice change from shadow clones and saving the world. Plus, the Shirahamas lived just a few blocks away from the park, so I'd probably run into them again.
As I caught my breath and wiped the sweat from my forehead, a little idea popped into my head.
Kenichi looks like he could use some help with school stuff. I thought. And I definitely need someone to help me study because, let's be real, I'm totally lost in this new body.
So, plan hatched: make friends, earn trust, and then strike with a study partnership.
"Hey, Kenichi," I said, trying to sound casual. "Maybe you could help me with school sometime? I'm kind of… behind."
He gave me a surprised look, then nodded shyly. "Sure, that sounds good."
Boom. Deal sealed.
As we packed up our rackets and waved goodbye to Honoka, I felt a little spark of hope. This new life might be complicated, but maybe it wasn't all bad.
And hey—if I could survive badminton, I could survive anything.