Chapter 4: "Of Medabots, MedaWatches, and One Superpowered Dummy"
(From the Journal of Naruto Uzumaki)
Look, I didn't think I'd end up in a world where battling robots was considered normal and nobody blinked at a teenager buying an apartment with zero ID, but here we are.
To be fair, I am Naruto Uzumaki. Weird stuff follows me like ramen follows miso broth.
Also, the robot thing? Low-key awesome.
Especially when your robot partner is a crimson-armored, missile-shouldered warrior named Arcbeetle who acts like Kakashi if he traded his book addiction for sarcasm and passive-aggressive remarks about combat technique.
After my not-a-date with the redhead spy girl Kim (who flirted, smiled, and secretly scanned me with hidden tech—I could feel it), I decided it was time to stop pretending I was just a "new guy with a fancy bot" and start actually training. Away from public view, obviously. The last thing I needed was for the neighbors to report a mini-explosion from the medabot park flower beds.
So I found a quiet canyon just outside town. Thank you, local train station and suspiciously convenient tunnel shortcut.
With Arcbeetle tucked inside my MedaWatch (basically a high-tech Pokéball for robots, but cooler and with Wi-Fi), I started syncing up. The connection was smooth—smoother than expected. Almost like he was adjusting to me in real time. Probably thanks to all the nanomachines. They link your nervous system to your medabot, because let's be honest—normal human brains move way too slow to control a metal warrior in a fight.
Thankfully, I'm not normal.
Even without chakra, I could lift a hundred tons on arm day. With chakra? Thousands. And I don't mean "thousands" like the way people say "I could eat a thousand bowls of ramen" and then pass out at twelve. I mean literal thousands of tons. Fighter jets? I could lap them by jogging.
But the point wasn't to show off.
(Okay, maybe like, a little.)
The point was: Arcbeetle needed to grow. Medabots weren't just bots with weapons—they were learners. They grew stronger by battling alongside their human partners. The watch kept track of everything: energy output, part durability, medal sync level. It even had XP bars.
I kid you not. XP bars.
Apparently, video games were educational.
Now, I'd kept my chakra low-key so far. Didn't need the attention. But as soon as I stepped into the canyon and summoned Arcbeetle for the first time in private—he noticed.
And I don't mean like "oh wow, you're in good shape" noticed.
I mean "his entire LED faceplate lit up like a Christmas tree and he just stood there in stunned silence for three whole seconds" noticed.
"…You're stronger than me," he finally said, voice clipped, calm, with just the faintest twinge of existential dread.
"I mean, physically, yeah," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "But you've got missiles and weird energy blasts. That counts for something."
Arcbeetle crossed his arms. "You could probably punch a hole in a mountain. I shoot missiles that bounce off tanks."
"…To be fair, you shoot them very stylishly."
He gave me the robotic equivalent of an eye-roll. "You don't need me to fight. You could defeat most medabots on your own."
"Yeah," I said, grinning, "but that's not the point. We're partners, Arcbeetle. You and me. I don't want you to just watch me fight—I want you to grow stronger. I think I might be able to help you evolve your medal with my chakra."
Arcbeetle tilted his head. "That's… not a standard feature."
I shrugged. "Neither am I."
And that was when it hit both of us—this wasn't just about winning a few matches or looking cool at the medabot park.
This was about pushing the limit. Medabot evolution wasn't supposed to happen outside of rare medals. But what if… what if my chakra could change that?
"Alright," Arcbeetle said, standing tall, his core glowing faintly beneath his chestplate. "Let's train, boss."
"Glad you're in," I said, stepping into a ready stance. "But don't call me boss. Makes me sound like some shady businessman."
"Fine. 'Captain Unregistered Apartment Buyer' it is."
"Arcbeetle—!"
"Training starts now."
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You know that moment when you meet someone cool—like, "save-your-life-in-a-giant-robot-war" cool—and you think this is it, this is my new training partner, and then they turn around and say, "Sorry, can't punch you in the face because of a technicality"?
Yeah. That happened.
I was in the middle of my secret canyon training area—Arcbeetle standing tall, crimson armor gleaming in the sunlight like he was posing for a magazine cover—and it was time to get serious.
"Alright, Arcbeetle," I said, cracking my knuckles. "Let's see what you've got. Show me everything."
To his credit, he didn't hesitate. One smooth motion, and BOOM—a single glowing shot launched from his right arm, whistling through the air like a guided meteor. It slammed into a boulder the size of a van and reduced it to rubble. Literal rubble.
"Nice," I whistled. "That'd put a good dent in a Rasengan."
He followed it up with his multi-shot, both arms shifting with mechanical clicks as he rapid-fired a storm of glowing blasts that shredded through a small grove of trees like they were paper cutouts. I had to jump back to avoid getting turned into shish kebab.
Then came the grand finale: Prominence.
"I need thirty seconds," Arcbeetle said, planting his feet. Twin horns on his head began to glow—brighter and brighter—like someone shoved a sun inside his skull.
"Charging laser. Please stand clear."
"Roger that." I flew back a good fifty feet and made a mental note to never let him use this in the city.
Then—FWHOOM!—a blazing beam of pure destructive energy erupted from his horns. It blasted through five boulders like they were made of crackers. The canyon echoed with the sound of obliteration, and I swear I felt the air pressure change.
I blinked. "…That's about as strong as my first Rasengan."
Arcbeetle didn't say anything. He just dusted off his metallic shoulder like it was nothing.
So naturally, I did the only thing that made sense.
"Okay, your turn to fight me now."
Arcbeetle froze.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Did you just ask me to attack you?"
"Yup!" I grinned, hopping in place. "C'mon, I want to test your tracking and reaction speed. Don't worry, I'll hold back. A little."
"I can't do that," Arcbeetle replied, a hint of alarm in his voice. "My core protocols strictly forbid engaging humans in combat—unless under controlled circumstances with approved safety settings."
I blinked. "...Seriously?"
He nodded. "Very seriously."
"But I'm not normal—I'm basically a chakra-powered crash dummy with healing abilities. It's fine!"
"That may be true," he said, folding his arms, "but my protocols do not include a 'Naruto Clause.' Unless you count annoying me to death."
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Okay, so remember how Arcbeetle couldn't fight me because of his "no-human-hitting" rule?
Yeah, I fixed that.
By turning myself into a Medabot.
Yep. You read that right.
It was actually kinda fun. I channeled a bit of chakra, adjusted my transformation jutsu, and boom—orange and black armor, sleek limbs, glowing eyes, and a pair of mini-lasers mounted on my wrists. I looked like a custom Arcbeetle with a paint job straight out of an action anime. Call me… NaruBeetle. (Still working on the name.)
Arcbeetle tilted his head, his optics zooming in on me. "I don't understand. You were organic two seconds ago."
I flexed my metal fingers. "Still am. Kinda. Don't think about it too hard."
His system must've run a few diagnostics, because a moment later he said, "Combat protocols approved. Engaging."
Score.
We started simple.
Arcbeetle launched a multi-shot barrage, twin guns spitting neon blasts like angry fireflies. He dashed forward, boosters flaring behind him like a rocket-powered beetle with a grudge.
I side-stepped the shots with ease. My Medabot body was toned down to normal levels—no flying at Mach 7 today—but I still had better reflexes than the average toaster with legs.
"Too predictable," I called out, firing off some chakra-enhanced energy blasts of my own.
He zigged left, zagged right—textbook evasive maneuvers—but I already knew his path. One of my shots clipped his right arm, sparking on impact.
"First hit to me," I said, grinning.
"You predicted my dodge?" Arcbeetle asked.
"Yup. You always move left after a dash. Gotta mix it up more."
"…Noted."
Next came close combat. This was where Arcbeetle usually relied on his firepower, but today? We were going to fix that.
I shot forward like a bullet, slammed into him shoulder-first, and started a flurry of jabs. Not enough to break anything—just enough to keep him on his toes. Er… servos.
He tried to counter with a swing of his arm, then a horn laser, but I ducked under it, slid behind him, and tagged him in the back with a light kick.
"You're not rotating your core when you punch," I said mid-duck. "And your laser needs setup. Don't use it in a melee unless I'm stunned or dancing a waltz."
Arcbeetle stumbled, recalibrating, then tried again. This time he put a little more force behind the swing—but I grabbed his arm, twisted, and gently flipped him over my shoulder.
CLANK!
He hit the canyon floor with a metallic thud. Sparks flew. A few pebbles rolled off his shoulder.
"…Ow," he said flatly.
"You're improving!" I beamed, offering a hand.
"You flipped me."
"Yup! That's called progress."
But this wasn't just about winning.
I was teaching him.
Between dodges and jabs, I called out advice. How to pivot with a strike. How to read an opponent's eyes, not their limbs. How to anticipate, fake, and counter. Arcbeetle didn't just listen—he learned. Quickly. Like a sponge with plasma cannons.
By the end of round one, he'd actually grazed me with a shot.
A real one.
"I almost hit you," he said, blinking in surprise.
"You did hit me," I said, tapping the faint scorch on my shoulder. "Next time, don't almost. Do."
He paused. "…You're a strange master."
"Thanks! I work hard at it."
So yeah, today's lesson? Metal fists, close calls, and one impromptu transformation into a bug-themed robot warrior.
And honestly?
It was awesome.
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Naruto, as it turns out, was many things.
A blonde. A ninja. A ramen enthusiast. Possibly a walking power plant disguised as a teenager.
But subtle?
Yeah, not so much.
He thought he was being clever, slipping away from Kim Possible and her friend Monique with a casual, "I'll be right back." In his head, that was a solid ninja move. Classic misdirection. Step one of Operation: Secret Medabot Training.
Unfortunately, Naruto had made one critical error.
He forgot he was in a sci-fi world.
And in sci-fi worlds, sneaky ninja stunts were about as effective as trying to hide from a heat-seeking missile by standing behind a potted plant.
Kim Possible, on the other hand, was trained to deal with everything from global terrorists to monkey-powered villains. So following one hyperactive mystery boy through the streets of Tokyo? Child's play. Especially with Wade's help.
"Got a heat signature," Wade said through her earbud. "And… okay, it's very not normal. That's not a person. That's a small nuclear reactor wrapped in a hoodie."
"Yeah," Kim whispered from behind a rooftop ventilation duct, peeking down into the canyon Naruto had disappeared into. "I'm seeing that now."
Because what Kim saw? Was insane.
Naruto was currently fighting—actually fighting—a military-grade Medabot named Arcbeetle. Not commanding it, not controlling it. Fighting it. In an all-out sparring match.
And if that wasn't weird enough?
He'd turned into a Medabot to do it.
Orange and black armor. Laser arms. Jet-powered knees. He was like something out of a fusion episode between Power Rangers and Intergalactic Wrestling Federation.
Kim blinked. "Wade. What is he?"
Wade sighed. "No records. No fingerprints. No online presence. He's a ghost. And that energy output? I can't even measure it."
"So… alien?"
"Probably. Or a time traveler. Or a lab experiment that escaped. Honestly, it's Tuesday in our lives, so pick one."
Now, Kim Possible was a lot of things: smart, brave, fashionable. But reckless? Not usually.
Still, watching Naruto toy with a Medabot designed to take down tanks made her feel… well, competitive.
"Wade," she whispered, "hypothetically—hypothetically—what are my chances if I remove the limiter on my Medabot and do a fusion?"
Wade went silent for a beat. That was rarely a good sign.
"…Honestly?" he said finally. "I don't know. Your Medabot was built for war, sure. But Naruto? I'm not even sure physics applies to him."
Kim watched as Naruto casually dodged a high-speed laser, leapt ten stories into the air, and punched a boulder into dust before landing without so much as a scratch.
"Yeah," she muttered. "That tracks."
So now Kim had a problem.
A big, blonde, possibly extraterrestrial problem with abs and a smile that could punch through steel if it had a chakra coating.
Was he a threat?
Maybe.
Was he dangerous?
Definitely.
Was he… cute?
Kim sighed. "Why are the weird ones always cute?"