Naruto: King of Hell

Santoryu finally arrived at his home, where both his parents were waiting anxiously for his return. They knew he had gone to speak with the Hokage regarding his promotion to Genin, and ever since he left, they had been silently hoping for good news. Every passing minute had only added to their anticipation.

He paused just outside the front door, taking a deep breath. Then, with steady hands, he pulled out the forehead protector he had received from the Hokage. Carefully, almost ceremoniously, he tied it around his head, the engraved symbol of the Hidden Leaf Village now gleaming proudly on his brow. Only then did he step inside.

The moment he entered, his parents turned toward him. Their eyes instinctively traveled to his forehead, and when they saw the protector, both their expressions changed instantly. A broad, proud smile lit up his father's face, while his mother's eyes welled with tears that shimmered under the warm light of the house.

She had witnessed the pain and hardship Santoryu had endured to reach this moment. Though he was not the type to cry out or complain, she could see the struggle written in the fatigue of his movements, in the silent grimace he sometimes wore when he thought no one was watching. Each day, he had pushed himself beyond his limits, and though he bore his suffering in silence, a mother could always tell.

His father stepped forward and placed a firm, approving hand on Santoryu's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, my son," he said, his voice steady and full of quiet pride.

Santoryu gave a solemn nod in response.

Then his mother embraced him tightly, her arms trembling with emotion. "You've worked so hard, my son," she whispered, her voice choked with tears.

Normally composed and reserved, Santoryu felt a lump rise in his throat. A faint sting touched his eyes, and his nose tingled slightly as he was overcome by the warmth and pride radiating from his parents. In that moment, the weight of his journey felt lighter.

After a few quiet moments filled with warm emotion, Santoryu's father gently spoke. "Come, sit with us," he said, patting the space beside him. "Tell us how it all happened—how you became a ninja."

Santoryu gave a small nod and took a seat between his parents. With calm precision, he began recounting the events of the day. He described his meeting with the Hokage in detail—how the Third Hokage had listened to him seriously, then unexpectedly offered him a chance to prove himself through a direct test. He went on to explain how he had chosen to challenge his former academy teacher, the same man who had once humiliated his father in the past. With focused determination, Santoryu told them how he had fought that very teacher and defeated him—restoring his father's pride and claiming his place as a Genin of the Hidden Leaf.

His words carried weight, but he spoke them with the same composed demeanor he always wore. Still, his father's face showed how deeply he had been moved. He could say nothing—only smile, the kind of proud, quiet smile that carried more than words ever could.

After a moment, Santoryu turned to his mother. "Mother," he said, "I've invited Kakashi to dinner tonight—to celebrate my becoming a Genin."

His mother nodded instantly, her face lighting up. "Don't worry about a thing, my son," she replied warmly. "I'll prepare a proper feast for the occasion. And I'll also invite our neighbors—let them share in our celebration."

Santoryu nodded with a faint smile. This was their way—celebrating life's milestones as a family, and always including the community around them.

"I'll go around and deliver the invitations," his father added with enthusiasm. "And I'll also bring back the groceries and anything else we need for the dinner."

His mother gave him a nod of agreement, already starting to mentally plan the meal.

Santoryu, however, interjected. "Father, let me take care of the essentials. You don't have to worry about that."

His father gave him a sideways look. "Don't you have training to do? Let me handle it—you've earned a moment of rest."

But Santoryu shook his head with a slight smirk. "I'm already running behind today. And besides, I can always replace my weight training with the load from carrying groceries. It'll serve the same purpose."

At that, his father chuckled and nodded approvingly. "Fair enough," he said. "Just don't pull a muscle trying to show off at the market."

Santoryu gave a rare, faint laugh under his breath. The preparations for the celebration had begun, but in that moment, the home was already filled with a quiet joy that needed no feast to be felt.

Santoryu sat down with his mother at the dining table, and together they began drafting a list of everything needed for the celebration—ingredients, utensils, decorations, and anything else that would make the evening special. His mother, meticulous as ever, carefully jotted down each item while Santoryu offered occasional suggestions, mentally calculating what would be needed to serve all the guests.

Meanwhile, his father took the list of neighbours and set off through the village, delivering invitations personally. With each knock on a door and exchange of greetings, he proudly shared the news of his son's achievement, his heart full.

Once the list was complete, Santoryu headed to the market. He moved quickly and efficiently, picking out fresh vegetables, rice, meat, and spices with practiced hands. The weight of the grocery bags didn't bother him—in fact, he welcomed it, letting the physical strain double as part of his training routine for the day. By the time he returned home, the sun was already beginning its descent.

After dropping off the supplies, Santoryu made his way to the courtyard of their home where he usually trained. There he practiced his sword techniques—his blade slicing through the air in sharp, precise arcs. His mind remained focused, but a small part of him lingered on the celebration that awaited him later that night.

Back at the house, his mother—now assisted by a neighbour's daughter—was busy preparing a generous feast. The kitchen buzzed with the sounds of chopping, stirring, and the warm aroma of simmering food filling the home.

As night fell, the house slowly filled with the warm voices of neighbours arriving one by one, offering their congratulations. They brought small gifts, warm smiles, and well-wishes for Santoryu's future. Though touched by their kindness, Santoryu—ever the introvert—felt slightly overwhelmed by the attention. He stood near the corner of the main room, answering questions politely but wishing he could disappear into the background.

Fortunately, Kakashi arrived shortly after, providing a welcome sense of familiarity. Though their conversation was sparse—both being quiet by nature—Santoryu felt far more at ease with Kakashi by his side. The two young ninja didn't need many words; just sharing space, nodding occasionally, was enough. Their presence together felt natural.

As the night drew to a close, the guests began to leave, offering their final congratulations. The house slowly returned to silence, filled now with the lingering scent of food and the warmth of shared celebration.

Exhausted but content, Santoryu retired to his room. The day had been long and full, and as he lay down, sleep took him quickly.

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The next morning, Santoryu returned to his rigorous routine without hesitation. As the first light of dawn touched the rooftops of Konoha, he was already deep in training. His movements were swift and precise—strikes, stances, and conditioning exercises carried out with relentless focus. The hours passed in silence, broken only by the sound of his breath and the occasional rustle of leaves stirred by his motions.

After four intense hours of training under enhanced gravity, Santoryu finally allowed himself a moment of rest. He sat cross-legged in the courtyard of his home, beads of sweat rolling down his face, his breathing slow and steady. The morning sun warmed his back, and for a few moments, the world seemed still.

Then, without speaking aloud, he focused inward and addressed the system.

System, he thought, as you already know, I'll soon be assigned to a shinobi team. Once that happens, I'll have to go on missions with them—likely one after another, given the current state of the war. I'm not too concerned about staying physically active; fighting, running, and moving constantly will become the new normal, and that will take care of most of my conditioning.

Besides, he added, with the 2.5 times gravity you're exerting on my body at all times, the physical strain from daily missions will continue to strengthen me—maybe even more effectively than isolated workouts.

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

However, he said inwardly, what troubles me is the lack of recovery. Right now, I have access to the herbal baths, which help my body heal faster and keep my muscles from deteriorating under the constant strain. But once I'm out on the field, I won't have access to them regularly—or maybe not at all.

Without that, my recovery rate will suffer. It'll slow my progress and might even lead to injuries if the strain keeps piling up. So tell me, System—what's the solution to this problem?

He sat in stillness, waiting for the familiar presence of the system to respond, hoping it had anticipated this very concern.

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