NARUTO REMASTERED

(recap)

As I collapsd onto my futon that night, my body aching and my mind buzzing, I thought about grandma's words—about my parents, about my own path. How I owed them eternally for giving birth to this body. For giving birth to me. These Thought only led to make my decision stronger.

That I would not only survive, but I would live and thrive. In this strange world of Chakra, ninja, heros, villians, hopes and dreams.

Having such heavy thoughts I couldn't remember when I drifted off to sleep the next day.

_______________________________

Itto Heizo's POV

It's strange how much can change in a year.

A year ago, I was just a three-year-old kid trying to make sense of a world that had been forced upon me. A world filled with shinobi, danger, and legacies heavier than my tiny frame should have been able to carry. Now, as I approach my fourth birthday, I feel... different. Stronger. More aware.

The past year has been a trial by fire, each day pushing me beyond what I thought possible. I still remember my first real training session with Sobo, the way my limbs shook after just a few drills, the way I collapsed onto the ground like a ragdoll. But I also remember standing up, pushing through, because I had no other choice.

Training under Sobo wasn't just about strength—it was about endurance, about knowing the limits of my body and then shattering them. She drilled me relentlessly, never letting up, never allowing a moment of weakness. Some days, I could barely move when I crawled into bed, my muscles screaming, my bones aching. And yet, the next morning, I always got up.

I had to.

Ojiisan's training, on the other hand, was a different kind of brutality. The mind was his domain, and he intended to sharpen mine like a blade. He had me construct my mind fortress from scratch, reinforcing its walls, building defenses against intrusion. At first, it felt impossible—I couldn't grasp the concept of an "inner fortress," let alone shape it. But as the days turned to weeks and the weeks into months, it became a part of me.

The first time he cast a genjutsu on me, I was trapped for hours, unable to tell illusion from reality. By the time I broke free, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, I realized just how vulnerable I was. Ojiisan, Jiji, even Sobo—they took turns attacking my mind, forcing me to adapt. At first, I fought blindly, relying on sheer willpower. But willpower alone wasn't enough. I had to learn how to dissect their illusions, how to find the cracks in their techniques and slip through them.

Now? I can break most low-level illusions with ease. Even stronger genjutsu only hold me for a few seconds before my mind fortress kicks in. It's like having a natural shield, something instinctual that pushes back against outside interference. Ojiisan said that it's rare—this ability of mine.

"You have a talent for the sealing arts," he told me one evening after a particularly intense session. "Seals are all about intent, about control. If your mind is already this fortified, you might excel in that field."

That was the moment I decided. Shit I knew the potential sealing arts had. So If this was my talent, I'd pursue it with gusto. I told the clan heads as much when they visited,

(Flashback start)

my voice steady despite the weight of the gazes of three persons who were strong and were canon characters. Eyes full of will facing eyes full of cunning, strength and intelligence. I half-expected them to dismiss my interest, but instead, they agreed. That day was certainly one of the most intense days I had here. Certainly worthy of recounting, but some other time maybe.

(end of flashback)

For now, I can only research, studying every piece of information I can get my hands on. Sealing is complex—far beyond simple jutsus—but the challenge excites me.

On the physical side, my progress has been just as steady. Under Obaasan's guidance, I've started working with ninja tools. She might not be a Jonin, but her knowledge of weapons and battlefield tactics is insane. She taught me how to properly hold a kunai, how to throw with precision, how to use my body weight to add force behind each strike.

She also drilled another lesson into me—one that I won't forget.

"Strength isn't just about raw power," she said one afternoon, watching as I tried (and failed) to land a clean hit on her. "It's about knowing how to use what you have."

At the time, I didn't understand what she meant. But after getting thrown onto my ass enough times, I started to get it. I wasn't big, wasn't particularly strong yet, but I could be fast. Efficient. Strategic.

I still remember the first time I landed a clean hit on her. It was small—just a grazing strike—but the look of approval in her eyes made me stand a little taller that day.

Beyond training, I've spent time understanding my own chakra, refining my control. Water walking was a nightmare at first. I still remember my first attempt—how I barely took three steps before plunging straight into the freezing water. I sputtered, gasping, but before I could even process what had happened, Sobo was already shouting at me from the shore.

"Get up and try again!"

So I did. Over and over.

Now? Walking on water is second nature. Chakra control has become a passive instinct, something I no longer have to consciously think about. The basic three jutsus—Transformation, Substitution, and Clone—are easy, but I know they're just the foundation. There's so much more to learn, so much further to go.

And yet, even with all this progress, I know I'm still just a child in the grand scheme of things.

A year ago, I didn't fully understand what it meant to be a ninja. Now, I do.

A ninja isn't just a warrior. A ninja is a survivor. A strategist. A weapon.

I've met the heads of the clan, seen the way they assess me, the way they gauge my potential. I know they're waiting to see what I'll become, waiting to see if I'll live up to my lineage. But I'm not doing this just for them.

I'm doing this for me.

For the parents I never knew.

For the life I want to carve out for myself.

Tomorrow, I turn four. It's such a small number, but I already feel like I've lived so much more.

And yet, I know this is only the beginning.