Chapter 1

The village hidden in the leaves, Konohagakure, was an ordinary place. Well, ordinary for a shinobi. A young boy with bright, Green eyes wandered through the village, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. His jet-black hair, parted neatly down the middle, blew softly in the morning breeze. He was dressed in the traditional attire of a shinobi, with a dark blue flak vest and a pair of black shorts. On his back, he carried a small Leather backpack inside were tools for puppet making, its straps digging into his shoulders. The boy paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly as he listened to the sounds of the village around him.

The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery, the sharp tang of ink from the storefronts, and the earthy aroma of the forest that surrounded the village. Children ran and laughed, their voices bouncing off the wooden walls of the houses. Adults called out to each other, their voices carrying across the village like a gentle symphony.

The boy smiled to himself, feeling a sense of belonging and comfort wash over him. This was his home, his village. He had been born here, to a mother who was a skilled medic-nin and a father who was a unknown puppet master. They had trained him from a young age, teaching him the ways of the shinobi. But there was something else about him, something that set him apart from the other children. Something that made him different.

His parents had been rogue ninjas, a couple from different villages who had fallen in love and started a family. Their child, born on the same day as Sasuke Uchiha, had inherited their unique abilities. He was a puppet user, a shinobi who could control the movements of inanimate objects with their Chakra strings and his mother's poisonous ninja arts. It was a rare and powerful gifts, both that he had trained tirelessly to master. Now, as he walked through the village, he felt the weight of his destiny pressing down upon his shoulders. He had a purpose, a mission to fulfill. And that mission was to create a small spider puppet, one that would aid him in his silent assassinations.

The boy continued down the dirt path that led to the outskirts of the village. His backpack thumped against his back with each step, its contents jostling about. In the distance, he could see the entrance to the forest that surrounded the village, the first step on his journey to becoming a true shinobi. As he drew closer, the sounds of the village began to fade away, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the calls of birds. The air grew cooler and more crisp, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth.

Finally, he reached the edge of the forest, where a small clearing had been cleared for travelers. He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and steeling his resolve. This was it. This was where his journey began. With a determined nod, he stepped forward into the depths of the forest, the first step on a path that would lead him to both his destiny and his greatest challenge yet.

The boy carefully navigated through the dense foliage, his senses on high alert. He could feel the Chakra strings wrapped around his wrists, taut and ready to respond to his command. Ahead of him, the forest seemed to stretch on forever, a sea of green and brown that was both beautiful and foreboding. He knew that danger lurked around every corner, waiting for the unwary traveler. But he was not afraid. He was a shinobi, and he would face whatever challenges lay before him with courage and determination.

For hours, he continued through the forest, stopping only to rest and eat a small meal from his backpack. The sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. As the light grew dimmer, he could hear the calls of nocturnal animals, their songs mingling with the rustling of leaves. He knew that soon, the night would fall, and with it would come the darkness that he had trained so hard to conquer.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he came upon a clearing. In the center of the clearing stood a large, gnarled tree, its branches twisting and turning like the limbs of a dying man. Sitting at the base of the tree was a small, worn leather pouch. The boy approached the tree cautiously, his senses on high alert. He could feel the power emanating from the pouch, a mix of Chakra and something else, something ancient and primal. He knew that this was it, the key to creating his puppet.

With shaking hands, he untied the leather cord that held the pouch shut and opened it wide. Inside, a small scroll lay nestled amongst a scattering of dried herbs and twigs. He unfurled the scroll, revealing a complex series of seals and symbols etched into its surface. He knew that if he could decipher these markings, he would be able to create a puppet that was unlike any other.

The boy spent the rest of the night huddled beside the tree, studying the scroll by the light of a small campfire. His fingers traced over the intricate seals, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the ancient language. As the moon rose high in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest floor, he finally managed to decode the scroll. He knew that with this knowledge, he could begin the long and arduous journey of creating his puppet, a journey that would take him deeper into the world of the ninja and ultimately lead him to the Ninja Academy.

The next morning, the boy shouldered his backpack and continued on his way, the knowledge of the scroll burning bright within him. The forest grew dense once more, the trees towering above him like sentinels. He could feel the weight of the responsibility that lay upon his shoulders, but he also felt a newfound determination, a sense of purpose that he had never known before. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with danger, but he was a shinobi now, and he would not shy away from the challenges that lay before him.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as the boy traveled deeper and deeper into the heart of the forest. He honed his skills, learning to control his Chakra and harness the power of his poisonous ninja arts. Along the way, he encountered all manner of creaturesbut he faced them all with courage and resilience. His puppet, slowly taking shape in his mind, grew more complex and powerful with each passing day.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he caught a glimpse of the towering stone walls that marked the entrance to the Ninja Academy. His heart soared with joy and anticipation, for he knew that this was the place where he belonged, where he could hone his skills and become the greatest shinobi the world had ever seen. As he approached the massive gates, he felt a surge of confidence wash over him, drowning out the doubts and fears that had plagued him on his journey. He was home, and he was ready to begin the next chapter of his life.

The boy made his way through the bustling marketplace, marveling at the sight of so many other aspiring shinobi from all corners of the world. They were dressed in various colors and styles of attire, each one representing their village and clan. He spotted a few familiar faces from his village, and despite the competition that lay ahead, he couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with them.

As he navigated the crowded streets, the sound of a voice calling out his name echoed through the air. It was the instructor Iruka, the one who had found him in the forest all those years ago. The boy smiled and hurried over to him. "Iruka-sensei!" he exclaimed, bowing respectfully. "It's good to see you again."

The older man chuckled and placed a hand on his shoulder. "And it's good to see you, my young friend. You've certainly come a long way since we last met. I've heard rumors of your progress and the unique puppet you've been working on. Quite impressive, if I do say so myself." The boy beamed with pride at the compliment.

"Iruka-sensei," he said, lowering his voice to a more serious tone, "I was wondering if you could help me find the right kind of wood for my puppet. Something strong and resilient, yet light and agile."

Iruka's expression turned thoughtful. "Hmm, that's quite a specific request. You're looking for wood that was once touched by Lord First, aren't you?" The boy nodded, not surprised that the instructor had guessed his intentions. "Well, my young shinobi," he continued, "the wood you seek is said to grow only on a single tree at the summit of Mount Myōboku. To acquire it, you'll have to prove yourself worthy by earning the approval of the Third Hokage himself."

The boy's eyes widened in surprise and determination. "Thank you, Iruka-sensei. I'll do whatever it takes to earn the Hokage's trust." He bowed deeply, his heart racing with anticipation at the challenge that lay ahead. "I won't let you down."

Iruka clapped him on the back. "I have no doubt that you won't. Now, go forth and prove your worth. The future of our village rests in your hands, my young shinobi." With renewed vigor, the boy set off through the marketplace once more, his gaze fixed on the distant mountain that loomed on the horizon. He knew that to reach his goal, he would have to navigate not only the treacherous terrain of the mountain but also the politics and power struggles within the academy. But he was ready. He was a shinobi now, and he would not shy away from any challenge that came his way.

As he drew closer to the Hokage's office, the boy couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. He'd never spoken to the Hokage before, much less asked for a favor. He paused outside the doors, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. Then, with a resolve that echoed through his entire being, he stepped inside.

The office was as grand and imposing as he'd imagined. The walls were adorned with maps of Konohagakure and portraits of famous shinobi, while the Hokage's desk sat atop a raised dais, surrounded by scrolls and books. A burly guard stood at attention nearby. The boy approached the desk with a respectful bow. "I wish to speak with the Hokage," he said, his voice barely audible above the silence.

The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the boy's audacity. "And who might you be, young shinobi?" he asked, his voice gruff. The boy straightened up, meeting the guard's gaze with determination. "My name is Makoto Kariudo ," he said proudly. "I have come to request the honor of meeting the Hokage, and to ask for his help in obtaining the wood from Mount Myōboku."

There was a moment of silence as the guard's eyes narrowed, clearly impressed by the boy's courage. He stepped aside, motioning for Makoto to ascend the dais. "Very well, Kariudo Makoto. You may approach the Hokage's desk. But remember," he warned, "he is a busy man, and he does not tolerate fools or wastrels. Be respectful, and speak your piece quickly."

Makoto nodded solemnly, swallowing hard as he climbed the steps and approached the dais. He bowed deeply before the Hokage, who looked up from his papers with a curious expression. "You must be Kariudo Makoto. Iruka spoke highly of you."

The boy couldn't help but feel a surge of pride hearing these words from the Hokage himself. Summoning his courage, he straightened up and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small scroll. On it was a detailed diagram of the spider puppet he'd spent so much time creating, along with an explanation of the assassinations technique he'd perfected. "Hokage-sama," he began, his voice trembling slightly, "I have come to ask for your help in acquiring the wood from Mount Myōboku. I believe that with this puppet and the assassinations technique I've developed, I can use it to protect our village and uphold the Hokage's wishes."

The Hokage studied the diagram and Makoto's expression for several long moments before setting it aside. "I see. And how did you come up with this idea, Kariudo Makoto?" he asked, his voice gentle but probing.

Makoto took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "It began with a chance encounter, Hokage-sama. I was exploring the outskirts of the village when I stumbled upon a group of bandits attacking a farmer. I tried to help him, but I was no match for their skills. It was then that I realized that we needed a new way to protect our people." He gestured toward the scroll. "I spent countless hours perfecting this puppet and the assassinations technique. I believe it could be a powerful tool in your arsenal against our enemies."

The Hokage nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I see. And what makes you think you're the one who should be entrusted with this weapon?" he asked bluntly.

Makoto's heart raced, but he held his ground. "Because I am prepared to use it responsibly, Hokage-sama," he replied, his voice steady. "I understand the gravity of the situation and the trust that would be placed in me. I will not let you down."

The Hokage leaned back in his chair, studying Makoto for several long moments. "Very well, Kariudo Makoto. You have impressed me with your determination and your conviction. I believe that you are the right person for this task." He reached for a small seal, affixing it to the bottom of the scroll. "Take this seal. With it, you shall have my authority to retrieve the wood from Mount Myōboku. May you use this gift wisely and protect our village with all your heart."

Makoto's eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. He bowed deeply, tears welling up in his eyes. "Thank you, Hokage-sama. I swear, I will not disappoint you."

The Hokage smiled warmly, his expression gentle. "I have no doubt that you will not, Kariudo Makoto. Now, go forth and protect our village with all your might."

With a deep bow, Makoto backed away from the Hokage's desk, his heart filled with determination and purpose. He clutched the scroll to his chest, feeling a newfound sense of responsibility weigh heavily upon his shoulders. He knew that this was just the beginning of his journey, and that the challenges ahead would be great.

As he made his way out of the Hokage's office, he couldn't help but wonder if he had made the right decision. The assassinations technique was a dangerous tool, one that could easily fall into the wrong hands. But he trusted himself, and he trusted the Hokage's judgment. If they believed he was the right person for the task, then he would not let them down.

The village was bustling with activity as he made his way to the training grounds. Students practiced their katas, children played games, and elderly ninja taught classes. It was a scene of peace and harmony, but Makoto knew that beneath the surface, danger lurked. He had seen the fear in the villagers' eyes as they hid behind closed doors, too scared to venture out after dark. He had heard the whispers of the bandits who plundered their farms and murdered their loved ones.

It was time to put an end to this suffering. Time to bring justice to the people of the village. And time to find the legendary toad sage, Jiraiya.

Makoto had heard stories about Jiraiya since he was a child. He was said to be a master of the toad summoning jutsu