Naruto drinking makes me stronger-Chapter 7 - : Shadows of the Past and the Weight of Legacy

A sudden knock on the door shattered the eerie silence.

Bang—Bang—

Asuma flinched, his whole body trembling as cold sweat formed on his brow.

"W-Who is it?!" His voice cracked, high-pitched and unsteady—nothing like the usual brash confidence he carried.

"It's me, Asuma."

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The familiar voice of the Third Hokage reached his ears, and his panic gradually subsided.

Click—

Slowly, the door creaked open, revealing his father's composed face. "F-Father..." Asuma's voice wavered as relief washed over him. But almost immediately, shame took its place, and he lowered his head, unable to meet his father's gaze.

For as long as he could remember, he had always hated being seen as "Hokage's son." He wanted to carve his own path, be recognized for his strength. And yet, when faced with someone like Youyu, a boy of no special lineage, he crumbled.

Before the sword was even drawn—before the fight had even started—his knees had buckled, and fear overtook him. In front of his entire class, he had humiliated himself.

And that was unacceptable.

"Asuma, why haven't you come out to eat?" Hiruzen's voice wasn't harsh this time. His usual stern demeanor softened as he noticed the fear lingering in his son's eyes.

"I... I..." Asuma stammered, struggling to find the words. His mind kept flashing back to that moment—that gaze, that overwhelming presence, the certainty of death. His body involuntarily shuddered.

"Come, sit." Hiruzen placed a firm but gentle hand on his son's shoulder, guiding him to a seat. "Tell me everything, slowly."

Asuma, usually rebellious and dismissive, obeyed without hesitation. Bit by bit, under his father's steady presence, he recounted what had happened in class.

Hiruzen listened, his expression unreadable. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, watching it swirl into the air before whispering to himself, "So... it's Youyu."

Memories stirred within him, nostalgia mixing with something more complicated.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on the past. He looked back at Asuma, his eyes sharp yet calm.

A Hokage was more than just a powerful ninja—he was a leader, a guiding force. And Hiruzen was, above all else, a master of words.

The Will of Fire—a philosophy he had spent years embedding into Konoha's youth—was not just an ideal but a powerful tool. Carefully, methodically, he began to speak, his voice steady, his words weaving a net of reassurance.

Asuma's trembling slowed. His breathing steadied.

Little by little, his father's words reignited something inside him.

But deep within Asuma's heart, the fear still lingered—hidden, buried, but not forgotten.

"Alright," Hiruzen finally said, resting a hand on his son's head. "Go eat. Your mother has been worried."

Asuma hesitated before nodding. "Okay." Slowly, he rose to his feet and walked out of the room.

Hiruzen watched him go, then turned to the window, gazing up at the night sky. His voice was low, almost murmured to himself.

"Youren... you left behind quite the son."

His expression was complicated—part pride, part sorrow.

Long before Asuma's time, there had been a shinobi named Sakumo Youren—a trusted and powerful ninja under Hiruzen's command. An elite Jōnin of Konoha, strong enough to be considered one of the best even among his peers.

Hiruzen had personally named his son Youyu, honoring his late comrade. But it had not been a name free of sorrow.

During a high-stakes mission, Youren had lost his life due to a miscalculation—Hiruzen's own judgment error. His death was a blow not just to the village, but to the man who had sent him on that mission.

His wife, grief-stricken, suffered complications during childbirth. When their son finally entered the world, she passed away soon after.

And so, Youyu, the son of an elite shinobi, became an orphan.

Hiruzen had carried the weight of that guilt for years, watching over the boy from afar, unable to undo what had been done. He had tried to guide Youyu, to dissuade him from drinking, even going so far as to use transformation jutsu to lecture him without revealing his identity.

It never worked.

Then, one day, Hiruzen discovered something shocking—alcohol didn't weaken Youyu. It made him stronger.

His body processed liquor differently. Instead of harming him, it enhanced his chakra, refined his instincts, and honed his blade.

After that revelation, Hiruzen stopped interfering. Instead, he quietly ensured Youyu was allowed into the Ninja Academy, despite objections from others.

Even when Youyu nearly maimed his own teacher, Hiruzen let it slide.

And now, he could see it clearly—this boy, the orphan he had once pitied, was becoming something terrifying.

A genius unlike any other.

A force that could no longer be ignored.

Hiruzen let out a long exhale, the smoke curling into the night sky. His expression was unreadable, caught between admiration and apprehension.

"What kind of shinobi will you become, Youyu?"