Naruto: The Boogie Woogie Shinobi

-----Hokage's Office-----

Shikazo Nara slouched in front of Hiruzen Sarutobi's desk. The Third Hokage sat with his pipe in hand, a faint plume of smoke curling upward, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Shikazo's irritated expression.

The special jōnin's ponytail was slightly askew, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, and he looked like he'd aged five years in the two weeks since Kenta Madoka had crashed into his classroom.

"So," Hiruzen began, his tone even but tinged with curiosity, "tell me about this new student of yours, Shikazo. The Daimyō's grandson, correct? I've heard… murmurs."

Shikazo sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that carried the weight of a man who'd rather be asleep. "Murmurs don't cover it, Hokage-sama. The kid's a walking disaster wrapped in arrogance and tied with a bow of 'I don't care.' Name's Kenta Madoka, and he's too sharp for his age—way too sharp. Acts carefree, struts around like he owns the place, but with just a few taunts and some clever wordplay, he's already mapped out which clans ally with each other through the students. It's like he's playing shogi with the class, and we're all pawns."

Hiruzen puffed on his pipe, leaning back in his chair. "A keen mind, then. That's not necessarily a bad thing, is it? Observation is a shinobi's strength."

Shikazo's lips twitched into a grimace. "If he just 'observed', I'd be praising him. But no—he's using it to manipulate people and start fights like it's his personal comedy show. The kid's got a vicious streak a mile wide and thinks it's hilarious." He rubbed his temple, clearly reliving the chaos. "Take yesterday, for example. He stirred up a mess between the Akimichi and Inuzuka—pure chaos, and I'm still cleaning up the mess."

Hiruzen raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh? Do tell."

Shikazo groaned, slumping further. "It started during lunch. Kenta saunters over to Kōji Inuzuka—you know, that scrappy kid with the ninken pup always yapping at his heels. Kenta leans in, all smug, and says, 'Hey, dog-breath, bet you and your mutt eat faster than the Akimichi, huh? Oh wait, no one could out-eat them—they'd need a whole forest of pigs to keep up!' Kōji, being Kōji, doesn't think—just growls back, 'At least we don't waddle around like fat sacks of rice!' "

Hiruzen's smirk grew, though he tried to hide it behind his pipe. "I can see where this is going."

"You don't know the half of it," Shikazo muttered. "Choza Akimichi—big kid, already packing muscle—overhears from across the yard, mid-bite into a rice ball the size of my head. His face goes redder than Kushina's hair, and he bellows, 'What'd you say about my clan, you flea-ridden mutt?!' Kōji, too dumb to back down, yells, 'I said you're a walking buffet, tubby!' Next thing I know, Choza's charging like a bull, Kōji's pup is barking its head off, and Kenta's just standing there, cackling like a lunatic."

Hiruzen coughed, possibly to mask a laugh. "A brawl, then?"

"A brawl doesn't do it justice," Shikazo said, throwing up his hands. "Choza tackles Kōji into the dirt, fists flying—bam, bam, bam! Kōji's swinging back, yelling about how 'fatty can't dodge,' and the pup's nipping at Choza's ankles. Choza's so mad he picks up the dog—tiny thing, all teeth—and yeets it into a bush. Then Kōji screeches, 'You hurt Fang, you're dead!' and it's a full-on slugfest. I had to drag 'em apart while Kenta's laughing so hard he's doubled over, shouting, 'Round two, let's go!' The class thought it was a circus—half cheering, half hiding. Took me ten minutes to stop it, and now those two won't even look at each other without growling."

Hiruzen chuckled outright this time, a low, wry sound. "Sounds like quite the instigator."

"That's putting it mildly," Shikazo grumbled. "He's not just stirring pots—he's tipping them over and dancing in the mess. And that's not even the worst of it. He's got the Shimura and Foki clans at each other's throats over some tea trade deal—pitted Takeshi Shimura against Haruto Foki in a spar on his second day. Takeshi was so pissed he nearly broke Haruto's nose, and Kenta just watched like it was his masterpiece. Kid's got a mind for politics—probably been taught it for years, judging by how he twists people around his finger. I'd bet my last ryō that he had watched his mother as a merchant in action and copied her."

Hiruzen nodded thoughtfully, tapping ash from his pipe. "Shizuka Madoka's son, hmm? She's a formidable woman—cunning as they come. It tracks that he'd inherit that sharpness. But you said he's more than just talk?"

Shikazo straightened slightly, his tone shifting to grudging respect. "Yeah, that's the other thing—he's a prodigy in taijutsu. Watched him spar Minato Namikaze yesterday, and I'd say he's chūnin-level already in Taijutsu, maybe higher if that chūnin specialized in hand-to-hand. His movements are crisp, unpredictable—none of that academy-form stuff. He's got moves I've never seen, like he's pulling them from different Taijutsu styles. Dodged Minato like it was nothing, hit him with palm strikes and fist combos that left the kid reeling. Raised my eyebrow, and you know how much effort that takes."

Hiruzen's eyes gleamed with interest. "Impressive. Minato's no slouch himself. Sounds like Kenta's a handful in more ways than one."

"Handful's an understatement," Shikazo said, his voice dropping to a pained mutter. "Here's the kicker—he cornered me after class yesterday, all cocky, and 'ordered' me to get him the Shadow Clone Jutsu. Says the academy's boring him out of his skull already, and he'd rather send a clone in his place while he—what, naps under a tree like a proper Nara? I don't even know."

Hiruzen tilted his head, amused. "Ordered you? Bold indeed."

"Bold doesn't cover it," Shikazo said, mimicking Kenta's brash tone. " 'Hey, Sensei, you're so lazy you'd get it, right? Fetch me that Shadow Clone Jutsu pronto, or I'll tell Grandpa you're slacking on my education!"

Hiruzen's shoulders shook with silent laughter, his pipe trembling in his hand.

Shikazo had a deadpan expression on his face. "He knows neither you nor I can do anything drastic against him—Daimyō's grandson and all—and he's milking it for all it's worth. Threatened to 'report me to the capital' if I didn't fetch him a B-rank jutsu like it's a snack from the market. I told him to shove it—politely, of course—but he just grinned like he'd won anyway."

Hiruzen let out a wry chuckle, setting his pipe down. "He's certainly a character. Reminds me of a young Tsunade—arrogant, clever, and utterly shameless. But we can't just hand out the Shadow Clone Jutsu because a child demands it, no matter whose blood he carries. It's a B-rank technique—dangerous in untrained hands, and he'd need to earn it through missions like anyone else. What's your plan with him?"

Shikazo shrugged, his exhaustion palpable. "Plan? Survive him, mostly. You're the Hokage—tell me to ignore him, and I'll happily pretend he doesn't exist. Kid's gonna keep stirring trouble, flexing his taijutsu, and acting like he's above it all. I'd say expel him, but we both know that's not an option. Daimyō'd have my head, and I like sleeping too much to deal with that mess."

Hiruzen leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands, his expression a mix of amusement and calculation. "Ignore him, then. Let him run his mouth and play his games—he'll either burn out or prove himself worth the headache. Keep an eye on that taijutsu, though. If he's chūnin-level already, he might be more than just a spoiled noble brat."

Shikazo nodded, standing with a groan. "Fine by me. Long as I don't have to chase him down or dodge his weird threats, I'll live. Thanks, Hokage-sama—I'm off to nap before he finds me again."

As Shikazo shuffled out, Hiruzen picked up his pipe, puffing thoughtfully. Kenta Madoka was a wildcard—arrogant, manipulative, and dangerously skilled. A pain, yes, but potentially a diamond in the rough.

"At least, The Daimyô gave us extra funds to manage the academy thanks to him." Hiruzen muttered

-------Author Notes-------

Thankyou SacredLoneWolf and Knut Lindell for supporting me!

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