Naruto: The Viking Thorfin Becomes a Inuzuka In The World of Shinobi

The heavy door of the Root compound creaked open, revealing the outside world for the first time since their arrival. The sunlight bathed the children in warmth that felt alien after the cold, sterile atmosphere of the compound. There was no excitement in their eyes, only a quiet, tense resignation. This was another test, another way to break them down, but Thorfin—Toru, as he was now known—couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that weighed heavily on him.

"Five hours," the instructor had said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Stay here, and don't try anything foolish. Understand?"

The children lined up in a loose formation, eyes shifting, uneasy in the unfamiliar open space. The instructors and Root agents stood at a distance, watching them carefully, silent as statues. It wasn't freedom, it wasn't even respite—it was a test. They weren't allowed to forget that.

The air was thick with the sound of whispers, quiet voices as the children exchanged looks. The world outside felt vast, too vast to be contained in such a small space. A few of them, restless and desperate for escape, shifted uneasily near the edge of the yard. Thorfin's sharp senses noticed the way their hands clenched into fists, the way their gazes flickered toward the open gate. They were thinking of running.

Among them, Taro, a boy with a darker expression than most, moved closer to the gate. Thorfin, standing near the group, felt the urge to step forward, to stop him, but he couldn't explain why. The nagging sense that something wasn't right had only grown stronger since leaving the confines of the compound.

Taro's foot shifted, just about to cross the threshold.

"Taro, don't," Thorfin said, his voice low but firm, a warning laced with instinct. His body was tense, his eyes scanning the open space with a heightened awareness, as if he could feel the danger creeping up from all around them. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Taro paused, his hand hovering over the gate, glancing back at Thorfin. For a moment, there was hesitation, but then the air shifted, and the rest of the children followed Taro's lead, their gazes darting nervously between the gate and the agents still watching from a distance.

But the warning in Thorfin's voice made them hesitate, and the impulse to run faded for a moment. They stayed where they were, fidgeting but not making any moves.

The minutes ticked by, dragging on in tense silence. Then, just as the group began to settle, the first child—Yuki—took off, bolting toward the gate in a sudden burst of panic. His feet hit the ground hard as he ran, faster than anyone expected.

"Yuki!" Thorfin shouted, but it was too late. The boy was already halfway to the gate.

Within moments, another child, Mei, followed. Then, another, and another. The rush to escape turned into chaos as the group of children dashed for freedom, fueled by nothing but the desperate instinct to break free of the shackles they'd lived under for far too long.

But the Root agents did nothing. They simply watched, unmoving, as the children ran for the open door.

Thorfin stood frozen, his instincts screaming at him to act, but he couldn't move. The children were already halfway to the exit, their small forms a blur against the backdrop of the compound's walls. The agents made no move to stop them. There was something wrong with the scene, something that felt almost... planned.

Then, just as quickly as they had started, the children reached the gate.

The agents turned on their heels, silently retreating back toward the compound, leaving the children alone.

A wave of confusion swept through the remaining children, their eyes darting around nervously. The agents had gone back inside. No instructions, no threats. The children were left alone, and the gate was wide open.

"Did they just... let them go?" Aki asked in a low voice, her tone full of disbelief.

Thorfin didn't answer. He was already watching the children who had fled. His heart raced in his chest as his mind raced. This wasn't right—this wasn't a normal test. They were being left to their own devices, and that alone made his skin crawl. It felt like a trap.

"I... I think we should wait," Thorfin said, keeping his voice steady, his eyes locked on the horizon. "Something doesn't feel right. We shouldn't move."

The others, unsure of what to do, hesitated. But the desire to escape was strong in them all. They shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Thorfin and the open gate.

After a tense silence, they heard it.

A scream.

It was sharp, high-pitched, filled with the unmistakable sound of pain. It tore through the air like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile peace of the moment. The children froze, eyes wide with shock and terror.

Another scream.

And then... silence.

A few moments passed, long and agonizing, before the first body appeared. The children who had tried to escape, their limbs twisted and broken, were dragged through the open gate. They were lifeless, their faces contorted in expressions of terror and agony, their blood soaking into the earth beneath them.

Thorfin's stomach churned, his eyes wide. He couldn't look away, couldn't tear his gaze from the twisted forms of the children. His mind raced, but his body remained still.

The agents emerged from the shadows, dragging the bodies like ragdolls, their expressions empty and emotionless.

The sight was almost surreal, but it was real. It was too real.

One of the Root agents, their cold voice as sharp as a blade, addressed the remaining children.

"This is the price of disobedience," the agent said, his words carrying a chilling weight. "This is the price of moving without orders. This is the price of betraying Lord Danzo."

Thorfin could feel the weight of those words, heavy like a stone sinking into the depths of his chest. He wanted to say something, wanted to shout, to scream that they didn't deserve this, but he knew better. In Root, disobedience was met with death. Resistance meant nothing. The only thing that mattered was survival.

Aki, her face pale with shock, whispered, "Why... why did they have to die? They were just trying to escape..."

"Their lives mean nothing," the agent answered coldly. "Only the mission matters. You are tools. Tools to protect Konoha. Tools to ensure the survival of the village, even if your names are forgotten. Your pain, your death—it does not matter. What matters is that Konoha survives."

Thorfin's fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. The weight of their words was suffocating. He had known this—he had always known the cruelty of Root, but seeing it in action, seeing the price of disobedience, made it feel all the more real.

And yet, as he stood there, watching the agents retreat with the bodies of the fallen children, something in him began to burn.

Survival.

That was the only choice now. But survival at what cost? Was he to become like them, mindless, obedient? Or would he find another way? A way to break free from Danzo's control without losing his soul.

The children around him stood in silence, eyes wide with terror, but Thorfin's resolve hardened.

The next day

dawned with an unsettling stillness. The events of yesterday still hung in the air like a fog, but Thorfin knew that the only thing that mattered now was the training. The agents had made it clear that survival, at any cost, was their only mission. The harsh reality of Root had been impressed upon them, and there was no going back now.

The children were gathered in a large training courtyard, the ground beneath them cracked and dry from years of use. The towering walls of the compound loomed overhead, an ever-present reminder of their confinement.

The instructors stood at the edges of the courtyard, their faces impassive. One of them stepped forward, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, and he looked over the children with an air of cold calculation.

"We will begin your ninjutsu training today," he announced, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "You will learn to master the basic techniques, and from there, you will move to more advanced skills. There will be no room for weakness. Fail to keep up, and you will be eliminated."

Thorfin stood among them, his eyes sharp, body tense, fully aware of the weight behind the man's words. This wasn't just another test. This was about shaping them into something more—something deadly.

"Begin by focusing on your chakra control," the instructor continued, pointing to a row of stones lining the edge of the courtyard. "Move these stones using only your chakra. If you fail to move a single one, you will regret it."

The children stepped forward, each of them focusing on the task before them. Thorfin closed his eyes, drawing upon the power within him. The familiar feeling of chakra surging through his body felt instinctual, effortless.

He opened his eyes and raised his hand. Focusing his chakra, he let it flow toward the stone. The stone wobbled for a second, then moved inches from the starting place.

In the anime we mainly only saw how wind chakra manipulation worked but not so much about the other elements. This was a clear test to see who had a natural affinity for earth and who needed harsh training to learn how to use it.

Earth release is a powerful tool for defense with many jutsu to protect yourself when out on a mission but also is useful for covering evidence.

Around him, the other children struggled. Some moved their stones a few inches before the chakra faltered. Others couldn't even lift them at all, their frustration mounting.

Taro, his partner, stood beside him, sweat dripping from his brow as he struggled to control the flow of chakra. He glanced at Thorfin, his eyes burning with a mix of defiance and desperation. Thorfin didn't offer any words of encouragement. There was no room for that here. There was only success or failure.

Time passed, each child pushing themselves harder, the air thick with concentration. The silence was broken only by the occasional sound of a stone hitting the ground or the soft mutterings of the children trying to control their chakra.

Thorfin's focus was unbroken. He knew what was coming. This was only the beginning. Soon, they would be tested in more than just their chakra control.

The instructor moved along the rows of children, inspecting their progress. When he reached Thorfin, he paused, eyes narrowing as he observed the stone moved 10 meters, effortlessly before him.

"Impressive," the instructor said, his tone clipped. "But it is not enough. You will learn more than just basic techniques here. You will learn to wield power." He stepped back, raising his hand to signal the next phase of the training.

"Now, we move on to hand-to-hand combat with ninjutsu integration."

At this, the children looked up, some fear creeping into their eyes. Hand-to-hand combat was brutal, and integrating ninjutsu with physical techniques was an entirely different skill set altogether. It would be no simple task.

Thorfin's heart rate quickened, but only slightly. His memories, both from his current life and his past, had honed his body and mind for combat. He didn't flinch.

The instructors separated the children into pairs. Thorfin was matched with Taro, his partner. Taro's eyes flickered with uncertainty, but there was no time for hesitation. They were being tested on their ability to combine their ninjutsu with physical strikes, turning their bodies into weapons.

The first challenge was simple enough—each child had to use chakra-enhanced punches to break a set of wooden training dummies. Thorfin's fist slammed into the wooden surface of the dummy, the chakra in his arm flaring and cracking the wood. He moved fluidly, his body seeming to remember the motions before his mind even had time to process them.

Taro, on the other hand, struggled. His punches were hesitant, his chakra control shaky. His hits lacked the precision and power that Thorfin's carried. Thorfin could see the growing frustration in Taro's eyes as the boy attempted again and again to match his speed and strength.

It was then that the next phase of the training was revealed: the integration of elemental ninjutsu into combat. A series of hand seals were demonstrated by the instructor, and each child was expected to channel their chakra into an elemental attack.

Thorfin, once again, found himself at ease with this. It wasn't elemental ninjutsu he was familiar with, but the principle of harnessing energy, of letting it flow and surge, felt like second nature to him.

His hand made the familiar signs in the air,

"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!"

and he released a controlled burst of wind—a technique he had learned through repetition, through instinct. The gust of wind blew past the instructor's head, just inches away, and cut a clean line through the ground. The instructor gave a brief nod, though his eyes remained unreadable.

Coming from a clan Thorfin's body was more adaptable to this training. In the original story all of the Konoha 12 were talented, even Kiba with him having learned earth release naturally, but due to the stubborn nature of the Inuzuka they never tried to learn elemental release jutsu.

'Foolish, I'm sure this led to most of their deaths in life.' Thorfin muttered under his breath.

The other children struggled with their elemental techniques. Fire erupted in erratic bursts, water splashed uselessly on the ground, and earth crumbled in disarray. Thorfin could see the way the instructors stood silently, waiting, observing. No encouragement. No praise. Only silence.

"Your body is not just a tool for fighting," the instructor said. "Your chakra, your ninjutsu, is the weapon that will make you unstoppable. Now, we will integrate your skills further. Your body must become as lethal as your techniques."

At that, they were instructed to begin combining physical strikes with elemental ninjutsu—fists of flame, blades of wind, strikes of earth.

This was truly advanced. As only Ōnoki the Tsuchikage and his guards showed the capabilities to do this. But I'm sure Lord Danzo stole the earth techniques he could and used his own knowledge for wind release to make this program.

It was exhausting, relentless, and it felt like the very essence of warfare. Thorfin's body moved in fluid motions, chakra coursing through him in a way that felt almost... like muscle memory. The force of his attacks was overwhelming, and each strike was met with the same thought in his mind—kill, strike, survive.

As the sun began to dip low on the horizon, the children were ordered to stop. Some were drenched in sweat, their bodies trembling from exertion. Others had collapsed, unable to continue.

Thorfin stood tall, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. His muscles ached, but there was a deep satisfaction in the pain. This was what he was meant for. This was what he had been trained to do.

The instructor looked over the group, his eyes cold and calculating.

"Those of you who struggled today," he said, his voice devoid of pity, "will not survive tomorrow. Keep that in mind."

The message was clear. There was no room for failure.​

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The door to their small, dimly lit quarters creaked open, and Thorfin stepped inside, followed closely by Taro. The room was sparse—just two small cots, a wooden table, and a single lantern casting flickering shadows against the walls. The scent of sweat and earth still clung to them from the brutal training session.

Taro slumped onto his cot, exhaling sharply. "I swear, they're trying to kill us before we even make it to a real mission."

Thorfin remained silent, unwrapping a small bundle of stale ration bars they had been given. As this is the standard food they were given in root. Only after they become elites would they eat anything more substantial. He sat at the table, breaking off a piece before glancing at Taro. "They are."

Taro let out a dry laugh, rubbing the sore muscles in his arms. "Yeah? You say that like it's normal."

"It is," Thorfin replied evenly, chewing his food. "If you can't handle this, you won't last long."

Taro frowned, sitting up and grabbing his own meal. His hands were still shaking from chakra exhaustion, and he scowled at them. "I know that. Doesn't mean I have to like it." He took a bite, then muttered under his breath, "You make it look easy."

Thorfin didn't respond immediately. He studied Taro for a moment, then said, "It's not easy. I've just been through worse."

Taro raised an eyebrow. "Worse than this?"

Thorfin's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes darkened. He remembered the look his mother gave him the day she died as their house was burnt down. "Yes."

Silence stretched between them for a few moments, broken only by the sound of chewing. Eventually, Taro leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "Do you ever think about… what's next? I mean, after all this? What happens when we 'pass' their tests?"

Thorfin swallowed the last of his food and set his chopsticks down. "We stop being trainees and become tools."

Taro scoffed. "That's what they want. I'm asking what you want."

For the first time, Thorfin hesitated. What did he want? He knew what was expected of him—obedience, loyalty, strength. But want? That was a question he hadn't asked himself in a long time.

Finally, he stood up, gathering their empty food containers. "Wanting something gets in the way of survival."

Taro sighed, lying back on the cot. "Guess that means I'm screwed, huh?"

Thorfin looked at him, then—just for a moment—allowed a flicker of something almost human to pass through his gaze. "Not yet."

Taro blinked, surprised, but before he could respond, Thorfin turned away, placing the empty containers by the door.

"Get some rest," Thorfin said. "Tomorrow will be worse."

Taro groaned. "Fantastic."