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

The shrill, piercing sound of the whistle echoed through the dark room, signaling the start of the fourth day of their training. Thorfin's eyes snapped open, but the moment he did, a familiar pain surged through his body. The aches and bruises from yesterday's brutal training sessions still lingered, and his mind was fogged with exhaustion. He had barely slept the night before, his body too worn out to properly rest.

He glanced around, trying to gather his bearings. The other children were already up, moving quickly and efficiently in a well-practiced rhythm. But Thorfin couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

A sharp voice cut through the silence, "Thorfin!"

The sound of his name felt like a strike, and Thorfin's stomach dropped. One of the Root agents stood at the entrance, glaring down at him, his cold eyes narrowing. Thorfin's heart raced, and in a panic, he quickly tried to get up, his body heavy and sluggish.

The agent's hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him up. "I told you to get up on time. The punishment for oversleeping is one you'll regret, boy."

Thorfin opened his mouth to apologize, but the agent silenced him with a harsh karate chop to the throat.

Thorfin held his neck in pain trying to breath properly.

"You think this is a place for weakness? A failure to follow orders is a failure to live."

The children were quickly ushered outside for the day's brutal training, the ground underfoot cold and hard, the wind biting at their skin. Thorfin could barely keep his focus as his bones still ached, his breathing still labored from earlier stinging his throat.

Their training today consisted of sparring matches—one-on-one battles meant to test both their endurance and ability to kill. Each child had a partner, but it was clear from the start that the older Root agents weren't here to let them just fight. They were here to break them down.

Thorfin was paired with another boy who had been there for a while, a small but wiry figure who had the sharp eyes of someone used to this life. His opponent was quick, attacking with precision, his fists like stone as they slammed into Thorfin's stomach and ribs. Thorfin gritted his teeth, forcing his body to move despite the sharp pain.

They were no longer allowed to hold back. This was real fighting now.

But Thorfin, though small for his age, had an edge. His reflexes were fast, and his natural instincts from his past life took over. He dodged a punch aimed at his face, then retaliated with a quick jab to his opponent's stomach, sending the boy staggering back.

But the older Root agents watching were hardly impressed.

"You call that a fight?" The agent overseeing the match sneered. "Fight like a real soldier, or you'll never survive."

Thorfin's heart pounded as he heard the agent's words, but he held his ground. He had to win. He couldn't be weak. The anger from the day before flared within him, and he threw himself back into the match, launching a vicious strike aimed at the boy's side.

He barely won the match, landing a last-minute blow that sent his opponent sprawling to the ground.

"Pathetic." The agent's voice rang out again, his tone venomous. "You think that's enough? You think you've earned your place here?"

Before Thorfin could even catch his breath, the agent stepped forward and motioned toward another figure—a much larger one, with the look of a seasoned fighter. "Take him down," the agent ordered.

A giant of a man in Root uniform, a jonin-level agent, stepped into the ring, his hands twitching with anticipation. He was calm, his eyes calculating, sizing up Thorfin.

Thorfin's stomach sank. This wasn't a fight for survival. This was punishment.

The fight was brutal from the start. Thorfin's small frame was no match for the Root jonin's size and experience. The agent moved with frightening speed, landing crushing blows to Thorfin's chest, knocking the wind out of him. With every strike, Thorfin felt his body buckle under the pressure. His ribs cracked, a sickening sound that sent pain coursing through him.

He gasped for air, but the jonin didn't give him the time. He was relentless, each strike sending Thorfin to the ground, his vision blurring with each new hit.

Thorfin didn't give up. He couldn't. Even as his bones cracked and his body screamed in pain, he fought back. But every time he threw a punch, the jonin caught it, twisting his arm behind his back or slamming him into the ground with bone-shattering force.

The others watched from the sidelines, but none of them spoke. They knew better than to intervene.

"Pathetic." On the mission you will face tougher challenges, with each tougher than the last, your whole team will be wiped out. But Danzo-sama demands you finish it! KONOHA DEMANDS YOU FINISH IT! If you return back to the village empty handed then don't come back at all. Kill the enemy infront of you or die a warrior!

The jonin's voice was cold as he delivered one last strike, a kick to Thorfin's chest that sent him sprawling backward. Thorfin's head hit the ground with a sickening crack, and for a moment, everything went black.

Thorfin drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain almost unbearable, his broken body crumpled in the dirt.

When he awoke, he was no longer outside, no longer under the harsh light of the training yard. He was in a room, dimly lit, with a faint scent of herbs in the air.

A soft voice cut through his foggy thoughts. "Stay still. You're going to be okay."

He blinked, trying to focus on the source of the voice. Through the haze, he saw a woman bent over him, her face soft but serious. Her long, dark hair framed her face, and she had a medical uniform on.

"You're lucky," she continued, her hands gently inspecting his injuries. "You've got a lot of broken bones, but none of them are critical. You just need to rest."

Thorfin groaned, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. He could feel the pain in his body, the broken ribs, the bruises, but it was the familiar feeling of being cared for that made his heart ache.

He met her eyes, hazy with exhaustion. "Who… are you?"

The woman smiled softly, though it was a fleeting, almost sad smile. "My name is Nonō Yakushi but all me Obake."

For a brief moment, Thorfin couldn't understand why that name felt so familiar. But before he could ask, the world spun around him, and he slipped into unconsciousness once more, his body too tired to stay awake.

One Week Later

A week had passed since Thorfin was thrust into the unforgiving world of Root. The brutal regimen of physical pain, mental manipulation, and soul-crushing control had already begun its work. But the most insidious of all the techniques used on the children wasn't the physical training—it was the constant drilling of loyalty to a single figure: Danzo-sama, Lord Danzo, the unyielding leader of Root.

Every day began the same. The children were dragged from their beds at dawn, often barely having had any sleep, their bodies aching from the previous day's brutality. They were herded into lines by the Root agents, who barked orders with unflinching eyes. Their faces showed no signs of compassion, only the cold calculation of soldiers who viewed the children as mere tools for a greater purpose.

But there was something far more terrifying in the air: the ever-present mantra that echoed through their training.

"Danzo-sama's will is absolute."

"You are nothing without Danzo-sama."

"To serve Lord Danzo is to fulfill your purpose."

Thorfin's mind, already strained by the relentless training, was beginning to fracture under the weight of these words. He could no longer remember the face of his mother or the warmth of his home. Danzo-sama had become the center of his world, whether he liked it or not. The agents never stopped repeating it. They weren't just enforcing physical obedience—they were rewriting the very foundation of who each child was.

"Loyalty to Danzo-sama is your duty. You exist only to fulfill his orders."

It wasn't just training and fighting anymore. The true assault began when they were locked in small rooms, their bodies held still by ropes as the agents used chakra-infused genjutsu to invade their minds. Thorfin had endured these sessions every day, but today, it was worse.

A cold, stoic voice echoed through the room.

"Forget your name. You belong to Danzo-sama. Your only purpose is to follow orders."

Thorfin's head throbbed as the chakra entered his mind. No. The resistance within him screamed, fighting against the onslaught. I am Thorfin. I am me.

But the agent's words cut through the chaos in his mind. "You are nothing. You are a tool of Root. You will obey Danzo-sama, or you will perish."

The next day, the children were subjected to a brutal test. They were ordered into the training yard, each facing another child in one-on-one combat. The Root agents circled, their eyes cold and impassive, watching for any sign of weakness.

Thorfin's opponent was a quiet, wiry boy from the Hyuga clan. He was fast, his movements sharp, and he immediately launched into the fight with lethal precision, aiming to incapacitate Thorfin in mere moments. Thorfin stumbled back, his broken ribs still aching from the previous day's punishment. Every movement was sluggish. His body wasn't cooperating.

But there was something else clouding his mind.

Danzo-sama's will is absolute. The mantra played over and over in his head, and for a moment, Thorfin hesitated—he nearly lost the fight because of it.

The boy from the Hyuga took advantage of his pause and landed a clean hit to Thorfin's gut, sending him to the ground with a gasp of pain. The agent overseeing the match stepped forward, eyes narrowed.

"Pathetic," the agent spat, before turning to the others. "This is what happens when you do not embrace the will of Danzo-sama."

Thorfin was barely given time to recover before a new challenge was issued. Another Root agent, older and more imposing, stepped forward. "This is your punishment for your failure," the agent said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Thorfin barely had time to react before he was being beaten senseless. A massive punch sent him sprawling to the ground, and before he could rise, the agent was on him again, landing a vicious blow to his ribs.

"Your failures are a reflection of your disloyalty to Danzo-sama," the agent hissed, each strike pushing Thorfin further down. "You are weak. You will only be useful when you understand that you exist for Lord Danzo."

Thorfin tried to defend himself, but his body wasn't responding. Every movement was sluggish, and the pain in his bones was overwhelming.

At some point, the beating stopped, and he was left there, struggling to breathe. The agent's words echoed in his head. "Danzo-sama's will is absolute. Loyalty is your only purpose."

The words kept repeating, burrowing deeper into his subconscious. Thorfin's mind screamed for release, but there was nowhere to run. He was trapped. Trapped in a world where his only value was his obedience to a man he had never met but whose name haunted every thought.

As the days wore on, the techniques became more subtle, but no less damaging. The children were subjected to constant mental conditioning.

Thorfin was dragged into another room, one where a masked Root agent stood, silently observing him. This time, it was worse than before. The agent used subtle genjutsu to break down Thorfin's sense of self.

"You are nothing. You will serve only Danzo-sama."

The chakra worked its way into his brain, leaving him feeling empty, hollow, and lost. The more they pushed, the more it felt like his identity was slipping away. His old life, his memories—they all felt like they were fading. Each day, the lines between the past and the present blurred.

"Danzo-sama's will is absolute," they told him, their voices like a chant.

Thorfin felt his own thoughts becoming clouded, his sense of self lost to the constant barrage of commands and instructions. Every thought that wasn't Danzo-sama was shoved aside. It was as if his existence had become a blank slate, ready to be molded into whatever Danzo desired.

By the end of the week, Thorfin was no longer sure who he was anymore. The memories of his life before Root were growing distant, slipping through his fingers like sand.

What remained was the cold, unfeeling will of Danzo-sama. A will that had consumed his thoughts, his actions, and his very sense of being.

Thorfin was now a tool of Root, nothing more than a pawn in Danzo-sama's grand game.

But deep inside, there was still a flicker of resistance. It was faint, a small ember in the dark. I am Thorfin. I am not just a tool.

But for how long would that spark remain? How much longer could he fight against the overwhelming tide of control?

Only time would tell.