Naruto: Through A Dog's Eyes

Metal sang through the air as I slashed at the training dummy, chakra flowing through the tantō in my hands. Three months since I'd decided to stop holding back, and here I was, trying to reinvent the wheel. Or in this case, create a whole new style of swordplay.

The blade felt natural in my grip - too natural. The wooden handle was already developing grooves where my fingers rested. Hours of secret practice had left their mark on both the weapon and me.

"Fang Over Fang!" The world spun into its familiar blur, but this time with a deadly edge. The tantō extended my reach, turning our signature technique into something deadlier. The training dummy didn't stand a chance.

As sawdust settled around me, a cough broke the pre-dawn silence.

"Interesting adaptation."

I whirled around to find Hayate Gekkō leaning against a tree, his ever-present sword at his hip. The swordsman's eyes were sharp despite his sickly appearance.

"Hayate-san," I bowed slightly, mind racing. "I didn't realize anyone else used the training grounds this early."

"Clearly." Another cough. "Your form is unique. Who taught you?"

"No one," I admitted. "I've been... experimenting."

He pushed off the tree, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. "Show me."

For the next hour, Hayate put me through my paces. He didn't teach, exactly - just watched, occasionally making a sound of interest or asking me to repeat a movement. But his eyes missed nothing.

"The Inuzuka clan isn't known for bladework," he said finally, sheathing his sword. "Yet you move like you were born with steel in your hands."

I shrugged, trying to look appropriately modest while my mind cataloged every detail of his technique. The way he compensated for his illness with precise chakra control, how he used momentum instead of raw strength.

"I like the feeling of it," I said. "The extension of claws into blade."

Hayate's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Come back tomorrow. Same time."

It wasn't an offer of training - not exactly. But it was an opportunity.

Over the next few weeks, a routine developed. I'd arrive at dawn to "practice alone," and Hayate would happen to be there. We'd spar silently, his blade testing my defenses, pushing me to adapt and grow.

Between these sessions, I gathered information. Casual questions about legendary ninja, about the other villages. Special interest in any mention of Orochimaru.

"He was brilliant," an older chunin told me during one such conversation. "But there was always something... off about him."

I nodded, playing up childish curiosity. "Like what?"

"Hard to explain. Just... wrong. Like looking at a perfect mask and knowing there's something else behind it."

Seeds planted. Let them grow.

Meanwhile, Akamaru was developing his own style. The wooden training sword I'd carved for him might have looked ridiculous, but watching him channel chakra through it while performing our combination techniques? Nothing funny about that.

Our teamwork evolved daily. Where before we moved in parallel, now we moved as one. His strengths covering my weaknesses, my blade extending his reach. The Beast Mimicry that came so naturally to us both took on new dimensions when combined with kenjutsu.

It all came together one misty morning. Hayate watched as Akamaru and I faced off against a squad of shadow clones. The world narrowed to movement and instinct. Blade met blade, claws flashed, fangs snapped. We spun through the chaos like twin cyclones of steel and fury.

When it was over, Hayate nodded once. "You've created something new," he said simply. "Something dangerous."

I looked at the carnage around us - dispelled clones, shattered training dummies, deep gouges in the earth. "Good dangerous or bad dangerous?"

"That," he coughed, "depends entirely on you."

I gripped my tantō tighter, feeling the weight of future knowledge pressing down. Somewhere out there, Orochimaru was plotting. The Uchiha massacre loomed. Countless threads of fate waited to be rewoven.

Akamaru pressed against my leg, our chakra humming in sync. Together, we'd forged a new path, a perfect blend of beast and blade. And this was just the beginning.

Hayate's words echoed in my mind as we headed home. Something new. Something dangerous.

Yeah. That was the idea.

..............

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[Hayate's POV]

Listen....

I've seen prodigies before. Taught them, even. But this kid... there's something different about him.

Leaning against my usual tree, suppressing another cough, I watch him move through forms that shouldn't be possible for someone his age. The tantō in his hands isn't just a weapon - it's become an extension of his being. His chakra flows through it naturally, like he's been doing this for decades instead of weeks.

When he spins into that Beast Mimicry technique, combining Inuzuka savagery with precise bladework, it's almost beautiful. Beautiful and terrifying. His ninken moves with him in perfect sync, their chakra signatures so intertwined it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

He's creating something entirely new. A fighting style that shouldn't exist. Something that combines the raw, primal power of his clan with the refined discipline of kenjutsu.

But it's his eyes that truly give me pause. When he fights, there's a weight in them. A knowledge that no five-year-old should possess. He moves like someone who's seen combat, who understands the difference between practice and survival.

They're calling him a prodigy. They're wrong.

This isn't just talent or genius. This is something else. Something that makes my combat instincts scream warnings.

Kiba Inuzuka isn't just a prodigy. He's a monster in the making.

And God help whoever stands in his way.

..........................

[ANBU Cat's POV]

"Report," Hiruzen commanded, pipe smoke curling around his weathered face.

I stood at attention, the memory of that night still fresh in my mind.

"The intruders were dealt with, Hokage-sama. Three jōnin-level ninja, presumably from Iwa based on their techniques. But that's not what concerns me."

Hiruzen's eyes sharpened. "The Inuzuka boy."

"Yes, sir." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "When we arrived, he had already engaged the enemy. Not just tracked them - engaged them. A five-year-old child, holding his own against trained killers."

"Explain."

"His tactics were... sophisticated. He used the terrain, exploited their assumptions, coordinated perfectly with his ninken. One enemy was significantly injured, another psychologically shaken. The third..." I shook my head. "The third was a hardened veteran, yet the boy had him off-balance."

"Injuries?"

"The boy sustained cracked ribs, dislocated shoulder, various minor wounds. But sir... he was smiling. Not a child's smile. Not fear or adrenaline. He looked... satisfied. Like everything had gone according to plan."

Hiruzen leaned back, eyes distant. "Your assessment?"

"He's beyond prodigy level, sir. His abilities, his tactical thinking, his control... it's unnatural. In thirty seconds of combat, he demonstrated techniques that chunin would struggle with. His chakra control is extraordinary, and his sensory abilities..." I trailed off.

"Continue."

"He knew we were coming before we arrived. Adjusted his strategy accordingly. A five-year-old boy orchestrated a delay action against superior forces, minimized civilian exposure, and successfully detained enemy combatants until reinforcements arrived." I met the Hokage's eyes through my mask. "Sir, with all due respect... what is he?"

Hiruzen took a long draw from his pipe, considering. "An asset, Cat. A valuable one." He smiled slightly. "And perhaps... exactly what this village needs."

I nodded, but inside, I wasn't so sure. I'd seen a lot in my years with ANBU, but something about that boy...

The way he fought, the way he moved, the look in his eyes...

It was animalistic.