(PROFESSOR UZUMAKI) A TALE OF THREE TEENS

Greg Veder was living his best life.

From being just an average otaku—average, he corrected himself with a grin, except in his head that word had about a thousand asterisks, each one pointing to footnotes about hidden depths, untapped potential, and the misunderstood brilliance of himself—to actually, actually getting a power-up in real life.

And not just any power-up either. This wasn’t Cauldron. This wasn’t some shady back-alley vial that cost money he didn't have, and definitely turned people into slime monsters, abominations, or knockoff heroes who nobody gave a fuck about. No. This was the good stuff. Pure, shonen-protagonist-level power taught to him by an honest-to-god sensei who could leap onto the gym bleachers like gravity was optional and grin like a Saturday morning cartoon hero.

It was a dream come true.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when both his parents were asleep and the house was quiet except for the low whirr of his computer’s fans, he wondered if that was all it was. A dream. Because, really, how else did a guy like him—him, Greg “Void Cowboy” Veder, PHO shitposter extraordinaire and meme-lord—end up with a BS anime power like chakra flowing through his body?

But then he’d press his palms together, concentrate, and there it was. That tingle, that buzz, that alive feeling spreading through him. He could feel it, control it, and shape it. It wasn't perfect, but it was undoubtedly real. It was undoubtedly his. And when he woke up the next morning and it was still there, when he walked to school and could feel it pulsing beneath his skin, ready, he knew. This wasn’t a dream. This was reality.

And reality was awesome. No, better than awesome. Because people saw him now. People who never gave him the time of day before actually spoke to him.

At school, Taylor didn’t ignore him anymore. Okay, sure, she didn’t really talk to him outside of class, not unless Naruto paired them up or something, but she didn’t shut him out either. She looked him in the eye, and—he was sure of it because he still replayed this in his head on loop—even nodded at him once. A nod! That was practically a high-five in Taylor-language.

Then there were the others like Sparky and Halle. Even Sophia, who was basically too cool for everyone, occasionally acknowledged his existence. They spoke to him. They included him. Before Naruto’s classes, Greg Veder was an NPC filler in the background of their lives. Now? He was part of the cast. Supporting role for now, maybe, but give it time and he could even be a main character.

So yeah, if this was somehow still a dream? He never wanted to wake up.

Because it could get even better. Even more awesome.

Naruto had warned them that bad people would notice. That they would want to use them, or kidnap them, or do worse to figure out how to make chakra their own. Greg knew that. He understood the risk. He even took it seriously, kind of.

But here’s the thing: if he’d listened to Naruto too seriously, he never would’ve gotten this far.

Case in point: tree-walking, or wall-walking, in his case. 

Naruto had told them not to rush it, that they’d have plenty of time for tree-walking at the gym. But Greg? Greg hadn’t waited. He’d pushed past the warnings, trusted his instincts, and tried wall-walking on his own.

And he’d nailed it.

He was no longer taking a couple of shaky steps, or getting halfway before tumbling down. No, he’d mastered it. Greg Veder, basement wall-walker, king of sticking to plaster, slayer of gravity! He was so good his mom had stopped asking why she kept hearing thuds in the middle of the night. She probably thought he was jorking it or something, but jokes on her, he was ascending to ninja-godhood.

If he hadn’t taken that risk, he never would’ve leveled up so fast. Which meant, obviously, that to grow further, to evolve beyond the noob tier into full shonen-protagonist status, he had to take bigger risks.

And there were no bigger risks than being a hero.

He didn't want to be the type of boring hero who sat around waiting for orders. No, no, no. No way. Greg Veder wasn’t sidekick material. He wanted to be the kind of hero who announced himself, who flipped into battle as his theme song played in the background, and who shouted his attack names so loud the villains knew they were already doomed before the punch even landed. He wanted people to see him coming and think, That’s Void Cowboy. That’s the guy who will rescue us from the bad guys.

He could already picture it. Himself, silhouetted against the moon while standing on a rooftop, or maybe some type of pole. He would have a cape—yeah, he’d need a cape, or at least something equally cool like a coat or headband—snapping in the wind for it to be a certified aura-farm moment. Ohhhh. Villains would tremble below, crowds would cheer his name, and Taylor would be in the shadows, watching in quiet awe because she’d finally, finally realized how awesome he really was. 

Greg vibrated where he sat on his bed, bouncing his legs so hard his desk rattled against the wall. He was vibrating with so much excitement he couldn’t stop smiling. Hell, he couldn’t stop feeling.

The thought made him bounce on his chair, knees jiggling so hard his desk rattled against the wall. He couldn’t stop smiling, and he couldn’t stop moving. His whole body vibrated with the sheer, unfiltered flood of excitement.

This was it. This was his moment.

Naruto had said to be careful. He was careful. But careful didn’t mean hiding. Careful didn’t mean wasting the single greatest gift ever given to him. Careful meant smart. And being smart meant testing himself, putting himself out there, and finding out what he could really do with chakra.

And maybe—just maybe—that meant putting on a mask and going out into the city. Because if he wanted to be a hero, then sooner or later, he had to act like one.