As a Grey Knight In Naruto

Chapter 67 – "Of Growth and Shadows"

Three months had passed since the surgery.

Konoha had settled into a calm rhythm. The streets were warm with summer light, and the village hummed with the quiet energy of daily life. But not everything remained the same.

Hajime had changed.

He stood taller now, literally. At sixteen, he had grown into his frame like tempered steel. Now 2.2 meters in height, he towered over nearly everyone. Even Tsunade, the strongest kunoichi alive, barely reached his shoulder. People stared when he walked by, some with awe, others with quiet unease. Whispers followed him: about his calm, about his strength, about his presence. Children peered from behind corners to catch a glimpse. Adults stepped aside instinctively. Even the ANBU gave him a second glance.

But inside the Hokage Tower, he was still part of a small, familiar world. One filled with paper, sighs, and the occasional thrown cup.

"Too much paperwork," Tsunade grumbled one morning, her cheek pressed to her desk as she lazily stamped mission scrolls.

"You say that every morning," Shizune muttered from the far corner, sorting a tray of completed documents.

"And every night," Hajime added, standing near the window, arms crossed.

Tsunade looked up at him and squinted. "You're not helping."

"You said I'm not allowed to touch official Hokage documents after I rewrote that report."

"You rewrote it like a machine!"

"It was accurate."

"It had footnotes! No ninja mission report should have twenty footnotes!"

Shizune tried to hold in her laughter but failed, earning a pout from Tsunade and a subtle smirk from Hajime.

The door opened with a light knock. Sakura stepped in, her training uniform damp with sweat, her hair tied back in a short ponytail. She carried a small stack of folders and a bento box tucked under her arm.

"I brought lunch," she announced brightly. "And mission summaries."

Tsunade raised her hand. "Lunch first."

Hajime took the folders from her gently. "I'll sort these."

Sakura smiled at him. "Thanks. I've had enough paperwork for one morning."

Shizune approached with a warm smile. "You've improved a lot these past few months, Sakura."

Sakura blushed lightly. "I've had good teachers."

She glanced at Tsunade, who waved lazily from behind her desk, then turned to Hajime, who was already reading the first file with his usual quiet focus.

It had been three months since Naruto left the village with Jiraiya. In his absence, things had shifted. Sakura had initially continued training under Tsunade, but as the Hokage grew busier, and lazier, much of her instruction had naturally shifted to Hajime.

Their days began at sunrise.

In the mornings, Hajime led her through physical drills in the training field. His guidance was direct, calm, and patient. He never raised his voice, never grew frustrated. But he never accepted anything less than her best.

During one sparring session, Sakura collapsed to her knees, arms trembling.

"I think my muscles are crying," she gasped.

"You still have legs," Hajime said, walking past her.

"They're crying too!"

"You're improving," he said, pausing to offer her a hand. "You don't collapse as fast as before."

Sakura took his hand, smiling up at him. "That's not the most encouraging compliment."

"It's honest."

She laughed, standing up and brushing dust off her uniform. "You're lucky you're tall. Makes it harder to punch you in the face."

He raised an eyebrow. "You'll need to punch higher."

Afternoons were spent studying, chakra theory, battlefield medicine, anatomy, sealwork. Sakura often worked beside Shizune while Hajime reviewed Tsunade's clinic prototypes and helped refine the village's healing tools. Sometimes, he adjusted their designs in minutes. Other times, he sat in silence for hours, scribbling equations and diagrams.

Sakura watched him often, not just out of admiration, but curiosity. He moved like someone older than sixteen. A boy shaped by war, but who chose peace. A warrior with a mind sharper than any scalpel.

Evenings were quieter.

Sometimes, Hajime cooked with Sakura in the Hokage residence. She wasn't much help at first, burning rice, oversalting miso, but Hajime was patient.

"Why do you chop so fast?" she asked one night, watching his hands blur as he prepared vegetables.

"I practiced," he said simply.

"Do you ever sleep?"

"Rarely."

Sakura rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter. "You're impossible."

"You're improving," he said without looking up.

"Flattery won't stop me from making dessert."

"That's what worries me."

She threw a towel at him. He caught it midair without blinking.

Tsunade often wandered into the kitchen around then, pretending to check on them, but really just sniffing for dinner. She leaned in the doorway one night, arms crossed, watching the two of them.

"You know," she said, "I used to think he was just some quiet, stubborn genius."

"And now?" Sakura asked, flipping over a riceball.

"Now I know he's also a better cook than me."

Shizune walked in behind her. "That's not a high bar."

"Hey!"

The room filled with laughter.

But Hajime didn't always laugh. Sometimes, after the house fell quiet, he walked alone through the underground levels of his lab. Down there, far beneath the surface, stood the forge.

Built by his own hands using psychic manipulation, the forge wasn't massive or flashy, but precise. It was filled with tools he rarely touched now. Most of his work happened through sheer willpower. The plates, the alloys, the silk-wrapped joints, all moved as he guided them, like a silent orchestra led by thought alone.

His armor stood finished on a tall, reinforced frame.

It was imposing, silver-grey and crowned with a knight-like helm. Every plate was dense, every joint flexible. Layered with chakra-reactive metal and reinforced with adamantine at the core, it shimmered faintly under forge-light. On the chest plate, engraved in Latin, were the words: "Armed with Purity of Purpose."

It was both a statement and a vow.

On the right gauntlet, he had installed a psychic focus cannon, a crystal-forged channel that could shape and fire his will directly. It didn't need bullets. It needed only his resolve. And when fired, it struck like a spear of thought, silent, fast, and devastating. He also modified the armor as he grew, he only consume materials more as he can use his psychic to reforge the armor.

Beside the armor, his halberd rested. Still built around the same crude frame he'd carved months ago, it had been reinforced with chakra metal and layered steel. But he never removed the original haft. He kept it, dense and heavy, so the weight would always remind him where he started. It wasn't just a weapon now. It was history.

And far away, in the forested edges of the Land of Waves, shadows stirred.

At the edge of a clearing, deep beneath the trees, stood the sealed entrance to a small underground shelter, long abandoned. Hajime's first hideout.

A figure crouched low in the brush, a mask over his face, fingers brushing the soil. No traps. No blood. Just faint chakra echoes. The Root operative scanned the perimeter, silent and efficient.

A name echoed in his sealed report.

Koji. Maru. Rin. Kiko.

Children, Hajime once saved. A kind old woman who fed him when he had nothing.

In Konoha, Hajime stood beside Sakura at the training field, silently watching her channel chakra into her fist. She struck the dummy, cracking its frame. He nodded once.

"Well done," he said.

She turned to him, flushed with effort. "You're not going to say 'again'?"

"You need rest."

Sakura blinked. "Are you… being nice?"

"Don't get used to it."

She laughed and stepped closer. For a second, they just stood there, close, quiet, and warm in the late afternoon sun.

Hajime's silver eyes flicked toward the horizon.

His expression sharpened.

Something was coming.

But not yet.

For now, he had his place.

His people.

Let them try.

End of Chapter 67 – "Of Growth and Shadows"