Chapter 1: "The Chocolate Incident (Or, How My Day Went From Bad to Interdimensional)"
You ever have one of those days where you just know you should've stayed in bed? Like, maybe if you'd faked a cough or broken your ankle falling down the stairs, you could've avoided complete emotional annihilation? Yeah. That was me. Danny Fenton, certified walking disaster and current chocolate-covered embarrassment.
The day started the way it always did: with ghosts.
Well—ghost talk, anyway. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton. Think Bill Nye meets monster truck rally. If monster trucks hunted ghosts. Our house is basically a haunted mansion pretending to be a normal one. There's an Ecto-suction cannon next to our microwave. I've brushed my teeth with toothpaste that may or may not have glowed once. That's the level of "normal" we're working with.
So when I walked into Casper High that morning, the whispers started before I even reached my locker.
"Did you hear? His dad chased a mailman yesterday. Thought he was a poltergeist."
"Fenton probably sleeps in an iron box."
And then came Dash.
Cue dramatic doom music here.
"Hey Fenton," he boomed across the cafeteria. "Catch!"
Now, if you've ever been in middle school, you know nothing good ever starts with "Catch." It usually ends with a projectile flying at your face. In this case? A chocolate cream pie.
I didn't dodge. I don't even think I could. The thing splattered across my face like a sugary landmine. Boom. Instant humiliation. The worst part? That wasn't even the worst part.
The laughter hit next. That big, echoing, cafeteria laughter. The kind that makes you feel three inches tall and kind of like crawling into a trash can forever.
I stood there, sticky and stunned. My brain short-circuited. I wanted to punch Dash. I wanted to scream, cry, maybe teleport to Mars if that was an option. (Spoiler alert: it wasn't.)
I must've looked like a sad cupcake.
"Nice shot, Fenton!" Dash cackled, tossing high-fives like he just won the Super Bowl.
I bolted. I didn't even look at Sam or Tucker calling after me. I just needed out.
I ran until I ended up in the library. Cold. Quiet. Empty. Except—it wasn't.
That's when I heard the voice.
"What are you going to do?"
It was calm. Deep. Commanding. The kind of voice that sounded like it belonged on Mount Olympus or a heavy metal album. Not coming from the ceiling of my school library.
And then… the library vanished.
No joke. One second I'm surrounded by books and overdue assignments, and the next—bam! Welcome to the Void. Picture a blank canvas the size of infinity. No sky. No floor. Just... white. Nothing.
I barely had time to freak out before a golden light cut through the emptiness like a stage spotlight. There, on a throne that looked like it had been stolen from a really fancy anime opening, sat him.
He looked young and old at the same time. Blonde hair like a burning star. Blue eyes that could probably see through time. And that aura? It was like standing in front of a sun that decided to wear armor.
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I've had some weird dreams. Like, really weird. Once I dreamt my dad turned our fridge into a sentient robot that could only speak in ghost puns. (Spoiler alert: it was awful at puns.) But this? This wasn't weird.
This was straight-up cosmic horror in anime form.
There I was, standing in what looked like IKEA's idea of the afterlife—white void, no furniture, unless you count the throne that looked like it belonged in a museum and was forged by the immortals of extra. And on that throne? A blonde guy who radiated more "main character energy" than every superhero I've ever binge-watched combined.
Then he opened his mouth.
"No, this is not a dream. I have called you here inside your mind so that we may talk about the future."
So yeah. That's when I started internally screaming.
"You… called me?" I said like I was trying out for the role of "Terrified Bystander #3" in a horror movie. "To this—place?"
He nodded, totally calm. Like this was his Tuesday.
"My name is Naruto Uzumaki. You can call me Naruto—or Master."
Okay, that last part? Sent shivers down my spine. Not the cool "I'm about to discover my powers" kind. No, more like "I'm in a cult and no one told me" kind.
Then he said:
"I am here to teach and guide you towards a bright future…"
I blinked. Did I hear that right?
"Wait, what?"
Now, if this were a comic book—or one of Tucker's anime binges—I probably would've bowed or glowed with destiny or something. Instead, I blurted out the most logical thing my brain could muster:
"You're Naruto Uzumaki, the seventh Hokage from the Naruto manga, and you're going to make me a hero? Sign me up, baby."
Yeah. That actually came out of my mouth. I may never recover from the cringe.
Naruto blinked. "I don't know about this 'manga' thing you're talking about, but sometimes the threads of worlds tangle in strange ways."
Okay, so maybe he didn't know he was famous in my world. Which, to be fair, might've been a good thing. Nobody needs to find out they're fictional over coffee.
"So… you're from a ninja world," I said. "Did you die and become a ghost or something?"
He chuckled. "No. This is only a small portion of my soul. I visit those with potential—the ones who can save their world. Like you."
I looked around the blank space. "Right. Because I'm totally qualified. The only thing I've saved lately is Tucker from burning his tongue on hot sauce."
"Do you not feel honored by this opportunity?" he asked gently.
"Honored? Sure. Terrified? Absolutely."
Then—he touched my head.
And everything exploded.
Not literally. I mean, my brain exploded with visions. Galaxies dying. Ghosts swarming like locusts. Power I couldn't name roaring inside me like a tidal wave. One moment I was Danny Fenton, Ghost Nerd. The next, I could feel what it might be like to be… more.
More than the punchline.
More than the outcast.
A hero.
I staggered back, breathless. My knees felt like cooked spaghetti. He stood there calmly, like this was all part of some cosmic syllabus.
"Why me?" I whispered. "Why not someone who already knows how to fight? Someone braver. Stronger."
He placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Because true strength doesn't come from being born powerful. It comes from choosing to rise, even when you're at your weakest."
I blinked.
Okay. That was... actually kind of awesome.
"I'll train you," he continued. "Prepare you. But the choice is yours, Danny."
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I didn't know what to say. My brain was still trying to reboot after that mental download. Part of me wanted to run. The other part? The part that sat in the cafeteria with chocolate pudding dripping from his face, wondering why he was such a loser?
That part wanted to say yes.
Because maybe this was it. The chance to change everything. To be stronger. Smarter. Faster. To matter.
But still… he said "die" like it was a menu option.
So yeah. I was tempted. Who wouldn't be?
But terrified?
Oh, I was absolutely terrified.
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I would like to file an official complaint with the Multiversal Bureau of Not-Terrifying Encounters.
Because disappearing mid-sentence? That's not mentoring. That's emotional whiplash.
One second, Naruto Uzumaki—yes, that Naruto, believe it or not—was smiling like a benevolent sun-god about to hand me a glow-up. The next? He straight-up Thanos-snapped himself out of existence.
Leaving me in this place.
A vast, endless white nothing, like someone forgot to texture reality. No up. No down. No TikTok. Just void. You ever try panicking in slow motion? That's what it felt like.
My breath hitched. "Naruto?"
Silence.
"Hey, uh… Master?"
Nothing.
"Oh come on, you can't just leave me here!"
I turned in a circle—because apparently, that's all I could do—and almost tripped over my own feet. Which was impressive, since I wasn't even sure I had feet in this place. My body felt floaty, like a thought wrapped in Jell-O.
And the worst part? I could still hear the last thing he said, echoing in my head like a cursed ringtone.
"I will show you a beautiful beginning to our new life."
Cool, cool. Except you left me in a glorified screensaver, dude. Zero stars. No beginning, no life—just white static and existential dread.
Then the temperature changed.
At first, it was a ripple of warmth. Gentle. Inviting.
Then it slammed into me like a solar flare. I screamed—not from pain, but from sensory overload. Light twisted around me, folding space like origami. The world turned inside out—
—and suddenly, I was falling.
Not the dream kind of falling, where everything feels fuzzy. No, I mean actual falling. Sky. Wind. Gravity giving me a wedgie.
I plummeted from a cloudless sky toward a sprawling landscape that looked like a Studio Ghibli fever dream. Rolling emerald hills, trees glowing with golden leaves, waterfalls that flowed upward. It was beautiful.
And also very much approaching at terminal velocity.
"OH COME ON!" I yelled, flailing.
A second before impact, chakra-blue energy wrapped around me like a cocoon. I hit the ground—more like floated gently onto it, which felt suspiciously like cheating physics. I collapsed on my knees, panting.
Somewhere above, I swear I heard Naruto chuckle.
I groaned. "At least warn me next time."
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Let's get one thing straight.
When a golden Immortal ninja teleports you across dimensions with a motivational speech and some minor telepathic fireworks, you expect a few things. Cool powers. Training montages. Maybe a snazzy outfit.
What you don't expect is to land flat on your face in a stranger's living room that smells like lemon polish and sandalwood incense.
The floor was soft, like a really expensive rug had made sweet, fluffy love to a memory foam mattress. I groaned and rolled onto my back, staring at a vaulted ceiling with gold trim and weirdly calming cloud murals. The kind of ceiling that screams: "You're too broke to live here, peasant."
I sat up slowly.
Furniture straight out of an enchanted IKEA catalog surrounded me. Overstuffed couches. Carved wooden tables. A fireplace that looked like it had opinions. And the walls? Not walls at all, really—just open glass panels that looked out onto floating gardens and waterfalls that defied gravity.
I blinked. "Either I'm in paradise, or I hit my head really hard and woke up inside an anime."
Then came the screen.
Well, "screen" is kind of a misleading word. It didn't exactly appear so much as rip through space itself. One minute, I was admiring the designer sofa. The next? Reality opened up like someone swiped left on the universe.
A swirling shimmer hovered in midair, humming with ghostly energy. And inside it... was home.
Not metaphorical home. Literal home.
I saw Amity Park. I saw my school—Casper High. I saw that one vending machine that never gives you your change back (I knew it was haunted).
And then I saw me.
Except it wasn't me.
It was my body. Walking. Talking. Breathing. Sitting in class, making sarcastic comments, doing everything I normally do—without me inside it.
I froze. My stomach dropped like a ghost trap triggered under a birthday cake.
"Oh no," I whispered. "I've been possessed."
Let's review that for dramatic effect:
Danny Fenton: son of ghost hunters.
Now haunted.
The irony.
Ten out of ten. Would scream again.
On-screen Me (aka Possession Danny) laughed at a joke Sam made. Jazz walked by with her usual "I'm the only one holding this family together" expression. Tucker was trying to install Linux on a school laptop again.
They looked... fine. Normal. Unbothered.
Meanwhile, I was trapped in an ancient ninja villa, talking to myself like a B-list Disney Channel protagonist.
"I owe them an apology," I muttered.
All those years of scoffing at my parents' ghost alarms. All the times I said, "Pfft, full-body spiritual hijacking isn't real, Mom."
Yeah. About that.
Apparently, super real.
And now some ninja-soul-fragment with a sunshine smile and main character energy was joyriding in my skin suit.
Fantastic.
Just then, a tray floated in. You read that right. Floated. Like Casper the Friendly Waiter. It hovered at eye level and plopped itself down on a coffee table in front of me with a clink.
Cookies. Hot chocolate. Marshmallows smiling like they knew too much.
A note floated above the mug, written in calligraphy that had too much confidence for its own good.
"Welcome to Phase Two. Try not to freak out. We're just borrowing your body for a bit. You'll thank me later.
– Naruto."*
I stared at it.
"You'll thank me later?"
I choked on my own disbelief. "He stole my meat suit, served me cocoa, and thinks I'm going to write a five-star Yelp review?!"
I picked up the mug anyway.
Because even in the middle of an existential identity crisis, I am not stupid enough to turn down marshmallows.
So there I was. Possessed. Ghosted by myself. Stuck in a magical villa dimension that was probably in a brochure somewhere under "Deluxe Hero Training Camps That Mess With Your Soul."
And yet… part of me was curious.
Because as freaked out as I was, I couldn't shake that feeling from earlier.
The visions. The power. The sense that maybe—just maybe—I was meant for something bigger than hiding behind sarcasm and ghost goo.
I slumped back into the ridiculously comfy couch.
"Okay, Naruto," I muttered. "You stole my body, made me a marshmallow hostage, and dragged me into spirit boot camp. But if this is some kind of second chance…"
I sipped my cocoa.
"…you better be ready for one very sarcastic Padawan."