(PU) A CONTINGENCY

Despite what it looked like on the surface, the attention Naruto was getting from the powers that be wasn’t all bad.

Sure, his first meeting with Rebecca Costa-Brown had been more tense than a spar with Sasuke at his broodiest, but it had paid off. Since then, Winslow’s administration had been hands-off. There were no more memos about him being ‘unorthodox,’ and no more veiled threats about budget cuts or firing him if another ‘incident’ occurred. For a school that had practically lived to hound him since his arrival, the change was as obvious as day. 

He was certain the Chief Director’s hand was behind it, and the proof came a week later, when Director Piggot herself visited. Unlike Rebecca, Piggot wore her heart on her sleeves—even though she had carried herself like an unflinching wall, straight-backed, arms crossed, and a voice like gravel—but the end result had floored him: a special allocation on the timetable for his private class.

The effect was immediate.

Where once the kids mocked the handful of students who he had chosen, now those same kids were staring wide-eyed, desperate to be included. Hallway whispers had flipped overnight from jeers to pleading.

“Come on, Greg, just show me how you did that jump!”

“Taylor, I saw you land yesterday. Teach me that roll!”

“Jessie, c’mon, you’ve gotta show me how you got faster.”

While flattering, the attention also carried danger, and Naruto knew it better than anyone. And so, whenever his private students asked if they could share what he taught with the others, he always told them the same thing: don’t teach anyone else yet. 

Chakra wasn’t something you messed around with half-trained, and even back home—with full support and centuries of tradition behind it—people had hurt themselves or irrevocably damaged their pathway system by going too fast, too soon. Here? In this world that hadn't even had chakra until his arrival? The risks multiplied tenfold.

Still, the warnings didn’t ease his mind.

Because it wasn't just the other students he worried about; the villains here weren’t so different from the ones back in his own world. They also had powers, henchmen, money, networks, and (most especially) the willingness to hurt even children if it gave them an edge.

He could already picture it: some gang slipping a new recruit into his class to steal whatever ‘secrets’ he was teaching, or worse, one of his kids or even their loved ones snatched off the street, and held hostage until they gave up what they knew.

And then there was the other danger, the one Naruto knew all too well from his own youth: the reckless courage of kids with new power.

He’d seen the determined glint in Greg’s eyes, the way Taylor’s fists clenched when she thought no one was watching, and even Sophia’s growing impatience every time he told her to slow down. They were all hurting in their own ways, carrying scars no one else seemed to see, and now they had real strength. What if they got it into their heads that they could go toe-to-toe with monsters like Lung or Hookwolf?

That thought kept him awake longer than any paperwork ever could.

Piggot, to her credit, had tried to offer a solution. She’d sat across from him in his office, and suggested moving his classes to the PRT headquarters itself. In her own words, there would be much-needed and better security, oversight, and containment.

But Naruto refused. 

It might’ve been the safer option, but it would also put his students under the PRT’s thumb. And Naruto had no intention of turning them into tools for anyone, not Costa-Brown, not Piggot, and not even himself. These kids weren’t weapons. They were just… kids. And they had the right to choose a path for themselves, though hopefully good. 

So he made his own arrangements.

One late afternoon, as the last sweat dried on the mats, Naruto gathered them together and handed out bracelets. They were small, plain bands that could’ve come from a bargain bin, but each one had been painstakingly inscribed with a seal.

He told them what they were, his voice unusually serious:

“Keep it on. Always.”

A few fidgeted, exchanging wary looks, but Naruto pressed on, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“If you’re in trouble, push chakra into it. Doesn’t matter how much. And once you do, it’ll send out a flare of chakra pulse that I will feel. No matter where you are, when you use it, I’ll come.”

They’d listened then, quiet, faces pale as the weight of his words sank in.

He reminded them once more that it was a one-use safety net only for emergencies. It wasn't for showing off, wasn't for pranks, and it was only to be revealed to someone they trusted completely, in case they couldn’t activate it themselves.

When they left that day, each bracelet was firmly clasped around a wrist. Taylor lingered reluctantly at the door, and Naruto ruffled her hair with a grin, earning an annoyed glare for his trouble. He laughed, but when she was gone, the smile faded.

This wasn’t the life he wanted for them. He didn't want them to have bracelets that doubled as panic buttons, or the constant worry of villains or government forces trying to use them, or the shadow of the weight of responsibility looming over their childhood.

But this was reality, and despite his wishes, reality didn’t let anyone stay a kid for long.

When the gym finally emptied, Naruto leaned back against the bleachers, staring up at the mold-stained ceiling.

His only job now, as their awesome, stubborn, and slightly ridiculous sensei, was to keep them safe long enough for them to be ready.

And if anyone—villain, PRT, or Endbringer—tried to take that from them?

They’d have to go through him first.