Chapter 14: Mount Me Not, You Perverted Gum-Gum Wannabe
—In which secrets are shared, faces are smashed, and farewells fly faster than fists
"Beat me again for the secret!" Issei grinned like a maniac, his body suddenly bulking up like a boss fight transformation scene from some overhyped anime. A massive fist came flying at me.
I didn't hesitate. I leapt onto his arm like it was a bridge in a Mario game. Plan A was to run up his arm, punch him in the jaw, shout something cool like "Believe it!", and then do a flip for style points.
But Issei—being Issei—cheated.
POOF!
One moment: hulk-sized gorilla man.
Next moment: back to regular-sized punch gremlin.
I took a chakra-charged jab straight to the gut. My world did a lovely little spinny-spin.
But I caught his arm mid-spin, twisted around, and slammed my elbow right into his nose with a satisfying CRACK.
"Well, I got you down again," I said, grabbing him in a headlock. "So… where's my prize, oh mighty loot box?"
Issei tapped out dramatically, wheezing. "Okay, okay, jeez. It's… basic transformation jutsu."
…
...
That's it?
Seriously?
"Wait, wait—you're telling me you just used Henge no Jutsu? The same one we used to prank teachers in the Academy?" I asked, baffled.
"YES!" he practically squealed. "Bro, I can't believe you guys haven't used this to its full potential! Do you know how amazing this skill is? I mean, forget turning into a sexy girl—you can turn into ANYTHING. Your own arm, a sword, a missile! With enough chakra control, the sky's the limit!"
I blinked. "You're not wrong… But seriously? That's your big secret?"
"Oh, and don't forget this—" POOF!
Suddenly, I wasn't holding him.
He had substituted with me. Now I was the one in the headlock, and Issei was laughing his butt off.
"Substitution Jutsu, baby! Ultimate escape move. Precision-based, focus-heavy, and totally underrated. I've trained more with this jutsu combo than you've probably ever done in your life. So…" he grinned. "How does it feel to be mounted?"
"Wha—no—HEY!" I started to protest, but too late.
He smashed my face into the dirt with all the grace of a falling refrigerator.
"ISSEI!!"
I planted my chakra-infused hands into the ground and pushed, launching us both into the air.
Gravity paused. Time slowed. And I spun into the nastiest crescent kick this side of the Hidden Leaf.
"GET OFF ME!"
My foot smacked into his ribs, and he went flying down the tree like a sack of flying regrets.
From there, it was chaos.
Punches, flips, midair kunai dodges, accidental Rasengan blasts, a surprise log or two from substitution, and even an awkward moment where Issei turned into a tree and I hugged him thinking it was real.
(We do not talk about Tree Hugging Incident #12.)
Eventually, we collapsed under a tree. Bruised. Bleeding. Breathless. And laughing like idiots.
Issei looked up at the sky and sighed. "So… this is it, huh?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "Time's ticking. You go back to your world. I go back to mine. But hey…" I grinned and reached out a fist. "We both got stronger."
He bumped it with a tired smile. "Thanks, bro. For everything. For this body. For the chance. And for not literally killing me just now."
"Pfft, that kick was barely at 50%."
We both laughed again. There was no sadness. No epic music. Just two bros, under a dream sky, being… well, us.
"Try not to mess things up too bad in my world," I joked.
"Only if you try not to be a loner idiot in mine."
"Deal."
We stood. The dream began to fade.
And as Issei turned away with a cocky grin and a wave, he called out—
"Next time we meet, I'm gonna be Emperor of the Continent!"
"Yeah, yeah. And I'll be Hokage with laser Rasengans!" I shouted back.
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There's something about waking up sore in someone else's body that just screams, "You made bad choices last night."
Maybe it was the ten thousand chakra-powered punches.
Maybe it was getting bodyslammed into a tree by a pervert with rubbery arms.
Maybe it was the fact that technically, my name right now is Issei Hyoudou, and my current hairstyle is so spiky it probably breaks fire codes.
Whatever the reason, I woke up sore, sweaty, and slightly confused about whose dream this was. And the first thing I heard—right before the dream world finally poofed away—was Issei saying,
"I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn't work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness."
He grinned like he'd just cracked the secrets of the universe. Then he disappeared in a flash of light like some kind of budget anime prophet.
Me? I just lay there thinking:
"Huh… That's either the dumbest thing I've ever heard—or the most genius."
It took my half-functioning, chakra-depleted brain about thirty seconds to decode the true wisdom behind Issei's words. Basically:
"Do whatever you want, and just ask for forgiveness later."
Issei-style morals. The same guy who invented the "Emergency Sexy Jutsu Diplomacy" method of getting out of punishment.
(Don't ask. It involves a clone, a bucket of glitter, and zero dignity.)
Still, the idea kind of stuck with me. I mean, if you think about it... nobody ever got to be Hokage by playing it safe. Maybe it was time I started being a little more dangerously Naruto.
I sat up with a groan that sounded like someone stepping on a toad. My back was screaming in seventeen different ways, and my arms felt like noodles that had been boiled, fried, and dropkicked.
"I will do my best today," I muttered, trying to sound motivated.
Instead, I just sounded like a motivational rock.
Then reality hit.
I was still in Issei's body.
Cue dramatic internal screaming.
Now don't get me wrong—Issei's body is, like, top-tier sturdy. Dude can tank a freight train and flirt with a devil at the same time. But I missed my own body. My chakra. My blonde hair. My froggy wallet. My face.
Why did we do this again?
Right. The bet.
We made a bet:
Whoever becomes a "Don" or "Emperor" first wins.
Loser becomes the other's slave for a month.
(No take-backs, no loopholes, and definitely no sexy jutsu cheating.)
So now I was trapped in his world, in his body, chasing my dream of becoming a Don.
(Which is basically a cool boss guy who wears expensive suits, has loyal followers, and maybe owns a private ramen yacht or something.)
But after yesterday's battle, training, and general idiocy, my body needed a break.
I rolled out of bed (fell, really), pulled on some clothes, and decided:
"Let's just jog. No death matches today. Just… breathing, stretching, and surviving this bizarre life choice."
It was 6:00 a.m. The sky was still yawning. Most people were still asleep or dreaming about cookies or taxes or whatever normal people dream about. Me? I was jogging down the sidewalk of a world I didn't belong in, wearing someone else's skin, chasing a goal I wasn't entirely sure how to define.
But I ran anyway.
The air was cool. The city was quiet. And even though I felt like an overcooked rice ball, I smiled.
"Do your best, huh?"
Yeah. I could do that.
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While Naruto was tying the laces of his running shoes and planning a relaxing day of light stretches, chakra control, and possibly a few bites of toast with too much jam, someone else was not exactly thinking about yoga.
That someone was Loki—self-declared genius, part-time schemer, and full-time sore loser.
Loki was not pleased. Not one bit.
Naruto had slipped through his fingers the last time—narrowly, infuriatingly. He'd almost caught the menace. Almost.
And in Loki's book, "almost" was just a fancy word for "utter failure."
"He got lucky," Loki muttered as he paced in front of his underlings, a jagged-toothed smile twitching with suppressed rage. "But this time… oh-ho, this time, we're not leaving it to chance."
He had a plan.
A brilliant plan.
More goons.
Better coordination.
And, most importantly, a net.
Yes, a net.
Not the metaphorical kind—the actual, old-school, rope-and-weighted kind you'd expect pirates or overly enthusiastic zookeepers to use.
"He always runs. So this time… we catch him before he gets the chance."
But while Loki was planning all this with the dramatic flair of a villain with too much free time, Naruto was stretching under the early morning sky.
Something felt… off.
His chakra was calm. His muscles ached only slightly. The street was quiet. But still—his gut whispered: danger.
Naruto wasn't stupid.
(Not anymore. He'd graduated from "reckless idiot" to "slightly paranoid genius.")
He didn't know why his instincts were flaring like this, but when you've been hunted by homicidal snake-men, possessed by tailed beasts, and body-swapped with a perverted wannabe emperor, you learn to trust your sixth sense.
So when it came time to head to his training spot, Naruto did not take the usual road.
Nope.
He zigged instead of zagging.
Hopped a wall. Slid down a rooftop.
Walked through an alley that smelled like expired ramen.
And finally—doubled back through a noodle shop's backdoor to make sure he wasn't being tailed.
Meanwhile, Loki's team was ready.
They had stationed themselves in Naruto's usual shortcut—hidden in bushes, disguised behind signboards, one guy even pretending to be a particularly suspicious-looking old man selling newspapers.
The net was in place. The trap was perfect.
"Any moment now…" Loki whispered with anticipation.
One minute passed.
Then two.
Then five.
Nothing.
No Naruto.
No jogger.
Not even a bird.
Just silence… and the growing realization that their prey had outfoxed them. Again.
"He didn't show," one of the minions muttered, already sweating.
Loki's eye twitched.
The wind blew the net slightly—like it, too, was mocking him.
"This is war," Loki growled. "Now it's personal."
And so, as Naruto jogged in peace with his headphones in and a light bounce in his step, he had no idea he had just sidestepped an ambush by the slimmest thread of caution.
He just hummed along with the music, thinking,
"Man, I'm really getting good at this survival stuff."
Meanwhile, miles away, a very grumpy thug of mischief was plotting Plan B:
Two nets.
Because obviously, one wasn't enough.