Throne of the Ghost Emperor (Danny Phantom X Naruto)
Chapter 68 - 16

Chapter 68 - 16

Chapter 16: "How Many Deaths Does It Take to Learn a Lesson?"

(Spoiler: A lot.)

You know those motivational workout posters with quotes like "Pain is just weakness leaving the body"? Yeah, turns out that's a lie. Pain is just pain. And weakness? It sticks around like glitter after a birthday party.

I was starting to realize that training with Naruto was less "feel the burn" and more "feel the slow, excruciating death of your mortal form."

It started off simple enough. I followed Naruto's instructions—ones that just floated into my brain like he had Bluetooth access to my thoughts. Basic exercises, he said. Push-ups, sit-ups, squats, planks.

No big deal, right?

Wrong.

You ever try doing push-ups with 12 extra kilos strapped to your limbs? It's like playing Jenga, but you're the tower and gravity has a vendetta.

Yesterday I could barely manage ten push-ups without collapsing like a damp noodle. Today, Naruto decided the "baby mode" setting was no longer acceptable.

"Double it," he said cheerfully in my brain. "Push for twenty. You've got this!"

Sure. If by "this" you mean an intense desire to scream into the void.

Sit-ups? Same story. My abs were crying. Actually, crying is too soft a word. They were screaming. Planks? Yesterday I barely survived five seconds. Today's goal? Thirty seconds.

WITH. THE. WEIGHTS.

"I couldn't even lift 15 kilos with both hands yesterday!" I wheezed.

"And today," Naruto replied smoothly, "you will hold it with your soul."

What does that even mean, Naruto!?

Then came the martial arts drills. I thought we'd start with maybe some basic shadowboxing. Oh, sweet summer child.

Nope.

Suddenly my body was cycling through more fighting styles than a YouTube kung fu compilation: Boxing, Taekwondo, Judo, Karate, Muay Thai, Baji Quan (which I'm pretty sure only existed in martial arts movies), and then grappling ghost apparitions. That last one really confused the neighbors.

For a full hour I was punching, kicking, flipping, dodging invisible enemies while Naruto kept pumping energy into me like I was a ghost-powered Energizer bunny with a death wish.

By the time I collapsed, I was sweat-soaked, breathless, and 99% convinced my limbs had achieved independent sentience.

I lay sprawled on the floor, staring at the ceiling like it owed me an explanation for this madness.

"I... can't believe I did it for an hour," I muttered in disbelief.

"Good job," Naruto said, his voice for once sounding like a proud sensei and not the evil gym coach from a sports anime. "Keep it up, and soon you'll be able to beat Dash."

My heart actually fluttered. Beat Dash? Like, actually win a fight against the high school jock who treated bullying like a full-time job?

"How long?"

"Two Weeks," he replied casually.

I blinked. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious. The boy's got a strong body, good balance, and he's used to real fights. Your skill's better, but you're too slow. No stamina, no follow-through."

My ego deflated slightly, but only for a second.

"No problem," I said, forcing confidence into my voice. "I can wait that long."

"Originally, yes. But since you've shown some guts..." Naruto paused dramatically. "I've decided to give you full support. We'll take him down in seven days."

I immediately regretted everything. "Please take that support and throw it into the ocean."

"No refunds allowed," Naruto quipped smugly.

That's when I knew I was doomed.

"There's more training, isn't there?"

"Of course. That was just the warm-up."

I was about to make a sarcastic retort, but then my body betrayed me. Vision blurred. Darkness crept in like a dramatic curtain drop.

I passed out.

One hour later

I woke up screaming. Not from a nightmare, but because my entire existence was in pain. Every inch of me hurt. My muscles hurt. My muscles' muscles hurt. I sat up like Frankenstein after being hit by a bolt of lightning.

"WHY DOES EVERYTHING HURT?!"

"Good," Naruto said calmly. "You're awake. That means we can continue."

I facepalmed with the last ounce of strength I had. "Why do I feel like I signed up for the worst gym membership ever?"

"Because you did," he said, voice brimming with satisfaction. "Now get up. We've got work to do."

And somehow... I did.

I stared at the ceiling, groaned one last time, and dragged myself off the floor like a sweaty zombie on leg day.

Seven days to beat Dash Baxter. The odds were laughable. The pain was real. The training was evil.

But maybe—just maybe—with this crazy ninja ghost whispering in my skull, I could pull it off.

"...Let's get this over with."

-----------------------------------

You ever wake up and feel like your spine tried to crawl out of your body and file a restraining order against you?

Yeah. That was me.

After an hour of what I can only describe as Naruto's Sadistic Fitness Bootcamp—sponsored by pain, sweat, and the crushing realization that "break time" meant blacking out—I expected to at least get a juice box or a sticker. Instead, I got prophecy.

And not the "you'll pass your test tomorrow" kind. No. I got world-saving, fate-bending, high stakes anime-tier prophecy.

The afternoon started like usual: my muscles hurt, my soul hurt, and my dignity had packed its bags and moved to Cancun.

I was lying on the floor, trying to remember my name and not cry. Then Naruto's voice, usually smug and terrifying, came through softer than usual.

"You managed to bear through it," he said, almost like he didn't enjoy watching me suffer. "As such, today, I will let you experience a part of my life and learn the skills, if you can."

My brain: Red alert. What does that mean? Is he gonna make me eat instant ramen until I pass out?

But instead, something weird happened.

A warm, almost glowing feeling washed over me. Like a giant emotional pressure washer had just blasted away all the muck I didn't even know was caked on. Self-doubt? Gone. Guilt? Evaporated. Angst? Exorcised. It felt like my insides had been scrubbed clean by the world's gentlest celestial bath.

"I feel... good," I whispered, blinking in awe like some enchanted Disney protagonist.

"You are great," Naruto said, his voice like a blanket. "You will be great to the world, as that is your destiny."

Look, I've had a lot of people call me a lot of things. "Loser," "ghost boy," "mop-head," "invisible nerd." But no one had ever said that.

And weirdly enough? I believed him.

"Danny," he continued, with the same energy as a wise mountain sage, "you will be the guardian of this world. Not just another fighter. You will lead, protect, and fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. The innocent."

I blinked. "Me?"

I expected a good laugh. Maybe even a just kidding, now go do 500 squats! But nope. Naruto wasn't kidding.

"What kind of hero am I supposed to be?" I asked, feeling very small and very not-qualified.

"You will be the savior of the world," he said without flinching. "You will lead the innocent to safety and peace. And when there are those who refuse to change—when evil threatens to destroy all that is good—you will make the hard decisions."

My stomach dropped like I'd just flunked a math test.

"You mean... kill them?"

Naruto looked me right in the metaphorical eyes (because he was speaking through chakra magic or ghost Skype or whatever it is he does). "If necessary. You will try to change them. Convince them. Show mercy. But if it's them or the innocent—you protect the innocent. Always."

That's when I realized something.

This wasn't about just fighting Dash anymore. This wasn't about proving I wasn't a weakling. It was about something bigger. Way bigger.

It was about what kind of person—what kind of hero—I was going to be.

"I'm just some high school kid," I muttered. "Are you sure you didn't get the wrong person?"

Naruto, in his usual "I know things you don't" tone, said, "I don't make mistakes. And with me as your teacher, you will walk this path, no matter how difficult. You'll shape the world with your hands."

Yeah. No pressure.

But despite the panic spiraling in my brain like a hamster on espresso, a weird thing happened.

My heart—traitor that it is—thudded with something suspiciously like excitement.

Because deep down, buried under the fear and uncertainty, something clicked. Something whispered: This is right. This is what you're meant to do.

I sat up slowly, muscles still trembling, mind still reeling.

And I grinned.

"Alright, Naruto," I said. "Let's do this. Just... maybe let me stretch first so I don't pull something heroic."

-------------------------------

Danny Phantom had been through a lot in life. Ghost attacks. High school drama. Embarrassing locker room stories.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for dying as a six-year-old boy with spiky blond hair... over and over again.

It all started after what he'd called "The Great Sofa Recovery." Danny was lying down, soaking in the rare peace after training when Naruto, casually and with the gentleness of a man who thought "peace" was a fighting style, said, "Time for a little lesson."

Danny had just groaned, "Can it be a verbal lesson this time?"

But nope.

Naruto touched his forehead, and suddenly Danny was no longer Danny.

He was little Naruto.

Literally.

Like, tiny legs, oversized clothes, and a body powered entirely by ramen and spite.

Then came the kicker.

Naruto's voice echoed through the void like the world's most intimidating GPS:

"This is a memory trial. You are inside my six-year-old self. Two enemy ninja from Kumo have infiltrated Konoha. Their mission: eliminate me. Your job: survive the way I did—using only what I had, and only what you can figure out."

Danny had blinked. "Wait, isn't this the part where—"

"Yes," Naruto cut in. "Iruka and Kakashi helped from the shadows. But I didn't know that. I thought I beat two trained killers with traps and sheer guts. You must do the same."

Then the mental world clicked into place: thick forest, the smell of moss and damp leaves, a flicker of shadows behind him... and suddenly—

"—they're here."

Cue panic.

The first run-through ended in approximately twelve seconds.

Danny, in tiny Naruto's body, ran the wrong way, tripped over a log, screamed something about "diplomatic immunity," and got a kunai to the metaphorical face.

The second try? Caught in his own wire trap. Classic.

The third? He tried to talk the ninja down like Spider-Man would. They responded by teleporting behind him and giving him a back massage via blunt force trauma.

By the tenth attempt, he had been drowned, stabbed, strangled, blown up, poisoned, and at one point, choked out by his own clone that he didn't mean to summon.

It was like Groundhog Day: Ninja Edition.

"You're thinking like a hero," Naruto said from above, watching each failure like a disappointed coach. "But you need to think like a survivor."

"I'm trying!" Danny yelled back, now wearing a mud-covered leaf hat and a burning sandal. "But I don't remember the traps! And you were way more confident than me at six!"

"That's not true," Naruto said, calm but firm. "I was terrified. But I had something you don't right now."

"...Insanity?"

"Belief. I believed I had to win. I had no other choice."

Danny slumped beside a smoking bush. "And I just have the knowledge that I'm in a memory and the comforting certainty of instant death."

Naruto chuckled. "Good. Let it scare you. Let it fuel you. Try again."

The lesson was brutal.

Danny had read Naruto's manga. He knew this part. He remembered little Naruto surviving with clever wire traps, smoke bombs, a decoy scarecrow, and a log shaped vaguely like himself. He remembered thinking it was "cool" at the time.

It wasn't cool now.

It was terrifying.

Every time he failed, the world reset. The shadows returned. The footsteps grew louder. And every time, Danny realized more and more what Naruto had gone through.

He hadn't survived by being stronger than the ninja.

He'd survived by believing he could.

By tricking them. By outsmarting them. By having the guts to try one more insane move when everything seemed lost.

And finally—on the 27th try—Danny did it.

He remembered the trap placement.

He baited the ninja with a fake scream.

He led them into a log trap, tangled one in ninja wire, and used a flash bomb that nearly blinded himself in the process.

And when he stumbled out of the woods, breathing hard, bleeding from a scratch on his cheek, he saw two shadows retreat silently into the trees.

He had done it.

He had survived.

And somewhere, in the quiet of the mental world, Naruto's voice came again—gentle, proud.

"Now you understand."

Danny fell to his knees, panting, smiling, shaking with adrenaline. "That was... insane."

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