Naruto: The Lust God

Michael Roberts, 23 years old, lived what many would call "the dream life." With a chiseled jawline, a body sculpted by hours at the gym, and a cushy job in marketing, he was the kind of guy who effortlessly turned heads. Women swooned over his charm, and men envied his confidence. On the surface, Michael seemed like the kind of person who had it all together.

But Michael harbored a secret, a deep, dark secret he dared not share with anyone. He loved manga and anime.

It wasn't just a casual interest; he was obsessed. He had read countless series, from the classics to the obscure, and yet he'd never let his obsession see the light of day. The thought of his colleagues or the girls he flirted with discovering this part of him sent chills down his spine. To Michael, admitting he was a 23-year-old anime enthusiast was like social suicide.

One evening, after a particularly long day at work, Michael arrived home, exhausted but content. He tossed his shoes aside, changed into his soft pajamas, and flopped onto the couch. Grabbing his tablet, he opened his favorite manga app.

"Let's see what's out," he muttered to himself, scrolling through the new releases.

His eyes landed on something he didn't expect: Boruto: Two Blue Vortex. Michael groaned.

"Why am I even looking at this trash?" he asked himself aloud.

He had loathed the Boruto series. To him, it was an insult to the masterpiece that was Naruto. But despite his disdain, curiosity got the better of him. Naruto had been his favorite series growing up, and though Boruto felt like a mockery, it was still connected to the world he loved.

"Fine, I'll give it a shot. If nothing else, I can roast it later," he said, opening the first chapter.

As the minutes passed, Michael found himself drawn in. To his surprise, Boruto: Two Blue Vortex wasn't half bad. The pacing, the art, the stakes—it was better than he expected.

"Okay, this isn't terrible," he admitted, flipping through page after page. Before he knew it, hours had flown by, and he had caught up to the latest chapter.

Michael stretched and rubbed his eyes, chuckling to himself.

"Guess I'm still the same nerd deep do—"

A sharp ding interrupted him. His tablet buzzed with a notification. Curious, Michael glanced at the screen. It was a message from the owner of the manga shop downstairs—his trusted source for all things otaku.

The message read:

"Michael-san, the last volume of The Hidden Dungeon Only I Can Enter has finally arrived. Come quickly."

Michael's heart raced. Of course, The Hidden Dungeon Only I Can Enter was his personal favorite manga. For... reasons. Reasons he'd never admit aloud, even under torture.

Without wasting another second, Michael tossed his tablet aside, jumped into some proper clothes, and bolted out the door. The shop was just downstairs, but every second counted. He didn't want anyone to see him—not when he was picking up that manga.

The shop was quiet, dimly lit, and smelled faintly of old paper and ink. Behind the counter stood his go-to mangaka, a short, overweight Japanese man with a perpetually disheveled look.

"Hey, man, you know what I want, right?" Michael whispered hurriedly, glancing around the store.

The man looked up from his newspaper with a knowing smirk.

"Yeah, yeah," he said in his thick Japanese accent, shuffling to the back of the counter.

Michael nervously scanned the shop. No one else seemed to be around, but he couldn't shake the paranoia. If someone saw him here, buying that manga, his carefully crafted image would be shattered.

The mangaka returned, holding a pristine copy of the final volume. Michael's eyes lit up, and he snatched it from the man's hands with the urgency of a starving man grabbing food.

"How much?" Michael asked, already fishing money out of his pocket.

"Ten dolla—"

Before the mangaka could finish, Michael slapped the cash onto the counter and spun around, ready to leave, but something caught his eye. On one of the shelves near the counter, a small stack of Boruto mangas gleamed under the dim shop lights.

His footsteps faltered.

"How the hell does Nariyoshi already have these?" he muttered to himself.

Michael approached the shelf cautiously, his curiosity piqued. An entire volume hadn't even been released on digital yet, let alone in physical form, and yet here they were. He grabbed one of the copies and stared at the cover.

It was mesmerizing. The artwork was stunning, almost unnervingly so. The details were vivid, the colors vibrant, as though the scene was about to leap off the page. It was… too good.

"No way," Michael whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's better than my favorite manga's covers. No. That can't be right!"

Driven by stubborn loyalty to his beloved The Hidden Dungeon Only I Can Enter, Michael fished out the final volume from under his arm and held it up for comparison.

"Let's see which is really better," he said, scrutinizing both covers intently.

But as his eyes darted between the two, something strange began to happen.

The covers started to glow. A faint, eerie light radiated from each manga, growing brighter and brighter with every passing second.

"What the—" Michael began, but he didn't have time to finish his thought.

A sudden, powerful force surged from the mangas. Michael's hands trembled as the light enveloped him. He tried to drop the books, but it was too late. He felt something pulling at him—his very soul.

"No! No, no, no!" he shouted, struggling against the invisible force.

The world around him blurred, and a deafening rush of wind filled his ears. He felt himself being sucked into the glowing light, his consciousness fading into nothingness.

The last thing Michael saw before everything went dark was the shimmering covers of the two mangas, pulsing like beacons.

...

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of the Ninja Academy, casting warm golden rays across the classroom. Students sat at their desks, some furiously scribbling notes, others barely paying attention as their teacher continued her lesson on chakra basics.

At the back of the class, a boy with striking blue hair slumped over his desk, fast asleep. His breathing was slow and steady, and he seemed completely oblivious to the world around him.

The teacher, a stunning woman with long black hair tied loosely behind her back, stood at the front of the room, dressed in light, flowing clothes that accentuated her sharp, sexy features.

[Image Here]

Her brows furrowed, and her voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

"Yuichi!"

The entire class snapped to attention, heads turning toward the source of her outburst. The blue-haired boy jolted awake, sitting upright so quickly that his desk wobbled precariously.

"Huh? What?" Yuichi stammered, blinking rapidly. His gaze darted around the room, confusion etched into his features.

The other students snickered at his disoriented state, but Yuichi didn't seem to care. His eyes roamed the classroom as if he had never seen it before.

"Where… where am I?" he mumbled under his breath, his voice barely audible.

The teacher crossed her arms, her sharp eyes narrowing as she strode toward him. Her presence was commanding, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"This is the Ninja Academy, Yuichi. And you are in my classroom. Care to explain why you're napping instead of paying attention?"

Yuichi opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. He glanced down at his hands, turning them over as if inspecting them for the first time. Something was clearly off.

"I… uh… I'm sorry," he muttered, lowering his gaze.

The teacher sighed, shaking her head. "Pay attention, or you'll be cleaning the training grounds after class," she warned before returning to the front of the room.

Yuichi slumped back into his chair, his mind racing. His heart pounded as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

Ninja Academy? he thought, his confusion deepening. What the hell is going on?

To be continued...

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I decided to take up my old novel, "Naruto: The Erotic Ninja", and make it a little bit more serious.