Here's the BONUS CHAPTER as promised—thanks for the support, and let's keep this energy going!
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"Bet that I'll be on the battlefield before the war ends. If I win, you give me that pendant of yours."
Guts casually pointed at the necklace hanging around Tsunade's neck.
Her expression faltered for a split second. That pendant—did this kid know what it meant?
No. That's impossible.
Aside from her little brother… no one knew.
And her brother had only met this kid once—right before he died. No way he could've told him.
Still, Tsunade narrowed her eyes.
"Oh? And if you lose, what do I get?"
Guts blinked. Truthfully, he had nothing. Not even the savings of a broke Genin. His wallet was emptier than Iruka's love life.
"I can't lose," he declared shamelessly.
Tsunade let out a slow, cold laugh.
"Oh, please. What do I look like, stupid?"
Just as Guts thought she'd dismiss the whole thing, her tone shifted.
"Fine. If you lose… you'll be my personal attendant for the next twenty years. How about that, smart guy?"
Guts hesitated. Isn't that what Shizune ends up doing?
He rubbed his chin, then shrugged like it was a small price to pay.
Tsunade snorted. "You're pretty confident for someone who probably still can't grow a beard."
From her perspective, this war wouldn't last more than six months. And to be sent to the battlefield, you'd need to be an elite Chūnin at the very least.
Guts? Sure, he was strong for his age—but reaching that level in just a few months? Impossible.
At best, he'd still be doing D-rank missions and cleaning cat poop.
"Well, I'll be waiting for my tea, attendant."
With a flick of her ponytail and the swagger of someone who'd just scammed a rich uncle, Tsunade disappeared from the school gates.
The moment she was gone, the silence shattered.
"Wait, did Guts actually bet against Tsunade-sama?!"
"Is he crazy or just really confident?"
"Either way, he's got guts…"
"Konoha's strongest gambler just found a new victim!" ( Bro What? )
The gossip spread like wildfire through the students crowding the gate.
Guts, however, couldn't care less. He wasn't here to impress a bunch of side characters.
After class, it was back to the usual grind—basic training, and then evening drills with Might Guy.
That night, Guy couldn't help but notice something strange.
"You seem extra fired up tonight, Guts!"
"Hah! I'm always fired up!"
"No, I mean like... extra extra. You passed me six times already!"
Guts just grinned. He wasn't about to explain that he'd basically agreed to be Tsunade's manservant for two decades if he failed.
Motivation was high, to say the least.
Guy sighed. "Man… I wish I could train at the official ninja grounds like you."
Unfortunately, his father was just a Genin—no clout, no connections, no access.
The next morning, Guts walked into the classroom and immediately felt the heat.
Dozens of eyes. All on him.
He let out a long breath. Yep, the bet was public knowledge now.
He barely sat down when Kurenai leaned over.
"You seriously bet Tsunade-sama you'd get on the battlefield?"
She frowned. "My dad says you need to be at least a Chūnin. There's no way you'll be sent to the front lines."
Since Nawaki's death, Hokage-sama had tightened the rules—no Genin allowed on battlefield missions, no matter how bad things got.
Kurenai added, sounding a little too smug.
"That's what normal ninjas think," Guts replied with a smirk.
"But I'm not normal."
Kurenai huffed and turned away.
She mumbled something about "idiot with a death wish" and went to chat with Shizune.
At that moment, a mocking voice piped up from across the room.
"The war will be over in less than a year. Some people sure like to dream."
It was Sarutobi Asuma.
Ah, yes. The Hokage's son, connoisseur of smugness and mediocre comebacks.
"That's the mindset of someone destined to be a mid-tier ninja forever," Guts replied, arms behind his head.
"Keep thinking like that, and you'll never break past average."
Asuma shot to his feet like someone lit a fire under his chair. His face twisted into that classic "how dare you" scowl nobles probably practiced in the mirror.
In the elite class, Asuma was kind of a big deal. Top five in strength, maybe top three in ego.
Add to that the Sarutobi name—he wasn't just some random leaf off the tree. No, this tree had roots.
So naturally, being brushed off by a nobody like Guts? Unforgivable.
Guts, however, barely looked up from the imaginary ceiling he'd been daydreaming into.
"If you're hard of hearing, maybe don't be a ninja," he said flatly.
"Might mistake a kunai whistle for a bird call and lose your head."
The class gasped in unison. Even the blackboard seemed to flinch.
Asuma's eye twitched. His hands curled into fists, ready to swing.
See, Asuma wasn't stupid. Sure, he was pissed, but he also wasn't about to throw hands in front of thirty witnesses.
He may have wanted to punch Guts in his overly calm face, but he also wanted to stay enrolled.
Plus, If he caused trouble, his old man wouldn't give him a cookie and a pat on the head—he'd get a lecture, a training scroll, and probably a week scrubbing the Hokage Monument with a toothbrush.
And, honestly, Hiruzen had bigger things to worry about right now—like, say, the entire Second Ninja War.
So instead, Asuma sat back down with a dramatic thud, arms crossed, sulking like a kicked puppy planning revenge.
Next actual combat test, he thought, that smug jerk is mine.
Meanwhile, Guts leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling like a man with not a single worry in the world.
He wasn't being arrogant. Okay—maybe a little. But mostly, he was thinking.
Second Ninja War… it's gotta be wrapping up soon, right? A year? Maybe less?
That wasn't much time.
Either way, he wanted to win that bet with Tsunade and avoid being her personal tea-fetching punching bag for the next two decades.
He clenched his fists beneath the desk.
If I want to win that bet—and keep my freedom—I've got to level up. Fast.
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