(PU) SELF-DEFENCE

Taylor Hebert wasn’t sure when it had happened, when gym class stopped being a chore and started to feel like… something else. Not fun, exac

Taylor Hebert wasn’t sure when it had happened, when gym class stopped being a chore and started to feel like… something else. Not fun, exactly. That was asking too much. But today, for the first time, she wasn't just going through the motions. She was actually interested.

Naruto-sensei had rearranged the gym again. The cones were gone, and so were the yoga poses drawn in chalk. In their place were soft mats spread neatly across the floor, taped together at the seams. The overhead lights had even been dimmed, casting a gentler hue over the space. 

And instead of his usual bombastic “Believe it!” or cheerfully absurd introduction, he simply stood calmly at the center, barefoot as always.

“Today,” he said, his voice still carrying easily across the gym, “we begin the real work.”

There were the expected groans. Madison rolled her eyes. Greg made a noise that might have been excitement or a half-choked squeal. And Sophia, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, looked unimpressed.

Taylor, as always, stood near the back. Not hiding, but not participating either, not yet. Her arms were crossed lightly over her chest, more for comfort than defense, but she was listening.

Naruto paced slowly in a loose circle, eyes sweeping over the class. “You’ve all got different strengths,” he said. “That’s fine. That’s human. But whether you’re big or small, loud or quiet, strong or quick, everyone can learn to protect themselves. Everyone deserves to.”

Then, without warning, he dropped into a stance Taylor didn’t recognize. His limbs seemed to flow like water before settling into a perfectly rooted crouch: one foot back, knees bent, and arms raised at an angle. 

“Stance is everything,” Naruto said, not moving. “Without it, you’ve got no stability. And if you don’t have stability, you don’t have a foundation from which to learn.”

Then he stood, effortlessly.

“But the first thing I’ll teach you today,” he continued, “is how to fall gracefully. Because you will fall. And when that happens, you should know how to land without breaking something important.”

He invited volunteers. No one moved, not even Greg, so he demonstrated alone.

He mimicked slow, telegraphed punches thrown at himself, then rolled seamlessly into a shoulder fall back, tumbled, and rose again in one smooth motion. He did this for all sides, his body moving with a kind of casual fluidity she’d never seen in real life. Not even in cape fights.  

It wasn’t showy, but useful.

When he stood again and offered to walk them through the basics, Taylor surprised herself by stepping forward. Not first, an excited Greg had beat her to it, and not boldly either. But on her own volition, and without needing to be called out or shoved forward.

She mirrored the stance as best she could: feet planted shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, hands up like he showed them. Her limbs felt awkward, and she no doubt looked ridiculous. Still, she tried, and when Naruto passed her, he didn’t mock her efforts. He just nodded, smiled gently, and said, “Good. Just keep breathing and maintain your form.”

And for a moment, just one moment, Taylor didn’t feel like a victim.

She felt like she could learn how to stop being one. Like she might not have to be afraid forever.

. . . . .

Sophia Hess didn’t like change.

She especially didn’t like him.

Naruto-sensei was too cheerful, too strange, and too damn good at making people lower their guard. She hated the way the class was starting to look forward to the gym. The way Emma had stopped complaining. The way Greg practically worshipped him.

And she really hated how none of it seemed to be an act.

Today was different. They weren't going through yoga-adjacent drills, and she couldn't half-ass her participation. No more frog shit either. 

They were actually training.

Sophia didn't recognize the stance Naruto dropped into—it wasn't exactly boxing or karate—but there were enough similarities with what she’d learned at the PRT HQ that she wasn't lost. 

And that made her narrow her eyes in thought. 

He wasn’t just some gym teacher with a tan and a too-bright grin. He knew how to fight, really fight. Not flashy brawler moves, not sloppy street brawling, and definitely not the watered-down self-defense routines taught to civilians. He was trained, most likely for years.

And not by them.

She’d checked. Had asked Armsmaster during a routine Wards debrief, and sifted through PHO forums for hints. There was no active PRT cape stationed undercover at Winslow, no there were no flagged villains masquerading as faculty.

Naruto Uzumaki was a complete unknown, but he wasn't normal either. Not by a long shot. 

When he moved, it wasn’t just smooth. It was impossible. There were moments, quick and subtle, when he shifted his weight or landed from a jump, and his body seemed almost too light. And the way her instincts still flared whenever he got too close? That wasn’t a coincidence. She didn't react like that to civilians or even capes, hero or villain. 

It was like he gave off some kind of energy her guts hated. It didn’t hurt, but it made her uncomfortable, and she didn't want to be anywhere near him.

He was dangerous, and that made her pay attention.

She followed along, not because she found him attractive—like Emma and the others—but because maybe it would help her understand what he was. That didn't mean she followed his exact instructions though. Instead, she slipped into the stance drilled into her at HQ. Muscle memory carried her through the movements, even while her eyes remained sharp, tracking everything he did.

Naruto corrected her only once, when she shifted too soon in a pivot, exposing her back for a fraction of a second.

He tapped her foot with his toe and said, “Strong, but not fluid enough. You should move with the attack or else you might show your back to them.”

She didn’t answer, but the next time she moved, she adjusted accordingly. And he nodded once, like that was all he needed.

As the class ended, Naruto stood before them, arms crossed lightly over his chest.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “we will talk about what to do after the fight starts. How to walk away. And if we can’t, for whatever reasons, how to end it quickly.”

He looked at them all. Not just the loud ones, and not just the ones who stood in front. Even the ones too tired to pay attention. 

Even her.

Sophia held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary. He wasn't intimidated, was never intimidated by her or anyone so far. She hated that, but also respected it more than she cared to admit.

Maybe, just maybe, there was more to this weirdo than loud speeches and weird exercises.

Maybe he was like her.