From Silence to Strength: How Naruto Lit the Fire in Me - Abraham Adesanya

As a kid growing up in New Zealand, I was the perfect target for bullies.

I wasn’t loud or athletic. I didn’t stand out in a crowd for anything good. If anything, I was invisible—until someone decided I was worth picking on. Then, suddenly, I was seen. Pushed. Mocked. Humiliated. I didn’t fight back. I didn’t even talk about it. I just kept quiet and endured, thinking maybe if I became smaller, they’d eventually leave me alone.

Every day felt like a test I never signed up for. School corridors became battlegrounds where I had no weapons. I remember staring at the clock, willing it to move faster, counting the seconds until I could go home, shut the door, and breathe.

But the thing is, pain has a way of either breaking you or building you. I didn’t know it then, but seeds were being planted. Not of anger, but of resilience. I just needed something—or someone—to water them.

That someone came in the form of a spiky-haired ninja in an orange jumpsuit: Naruto Uzumaki.

It started with a random episode. I didn’t even know what anime was back then. But something about Naruto pulled me in. Maybe it was how everyone underestimated him. How he was alone, labeled a loser, laughed at. But no matter what, he never gave up. He kept showing up. He kept fighting for recognition, for respect, for his dreams.

I saw myself in him.

And I saw who I wanted to become.

That one episode turned into two, then ten, then an obsession. I watched as Naruto trained, failed, got up again, and pushed forward. I saw him make bonds, protect people, and grow into someone who inspired even his enemies. It wasn’t just entertainment—it was therapy, it was fuel.

I wanted to be strong, not just physically, but emotionally. Mentally. I wanted to stand up—not just for myself, but for anyone who ever felt powerless.

So, I started training.

At first, it was small. Push-ups in my room. Jogging around the block. Watching videos on how to punch properly. I joined a local gym, then a martial arts class. I was awkward at first, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t trying to be the best—I was trying not to feel afraid anymore.

Over time, my body changed. So did my mind. I stopped walking with my head down. I learned how to breathe through the fear. I started to find my voice.

And I kept hearing Naruto’s voice in my head: “I’m not gonna run away. I never go back on my word! That’s my nindo—my ninja way!”

That became my way too.

I didn’t just train to defend myself—I trained to become someone worth believing in. Someone who could turn pain into power. Someone who could take all those years of silence and turn them into a roar.

Eventually, that journey led me to the Octagon.

Stepping into that cage for the first time was surreal. My fists were taped, my heart was pounding, and I could hear the crowd. But more than anything, I could hear the kid I used to be. The one who cried in the bathroom after being shoved into lockers. The one who never raised his voice. The one who just wanted it all to stop.

I fight for him every single time.

Every punch I throw, every drop of sweat, every scar—I carry them with pride. They’re proof that I didn’t give up. That I chose growth over bitterness. That I turned my story into strength.

Now, I fight for others too.

Because I know there’s a kid out there right now—quiet, hurting, scared—who thinks they’re alone. Who thinks they’re weak. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll stumble across a Naruto episode, or see me in the cage, and feel a spark. Just like I did.

That’s the real victory.

It’s not the belt or the win record. It’s knowing that the pain I went through can light someone else’s path. That being vulnerable doesn’t make you weak. That choosing kindness and courage over revenge is the ultimate strength.

You see, life isn’t about never falling down. It’s about what you do when you hit the ground.

Naruto taught me that.

So did every hard day, every cruel word, every bruise—physical or emotional.

Today, I stand tall not because I was born strong, but because I decided to fight for it. I built it. Every rep. Every tear. Every setback.

So to the kids out there—the ones who are quietly fighting battles no one sees—know this:

You are not alone.

You are not weak.

You are not invisible.

And one day, you’ll look back at everything you endured and realize—you weren’t just surviving. You were transforming.

Just like I did.

That’s my ninja way.

And I’m never going back.

By OLOWOOKERE EMMANUEL