Getting transmigrated wasn't the best experience. I was all dizzy, so I did the best thing I could think of — sleep. Leave the worrying for the sober me.
Waking up was surprisingly normal. No weird dreams. No sudden power surges. Just… waking up. Light filtered in through the wooden blinds and hit my eyes at an annoying angle, and I groaned like a man three times my current age.
I sat up, scratching my head. Still a kid. Still in Naruto. So it wasn't all a dream... I was half-wishing it might be, but I guess this isn't too bad. My room looked… okay. Tatami floors, small desk, old books on a shelf, a closet with clothes neatly folded by someone who clearly wasn't me. It wasn't opulent, but it fit the whole Japanese minimalist aesthetic.
'So this is the standard orphan package, huh? Not bad.'
I got dressed — simple shirt and pants, no clan symbols or edgy black cloaks — and stepped outside the bedroom. The mansion was quiet. Predictably empty. Just me.
Standing in front of the mirror, I started thinking about my new life.
Apparently, I wasn't just born in Konoha. I had a bit of backstory too. My "father" had been a merchant. Not a big shot, but he moved goods for decent profit — apparently dealing in ninja tools. My "mother" had been a chūnin, which was slightly more impressive, but nothing elite.
They died a couple of years ago on some mission-accident combo, vague enough to not matter and convenient enough to avoid emotional baggage. An escort mission gone wrong. Of course the client was my father himself. The reason I still have this mansion and all the inheritance they left. Konoha knew it was in the wrong, so they didn't confiscate anything. Good for me, I guess.
Still, they'd left behind quite a bit. Enough to pay for my life until I'm old enough to earn on my own — maybe even start a business if I'm smart about it.
Which meant I wasn't poor.
And in any world, not poor is a huge win.
I made a quick breakfast — rice, eggs, and miso — because apparently, my six-year-old hands had some muscle memory for basic kitchen work. Once I was done eating, I cleaned up, locked the door, and headed out.
Konohagakure no Sato.
It felt strange seeing it like this — well, any place out of a fantasy anime would feel surreal, but you get what I'm saying. Although the First Shinobi War was technically ongoing, here it looked like peace. Morning foot traffic. Casual shinobi leaping across rooftops like it was a morning jog.
The village was bigger than it looked in the anime. Streets were busy. Merchants shouting about their wares, kids running around with wooden kunai, Genin teams returning from missions. Noisy, but not chaotic.
I kept walking. No real goal — just exploring. Figuring out what kind of world I'd landed in. Preferably also clearing my head. Shifting to a new world wasn't exactly stress-free.
Shinobi wandered freely through the crowd, blending in with civilians. It was kind of surreal. A guy in jōnin gear grabbing groceries next to a grandma haggling over tomatoes. Headbands didn't make them celebrities — more like elite government employees. Dangerous, sure, but not untouchable.
I passed a few training grounds, most of them full. Older kids. Probably Genin or pre-Academy students. Sparring under bored-looking chūnin.
I could've joined. Tried to blend in. But there was no point pretending to be some secret prodigy.
I had exactly one thing going for me — perfect chakra control — and I didn't even have access to chakra yet. No chakra sensing. No scrolls. No meditation guides. Just household finance papers, a sealed will I wasn't old enough to open, and a medical file confirming I wasn't born with any physical defects.
No hidden scrolls or secret legacies stashed under the floorboards either. I checked. Thoroughly.
So for now, I had nothing to train with. And nothing to train for — until the Academy started in ten days.
Still, I wasn't about to just sit around doing nothing.
Back at home, I headed to the large hall and started with the basics. Stretches. Breathing. Pushups. Squats. Planks. Even as a kid, this body wasn't weak. Just… average. A blank slate.
Which was fine. I was born with an ultimate-tier talent. I'll do fine. No need to panic.
I spent an hour doing laps around the mansion courtyard. Measured my breathing. Tracked fatigue. My limit wasn't high, but it wasn't trash-tier either. I got tired, but not winded. No collapsing. No puking.
After the run, I sat under a tree and closed my eyes.
'Alright… let's try.'
I focused.
Tried to feel something. Anything. Chakra. Flow. Energy. Even the tiniest flicker.
Nothing.
Just my heartbeat and the wind rustling through leaves.
'Figures. I need to know how to extract chakra first...'
Still, it wasn't wasted. I wasn't trying to throw fireballs. Right now, like cultivators would say, I was laying the foundation. The kind of control that lets you squeeze the absolute max out of every drop of chakra.
That didn't start with flashy jutsu. It started with awareness. Movement. Precision.
The next few days followed a pattern.
Morning runs. Light workouts. Grocery shopping. Wandering Konoha. I didn't talk to many people. Didn't need to. Shopkeepers were friendly. The landlady was an old woman who kept asking if I was eating well. I nodded. She seemed satisfied.
By day five, I'd mapped most of the neighborhood. The Academy was ten minutes away. Training fields nearby. A dango shop that was always full. One store sold practice gear, but I didn't see the point in wasting money yet. The Academy would give starter kits anyway.
I saw the Hokage Monument once — barely. Only the First and Second were carved so far. The Third's face hadn't been added yet.
'Pre-Hiruzen era. Still early days. That gives me time. No Danzo to worry about either… though I doubt my skillset would attract him.'
Time to grow. Time to plan.
By the seventh day, I had a routine. I wasn't strong. I wasn't fast. But I was getting used to this body. This village. This life.
Three days until the Academy started.
Three days until I officially stepped into the shinobi world.
Sigh... I wish I had some system or some ridiculous cheats...