Kenta silently peeked from outside the door. His eyes locked onto his target.
There it was, sitting innocently on a polished wooden table: a plate piled high with dangos. Sweet, chewy, glorious dangos, their sugary glaze was visible to him.
His mouth watered. These weren't just any dangos, oh no. These were crafted by the finest chefs in the Land of Fire, hired by the Daimyô himself, who only employed the best of the best. Each dango was a tiny orb of perfection, practically begging to be devoured.
But there was a problem. A big one. Sitting just to the side of the dango plate was his other target: a servant named Hiroshi, whose sole job was to make sure Kenta didn't overdose on desserts.
His mother, Shizuka, had hired Hiroshi after one too many incidents involving Kenta and a suspiciously empty sweets cupboard.
Hiroshi was supposed to be Kenta's personal dessert police, but right now, the guy was slacking. His head bobbed, eyes half-closed, and a tiny snore escaped his lips. Kenta grinned. 'Amateur.'
Kenta reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of small, smooth rocks. They were nothing special, just some pebbles he'd picked up during his morning training.
He glanced at Hiroshi again who was still dozing. Perfect. Kenta clapped his hands softly, barely making a sound, and activated his kekkei genkai: Boogie Woogie.
In a blink, one of the rocks in his hand swapped places with a dango from the plate. The rock now sat on the plate, while the dango appeared in Kenta's hand. He didn't waste a second before popping it into his mouth.
'Oh, sweet mercy,' he thought, chewing slowly to savor the sugary goodness. 'This is what life is about.'
He repeated the trick, clapping softly again. Another rock swapped with another dango. Then another. And another.
Soon, his pockets were stuffed with dangos, and the plate was filled with pebbles. Kenta stifled a laugh.
Satisfied with his haul, Kenta turned to make his escape. But in his excitement, he bumped the door he'd been leaning against. It slammed shut with a loud thud.
Kenta froze, his heart doing a backflip. "Oopsie," he muttered, before bolting down the hallway like a spooked cat.
Behind him, he swore he heard Hiroshi yell, "Young Monster!!" Kenta's eyes widened. 'No way he said that… right? He totally meant Young Master. Yeah, that's it.' Still, he wasn't sticking around to find out.
Kenta sprinted through the estate, weaving past servants and dodging decorative vases. He finally ducked into a secluded corner behind a garden shed, panting but triumphant.
He plopped down on the grass, pulled a dango from his pocket, and took a big, victorious bite. "It feels good to be childish without anyone calling me one," he thought, grinning like a kid who'd just gotten away with stealing the Hokage's hat.
In his previous life as Raiden Kuroshi, Kenta had never had a proper childhood. His mother died shortly after his birth, and his father? Well, that guy ditched him faster than you could say "ramen."
Raiden grew up on the streets, scrappy and alone, until a grizzled old martial artist took him in. The old man tried to drill seriousness and patience into him, but Raiden was allergic to both.
Instead, he threw himself into martial arts with a wild, almost reckless determination, mastering styles from all over the world by the time he was thirty. He was a prodigy, no question, but he never lost his childishness.
That playful spirit carried over to this life. Kenta figured if he was reborn into a world as wild as Naruto's, why not continue to be childish.
He was a kid again, and this time, he had a family, a fancy estate, and all the dangos he could steal. Why not act like some stuck-up noble?
Besides, he had a motto: Do things your way, or what's the point of living?
In his past life, Raiden followed that rule to a T, and Kenta wasn't about to change it now. Sure, he could be mature when it mattered, his taijutsu skills were proof of that but where was the fun in being serious all the time?
And oh, being a noble? That was the cherry on top. Kenta loved his noble life. Servants bowing to him, chefs cooking whatever he wanted (well, except when Hiroshi was on duty), and the ability to order people around with a snap of his fingers.
He once made a servant carry him to the bath because he claimed his legs were "too tired from being awesome." The poor guy didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Kenta also knew he had the right to be a little cocky. He'd read enough novels, fanfics, and mangas in his past life to know the deal: young masters were supposed to be arrogant. It was practically a tradition!
He could just imagine himself strutting around like some novel protagonist, tossing his hair and saying, "Do you know who I am? I'm Kenta Madoka, grandson of the Daimyô, and I demand more dangos!" Okay, maybe he wouldn't say that out loud, but the thought made him snicker.
Even if he decided to ditch the noble life someday, he'd still be the Daimyô's grandson.
People would have to treat him like royalty whether they liked it or not.
Besides martial arts, his other great love in his previous life was indulging in stories, novels, fanfics, mangas, and anime. He'd binged the entire Naruto series in his past life. That knowledge gave him an edge in this world.
As he munched on another dango, Kenta mumbled "Being a noble is so much fun. I don't have to be scared of any—"
His words were cut off by a voice that shook the very walls of the estate.
"KENTA MADOKA!" his mother Shizuka's voice boomed, loud enough to make the birds scatter from the trees. "YOU BETTER PUT THOSE DANGOS BACK WHERE YOU GOT THEM, OR YOU'RE IN FOR A ROUGH SPANKING!"
Kenta's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Anything besides her," he finished, his voice a squeak.
He stuffed the last dango in his mouth, nearly choking in his panic, and scrambled to his feet. Shizuka was a sweetheart most of the time, but when it came to her son's dessert obsession, she turned into a force scarier than the Nine-Tails.
"No way she's catching me!" he whispered, wiping the sticky glaze from his lips. He got ready to escape.