"This kid is useless. He died after just two minutes under a genjutsu. Toss him out."
Ugh… I live alone. Who the hell is talking?
Ken opened his eyes groggily. Gone was the familiar glow of his TV. Instead, he found himself in a dimly lit, filthy room that stank of mold and decay. It looked like something straight out of a medieval nightmare—cracked stone walls, dripping water, and the oppressive darkness of a basement. He was lying shirtless on a splintered wooden table, his whole body aching as though he'd been through a grinder.
Across the room stood several figures in tattered robes. They stared at him with a mixture of awe and madness, like worshippers witnessing a miracle.
Wasn't I just watching Boruto? The time-skip teaser with Sasuke's sword? I was so hyped for next week…
Suddenly, an overwhelming torrent of information surged into his brain. The pressure was unbearable—he clutched his head and groaned in pain.
"Quick! Inform Priest Pile!" one of the robed figures shouted. "The boy lives! I think our god has descended!"
A cacophony of footsteps and panicked murmurs filled the room.
Ken blinked. Wait, why do I understand them? I don't even speak Japanese…
"Am I in Japan?" he muttered.
Suddenly, the door creaked open with urgent footsteps approaching. Panic surged through him. I need to get out of here!
Ken leapt off the table and made a break for it—but before he could reach the exit, the cultists blocked his path. He slammed into them and fell backward, landing hard on his butt.
"Ow—dammit!"
The robed people grinned menacingly, towering over him. As Ken looked down at his trembling hands, his heart nearly stopped.
These hands… they're so small.
He scrambled to his feet, only to confirm what he feared. His body was tiny—frail, even.
"I… I'm a kid?!" he cried out, horrified.
The cultists around him began to laugh eerily. One wore a necklace marked with a strange symbol—a circle and a triangle overlapping.
That's… the symbol of Jashin. The Jashin Cult? No way. That can't be right.
Ken's thoughts spiraled. Am I in Naruto? But the Jashin cult was basically wiped out by the Boruto era… Did I time travel? Transmigrate? Is this a dream?
Before he could think further, a hand slapped him across the face—hard. He flew across the room and hit the wall with a thud. His ears rang, his cheek stung, and his vision blurred.
This… hurts too much to be a dream.
Wasn't this supposed to be a cool fantasy where he was the overpowered protagonist? No pain, just glory? He laughed bitterly. Where's the plot armor when you need it?
Rough hands grabbed him and tossed him back onto the table. As Ken groaned in pain, another burst of information flooded his mind. This time, it wasn't random. It was memories—memories not his own.
I… transmigrated? Into Naruto?
His eyes widened in horror.
This was a world where war never really ended. Kill or be killed. And he had landed in the worst possible place—trapped inside the body of a war orphan sold to the Jashin cult. A body that had already died once from torture and genjutsu.
Of all places… why here?
In his past life, Ken had been a low-level anime reactor with barely any followers. He lived for weekly Boruto episodes and knew the lore inside and out. But that knowledge now felt more like a curse than a blessing.
He muttered to himself, "If they're still active and gathering kids… this must be during the early years. Post–First Great Ninja War, maybe."
Ken gritted his teeth. I'm in trouble. Real trouble.
Suddenly, glowing text appeared in his vision like a status screen in a game:
[You have successfully resisted Genjutsu.]
- Endurance +1
- Resistance to Genjutsu +1
[New Ability Gained: Low Resistance]
"W-what…? A system?" he gasped.
Status
Name: Kaizen
Type: NPC (Countdown to Version 1.0 Launch: 5 years)
Level: 1
Experience: 0
Main Class: N/A
Sub Class: War Orphan (Lv. 1) [0/50 XP]
Attributes:
STR: 1 | DEX: 2 | END: 4 | INT: 2 | CHA: 1 | LUCK: 1 | WIS: 2
Unassigned Points: 0
Chakra: 0
Chakra Nature: ?
HP: 8/10
Fame: 0
Reputation: 0
Abilities:
Low Resistance: +2 to Physical & Mental Resistance
Remarks: F-Rank (Weakling)
/Die, you shitty weakling/
Ken's jaw dropped. "I… I'm not even the player? I'm an NPC?!"
He felt his heart sink. The countdown—was that for when the real player arrives? Would they be friendly, or would he just become another disposable background character?
I'm screwed.
Tears stung his eyes as hopelessness crept in. Why can't I be the OP main character for once?
Still, he had five years before that countdown ended. That was time—barely. But enough to survive. Maybe.
Just as he resolved to pull himself together, heavy footsteps echoed through the hall. A tall, skeletal figure stepped in, cloaked in decaying robes.
"How is the child?" the newcomer rasped.
"He's alive. Looks like the genjutsu didn't fry his brain completely," said the man who slapped Ken earlier.
Ken sat up, trying to back away.
"W-Who are you?"
The skeletal man grinned, his yellowed teeth exposed like a skull.
"You don't remember me? I am Priest Jaron—most beloved of Lord Jashin!"
Ken swallowed hard.
Yeah. I'm definitely fucked