"Feed these brats some pig slop, at least let them survive the night!"
Who was that?
Who's talking?
Did I get drunk and pass out in the street?
Reiji slowly opened his eyes. Darkness. The familiar ceiling of his home was gone. So were the white fluorescent lights he was used to. Only the faint glow of oil lamps beyond the dark iron bars offered a shred of light.
What the hell is going on?
Jolting upright, Reiji scanned his surroundings. His heart dropped.
Nothing he saw was familiar.
Iron bars divided cage after cage. Beneath him was a cold, damp floor. Inside these massive cells, children in ragged clothes huddled together, packed tightly in clusters.
What the—
He looked down at his small, soft hands. Panic surged through him.
"I'm... what, six or seven years old at most?!"
If this wasn't a dream, then something had gone seriously wrong.
These weren't his rough, calloused hands. It was obvious—this wasn't his body.
And the sharp, burning hunger gnawing at his stomach made one thing brutally clear: this wasn't a dream.
"What the f—"
Lowering his arms, Reiji gave a bitter smile and let himself fall back again. He couldn't wrap his head around any of this.
He was certain that he had transmigrated.
Fighting the hunger, Reiji clenched his eyes shut, trying to dig through this body's memories. No luck. The previous owner's mind was a complete blank—cleaner than the tissue box by his old bed.
"My money! Damn it!"
Reiji wasn't unfamiliar with transmigration. In his past life, he worked in sales. When he wasn't talking to clients, his favorite pastime was reading novels. He'd often grow tired of his routine and envy those fictional characters who got to experience fantastical new worlds.
But now that it had actually happened to him? He didn't want any part of it!
At least let me spend the tens of thousands I saved up first!
Just thinking about his money lying there in some dry, icy safe—just like him—made his chest ache with grief.
Still, he was someone who had tasted the harshness of society. He knew when to lower his head. This kind of bizarre twist of fate wasn't something he could fight.
With that, his mood began to settle.
"Well, at least I kept my memories. If I'd lost those too, this wouldn't be fun at all."
Back in his old life, Reiji had built a name for himself as a sharp-tongued salesman, taking on demanding clients and impossible deadlines. He'd developed a rock-solid mindset—that was what had kept him afloat.
After regaining some composure, Reiji reviewed everything he saw upon waking.
A pitch-black, windowless cell. Damp, frigid floors. Thick, foul air that wasn't cold, just disgusting. And ragged children everywhere. The entire scene reeked of cruelty and despair.
The only conclusion he could draw was that this place was underground.
Given that all the kids, including himself, seemed to be held against their will, it had to be the secret base of some shady international organization!
Just as Reiji was lost in thought, a sudden, piercing clatter rang out.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
He jumped in surprise.
"Jesus, are you ghosts? Walking around without a sound?"
He muttered, cracking an eye open.
In the dim light, he saw a cold-faced middle-aged man clad in a gray hemp vest over what looked like a shirt made from hole-filled socks, striking the iron bars with a wooden stick. Strangely, the man wore a metal-plated headband with odd patterns tied around his forehead.
Without a word, the man tossed handfuls of black pellets into the cages, scattering them across the floor.
Reiji happened to be lying close to the bars. He sat up, picked one up, and glanced at the man's retreating figure.
"Makes clothes outta holey socks and wears 'em inside? This guy's either a total creep or deep in some weird fetish,"
He muttered.
But halfway through the thought, Reiji froze. A bolt of realization shot through his mind, and his pupils widened.
I... I've seen clothes like that before!
A moment later, two words exploded in his brain—Naruto.
A tidal wave of shock surged through him.
Suddenly, he remembered that voice he'd heard before waking. That pronunciation—it was exactly like the "yamete" he always heard in those AVI clips he used to... study.
And that metal headband on the man—wasn't that a forehead protector?
Realizing this, Reiji looked down at the black pellet in his hand.
His teeth ached with dread.
No, no, no! We can't be sure yet. Maybe that guy was just a pervert who reads gender dysphoria as cross-dressing!
In the cage, the children scrambled to grab the black marbles on the ground. The children who grabbed the marbles immediately stuffed them into their mouths and rejoined the scramble.
Soon, the marbles on the ground disappeared. Reiji clearly noticed that many children had grabbed more than one marble and were carefully hiding them, curled up in corners and staring warily at the people around them.
The children who didn't get any stared greedily and longingly at the people around them. Among them, a few children stared at Reiji's hand holding the balls with green eyes. It was hard to imagine that a group of children only seven or eight years old could have such fierce eyes.
"Shush!"
With a light sound accompanied by chewing, the green light in the eyes of the children around Reiji shifted.
Reiji swallowed the ball and secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
When you are poor, take care of yourself; when you are rich, help others.
He only had one, and his stomach was burning with hunger, so he decided to take care of himself first.
After eating the meatball, he soon felt full, and a warm feeling rose in his stomach. Reiji smacked his lips and marveled at the taste.
Although it didn't taste very good, like eating a mouthful of mud, the effect was outstanding, and one ball was equivalent to a meal.
Feeling his stomach pain gradually ease, Reiji moved away from the children who had started fighting and found a quiet corner to lean against the wall, trying hard to remember the plot of Naruto he had seen before.
He didn't want to know, but when he did, he was shocked.
"Damn it, why is my head full of 'I, Madara, will call you the strongest' and 'Feel pain, think about pain, accept pain, know pain.'? This is killing me! I've watched too many passionate movie clips!"
Muttering to himself, Reiji's mouth slowly turned up at the corners, and he said softly with emotion.
"Youth!"
As the candlelight gradually dimmed, Reiji closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
...
After an unknown amount of time, Reiji, who was sleeping soundly, was suddenly awakened by a series of loud banging noises.
Outside the cage stood an old man in a white coat, followed by four or five ninja-like men. The middle-aged man who delivered food to Reiji and the other children was holding a wooden stick and banging hard on the iron bars.
"Get up, all of you! Get up and stand by the cage!"
The middle-aged man roared loudly, his eyes dark and fierce.
The children, dressed in rags, woke up with a start and huddled together like frightened lambs. Reiji stood up, hung his head, and hid in the crowd, watching the movements of the people outside the iron bars out of the corner of his eye.
"Squeak."
A shrill scraping sound rang out as the cage door was opened.
"Come out, all of you! Hurry!"
The middle-aged man continued to bang on the cage door fiercely, making a loud banging noise.
Reiji remained mixed in with the crowd and, amid the shouts, followed the old man in the white coat at the front into a narrow passageway that stretched as far as the eye could see.
It was a huge underground cave with water dripping from the stalactites on the ceiling. In the center of the cave, on a huge stone platform, there were splatters of dark red blood, and the air was filled with a thick smell of blood.
In front of the stone platform, a man wrapped in a cloak and covered from head to toe stood with his hands behind his back, staring expressionlessly at the huge protruding stone platform in front of him.
"Isamu-sama, the offerings for Jashin-sama are ready!"
Behind the man, a ninja-clad figure knelt on the ground, his tone full of reverence and fanaticism.
The cloaked man referred to as Isamu Ine gave a silent nod, still facing away, his hoarse voice breaking the air.
"The vessels?"
The ninja immediately bowed his head.
"All prepared. This time, we've gathered one hundred and fifty-two vessels."
Only then did Isamu nod with greater movement—it was clear he was very pleased with the number.
"Go make the arrangements. Jashin-sama will remember your devotion."
At those words, the kneeling ninja's face lit up with barely suppressed joy.
From the pitch-black cave mouths all around, a flood of children was driven out. Expressionless cultists swung their whips freely, reveling in their cruelty.
Before long, the emaciated children were herded onto the massive altar at the center of the cavern. They crowded together in fear, trembling as they waited for the unknown fate that awaited them.
Wrapped tightly in his cloak and hood, Isamu stared at the uneasy children atop the altar. His bloodshot eyes burned with fanaticism as he muttered incomprehensible madness under his breath.
As the children were arranged, the once quiet cave entrances surged again—this time spewing out scores of expressionless adults with hollow, withered faces.
Among them were men, women, even white-haired elders. They differed in appearance, age, and gender, but all shared one feature: pure white eyes devoid of pupils.
Shambling forward like the undead, the crowd slowly surrounded the altar.
With the sacrifices and vessels in place, Isamu pulled back his hood, revealing a face twisted with grotesque scars. His eyes, mostly white with little black, were veined with blood and shining with wild fervor.
"Yahahaha! Begin the sacrifice!"
As his shrill cry echoed through the cavern, the guards in ninja uniforms dropped to their knees around the altar, heads bowed low, muttering blasphemous chants that shook the soul.
Reiji stood atop the altar and suddenly felt everything tilt—like the entire world had twisted out of shape.
Even his thoughts ground to a halt, as if his brain were rusted and stuck.
"Damn cultists... I can't move! I have to... save myself!"
He had no idea what these lunatics were doing, but one thing was certain—it wasn't anything good.
Just as Reiji struggled desperately to regain control of his body...a horrifying scene unfolded.
The cultists suddenly drew twisted, dark red torture implements from who knew where. With a frenzy like meat grinders, they tore into the crowd of adults, unleashing waves of flesh and blood.
The ordinary people stood no chance against the ninja. Worse yet, they didn't resist at all. They didn't even scream.
In moments, the earth was soaked in blood. Severed limbs and mangled bodies piled up beneath the altar.
Isamu closed his eyes, inhaling the iron-rich air with a look of ecstasy. Then suddenly, his bloodshot eyes snapped open, and his grotesque face twisted in violent frustration.
"Not enough! It's not enough! There aren't enough sacrifices! Kill some of the vessels!"
His shrill scream pierced the cave. The cultists cackled, brandishing their grotesque weapons as they rushed toward the altar.
At the sight, cold sweat drenched Reiji's back.
But his body was like a rusted machine, groaning and locked tight, refusing to move.
As the bloodied axe blade closed in on his neck, Reiji's desperation peaked—his eyes burned with the pressure.
"Move! Get out of the way!"
His hysterical scream echoed through the cavern.
Something snapped inside him—like a taut wire finally breaking. With a sharp clang, a blazing survival instinct shattered his paralysis.
His body jerked back just in time, dodging the cultist's decapitating blow by mere inches.
But before he could breathe, that ghastly, demon-like face loomed again. The axe, weightless in the cultist's grip, swung again—fast and merciless—cutting through the air toward Reiji's throat.
Reiji's pupils shrank to pinpoints as the blade drew closer and closer. Despair gripped his heart.
It's over.
The sharp edge flashed. His world spun. It felt like he was flung into the air, only to crash down again with a heavy thud.
In his dimming, blurred vision, a familiar headless body toppled slowly to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Damn it! That was me! I'm dead!