Chapter 1 – Isekai Is Not for Idiots (Especially Me)
POV: Kid Naruto, Age 13
Let's get something straight right away: the world is weird. Like "talking-toads, giant-snakes, and pink-haired-women-who-can-punch-through-walls" weird. And somehow, I – Naruto Uzumaki, Number One Hyperactive Knucklehead Ninja – keep getting dragged into all the craziest parts of it.
You'd think nearly dying in a fight against your best friend would be the peak of drama. Nope. That's just the prelude.
It all started the day I got out of the hospital. My body still ached like I'd been run over by Akamaru (that's Kiba's dog, who could probably pull a train if you strapped a harness on him). My ribs were sore, my ego was shattered, and don't even ask about my heart. Sasuke – my teammate, rival, friend, and guy-most-likely-to-brood-in-the-rain – had left the village. Not for a vacation. For power. From a snake dude.
And I couldn't stop him.
Even after nearly dying, even after my friends nearly died trying to help… I still lost. I wasn't strong enough.
So, naturally, I did what any traumatized 13-year-old ninja would do: I climbed the Hokage Monument, sat on the head of the Third (he had a wise old face, made a good thinking spot), and started writing a list of all the ways I sucked.
Speed? Weak.
Taijutsu? Meh.
Chakra control? Still can't walk up trees without falling on my face sometimes.
Jutsu variety? Two techniques and a clone army. Great if you're trying to confuse cats. Not so great if you're fighting your best friend with a curse mark.
By the time I was done, I had a list longer than Kakashi's excuses for being late.
But that was the thing, y'know? I needed this. I needed to know my flaws. Because if I forgot – if I just smiled and moved on like I usually do – I'd never get better.
"I want to be as good at taijutsu as Neji," I muttered to myself, watching the clouds drift by, "faster than Kakashi. Stronger than Tsunade. I want a thousand jutsu like Kakashi, and power like the First Hokage."
Dream big, right?
I must've looked like a blonde raccoon writing my doom list on a notebook, sitting up there alone. Until I heard someone behind me.
"Naruto," Jiraiya's voice was unusually gentle, like he wasn't about to drag me off into the wilderness for two years of brutal training. "Time to go. Say goodbye to your friends, then meet me at the village gate. We won't be coming back for a while."
He placed a hand on my shoulder – not heavy, but warm. Like he was saying, You've been through a lot, kid. But we're going to fix this.
I nodded. Didn't trust my voice to not sound like a squeaky duck. My eyes burned, but I blinked hard.
Don't cry.
Don't look back.
You gotta get stronger.
I packed up. Gave Teuchi and Ayame at Ichiraku's a goodbye hug (they tried to feed me twenty bowls, I stopped at ten), waved to Iruka-sensei (he looked like he wanted to cry, too), and said goodbye to everyone else with a smile faker than a Genin's report card.
Then, I returned to my apartment for the last time.
It was small. Cramped. Smelled like instant ramen. But it was mine. I took one last look and tried not to think about how empty it'd be without me.
I closed the door, slung my bag over my shoulder, and took one heroic step toward the stairs—
—and immediately tripped over my own foot, crashed down all six steps like a flailing idiot, and smashed the entire staircase into splinters.
My face met the ground like an old friend. The kind that never forgets your address or your pain threshold.
No one was around, thankfully. My pride might've actually died right there.
I groaned, lying on my back, watching a suspiciously dark cloud float across the sky. "Great start to the journey, Naruto," I muttered. "Real strong hero moment."
But something was off.
There was this… tingling. Not like chakra. Not like pain either. More like the world had hiccupped. I blinked. The sky shimmered for a second like it was made of water.
Then everything went white.
And I was gone.
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POV: Issei Hyoudou (currently in Naruto's body)
You ever wake up and feel like something's off?
Like, your blanket's too small, your room smells weird, and your pillow has abs?
Yeah. That was my morning. Except multiply the weirdness by a hundred, throw in a terrifying hobo-uncle pouring water on my face like I was a dying cactus, and a massive headache, and you've got my situation.
I blinked awake to see a man with white spiky hair, red lines on his face, and muscles that looked like they were imported from a pro-wrestling league. His kimono was flapping in the breeze like he'd just walked out of an anime convention, and he was muttering something about "chakra flow disruptions" and "dimensional misalignment."
Naturally, my first reaction was to scream.
"WHAT THE F—? WHO DID THIS? WHY ARE YOU IN MY ROOM?!" I shouted, flailing like a panicked pigeon. My arms felt weirdly short, my voice cracked like I was twelve again, and my whole body felt… wrong.
"Calm down!" the man said, hands raised like he was the victim here. "Naruto, don't let the stress get to you."
"GET OUT OF MY PLACE, THIEF!"
I shoved him, scrambled away, and finally looked around—and that's when the panic really set in.
This wasn't my room. Not my bed. Not my posters. Not even my dimension.
It looked like something out of a historical ninja drama—scrolls, wood walls, kunai stuck in a training dummy. I blinked and saw the mountain view outside the window. There were faces carved into it. Literal faces. Like Mount Rushmore, but for Japanese grandpas.
And then… I looked at the guy again. Massive, buff, wild-haired… definitely a yakuza boss. Had to be.
"What do you want?" I squeaked. "I have no money, please don't hurt me. My family's broke. I'm not even good at sports!"
He squinted at me. "Who are you?"
"I-Issei Hyoudou!"
That seemed to catch him off guard. He looked me over like he was reading the back of a ramen packet. Then he sighed and muttered, "Yamanaka technique…"
I had no idea what that meant, but it didn't sound good.
"Issei, calm down," he said again, this time slower, like I was a scared animal—which, to be fair, I totally was. "I'm not going to hurt you. Look at your body and tell me what you see."
He pulled out a mirror from his sleeve. Just—poof—magic ninja pocket dimension or something. He held it up, and I looked.
And nearly fainted.
Because staring back at me was not Issei Hyoudou, soon-to-be high school student, pervert extraordinaire, and future Harem King.
Nope. It was a scrawny, whisker-faced blonde kid.
"…Is that how I look?" I whispered.
"Yes," he said carefully. "That's Naruto. My student. Do you remember how this happened? Anything unusual?"
"I—I was just sleeping…" My brain was still buffering like a bad YouTube video. "I went to bed in my room, and the next thing I know you're dumping water on me like I'm a bonsai tree."
He groaned quietly. "Okay. Let's not panic. We'll go see a friend of mine—someone who can look into your memories. Maybe we can figure out how to undo this. We need to get you back in your body, and my disciple back in his."
"Undo?" I asked faintly. "Wait, I'm stuck like this?!"
"I didn't say that," he said, but he wasn't making eye contact. Which meant yes.
And before I could protest, he picked me up—literally picked me up like I was a sack of laundry—and carried me out the door.
So there I was. A thirteen-year-old ninja boy with the emotional stability of a paper cup, being carted through an ancient ninja village by a semi-naked muscle wizard.
This was not how I pictured my first isekai adventure.
The town was even weirder up close. Everyone wore these ninja robes, talked about missions, and walked on walls. Like gravity was optional. Kids with headbands were throwing kunai. I saw a dog wearing a vest.
Dog. Wearing. A. Vest.
And here I was, stuck in a kid's body that was probably famous, judging by the way people kept pointing and whispering. My inner nerd should've been freaking out in joy, but instead I felt like I might pee myself.
'Those novels LIED to me,' I thought bitterly. 'No cheat powers. No pretty goddess. No menu system. And definitely no waifu welcoming committee. Just pain, panic, and pubescent anxiety.'
My new kid-body burped. Loudly.
Jiraiya looked down at me. "You okay?"
"…Can I cry now?"
"Hold it in, Issei. We're almost there."
And so began the worst field trip of my life.
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POV: Issei Hyoudou (in Naruto's body)
By the time we stopped walking, I was beyond exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, spiritually—I had basically hit the panic jackpot.
We entered what looked like a flower shop, but I wasn't stupid. No one needs three types of ninja lilies unless they're hiding something. At the front counter sat a serious-looking man with long blond hair tied back, calm eyes, and the aura of a war general playing flower boy in retirement.
"Inoichi, I need you to check the kid," Jiraiya said, still holding me like I was a firewood bundle. I didn't even fight it anymore. Dignity had packed up and left hours ago.
The man—Inoichi, apparently—blinked at me, then at Jiraiya. "Naruto?"
"No," Jiraiya said, voice heavy. "It's someone else."
Okay, now I was really feeling awkward. The guy at the counter looked confused for a second—then serious. Like lethal serious. His expression tightened, and I felt his chakra or aura or ninja soul power or whatever flare just slightly.
This man wasn't your average florist.
This was a mind ninja florist.
He nodded and motioned us into a back room. It was sterile and quiet, with a faint smell of medicinal herbs and sadness. The moment the door clicked shut, I felt a pulse go through the air—probably some ninja privacy seal.
"Sit down," Inoichi said calmly. I obeyed. I wasn't about to argue with a guy who could turn my brain into scrambled eggs.
He sat in front of me, put his fingers together in some kind of triangle pose, and his eyes turned… eerie. "Mind Transfer Technique—Engage."
I felt a pull. A weird floaty sensation. Like I was made of jelly and my brain was being gently microwaved.
Memory Dive
Apparently, my life was an open book now.
They saw my boring parents, my tiny room filled with manga, the laptop filled with questionable bookmarks, my tragic gym scores, my unspoken love for busty senpais, and my greatest ambition:
Become the Harem King.
…God help me.
But more than that, they saw Earth—our technology, our cities, our lives with zero chakra and lots of internet. And guns. Missiles. Nukes.
When Inoichi pulled back, he looked disturbed.
"Anything?" Jiraiya asked, arms crossed, tension in his voice.
Inoichi exhaled slowly. "He is… Issei Hyoudou. From Earth. A completely normal kid from a normal family. No chakra, no bloodline, nothing. The world he comes from is technologically advanced, but its people are physically fragile. However, their weapons—nuclear devices, bioengineering, information systems—are dangerous. If someone were to bring them here..."
"Let's not think about that," Jiraiya muttered.
Inoichi nodded. "The good news is: the seal on Naruto is intact. The Kyuubi hasn't been disturbed. The bad news... the soul inside this body isn't Naruto's. The memories are fragments—unfocused, unstable, incomplete—because this boy's soul is not harmonized with the chakra network. It's why everything feels off."
Jiraiya looked at me. I flinched. He looked like he'd aged ten years in ten seconds.
"So... can you fix it?" he asked, almost whispering.
Inoichi shook his head. "Unless you can retrieve Naruto's soul and bring it back here… there's nothing I can do. This isn't a possession or a genjutsu. It's a complete soul swap. And worse, it didn't use our techniques. There's no trace of a connection—this was something else entirely."
The silence in the room hit like a thunderclap.
I looked down at my tiny ninja hands. The whisker marks on my cheeks. The little orange jacket. This wasn't cosplay. This wasn't a dream.
It was real.
I was Naruto Uzumaki.
And Naruto Uzumaki was missing.
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POV: Naruto Uzumaki (in Issei's body)
I woke up feeling… comfortable.
That was my first red flag.
The bed was soft, too soft. The air smelled like lavender instead of burnt ramen or sweat. No birds chirping, no village bells, no morning training sounds. Just stillness. Darkness.
What the hell?
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. The sheets were silky, the pillows plush. This was not my bed. I didn't remember falling asleep, not even training late or getting knocked out by pervy-sage again.
I stood up, a weird heaviness in my limbs. Not tiredness—just… off.
Stumbling toward a door, I found the bathroom. Automatic light? Weird.
I took a piss, washed my hands, splashed cold water on my face, and—
"What the?!"
The mirror showed me someone else.
I froze. That face wasn't mine. Brown hair. Light brown eyes. No whisker marks. No sun-darkened skin or muscular build from years of training. My arms were longer, thinner. My chest looked flat and my abs were just gone.
I looked like a civilian! A teen civilian!
Was this a genjutsu? A transformation jutsu? A trap?
My heart raced. I clenched the counter. Tried to mold chakra—
Nothing.
A flicker, maybe, but it felt like trying to grab mist.
No chakra?
WHAT THE HELL?!
I stumbled back, breathing hard. My head spun. I needed to assess. Akatsuki? Genjutsu? Or worse… something Orochimaru cooked up?
I slipped out of the room, tiptoeing down a quiet hallway. A glance through two open doors showed a man and woman sleeping. Middle-aged. They… looked like me.
My breath caught.
Parents?
Not mine, obviously. But I could see the resemblance.
It made my stomach twist.
Downstairs, I reached the kitchen and scanned the room. Fridge. Modern design. Everything about this place felt wrong. There were no seals, no chakra imprints, no kunai racks or scrolls.
Just magnets on the fridge and a weird little calendar with cats on it.
I opened the fridge, took an apple, and leaned against the counter. Crunch. Juicy. Familiar enough. But my mind was racing.
Where the hell am I? Who did this?
I found a small kitchen knife and tucked it into my pocket. I wasn't planning to fight—but better safe than sorry. Then I slipped out the back door quietly, shoes still on.
The neighborhood was… bizarre.
Paved streets. Smooth sidewalks. Strange houses. Giant metal boxes with wheels lined up like tame animals. There were no chakra flares, no ninja jumping from roofs. Just a faint morning chill, birds chirping lazily, and a distant jogger.
They wore weird clothes. Tight shorts. Flashy shoes.
I stood there on the sidewalk, suddenly very, very aware that I was completely out of place.
This isn't the Elemental Nations. This is another world.
I've been swapped.
Someone else is in my body.
And just like that, I, Naruto Uzumaki, Hero of the Leaf, had become a lost boy with no chakra, no weapons, no allies.
Only questions.