Chapter 1 — The Office
Austin didn't wake up screaming.
He woke up sitting.
One moment there had been the sound—metal screaming, glass exploding, a shadow blotting out the sky as a plane came down where his living room used to be. The next, he was in a leather chair that was far too comfortable, facing a wide wooden desk.
Behind it sat a man who looked exactly like Morgan Freeman if Morgan Freeman had decided to dress like a government clerk. Beige suit. Calm smile. Coffee mug that read World Transfer Department.
"Well," the man said warmly, folding his hands. "That was unfortunate timing."
Austin blinked. Once. Twice. He looked down at himself—no blood, no burns, no debris. Just jeans and a hoodie, perfectly intact.
"I died," Austin said flatly.
"Yes," the man replied. "Plane. Wrong place, very wrong time. Happens more than you'd think."
Austin leaned back, absorbing that. The room around them looked like an office straight out of a movie—bookshelves filled with files instead of books, framed pictures of places that didn't quite exist, a window that showed stars instead of a city.
"So," Austin said slowly, "you're God."
The man chuckled. "A god. Capital letters get messy. I handle transfers."
"Okay," Austin nodded. "Cool. I'm dead."
"Correct again. But you won't be staying that way."
The god slid a thin folder across the desk. On the front, stamped neatly, were the words: NARUTO — INCARNATION FILE.
"You're being sent to the Naruto world," the god continued. "Reincarnation, full body, full memory retention. As compensation for the abrupt ending, you get five wishes. Reasonable ones."
Austin opened the folder, skimmed it, then closed it without much reaction.
"Five?" he asked.
"Five."
Austin thought for maybe three seconds.
"Alright," he said. "First wish."
The god raised a brow and gestured for him to continue.
"I want a jutsu," Austin said, "that grants immortality tied to time itself. I don't age, don't decay, don't die unless I choose to. Appearance-wise, it looks like Springtrap from FNAF—but I can swap forms whenever I want."
The god smiled thinly. "Aesthetic horror with temporal anchoring. Noted."
"Second," Austin went on. "A domain. When activated, it forces anyone inside to survive a Five Nights at Freddy's scenario. No chakra. No powers. Just survival. I get to choose the location."
The god let out a low hum. "Cruel. Educational. Acceptable."
"Third," Austin said. "A personal Kamui-style dimension, but it looks like a FNAF-style realm—like the Dead by Daylight version. My rules. My access only."
"Very on-theme," the god said, making a checkmark.
"Fourth. Huge chakra reserves. Like… huge."
The god laughed. "Every reincarnator says that."
"Still want it."
"You'll have it."
Austin hesitated for half a second before adding, "Fifth. A multiverse system. Only helps me jump places and buy stuff—no combat assistance. But don't give it to me until after the Fourth Ninja War."
That made the god pause.
Then he nodded slowly. "Delayed activation. Interesting restraint."
He closed the folder with a decisive thump.
"All five wishes approved," the god said. "Now, one final choice."
He leaned back in his chair.
"Which village?"
Austin didn't answer immediately.
Names ran through his head—Konoha, with its constant disasters. Suna, with its politics. Kiri, with its bloody history. Iwa, Kumo—strong, loud, dangerous.
He met the god's eyes.
"Takigakure," Austin said.
The god tilted his head. "The Hidden Waterfall? That's… unexpected. Why there?"
Austin shrugged, completely serious.
"Nothing dangerous ever really happens there."
The god smiled, amused, and snapped his fingers.
"Very well," he said. "Takigakure it is."
The office began to fade, stars stretching into light as the floor vanished beneath Austin's feet.
"Good luck," the god's voice echoed calmly. "Try not to break the world too early."
And then Austin fell—
toward water, toward chakra, toward a village no one ever paid much attention to at all.