Morning came quietly to Konoha.
No alarms.
No urgency.
Only pale sunlight slipping through thin curtains and the distant hum of a village beginning another ordinary day.
He woke up slowly this time.
There was no scream trapped in his throat, no crushing pain splitting his skull apart. Only a dull pressure behind his eyes — the kind left behind by thoughts that refused to rest.
He sat up on the bed, small hands resting on his knees, and let his gaze wander.
The house was unchanged.
Old wooden walls.
A faint smell of dust.
Silence thick enough to press against his chest.
Yet now, that silence felt heavier.
The memories of the child whose body he inhabited no longer came in fragments. They were orderly now, like pages bound into a book he could open at will.
And with them came understanding.
His parents were dead.
His father, **Hayate**, had been a jōnin of no particular renown, a shinobi whose natural affinity was Wind Release. Not a prodigy. Not a hero. Just competent enough to survive mission after mission… until one finally claimed him.
His mother, **Aiko**, had once trained as a kunoichi before retiring early. In the end, she was simply a woman who kept the house warm, smiled often, and hid her fear every time her husband left the village.
There were no final words.
No dramatic farewells.
Only an official report.
Only absence.
They had left him this house.
They had left him some savings — modest, but enough to keep him alive for now.
And Konoha had left him alone.
The village's orphan system was inefficient at best. Overworked. Indifferent. As long as a child had a roof over their head and didn't cause trouble, they were quietly forgotten.
So a decision had been made the day his parents died.
*Ren Kurosawa would be responsible for himself.*
No guardian.
No clan support.
No ANBU watching from the shadows.
Just a small monthly subsidy — the bare minimum, similar to what Naruto Uzumaki would receive years later. Enough to survive. Never enough to grow.
He slid off the bed and walked barefoot across the wooden floor, stopping in front of a cracked mirror.
The reflection staring back at him was wrong.
Too young.
Four years old.
Dark hair. Sharp eyes far more alert than a child's had any right to be. A thin, fragile body untouched by training, hardship, or war — but destined to face all three.
"…So this is me," he whispered.
As if responding to his awareness, something shifted at the edge of his vision.
Not light.
An interface.
Translucent blue panels unfolded smoothly before his eyes, floating in the air like pages pulled straight from a manga.
---
**STATUS**
**Name:** Ren Kurosawa
**Age:** 4
**Affinities:** Wind | Lightning | Earth
**Chakra:** Very Low
**Physical Condition:** Weak
**Mental State:** Stable
---
The panel pulsed once, then changed.
---
**POWER EVALUATION (Comparative):**
*Civilian Child — Below Academy Student*
---
Another window slid into place.
---
**MISSION SYSTEM — ACTIVE**
**Available Missions:**
* Survival (Passive)
* Basic Physical Development
* Chakra Sensitivity Awakening
**Rewards:**
Chakra Growth · Minor Stat Increase · Experience
---
Clear.
Visual.
Immediate.
Just like *The Gamer*.
At the corner of his vision, another icon remained dimmed.
---
**OPTIONAL MODULE:** Nano Machine
**Status:** Locked
**Condition:** Requires Chakra Consumption Authorization
---
Optional.
Restricted.
Not free.
Good.
Power without cost never existed — not in this world, and not in the last.
He dismissed the windows with a thought and released a slow, steady breath.
A full day had passed since his awakening.
Nothing catastrophic had happened.
No enemies had appeared.
No destiny-shattering events had been triggered.
And yet, everything had changed.
He was alone in one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable — armed only with memories from another life, a child's body, and a system that promised growth… but offered no mercy.
He turned toward the window, watching the village move on without him.
"One day at a time," he said quietly.
Outside, Konoha continued to breathe.
And so did he.
---