"You're dead."
The voice echoed like a whisper carried by the void. No emotion, no anger, no warmth—just a cold, bare truth stated without feeling.
He opened his eyes. There was nothing. No sky. No ground. Not even his own body. Just an infinite, white emptiness with no shape, no end. The silence was absolute, heavy, almost painful. And yet, that voice… it had cut through the calm like a knife through flesh.
In front of him stood a figure. Floating. Indistinct. It had no features, no tangible form. A dense mist concealed its face, as if even the universe refused to give it an identity. Yet he could feel its gaze on him.
"Who… who are you?" he asked.
"I am… let's say, an eternally bored entertainer. A god? Maybe. A creator? Some call me that. It doesn't matter. That's not what's important to you."
He tried to move, to take a step, raise an arm—nothing. He was nothing but a drifting consciousness.
"You are dead," the voice repeated. "Your existence on Earth is over. A mundane life."
"I'm dead…" he echoed, unable to believe it. "And now? That's it?"
A soft, almost mocking laugh vibrated through the void.
"No. I'm giving you a second chance. Not out of kindness, but out of curiosity. You will be reborn. In another world. A world of chakra, of ninjas, of war… and of fate."
A shiver ran through him—one he couldn't explain.
For some reason, the being's words brought back memories of all the hours he'd spent poring over the volumes of his favorite manga.
"Naruto…" he murmured.
"Yes. That world. You will live there. And you will belong to me."
As the conversation went on, he grew increasingly confused. What kind of situation was this? A god wanting to reincarnate him into a manga world—for what?
"I just want you to entertain me," the voice continued in its neutral tone, clearly able to read his thoughts.
"Huh!? But why me?"
"Because I feel like it. I already told you, it's because you'll entertain me. You'll be my pawn, my champion. Create chaos, or save them all. Love, betray, grow… as long as I'm not bored."
He remained silent, caught between fear and a strange excitement. Was this a dream? A punishment? A blessing?
"I understand, but… if I'm to entertain you, I'll need power."
He already knew he couldn't refuse. In that case, he might as well gain some advantages to face the challenges of this new life.
"Don't worry, human," the entity replied, clearly understanding where he was headed. "I've prepared a gift. Just make sure you use it wisely."
Suddenly, the light became blinding.
"I believe it's time now."
The figure slowly drifted away, swallowed by the void.
"Remember… I'm watching you. Don't disappoint me."
A final laugh, deep and sinister, echoed within him.
Before he could utter a word, everything turned black.
—
The darkness faded.
He gasped violently, like a man pulled from drowning. The air was thick with unfamiliar scents. Wood. Incense. Medicine. His body felt alien, oppressive, every muscle trembling with a new tension.
Then the pain hit.
Brutal. Overwhelming. Like a tidal wave of information, memories, emotions that weren't his flooding into his mind. He screamed silently, hands clutched to his head. Images flashed. Names. Faces. Memories of a life he hadn't lived but now belonged to him.
"This hurts like hell… fu—!?"
He collapsed to the side, landing on something soft. A bed. An old one, covered in a rough sheet. He curled up for a moment, waiting for the storm to pass.
After long minutes, the pain slowly subsided. His heart stopped pounding. His mind began to piece things together.
"Takeshi… Takeshi Sarutobi… 15 years old," he muttered with a hoarse voice.
A name. A new body. A clan.
He sat on the edge of the bed, legs trembling. One hand touched his chest, feeling the heartbeat of this new life. It was real. Too real. He took a deep breath. Once. Twice. Three times. Then he forced himself to think.
His parents… dead. Both of them. Victims of the Kyûbi attack a few years ago. The memory of their death wasn't his, and yet… he felt the echo of it, a dull sadness buried deep like an old scar.
"An orphan of the Sarutobi clan," he thought, frowning. "Like I asked to be reborn in that old bastard's nest…"
A flash of anger surged through him. He wanted to curse that god. Of all places, why the Sarutobi clan?
The Third Hokage. The title almost made him snort.
Hokage? He didn't even deserve to be called a grandfather.
"What kind of Hokage sacrifices his people, his clan, his honor… just to keep up his image of a wise old man?"
Suddenly, an image hit him—Itachi wiping out his clan.
A shiver ran down his spine.
"The Will of Fire, my ass…"
He had no intention of being a puppet to that so-called Will of Fire.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Three sharp knocks echoed against the old wooden door. Takeshi flinched slightly, still caught in the swirl of memories pulsing through his head. He squinted toward the door, annoyed.
"Who the hell knocks on an orphan's door?" he growled.
He got up, still a bit numb. Every step reminded him he was trapped in a body both his and not. Takeshi's memories lingered, half-fused with his own.
He opened the door.
And froze.
Before him stood a woman in her early thirties, tall and graceful, her curves highlighted by a snug-fitting jonin outfit. Her half-unzipped vest revealed a tight black top beneath, and her combat pants clung to her shapely hips.
Her light chestnut hair flowed freely to her shoulders in soft waves. But it was her eyes that drew him in—amber, gleaming with sharp intelligence… and a clear glint of mischief.
She examined him slowly, as if already savoring something.
"Takeshi Sarutobi, I presume?" she said, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
Her voice was warm, almost sultry. A slightly husky tone, with a teasing edge.
He frowned, wary.
"Yeah, that's me. And you are?"
She stepped closer—way too close. He caught her scent: floral, with an animalistic undertone, subtly dangerous.
"I'm Natsumi. A jonin assigned to monitor you. But… you can just call me Natsumi," she murmured, eyes gleaming with amusement. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together, after all."
He stepped back slightly, thinking, What the hell… what kind of life was Takeshi living to attract people this shady?
"You don't seem like a typical sensei…" he muttered, sizing her up.
She shrugged, feigning innocence.
"And you don't seem like a typical kid."
Just as he was about to respond, something caught his attention—an interface almost identical to those from the video games of his world.
System Message:
Bold action detected.
Objective: Intimate Connection
If the host manages to make the target climax, 100 merit points will be awarded.
"So that's the gift, huh?" he thought, a sly smile forming on his lips.