02:56:08
02:56:09
02:56:10
Kenji strolled leisurely through the vibrant and ever-busy streets of Konohagakure, doing his best to maintain a casual demeanor. His eyes, however, moved with purpose, cataloging everything they saw—every person, every building, that brushed against his senses.
It was almost subconscious, his legs seemed to know exactly where to go, carrying him through the winding paths and bustling markets of the village as if he'd lived there his whole life.
The false memories provided by the system were nothing short of miraculous. Not only had they given him a rich, believable backstory, complete with childhood friends and daily routines, but they also filled in every mundane detail one might need to move through the Hidden Leaf Village without attracting suspicion.
He didn't have to act, he simply knew. The layout of the streets, the common shortcuts, even the best stalls for dango—it was all there, effortlessly accessible, and wasn't that a relief, he didn't know how other people in fics think they can just appear in a village filled with ninjas and go unnoticed. That is not how things work.
His fabricated identity, Takeda Ken, the civilian son of a visiting merchant was so intricately fleshed out that even he was beginning to believe parts of it, feeling a strange echo of familiarity with a life he hadn't truly lived.
According to those newly implanted memories, Ken had lost his father, a simple traveling merchant, in a skirmish years ago on the borders of the Land of Fire. The man had left behind a small sum of money, just enough for young Ken to settle briefly in Konoha and open a modest noodle restaurant.
02:46:47
The place, affectionately called 'Ken's Haven,' had developed a decent reputation among the locals over time, mostly thanks to the lively young woman he had hired to run it. Ken himself was known for coming and going, often traveling beyond the village for 'sourcing trips' or 'expanding business connections,' depending on who asked.
It was the perfect, low-profile cover for someone who didn't stay in one place long and needed convenient excuses to pop in and out, a perfect alibi for his frequent disappearances.
02:43:23
That cover made things ridiculously easier. As Kenji moved through the throngs of villagers and ninjas, he received nods, casual waves, and genuine smiles from familiar faces—all generated by the system's subtle influence on the collective memory of his temporary acquaintances but completely convincing nonetheless.
People would greet him, asking about his latest travels or when he'd be back cooking a special dish. His body moved like it had walked these paths for years, effortlessly navigating the crowds, his posture relaxed, and he didn't need to overthink a single step or social interaction. He was blending in nicely.
But he wasn't here to blend in forever, nor to run a noodle shop indefinitely. He had a mission.
02:31:55
He eyed the numbers that seemed to be counting down since he started his mission.
His deadline.
He didn't expect it, maybe he should have. He was given three hours to find and help Team 7 get that damn cat.
As he wandered, soaking in the sights and sounds—the chatter of vendors, the distant shouts of ninja training, the scent of blooming flowers and fresh food—Kenji activated his Observation skill. A faint shimmer passed over his eyes, almost like a thin, transparent veil being pulled back, allowing him to perceive the underlying data of the world, seeing not just people, but their inherent energy levels.
[Target Identified: Civilian – Tier 10 (Low)] [Target Identified: Civilian – Tier 10 (Mid)] [Target Identified: Genin – Tier 9 (Mid)] [Target Identified: Chūnin – Tier 8 (Low)] [Target Identified: Jōnin – Tier 8 (High)] [Target Identified: Anbu – Tier 7 (Mid)]
Interesting. Very interesting. The tiers gave him a clearer, almost definitive, idea of where individuals stood in this world's power hierarchy. His own inherent strength remained at Tier 9 (Mid), which he knew was comparable to most starting ninjas. Genins seem to stat at tier 10 higher digits to tier 9 lower digits.
Chūnin consistently measured in Tier 9 to 8 (High 9 to mid 8 ), indicating a noticeable jump in ability and a baseline of competence. And even some of the Jōnin and Anbu he discreetly scanned were still within the mid to upper tier 8 range, implying a deeper mastery of their skills and power.
This consistent tiering helped him understand the pecking order, the kind of threats he could potentially handle with effort, and, more importantly, those he should absolutely avoid engaging directly. It gave him a vital strategic overview.
Eventually, his subconscious wandering, guided by the system's integrated memories, took him down a less crowded street tucked neatly between a busy tailoring shop and a humble teahouse. There, standing proudly with its unassuming wooden sign swaying gently in the breeze, was his shop.
Ken's Haven.
It wasn't flashy. It was tidy, clean, and the warm welcoming aura around it. The aroma drifting from within was enticing. As he stepped through the door, the inviting scent of warm broth and grilled vegetables surrounded him, a comforting aroma that instantly made his stomach rumble, followed by the soft, familiar jingle of the bell above the entrance.
"Welcome!" called a bright, cheerful voice from behind the counter.
A young woman stood there, her chestnut hair tied into a neat bun and her big brown eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. This was Naomi. Cheerful, energetic, and—according to the system's implanted memories—absolutely essential to the day-to-day success of this little business. Her smile was infectious, a genuine ray of sunshine.
Kenji offered her a casual, practiced smile, falling easily into the role of her laid-back boss. "Hey, Naomi. How's business been?"
Her eyes lit up with genuine warmth as she recognized him. "Well, well! If it isn't the elusive boss! I was starting to think you'd skipped town again for one of your 'sourcing trips' that last for weeks!" She playfully nudged a stack of clean bowls.
"Not yet," he replied with a light chuckle, stepping up to the counter, feeling the familiar comfort of the small space, and a surprising sense of belonging.
She immediately moved to grab a bowl, already anticipating his order with efficient grace. "Want the usual? Fresh-made miso ramen, extra pork, just how you like it?"
He shook his head gently. "Maybe later. Just checking in on things. See how business is if you need any supplies." He appreciated her thoughtfulness, a small kindness he wasn't used to.
As she turned away, humming a little tune and beginning to diligently wipe the counter, Kenji discreetly activated Observation once more, focusing on her.
[Target Identified: Naomi – Tier 10] Class: Civilian Specialist (Cook/Support).
While Naomi continued to hum and diligently wipe down the counter, creating a comfortable background hum of activity, Kenji wandered to the front window and stared out over the bustling village square.
And then, like a cold splash of water, it hit him. A truly embarrassing realization.
"…Crap," he muttered, the sudden, inconvenient truth making him frown deeply, almost comically. "Where do I even start looking for a damn cat? This would be way harder than it looks on screen, for real!"
He rubbed the back of his neck, a pang of self-reproach hitting him square in the chest. Despite knowing the mission, help Team 7 catch Tora the Cat, he hadn't considered the basic logistics.
How did one go about locating a single, notoriously mischievous animal in a massive ninja village, especially one as large and bustling as Konoha? He'd seen this "Tora the Cat" mission played out a thousand times in fanfics, parodies, and YouTube videos, always seeming like a simple, straightforward background gag for the Genin, quickly resolved for comedic effect.
But now, standing here in the flesh, It was painfully, ridiculously clear that this wouldn't be easy if he was to go looking for a single cat in this entire village.
Resting on the wall he sighed.
It was a classic blunder, assuming knowledge from fiction translated perfectly to reality without considering the mundane, yet essential, details. He felt a bit foolish, honestly.
"I've been in this world for a few minutes and already I feel like this was a mistake… of course," he sighed, a wry smile playing on his lips as he admitted his oversight. "Like Sora would say, 'I'm such a newbie when it comes to actual missions'."
Thankfully, the system, ever the silent partner and seemingly anticipating his very thought, seemed to be one step ahead of his minor existential crisis and geographical dilemma.
[Tracking Function Activated – Objective Marker Placed]
Almost immediately, a translucent digital map materialized directly in front of his vision, shimmering faintly with a distinct, glowing red dot blinking persistently near the outskirts of the commercial district. The marker pulsed, clearly indicating the cat's current, unmoving location.
Kenji blinked, a wave of exasperated relief washing over him. "Wait—you could've done this the whole time?! Why didn't you just tell me, or give me a hint, or something when I accepted the mission?!"
This damn System.
He sighed again, a more resigned sigh this time, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He had less than three hours remaining on his timer to either capture Tora himself or, assist Team 7 in any way. Whether directly or indirectly as long as you have a hand in it the mission will succeed. This gave him more flexibility.
Kenji turned back to Naomi, who had already poured him a cup of warm, inviting tea without him even asking, seemingly sensing his need for a moment of calm. Her cheerful efficiency was a nice touch, a small comfort in this bizarre new reality.
"I'm heading out. Got some… things to take care of," he said, already moving towards the door, his new purpose firmly in mind. "Keep the place running smoothly while I'm gone."
She saluted with a playful, effortless grin, her brown eyes sparkling. "I always do, boss! You know me. Don't get into too much trouble out there"
He offered her a grateful nod, a small genuine smile touching his lips, and stepped outside once more. The sun had risen higher now, casting long, distinct shadows over the rooftops, illuminating the bustling streets below.
With his eyes locked on the floating red marker, now his sole focus and guide, he broke into a brisk walk, weaving through the crowds.
Time to find a particularly mischievous cat.
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