The morning was brilliantly clear. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, making the dew on the grass sparkle.
Slowly, Raftra (the protagonist) opened his eyes. His vision filled with the silhouettes of tall trees surrounding him.
He blinked several times, then pushed himself up into a seated position. His hands reflexively went to his head, which still felt heavy. A stabbing dizziness forced him to wait a few seconds before his thoughts cleared. As he felt slightly better, he began to look around.
This place did not entirely look like a forest, yet it was not a park either. The green grass grew in tidy swathes, and a few dirt paths cut through like trails.
Still, the atmosphere felt foreign and different.
'Where is this? How did I end up here?'
Raftra frowned, trying to calm himself. He bent his head to examine the clothing on his body: a long white shirt with slightly wrinkled sleeves, gray trousers, and a pair of clean black shoes. He was even wearing socks.
Everything looked ordinary—school clothes like the ones he wore every day.
'The last thing I remember… I left the house, ready for school. But after that…' Raftra pressed his temples, forcing himself to recall.
'Nothing. It's completely blank. What happened after that?'
He exhaled slowly. Confusion clung to him.
When he turned his head, his eyes landed on a large black bag lying on the grass. He dragged it toward him and opened it.
Inside were textbooks, a change of clothes, stationery, a wallet, UNO cards, a cellphone, a laptop, even several packets of instant noodles.
Seeing the contents made Raftra even more bewildered.
'Why did all these things come along? And why is the bag beside me? Last I knew, I had it on my back.'
After checking the bag, Raftra zipped it closed and stood, wobbling slightly—residual dizziness still nagged at him.
With one motion he hoisted the black bag onto his shoulders.
He smoothed the front of his rumpled white shirt and brushed at the grass stains on his gray trousers.
Raftra inhaled deeply. He stared at the surrounding trees as if hoping for an answer, but all he heard was the rustle of leaves in the wind.
'I don't know what actually happened. But if I stay here doing nothing, I won't find any answers,' he thought, clenching his fist.
'At least… I have to try to get out of this place.'
Resolved, Raftra began to walk along the footpath formed among the grass. Each step was cautious, as if he were treading through a mysterious foreign land.
He glanced back from time to time to make sure he wasn't being followed. So far, only silence accompanied him.
His head still ached intermittently, as though the dizziness had not fully left.
It did not take long before Raftra reached the end of the path. In the distance he saw a brighter light filtering through the trees.
Not only light—muffled sounds of activity reached him: voices, footsteps, even traders calling out to customers.
The closer he walked, the clearer those sounds became. His heartbeat quickened.
'Finally… maybe I'll find something—some answers,' he thought, trying to calm himself.
When he stepped out from beneath the trees, his stride halted. His eyes widened.
What spread out before him was astonishing: a village, or more precisely, a market square bustling with life.
Dozens of people moved to and fro. Some carried baskets of vegetables, others hawked goods, and children ran about laughing. Everything felt vivid, yet… alien.
Raftra scanned them one by one. Their clothing was entirely unlike anything he'd seen in the modern world. Some wore simple kimono-like garments, others wore protective gear on their arms or legs, and several casually carried bladed weapons as though it were ordinary.
His gaze shifted to the surrounding buildings—walls with strange carvings, tiled roofs in traditional styles, and neat rows of small stalls along the street.
There were no cars, no traffic lights, nothing to remind him of the modern world. This place seemed to belong to another era.
Raftra swallowed. Confusion mingled with trepidation.
'What kind of place is this? Why does it look so strange? I… I have never seen anything like this before.'
'Especially the architectural style here.'
He drew a deep breath, trying to think clearly. But the longer he looked, the less at ease he became.
'Or maybe…' Raftra froze, his gaze trembling as it took in the crowd.
'Why does this scene… feel similar to the world in the Naruto manga?'
He examined the scene more carefully, trying to confirm what he was seeing. The sensation only grew stronger.
Among the market-goers he noticed a man wearing a green vest that looked unmistakably familiar. Not just any vest—this was the distinctive Konoha flak jacket, complete with small pockets on the front.
More than that, the man wore a metal plate on his forehead etched with a leaf symbol—the Konoha headband.
Raftra drew a shallow breath, his chest tightened. He even spotted more than one person wearing similar attire. Some wore long dark clothing under their vests, a look so characteristic of the jonin he had seen in the manga.
His body trembled reflexively. He gripped the strap of his bag tightly.
'No way… don't tell me—'
The thought sent shivers down his spine. An odd fear crawled through him.
'Have I really… been transported to another dimension? Am I now in the world of Naruto?'
Raftra quickly turned his face away, unwilling to draw attention. Though he tried to calm himself, the fear persisted. He knew all too well this world was not safe.
The lingering dizziness returned.
'This world… is full of ninjas, wars, and danger. If I really am here… how can I survive?'
While Raftra was still trying to compose himself, a light tap landed on his shoulder.
"Hm?"
Startled, he turned. A middle-aged man with a kindly face stood beside him. From the fishy aroma and the basket bursting with fresh fish that he carried, it was clear this man was a fishmonger.
"Young one, are you all right?" the man asked with a genuine frown. "I've been watching you stand there staring for a while."
Raftra's heart raced. He forced a breath and tried to wear a calm expression so as not to arouse suspicion.
"Ah, I'm fine, sir," he replied, attempting a casual tone. "I'm just… looking around the market. It's lively, isn't it?"
The man studied him for a moment, then nodded. His eyes traveled down Raftra's clothing, taking in the details.
"Hmm, but your clothes are strange," he said, pointing at Raftra's white shirt and then the gray trousers. "Not like the attire of youths in this village."
His gaze dropped to Raftra's feet. He frowned. "And your shoes… I've never seen that style. The material is different from the sandals or shoes here."
Raftra tried to keep his face impassive, though his thoughts were in turmoil.
'Oh no… if he keeps looking like that they'll realize I'm foreign. I need a plausible answer…'
Raftra inhaled softly and crafted a quick response. He looked back at the fishmonger and said calmly,
"Actually… I'm a craftsman," Raftra answered with a hesitant expression and a somewhat forced smile. "These clothes I'm wearing now… I made them myself, including these shoes."
The man was silent for a moment, then his eyes lit up with admiration. He bent slightly to inspect the stitching on Raftra's white shirt, the neat gray trousers, and finally the sturdy-looking black shoes.
"Amazing… so you made all of this?" he said, astonished but still a little suspicious.
"The materials and the design are unique. I have never seen anything like them in the market."
Raftra offered a thin smile, trying to mask his nervousness.
"Ah, thank you," he said briefly.
The man nodded, then lowered his voice. "But… dressing like that will draw attention, child. People will be curious, especially in a market like this."
Hearing that, Raftra glanced left and right. Indeed, several people were glancing his way—some quick looks, others prolonged, as if sizing him up.
He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
'This is bad… I'm really making myself stand out. If people keep watching, they might suspect I'm not from here.'
Raftra inhaled and returned the fishmonger's nod with a faint smile.
"Then I'll take my leave. There is somewhere I must go," he said, though in truth he only wanted to get away from the crowd as quickly as possible.
'I must leave before too many people notice me. This place is too dangerous to linger.'
The fishmonger smiled warmly and patted his shoulder once. "All right, child. Be careful on your way. May your affairs go well."
"Thank you, sir."
Without hesitation, Raftra turned and hurried away from the market. The din of traders and customers slowly receded behind him. He walked on without paying attention to where his feet took him.
Each step felt lighter, as though his sole purpose was to put distance between himself and the stares.
'I don't know where to go… but first I must get away. If this really is the world of Naruto, I cannot afford to draw attention.'
Unbeknownst to Raftra, ANBU members who had become aware of his presence were observing him from a distance.
…
Minutes passed as Raftra wandered aimlessly. He let his feet follow the narrow paths between houses, eyes darting to every detail.
Traditional-style homes stood in neat rows. Children ran laughing with simple wooden toys. Street vendors offered snacks from carts, while housewives bustled with their shopping. Everything felt alive, warm, and strikingly real.
Raftra kept glancing left and right, trying to confirm the suspicion that had haunted him.
'Could this really be… Konoha Village?'
He swallowed. The more he walked, the harder it became to deny. Konoha's familiar symbols appeared more frequently—a small leaf emblem on cloth, carved wooden gates, and young shinobi passing by with metal headbands engraved with the Konoha symbol.
His steps halted when he looked toward the towering cliff in the distance. His breath caught.
Atop it, four colossal head sculptures gazed out majestically: Hashirama Senju, Tobirama Senju, Hiruzen Sarutobi, and Minato Namikaze.
There was no mistaking it—those were the Hokage faces, the most iconic monument of Konoha Village.
Raftra stood motionless for some time, his chest pounding.
'That's… the Hokage monument. So it's true. I'm really in the world of Naruto.'
He wiped his face once, trying to digest the unbearable reality. His mind raced to analyze further.
'Judging by the number of faces, I must be in a timeline before Shippuden…'
His brow furrowed as he tried to estimate more precisely, though uncertainty made him uneasy.
'It could be a period when Minato is still alive… or maybe when Naruto is already a genin, or even when Naruto is still a child.'
'But… I have no way of knowing which period this is.'
Raftra tightened his grip on his bag strap. Each step henceforth carried a mix of dread, confusion, and curiosity.
And the ANBU were still tracking him from afar.
…
After nearly two hours of wandering without direction, Raftra stopped at a small park at the village's edge. He sank onto a wooden bench under a shady tree.
His head hung low, shoulders sagging. His expression betrayed mental exhaustion rather than physical—he was spent.
He stared blankly at the earth beneath his feet, fingers gripping the knees of his gray trousers.
'I… want to go home so badly. I don't want to be here.'
Images of his family flashed vividly: his father's simple, steady advice, his mother's caring face, his older sibling always teasing him. They felt so close and yet impossibly distant.
'I just want to return… to my house. To my family. But… how?'
Raftra exhaled heavily. He knew there was no certain answer. Yet in his mind three possibilities formed.
'First… die.'
'That sounds strange. If I die here, perhaps I'll wake up back in my own world.'
'But… if I die and never return, that would be pointless.'
'Second… assume this is a dream.'
'If it's a dream, perhaps when I sleep I'll wake in my room, back home. As if none of this ever happened.'
'But… if it's only a dream, why does it feel so real? My cheek hurt when I pinched it.'
Raftra drew a long breath and let it out.
'And third… accept it. Resign myself to living here, somehow.'
He looked up at the clear blue sky. The leaves stirred gently in the breeze, but the view did nothing to soothe him.
'Do I really have to accept this? Live in a world of ninjas and war? I… I'm nobody here.'
The thought tightened his chest further.
Raftra scanned the park, studying every detail.
The place was nearly empty—only an occasional villager hurried past, too occupied with their own affairs to pay attention to a stranger.
That made him feel more isolated, as though the world itself was turning its back.
His eyes fell on the playground equipment scattered about the park: a simple swing, a slide, and a rusted seesaw. For a moment, they reminded him of the play areas from his own world.
'In some small ways, this place isn't completely unfamiliar. There are little things in common… whether by coincidence or by some universal way people build homes,' he thought, watching the swing sway gently in the wind.
But unlike the parks back home, this one seemed neglected. The metal had faded, the ground was muddy in places, and the paint on the wooden bench where he sat was peeling.
That made Raftra consider further: 'If this is truly a ninja village, it's natural for places like this to be unattended. Their lives revolve around war, not trivial matters like maintaining parks.'
His gaze swept the trees surrounding the park: dense, cool, but with a wilder feel. He could tell the foliage was close enough to be used for hiding or surveillance.
From a shinobi's perspective, even a peaceful park could become a small battlefield at any moment.
Raftra exhaled again. Every detail he observed reminded him of the vast differences between this world and his own.
He realized that simply convincing himself it was 'just a dream' would no longer suffice.
This world was too real—from the air he breathed to the rough texture of the wooden bench beneath his hand, down to tiny touches like rust on the playground equipment.
'If that's the case… I can't keep calling this a dream. It's real. I have to accept that that reality may never change.'
Raftra rose from the bench and walked toward the row of trees at the park's edge. He disappeared beneath the canopy, where daylight slowly gave way to the shade, until he found a spot that felt quieter.
Under a tree, on a patch of soft, short grass, he sat and set his bag beside him, arranging it like a makeshift pillow, then lay back on the grass.
'If I sleep now, maybe I'll wake up in my room… maybe I'll see my mother scolding me for oversleeping, my father ready for work, or my sibling absorbed in their phone.'
The thought gave him a slight unease.
'But… what if this is not a dream? What if when I open my eyes I remain here, in this foreign world?'
He inhaled deeply. The more he thought, the clearer the differences with his own world became.
Here, although small familiar things like playgrounds and trees existed, everything carried an unfamiliar tone. The air felt different, the scent of the grass and earth wasn't the same, and the quiet had a weight that made it too real for a mere dream.
Raftra closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. He knew there was no certainty in his choice. If he failed, he would only be more disappointed. Still, sleeping felt like the only hope he had.
'Even though the chance is small, I hope this is a dream.'
'But… sleeping here might be dangerous, and I have no other place to go.'
'And if I wake up still in this world, I must begin finding a way to live in the village.'
'I also need to check my bag later. The phone and laptop… those might still be useful if they're active.'
With those thoughts, Raftra let drowsiness slowly pull him under.
Gradually, he fell asleep. The ANBU who had been following him signaled to one another that Raftra had indeed fallen asleep.