The misty waters stretched far and wide, gentle ripples dancing across the surface.
On the calm lake stood a lone figure—small, barely a meter tall. A child, judging by his build, with a thin face marked by six distinct whisker-like birthmarks. Though young, his eyes shimmered with an intense, sky-blue brilliance—calm yet deep, piercing in their clarity.
His golden hair swayed in the breeze, its reflection rippling in the water… until a small fish suddenly broke the surface.
Swish!
A sharpened wooden stick pierced through the water with practiced ease. Blood spread beneath the surface as the struggling fish was skewered. It writhed for a few moments, then stilled.
"Decent size," the boy muttered, lifting his catch. "Looks like I can have another full meal today."
The boy's name was Uzumaki Naruto, and this place was none other than Konohagakure no Sato—the Hidden Leaf Village.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in his mind:
"Fishing Proficiency +10."
Naruto didn't even flinch. He was long used to the voice inside his head. Ever since arriving in this world, he'd possessed a strange ability—something akin to a divine blessing. As long as he did something, whether physical or mental, he would receive feedback: proficiency, skills, even minor stat boosts.
Fishing, for example, granted a small bonus to strength and agility alongside its proficiency gain. The voice never said it explicitly, but Naruto could feel the growth within him.
He wasn't the original Naruto of this world. At least, he didn't think so. Whether he had reincarnated or transmigrated, he couldn't say. All he remembered was the chaos of the Nine-Tails Attack when he first became aware.
A red-haired woman had whispered softly in his ear, gently urging him to remember the Three Ninja Prohibitions.
He knew that voice—it belonged to Uzumaki Kushina, the previous Nine-Tails' Jinchūriki, wife of the Fourth Hokage, and now… his mother.
The moment confirmed it—he had been reborn into this world. The overwhelming soul power he possessed, far beyond what a normal newborn could hold, was a telltale sign. It was as though two souls had merged into one.
That overwhelming surge of emotion when he first heard her voice… he couldn't hold back his tears. In his past life, he'd been an orphan. Love like that had been foreign, fleeting. But just as quickly as it came, it was torn away.
As a baby, he slept most of the time. By the time he fully regained awareness, the Nine-Tails incident was already over.
His old name no longer mattered. He was Uzumaki Naruto now.
But the life that followed was even more brutal than he had imagined. He once thought the original story's depiction of Naruto's early years was exaggerated—but reality was harsher.
There was no hero's welcome. No acknowledgment of being the Fourth Hokage's son. That truth had been completely sealed away.
Soon after, he was placed in the care of a nanny. Unbeknownst to him, rumors began to swirl—whispers of the Kyūbi. Worse still, his appearance became known throughout the village. The villagers' hatred toward the demon fox quickly turned toward the child himself.
The nanny was abusive. The ANBU, assigned to protect him, did nothing. In fact, Naruto—thanks to his spiritual strength—could sense their hidden hostility. They didn't even try to hide it sometimes. Killing intent, though quickly restrained, lingered in the air around him.
And how did he know?
It was because of a rare ability—one that not even all members of the Uzumaki Clan could awaken:
Kagura's Mind Eye.
A sensory technique so powerful, it allowed him to sense chakra signatures and intentions with extreme precision. He could feel every glance, every suppressed emotion directed his way.
By age three, Naruto made a bold decision.
Using the logic and maturity of a soul who had lived a previous life, he asked the Third Hokage for permission to live alone.
In his old world, it would've been absurd. But here, in a land where even six-year-olds were sent to war, it wasn't impossible. After a bit of persuasion, and seeing Naruto's unusual clarity, the Hokage eventually relented.
In the Shinobi World, people were physically superior. Their bodies were tougher, stronger, more refined at a cellular level compared to normal humans.
At three, the Hokage had someone teach Naruto how to read and write. Naruto, of course, had a different goal—he wanted access to chakra training methods. He knew that only strength could ensure his survival.
But the Third Hokage refused. Naruto's body was too immature. Refining chakra too early could permanently damage his potential.
Naruto understood and didn't argue. Despite Konoha's coldness toward him, the danger to his life wasn't too high—not yet. And he trusted that the Third wouldn't lie about something so important.
Still, with his mysterious ability that resembled a "Heaven Rewards Diligence" system, Naruto grew rapidly stronger than his peers.
Whenever he exerted himself—running, training, or working—he would hear that familiar voice:
"Stamina +2, Strength +1, Constitution +1."
It motivated him to push harder. But he avoided the village as much as possible. The hatred in the villagers' eyes was suffocating.
Instead, he trained in the forest behind the mountain, far from prying eyes.
To the ANBU, he appeared to be an energetic, if slightly reclusive, child. But they couldn't see the depth of his resolve.
Naruto, as he ran through the forest, felt a thrill. The growing strength coursing through his body gave him a sense of safety—of purpose. This strange voice might not be a conventional system, but it was enough.
He didn't need flashy powers, lottery draws, or instant success like the protagonists of other transmigrator tales.
He had his Uzumaki bloodline, a vast reservoir of potential in the form of the Kyūbi sealed inside him, and this mysterious, tireless ability to grow stronger through effort.
As long as he didn't throw his life away, he believed—no, he knew—he could eventually reach the top.
However, Naruto soon discovered that his Heaven Rewards Diligence ability wasn't limitless. It operated entirely on action—he only received gains when he did something. That said, one effort on his part was often worth ten, or even dozens, of repetitions for an ordinary person.
He had also tried invoking a system interface, calling out for menus, stats, or anything of the sort—but there was nothing. No screens. No panels. Just the quiet voice in his head that only he could hear.
Still, it was more than enough. Thanks to this strange ability, Naruto's physical development quickly outpaced other children his age. In order to grow faster, he constantly tried new activities, training in secret. But to others, he just looked like an unusually energetic child.
The ANBU watching from the shadows reported his every move to the Third Hokage. But the old man never found anything suspicious. Instead, he sighed with mild admiration, believing that Naruto had inherited his mother Uzumaki Kushina's boundless energy. It was, after all, a hallmark of the Uzumaki Clan's strong vitality.
The Third Hokage also visited Naruto often, expressing concern and offering guidance. Whenever he did, Naruto would always act happy—though half of that was just an act. The real reason? He used every chance to ask for more living expenses.
His monthly allowance was a mere 1,500 ryō.
What could that even buy? A single bowl of Ichiraku Ramen cost 60 ryō—and while it was worth every coin, it wasn't something he could afford to eat every day.
As for food from other places? Forget it. No one else would even sell to him.
Old Man Teuchi, the owner of Ichiraku, and his daughter Ayame, were the rare few in the entire village who treated him kindly—people who didn't flinch at his presence or glare at him with disgust.
But Naruto wasn't the naive original version of himself anymore. He knew things—like how much wealth the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze, had left behind before his death. He didn't know the exact amount, but it had to be substantial.
And now? All of it was gone. Seized by Konoha's administration—or more specifically, by the Third Hokage's office. Yet Naruto received barely enough money to survive.
He understood the game the Third Hokage was playing.
Sometimes the old man would drop by just to make an appearance, offering a few words about "the village" and "the Will of Fire," trying to win Naruto over with warm smiles and gentle lectures. But Naruto saw through it.
He knew the truth.
The old man wanted to control him—wanted to mold him, shape him, keep the Nine-Tails' Jinchūriki within arm's reach and bound to the village by loyalty and manipulated affection.
And Naruto? He smiled back, nodded along, played his part.
But he never forgot.
...
TN:
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