Craft the Shinobi World
"Clap, clap."
The Third Hokage casually caught the egg that was thrown at him and tucked it into his sleeve. As the leader of the village and the current Hokage, he naturally couldn't allow himself to be struck—especially by a three-year-old.
"Why do you always give me two eggs?" he asked, glancing at the boy who was now washing the mud off his small hands. Over time, Hiruzen had become strangely accustomed to this child's ability to summon seemingly random items out of thin air.
The boy grinned innocently. "To help you stay strong, Grandpa!"
What he thought, however, was: You want me to tell you to get lost?
Given Hiruzen's age and the fact that he still insisted on spying on the women's bathhouse with his crystal ball, the child's words didn't sound entirely unreasonable. The Hokage's hoarse voice and tired movements added to the image of a man in need of "replenishment."
"This is this month's pocket money." The Hokage set a few folded bills onto the nearby table—also summoned by the boy. In fact, so were the bed, the potted plant, the chair, mirror, sofa, the wall clock, the empty fish tank, and even the birdcage.
At first, the village had thought he possessed some rare summoning jutsu, something worth cultivating. But they soon gave up when they realized they had no clue how to train him. His ability was just… odd.
Hiruzen had seen countless summoning techniques over his lifetime—from the mighty toads of Mount Myōboku to the Rashōmon gate itself. Even bugs and bees had purpose. But this boy? He summoned grilled meat, bread, pie, soup, leaves, bricks, and worst of all—rotten spiderwebs.
Some of it was practical, yes—coal, sand, stones. But wool? Rotten spiderwebs? Thread? Was this a summoner or a hoarder?
The most offensive object he'd ever summoned? Bricks.
The most defensive? A cooking pot.
And no matter how many strands of beard Hiruzen tugged out while pondering it, he could not, for the life of him, make sense of the boy's "jutsu."
"Thanks, Grandpa." The boy—Naruto—dried his hands and promptly stuffed the money into the fish tank. Since it didn't have any fish in it, he'd poured out the water long ago and converted it into a piggy bank. Quite practical, actually.
It's worth noting: this wasn't the Naruto we knew.
This Naruto had been replaced—thoroughly so. Replaced, in fact, while still in the womb.
---
Enter: Xu Xian.
Also known as Xu Sanduo, third child of a mildly chaotic family. He was born before the One-Child Policy kicked in, hence the nickname. His father, obsessed with the Three Kingdoms, gave him a courtesy name—Sanduo—and insisted his son join the army after watching Soldier Sortie. That dream ended when a drunk-driving accident left Xu Xian unable to pass the physical exam. Three months of kneeling later, Xu Xian had had enough.
He became a shut-in, fascinated by building games. His latest obsession was Craft the World, a sandbox game like Minecraft and Terraria. He dreamed of crafting wonders. Instead, after a three-day gaming binge, he suddenly died—only to awaken in the Naruto universe… as a baby.
At first, he couldn't see or hear properly. Everything looked pixelated, grayscale, like a glitched game screen. Months passed before his senses normalized, and he finally understood what had happened: he had reincarnated as Uzumaki Naruto.
Abandoned in a lonely apartment, with only meal deliveries and fleeting human contact, Xu Xian learned to survive on his own. At age two, desperate for food, he accidentally summoned a slice of bread—and thus discovered his "cheat."
He had brought the Craft the World interface with him.
The in-game Shop, Warehouse, and a small storage space had transferred into this world, though some features—like advanced weapon crafting—were buggy or inaccessible. He could summon materials from the shop, store items in the warehouse, and use simple magic spells: Lighting and Teleportation.
Unfortunately, summoning consumed chakra—just a few points per item, but enough to dampen his "infinite bricks" fantasy.
Chakra regeneration worked slowly: one point every three minutes. At Rank 3 (his apparent level), he had access to only two spells:
Lighting: A hovering ball of light that illuminated the area within a 5-meter radius.
Teleportation Portal: A glowing portal that took 3 seconds to cast and lasted for 4 minutes. Not useful for sneak attacks—too flashy and slow—but excellent for escaping.
In the game, leveling up was based on experience. Here in the ninja world, it seemed to be tied to age.
He had yet to see a single dwarf, and his in-game Tech Tree was inaccessible. That didn't stop him from experimenting. Any leftover bones, wrappers, tea cups—all went into the storage space. He was, after all, a crafter.
---
"Naruto, you should really go outside more," the Third Hokage said, kindly but with concern. How did the son of Minato and Kushina—so full of energy—end up a homebody?
"Why would I want to go outside just to get stared at?" Naruto replied inwardly, still grinning. "Playing with mud is more fun."
"Okay, Grandpa," he said aloud.
"Then I'll be off."
"Goodbye!" he said sweetly, though deep down he wanted to punt the old man out the door.
As the clock ticked past five, Naruto decided to play with mud a bit longer before heading out at nightfall. He'd already been nagged three times this week—not going out now would feel like defeat.
He wasn't bitter at Hiruzen because of the original Naruto's memories. No, he was just annoyed because he was right in the middle of sculpting and had to wash his hands every time the Hokage visited.
The stares from the villagers were unbearable. They weren't just gossiping; they pointed fingers. Far worse than internet trolls.
His plan? Stay indoors for ten years. Rumors couldn't last that long, right?
To maintain appearances, he acted like a normal three-year-old—by sculpting figures out of mud. If questioned, he could say he was just playing. If he sculpted a Bismarck with cat ears? "Just imagination!" he'd say. A miniature Tailed Beast? "Just a funny animal!"
Sure, the last shut-in ninja became Orochimaru, but he had no plans of going rogue.
For now, sculpting was life. He'd craft his waifus one brick at a time.
Unfortunately, his creations looked like grave markers. His "people" had no distinguishable features. Not even a hint of bust.
"Sigh…" he said, destroying the Veneto-version Fuso in frustration. It was better than yesterday's, but still pitiful.
"I'm so into this I forgot the time," Naruto muttered, pulling out two slices of bread and stuffing grilled meat between them. The meat was bigger than the bread—a ridiculous sight.
After dinner and a rinse of tea, he tossed the scraps into his storage space, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. It was already past eight.
Good. The streets would be empty now.