yeah…
First thing first, I wake up.
Which honestly? Big achievement.
In a world where toddlers can breathe fire and dudes summon skyscraper-sized toads before brushing their teeth, just waking up alive deserves a damn medal.
I drag myself up, stare at my broke-ass reflection in some cracked piece of metal I pretend is a mirror, and do my morning ritual: shower, brush teeth, tell myself, "You're the protagonist, man, things will eventually not suck." Spoiler: that's a lie.
Then I had my "breakfast," which was literally rice and soy sauce. Deluxe edition, five-star hotel vibes, don't be jealous.
But today, things are different. Why? Because I remembered: I now have a freakin' demon biwa player under my command.
Nakime.
She's loyal, silent, creepy, and 100% mine.
Yeah, let that sink in.
I've got an Infinity Castle teleporting demon in my pocket.A normal guy would use her to take over the world.
Me? I just want rent money and noodles. Priorities.
So I call Nakime.
The castle unfolds, big dramatic biwa strum echoing through space, like some ominous anime intro. Sound so sharp it feels like reality itself just went, "oh sht, she's playing again."* And we step inside Infinity Castle.
I'm hyped. I'm imagining treasure, glowing scrolls, maybe some legendary sword stuck in a rock waiting for my broke reincarnator hands to pull it out. Hell, maybe even free ramen coupons if the gods are merciful.
Instead…
A mountain of dead people.
Yeah. Corpses. Actual corpses. Civilians. Some ninjas. A couple even had headbands. Bonus points: they're from different villages. Like Nakime just went on a Pokemon "gotta catch 'em all" spree except with bodies. International corpse buffet, courtesy of my demon subordinate.
I freeze. Jaw hanging, soul exiting my body. "Uh… what the actual f***, Nakime?! Why are we starting a funeral service in here?!"
Nakime, calm as ever, just stares at me. Biwa in hand. Silent. Like this is completely normal.
And then it hits me.
I told her: "steal valuables."
…For a demon, humans are the most valuable snack.
I facepalm so hard I almost time-travel back to Earth. "Goddammit, that one's on me… should've specified 'money valuables,' not 'edible valuables.'"
She literally just followed orders. She's not wrong. She's the perfect employee. And I'm the dumb CEO who gave the vaguest instructions ever.
So yeah, now I've got a corpse pile the size of Mount Everest in my evil lair. Nice. Totally what I wanted when I reincarnated.
I sigh, scratch my head. "Alright, Nakime. Good job. You did exactly what I asked."
Her face doesn't change but I swear—I swear—I saw the tiniest smile. Like "Boss noticed me!" vibes. Creepy but also… kinda wholesome? In a 'my subordinate is a corpse delivery service' kind of way.
"Look," I tell her, trying to stay sane. "You can eat them later. After I leave. I don't wanna watch you turn these guys into demon sushi, alright?"
She nods. No words, but her eyes soften like, "thanks for thinking of me, boss." Cute. If you ignore the corpse pile.
Anyway, silver lining: corpse mountain = loot mountain. When life gives you lemons—no wait, when life gives you dead bodies—you loot their pockets. That's the ninja way, baby.
So I dig around. And jackpot: piles of ryō, gold, and scrolls I can't read but look important. Then…
Panties.
Yup. A whole stash of underwear.
"WHY?!" I scream into the void. "Who the hell buries their grandma's panties with them? Or worse—did Nakime raid random closets too?! Nakime, please, I can't explain this to anyone!"
I hold one up like it's Excalibur. "What am I supposed to do with this?! Am I the Panty Sage now?!"
I chuck them aside. "Okay, yeah, some guys might call panties priceless, but me? Not today. I'm not that desperate. Yet."
So I stuff my pockets with ryō like the broke reincarnator I am. Priorities.
Then I face Nakime again. "Alright. New rule. From now on, your number one job? Bodyguard me. If anything happens that might kill me—you save my ass. Doesn't matter what it is. Even if you gotta pull out your freaky teleportation castle powers, you do it. Got it?"
She nods. Loyal as ever.
So yeah, with pockets full of money and a bodyguard demon waiting in the wings, I set out.
Sunlight smacks me in the face. "Ahh, sunlight, my beloved! I missed you, baby!" I spread my arms like a man seeing McDonald's after a diet camp.
But then guilt stabs me. Nakime's stuck inside the castle, can't enjoy sunlight or she'll roast like vampire BBQ. I clench my chest. "Don't worry, Nakime. Someday I'll find a way for you to feel this again. That's a king's promise."
Corny as hell, but whatever. No one heard me.
So I stroll into Konoha's market like a boss. First stop: new clothes, food, stuff to make me look less like a hobo who got isekai'd. People are staring. Do they sense I'm important? No. They just see a broke dude suddenly throwing coins around like he robbed a bank. Which… technically, yeah.
But the highlight of my day? Ramen.
The holy grail. Ichiraku Ramen.
Naruto's stomping grounds. The legendary spot. The ONE thing I absolutely have to try, because for nine chapters straight (in my mental fanfic, not reality), I've been obsessed with one conspiracy theory:
The ramen guy is an Ōtsutsuki.
Think about it! Dude's always there. Never dies. Never ages. Witnessed like three wars and still looks fresh. You're telling me he's just a cook? Nah, bro, that's alien-tier immortality.
So I strut in, slam a fat stack of ryō on the counter like I'm in some gangster flick. "One extra-large miso pork ramen. And keep 'em coming."
The old man smiled like he'd been expecting me. Suspicious as hell.
As I slurped the noodles, I side-eyed him. Is he an Ōtsutsuki? A god? Or just a really good cook?
I side-eye him while slurping noodles. Ten bowls deep, my stomach feels like a balloon, but my brain's still going: He's hiding something.
"Enjoying the ramen?" he asks.
"Yes," I mumble, noodle dangling from my mouth. Enjoying my last moments before I get abducted, maybe.
Ten bowls later, I'm broke again.
So yeah, ramen was done, and my belly was full for once. Which meant, naturally, my brain decided it was time to ruin my peace with paranoia.
Because let's be real—Konoha looks all happy and sunshine on the outside, but under that? It's basically "Naruto: Mafia Edition."
ANBU? Mafia hitmen in animal cosplay.
Hokage? Godfather with a monkey fetish.
Civilian council? Discount yakuza with clipboards.
Root? Literal secret police.
And me? Random broke civilian with a suspiciously growing amount of money.
Yeah, that's a recipe for getting black-bagged faster than you can say "Danzo, please chill."
So I needed a cover story. Something believable.
Something that explained why my bank account went from zero to baller overnight.
Option A: "I'm secretly the bastard child of a missing Daimyo and he left me an inheritance."
— Nope. Too dramatic.
Option B: "I discovered a long-lost treasure chest in the woods."
— Nah, that would bring in nosy ninja faster than mosquitoes to a light bulb.
Option C: "I became a sugar baby for a rich widow."
— Tempting. Very tempting. But not sustainable.
So, what did I settle on?
Drum roll please…
"I run a moving service."
That's right. I invented isekai UberEats for objects.
Anytime people ask where I got my money, I'll just say: "Oh, I help villagers move furniture and heavy stuff. Pay's decent." Boom. Normal. Relatable. Zero suspicion.
And Nakime's Infinity Castle? Perfect for storage.
"See, Nakime?" I said proudly as I carried groceries home. "I'm not just smart. I'm survival smart."
Plunk. Her biwa replied. Which I translated as: 'Sure, boss, whatever lets you sleep at night.'
Now, let's talk about the shopping spree. Because my god, finally having money in Konoha? Peak power fantasy.
First stop: Clothing store.
You think I'm gonna keep dressing like some discount background character? Nah.
I strutted in there, slammed ryō on the counter, and said, "Give me your finest drip."
…And then realized all ninja clothes basically look the same.
Green vests, blue jumpsuits, black mesh undershirts. It's like the entire fashion scene was run by one tired tailor who said, "Yeah, spandex again."
So I improvised. Bought a nice black yukata for casual flexing, a cheap hoodie for blending in, and—don't laugh—a straw hat. Why? Because every mysterious badass wears one eventually.
I'm just investing early.
Second stop: Weapons shop.
Now, let me be clear—I can't fight worth a damn.
But carrying kunai makes people think you can. It's like how holding a wrench automatically makes you look like you know car mechanics.
So I bought a pouch full of shuriken, kunai, and a tanto I named "Debt Collector." Do I know how to use it? Absolutely not.
But the intimidation factor? Immaculate.
Third stop: Food.
Oh, baby. Meat, rice, vegetables, the works.
Enough to stock my sad little kitchen for weeks. Even threw in a few luxury items—soy sauce, dango, and sake. Because if I'm gonna be isekai trash, I'm gonna be drunk isekai trash.
By the time I dragged it all home, I felt like a feudal-era Costco member.
But here's the kicker—neighbors noticed.
This old lady from across the street peeked at me with the suspicious eyes of someone who thinks "That boy must've robbed a bank."
So I hit her with the most powerful jutsu of all time: the smile and wave.
"Morning, oba-san! Business has been great lately!"
She blinked, hesitated, then nodded back. Crisis averted. For now.
Once inside, I dumped everything in the kitchen, collapsed on the tatami, and sighed.
"…God. Being an isekai MC is exhausting."
Later that day, I decided to scope out Konoha more.
You know, just to make sure I knew the lay of the land. Spoiler: bad idea.
I ran into kids. The kids.
Uchiha Sasuke—broody duck-butt hair.
Haruno Sakura—forehead girl.
And of course, Naruto Uzumaki—the future Hokage, ramen glutton, and current loudmouth.
They were hanging out near the academy, bickering as usual.
"Stay out of my way, Naruto!" Sasuke snapped, dramatic as ever.
"Hah?! You think you're better than me, dattebayo?!" Naruto yelled back.
Sakura just rolled her eyes. "Both of you are idiots."
Classic. Iconic. Nostalgic.
And me? I was just some random dude walking by, trying not to laugh.
But then Naruto spotted me.
"Hey! Onii-san!" he called, pointing. "You've got groceries! Wanna share?!"
I froze. Brain went into DEFCON 1.
Because let's be real: Naruto is the kind of kid who, if you give him food once, you're basically stuck feeding him forever.
So I smiled awkwardly. "Ahaha, sorry kid, these are… uh, diet groceries. Only good for adults."
Naruto pouted, crossed his arms, and muttered, "Tch, stingy."
By evening, I was back home, sitting on the porch, watching the sunset paint Konoha gold.
And for a second—just a second—I felt… peaceful.
Then the tatami behind me creaked.
Nakime stepped out, eyes lowered, biwa in hand. In the fading sunlight, she looked… almost human. Fragile.
I remembered what I'd promised her earlier: that I'd find a way for her to walk in the sun again.
And I meant it.
Because yeah, I'm a clown. I'm broke. I'm lazy. But I'm not heartless. She saved my life by siding with me.
The least I can do is give her a chance at a normal one.
"Don't worry, Nakime," I whispered. "We'll figure it out together."
She didn't speak, of course. Just strummed a single soft note—plunk.
But somehow, I knew what it meant.
'I believe you.'
And with that, I leaned back, hands behind my head, watching the Hokage mountain glow in the distance.