Back in his old world, he was the kind of guy people barely noticed. Not handsome, not athletic, not particularly gifted in anything except one thing — anime. His room was crammed with shelves of manga, posters of his favorite waifus, stacks of Blu-rays, and figurines he'd bought with the money from a dead-end part-time job. He wasn't ashamed of it either.
"An otaku to the core," he would often laugh to himself.
And if there was one series that held his heart, it was Naruto. He'd watched every arc, read every volume, rewatched key fights until the lines burned into his brain. He'd cried when Jiraiya died, cheered when Naruto finally beat Pain, and even argued online about power scaling until 3 a.m. He knew the Naruto world inside and out.
But real life? Real life didn't care about otaku knowledge.
The day it all ended had started like any other. He was crossing the street, headphones in, watching a Naruto AMV on his phone. He shouldn't have been distracted. He knew better. But the beat dropped, the scene of Naruto clashing with Sasuke at the Valley of the End filled his screen, and he couldn't look away.
That was when the blinding headlights appeared.
The roar of an engine. The screech of tires.
Truck-kun.
"Oh, hell no," he gasped, realization slamming into him even faster than the grill. "It's really happening to me?!"
For a split second, panic warred with exhilaration. He was going to die. But if anime logic was real — if Truck-kun was here — then maybe this wasn't the end. Maybe this was the beginning.
He threw his arms wide like an idiot, shouting at the top of his lungs:
"TAKE ME TO ANIME WORLD, TRUCK-KUN!"
And then came the impact.
Bone-crushing force. The world flipping end over end. Pain exploding in every nerve. Then… darkness.
Darkness.
That was the last thing he remembered before his consciousness clawed its way back to reality. A pounding headache throbbed in his skull as he blinked against the morning sun. The first thing he noticed wasn't the pain — it was the sound. Birds. A flowing stream nearby. The chatter of people…
"Get your fresh dango!"
"Mission report, now!"
"Hey, Iruka-sensei!"
His eyes shot open.
He wasn't in his bed. He wasn't even in his apartment.
Wooden eaves stretched above him, carved in an old-style architecture he'd only ever seen in anime. The streets bustled with villagers carrying baskets, shinobi with forehead protectors flashing in the sunlight, and children running past with kunai holsters strapped to their thighs.
His breath caught. His heart pounded.
"No way…" he whispered, half-laughing, half-trembling. "This… this is Konoha. The Hidden Leaf Village…?"
His body shook as he stumbled to his feet. He rushed to the edge of the street, staring at the familiar monument carved into the mountain. Four stern faces gazed down from the stone — Hashirama, Tobirama, Hiruzen, and Minato.
The Hokage Monument.
He almost cried.
"I… I actually got isekai'd into Naruto?" He slapped his own cheeks until they stung. "I'm really here… in the shinobi world! This isn't a dream!"
Excitement surged through him, battling against a cold realization. He knew this world. He had watched Naruto countless times. He knew its story, its heroes… and its tragedies. Orochimaru. The Akatsuki. The Fourth Great Ninja War. This wasn't some happy slice-of-life village — it was a world where children died before they turned thirteen, where gods of destruction wore human skin.
His grin faltered.
"I'm in the world of shinobi," he muttered, fists tightening. "And I'm not Naruto, or Sasuke, or even Shikamaru… I'm just… me. A nobody. An extra."
A wave of panic hit, but he forced himself to breathe. Being an extra didn't have to mean death. Extras survived if they stayed clever. He'd read enough isekai fanfics to know that much.
"Alright," he told himself, glancing at his reflection in a shop window. Black hair, average build, plain brown eyes. No forehead protector. No clan emblem. Just a civilian face. "I'm not a shinobi. I don't have chakra control. But…"
A grin spread across his lips again.
"I have the one advantage nobody else here does. I know the story. I know who's going to rise, who's going to fall, what wars are coming, what monsters lurk in the shadows. And that… is my cheat."
He practically bounced on his heels, giddy with adrenaline.
Then, as if on cue, fate delivered his first ecchi misfortune.
A door beside him slid open, and a rush of steam rolled into the street. He turned — just in time to see two kunoichi step out from a bathhouse. Towels barely clung to their dripping bodies, hair slick with water. He froze like a deer in headlights as the taller one adjusted her wrap, accidentally tugging it too low before squeaking and pulling it back up.
His brain short-circuited.
Holy. Shit.
Real kunoichi. Real flesh. Not drawn, not animated, not censored. He could smell the steam, see the water glistening on their skin.
One of them — a familiar brunette with buns tied neatly on her head — scowled at him. "The hell are you staring at, perv?"
"T-Tenten?!" The name flew out before he could stop it.
Both kunoichi froze, glaring daggers.
"How do you know my name?"
Shit. Shit. Shit. His heart drummed. First day in Konoha and he'd already blown it. He forced a nervous laugh, waving his hands. "I, uh— just overheard someone! Yeah, overheard!"
The other kunoichi raised a brow. "Creep." They stormed off, muttering about reporting weirdos to the ANBU.
He slumped against the wall, heart still hammering, face beet red.
"…Okay," he whispered, half-laughing in disbelief. "So I'm in Naruto's world… and I just ogled Tenten fresh out of a bath. God, this is insane."
A grin tugged his lips again. Dangerous world or not, deadly shinobi or not — this was real. The anime he'd grown up watching, the world he'd dreamed of… he was living it.
And even if he was just an extra, he wasn't going to waste it.