Ron was twenty-one when it happened. One moment, he was half-asleep in his room, his phone slipping from his grasp, and the next, he jolted awake in a small wooden house.
The air was thick with the scent of cooking rice. He sat up, his heart pounding against his ribs.
The walls were not the familiar plaster of his room but paneled wood. A paper window filtered the sunlight into a soft, hazy glow.
His smartphone was still in his pocket a small comfort in a world gone sideways. A gentle voice broke the silence from the next room.
"You're awake? Come, breakfast is ready." He stood shakily and stumbled into the kitchen.
A woman was there maybe in her early thirties, with kind eyes and dark hair tied back in a neat bun. She looked at him with an easy warmth, as if he were her own son.
"Good morning, Aoi," she smiled. His mind went blank.
"Uh… good morning," he managed to say, the words feeling foreign in his mouth. He stared at his reflection in the dark glass of the window, seeing a face that wasn't quite his.
A part of his mind screamed in protest, but another part knew the truth: his identity had been rewritten. This woman was his new mother.
The food was simple miso soup, rice, grilled fishbut it tasted real, warm, and grounding. He ate in a daze, trying to make sense of his new reality.
After breakfast, he stepped outside. The world was utterly unfamiliar.
No cars rumbled down the dirt roads. People carried woven baskets, children played with simple wooden toys, and a group of figures wearing forehead protectors moved through the village.
His breath hitched in his throat. Shinobi. He was in the world of Naruto.
But this wasn't an anime or a game. His phone, a remnant of his old life, was a useless brick.
No special chakra apps, no cheat codes. Just the photos and notes he'd saved, a few offline apps, and a stark, blank screen where the internet used to be.
He sat on the steps of his new home, the wood cool against his legs. He wasn't a ninja.
He had no powers. Just a regular body in a world of superpowered fighters.
The world felt alive and dangerous, and for the first time, he truly understood the weight of his situation.
Still, as his new mother called him back inside, he gripped his phone tight. A fierce resolve hardened within him.
"If I'm stuck here," he whispered to himself, "I'll find a way to live. Maybe… maybe I can even become a shinobi."
His arms were short, his voice high and childish, and his reflection in the water bowl inside the house showed a round, unfamiliar face. Yet inside, he was still Ron, a twenty-one-year-old man trapped in a child's body.
"Ne, Aoi…" his mother's voice cut through his thoughts. She walked over, a warm, damp cloth in her hand, a soft smile on her face.
"What's that in your pocket? You've been clutching it all morning." Aoi froze, his fingers instinctively curling around the cold, smooth shape of his smartphone.
He hadn't dared to show it to her. The device looked so out of place, like a strange black rectangle from a different dimension.
"It's… just a toy," Aoi said carefully, the child-like voice making the lie sound more convincing than he ever could have.
She tilted her head, her curiosity clear. "A toy? Let me see it."
Aoi's heart pounded. He slowly pulled the phone from his pocket.
The screen lit up faintly, the battery icon showing a near-full charge. His mother's eyes widened slightly as she reached out and touched the glass with her fingertips, surprised by its smooth, cold surface.
"It's so shiny," she whispered, a playful glint in her eyes. "Where did you find this? You should have told me! It looks like fun."
She gently took it from his hand. "Let me see how it works!" Aoi's panic spiked.
"Nooo! Give it back! I want to play with it!" he whined, the sound of a real child's distress. He reached for it, tugging at her sleeve.
She laughed, holding it just out of his reach. "Oh, is that how it is? A little secret toy, is it?"
She pretended to inspect it closely. "Well, I think I'll play with it for a little while, then I'll give it back."
Aoi's face fell, a genuine pout forming on his lips. His heart was in his throat, but then he saw the look on her face pure, simple playfulness.
She was treating it just like any other toy. "No, no! It's my toy! Give me back!" he insisted.
This time, she chuckled softly and handed it to him. "Alright, alright," she said, ruffling his hair.
"Just don't lose it, okay?" He nodded quickly, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
The relief he felt was so immense it almost made him dizzy. It was just a game to her.
The secret was safe, for now. That night, lying under a thin blanket, Aoi held the phone close to his chest.
He thought of her playful, teasing smile, and then of this mother's similar one throughout the day. A small, genuine smile touched his lips.
Maybe… this isn't a curse, he thought, pressing the phone to his heart. Maybe this is my second chance to do things right.