Kenji Yamamoto. Son of Tomio Yamamoto, a carpenter, and Hana Yamamoto, a seamstress. No ninja lineage. No secret bloodline. No clan backing. In the Naruto world, being born civilian was like spawning without a character class. But maybe that was exactly what I needed.
By eight months old, I'd gained enough control over my body to crawl. My parents were delighted, filming me with—wait, not filming. There were no cameras. Right. Pseudo-medieval technology level except where ninja magic compensated. It was jarring, constantly remembering that modern conveniences didn't exist here.
Our house was in Konoha's outer district, a neighborhood populated entirely by civilians. The ninja compounds—Uchiha, Hyuga, Akimichi, and others—were clustered in the inner ring, closer to the Hokage Tower. We were, quite literally, on the outside looking in.
My father, Tomio, was a good man. Hardworking, honest, with rough carpenter's hands and a ready smile. He left before dawn most mornings, working on construction projects throughout the village. He'd come home exhausted but always made time to play with me, making silly faces and wooden toys carved with surprising skill.
My mother, Hana, was gentle and patient. She worked from home, doing seamstress work for neighbors and occasionally taking commissions from merchant families. She sang while she worked, old songs I didn't recognize but found comforting. She taught me words—simple ones, appropriate for my apparent age—and praised every tiny achievement.
I loved them. That was the complicated part. These weren't my parents, not really. My real parents were—had been?—in another world entirely. But Tomio and Hana were raising me with genuine care and affection. The guilt of planning to become a ninja, of putting myself in danger, knowing it would worry them endlessly, ate at me.
But I had no choice. In this world, being weak meant being a victim. I'd watched the series. I knew what happened to civilians when ninja decided they were in the way.
Our financial situation was tight. I noticed it in small ways: how my mother darned socks multiple times before finally replacing them, how my father calculated every expense carefully before market trips, how they sometimes skipped meals to ensure I had enough.
They were saving money. I overheard them one night, talking in hushed voices after they thought I was asleep.
"If Kenji shows any aptitude, he could enter the academy," my mother said softly. "But the fees..."
"We'll manage," my father replied firmly. "If our son has the potential, we won't let money stop him. I can take extra commissions."
"Tomio, you already work yourself to exhaustion."
"Then I'll work harder. Hana, this is our son's future. If he can become a ninja, he'll never have to struggle like we do."
My throat tightened. They were willing to sacrifice everything for a chance I might not even have—except I did have it. The System guaranteed it. But they didn't know that. To them, I was just their baby, and they'd move mountains if it meant I had opportunities they never did.
I made a silent promise that night. I'd become strong, yes. But I'd also make sure they were taken care of. No matter what.
The outer district was a stark contrast to the ninja areas. I'd managed one trip to the inner ring when my father had to deliver some custom furniture to a merchant's shop. Even as an infant strapped to my mother's back, I could see the difference.
The buildings were better maintained, the streets cleaner. Ninja moved through the crowds with unconscious arrogance, people parting for them automatically. I saw a jonin use Shunshin—Body Flicker—to travel from one rooftop to another, disappearing in a swirl of leaves.
It was the first jutsu I'd seen in person, and despite everything, despite my adult cynicism and knowledge that this was all very real and very dangerous, I felt a surge of childish wonder.
That was power. That was what I needed.
Back home, I intensified my training. At eight months old, my options were limited, but I could meditate. The System had confirmed I was making progress on my chakra sensitivity. Every day, that faint warmth in my center grew slightly more distinct.
[CHAKRA NETWORK SENSITIVITY: 15%]
[FATE POINTS: 157]
I was earning roughly 3-5 FP per day through meditation and what the System classified as "cognitive development." It wasn't enough. At this rate, I'd only have around 300 FP by my first birthday, far short of the 1,000 needed for the Perfect Memory Package.
I needed quests. I needed achievements. I needed something that would give me a significant FP boost.
The opportunity came from an unexpected source: a celebration.
The village was marking the anniversary of the Second Hokage's death. It was apparently a solemn day of remembrance, with ceremonies at the Hokage Monument. My parents took me to the public gathering in the village square.
I expected speeches, maybe some food vendors. What I didn't expect was to see him.
Hiruzen Sarutobi. The Third Hokage. The Professor. The God of Shinobi.
He looked younger than his appearance in the anime—this was years before Naruto's birth, after all—but still aged. Mid-fifties perhaps, with deeply lined face and white hair. He wore the Hokage robes and hat, standing at a podium addressing the crowd.
His speech was about sacrifice, about the Will of Fire, about how the Second Hokage had died protecting his students. Standard political rhetoric, but delivered with genuine emotion. This was a man who'd known Tobirama Senju personally, who'd been one of those students.
I stared at him, this figure I'd watched on screen, now real and breathing the same air I was. The weight of knowledge pressed down on me. I knew how his story ended. I knew about the Uchiha massacre he'd fail to prevent, the manipulation by Danzo he'd be too lenient about, his death at Orochimaru's hands during the Chunin Exams.
I knew too much, and I could do nothing with it. Not yet.
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: "First Canon Character Encounter"]
Reward: +50 Fate Points
The notification startled me so much I made a surprised noise. My mother shushed me gently, bouncing me to keep me quiet during the ceremony.
50 points. Just for seeing a canon character? I quickly opened my Achievement list, scrolling through.
There were dozens of potential achievements, each worth varying amounts of FP. "First Jutsu Witnessed" was worth 25. "First Training Session" was worth 10. "Unlock Chakra Network" was worth a whopping 500.
This was it. This was how I could accelerate my FP gain. I needed to trigger achievements while grinding daily training.
That night, as I lay in my crib, the System chimed with a sound I hadn't heard before. Not the usual notification. Something urgent.
[ALERT: MAJOR TIMELINE EVENT DETECTED]
[THE UCHIHA CLAN HEAD'S WIFE IS PREGNANT]
[EXPECTED BIRTH: 3 MONTHS]
[SUBJECT: UCHIHA ITACHI]
[THREAT LEVEL: UNKNOWN]
[NEW ACHIEVEMENT AVAILABLE: "Chronicle of the Prodigy"]
[OBJECTIVE: Witness or interact with Uchiha Itachi before age 5]
[REWARD: 200 Fate Points]
My tiny fists clenched. Itachi. The prodigy. The brother who'd slaughter his entire clan. He was about to be born.
And according to the System, he was classified as an "unknown threat."
What did that mean? Was the System warning me that Itachi could detect my reincarnation somehow? Or was it simply acknowledging that any significant change to Itachi's timeline could have catastrophic effects?
[TIMELINE STABILITY: 87%]
Still stable. My presence alone hadn't disrupted things too severely yet. But the System's warnings were clear: major changes were coming, and I needed to be ready.
I checked my Fate Point total: 207 FP.
I had nine months to earn 793 more points. Nine months until my first birthday, until the Perfect Memory Package expired.
Nine months to transform from a helpless infant to someone who could begin walking the path of a ninja.
The countdown had begun.