The world around Naruto shattered like a mirror, breaking into drifting shards. His body felt like it was being torn apart and reassembled over and over.
Air was squeezed out of his throat. Darkness flashed across his eyes—then cleared.
Thud.
He hit the ground hard.
Night.
Ginza streets. Neon ads layered over the skyline. Giant screens cycled commercials in a relentless glow. Lights surged and flowed. Crowds moved like rivers.
Naruto staggered up, eyes wide, stunned beyond words.
"This… isn't Kamui's dimension?"
He'd braced himself to fight Obito. But there was no Obito, no Madara, no Black Zetsu—only a modern steel metropolis stretching under neon.
What the hell is this?
He moved toward a passerby and heard Japanese—language he somehow understood perfectly.
That, plus the scenery, told him he was in modern Japan. Where exactly, he couldn't tell.
"Small perk of being a transmigrator: you understand the other world's language…"
He went to ask someone. At a wide crosswalk packed with people waiting for the light, he tapped a man's shoulder.
His hand passed straight through.
"Huh?!"
He tried three more people—same result.
A horrible conclusion settled over him:
He'd become a ghost no one could see.
I'm screwed.
As he spiraled, the scene began to flow again. The light turned green. People crossed.
Then a single figure caught his attention—an odd pull, like a beacon in a sea of faces.
Naruto followed on instinct.
From the back she looked like a girl.
He caught up quickly.
A round face with a bit of softness. Hair in a high ponytail exposing a clean forehead. Plain, sturdy features. A slightly chubby build. A loose mustard-yellow dress. Slightly hunched shoulders. A timid, insecure expression.
Not pretty in any country, but not ugly either.
"Why is her presence so strong?" Naruto looked around. No one paid her special attention. Was he wrong?
He tested it by sprinting away from her.
He hit an invisible wall.
He had no choice but to return. He could only move within a small radius around her.
A bold guess sparked in his mind.
This isn't really Japan. And I'm not actually a ghost.
This is a memory. And she's the owner of it.
It explained everything—why she felt so "anchored" while others ignored her.
But who was she? Why had the fragment thrown him into her memory?
Naruto immediately thought of Kin and the fragment that had done this.
Was this Kin's true face?
A shy, insecure Japanese girl?
Doesn't look like it. She doesn't have that crazed edge.
He followed her anyway.
She soon reached a storefront with a bright sign and a photo of a handsome Japanese man.
"Man, this dude is not my type," Naruto muttered at the poster as he walked in after her.
Inside was lavish—crystal chandeliers, marble floors, art on the walls, a bar stocked with shining bottles. Laughter and indulgence filled the air.
The girl looked nervous. She scanned the room, found her friend in the crowd, greeted her timidly, and sat down stiffly.
Naruto plopped down beside her, surveying. "Still not as good as Helens."
He glanced at the friend—classic cute "sweet-girl" look.
"That friend is definitely a party rat," he concluded, then looked around.
It was a women-heavy venue. Brightly dressed men surrounded female customers, pouring drinks, laughing, flattering.
Naruto began to suspect—
"Hello, is this your first time here?" A clean-cut male host knelt, opening a menu.
"Chinatsu-chan, take a look," the friend said with a sly smile.
"Ah… okay." The girl nodded nervously.
"So that's her name… Chinatsu." Naruto peered at the "menus."
They were not menus. They were men.
"This isn't a normal bar. It's a host club."
A host club: a place staffed by men whose job was to drink, chat, and entertain female customers for profit.
Naruto had once looked up hosts out of curiosity. Their looks were… let's say not his taste.
Yet somehow they could make women spend like crazy.
"Please choose your 'order,'" the host said, offering a tablet.
The first page showed the number-one host in a white suit holding a rose. His "record" was listed:
"1000万日元 for 4 consecutive months"
"Highest record: 1900万日元"
"#1 in sales & bookings, 2021"
Naruto's brow furrowed—not at the insane earnings, but at the date.
2021.
He'd transmigrated in 2025. Why was this memory from 2021?
He shelved that for now.
Chinatsu kept scrolling, hesitant.
The host, seeing her indecision, called in all the men to introduce themselves.
They lined up, one after another—flirt lines, cheap performance tricks, boulevard-level charisma bombs.
Chinatsu didn't light up. She shrank, overwhelmed.
"Low-level play," Naruto muttered.
Then one host in a black suit approached with a small smile and handed Chinatsu a card. In crooked handwriting, it read:
"Arashi."
Chinatsu's eyes lit.
Naruto's hair stood on end.
The handwriting—crooked, twisted—matched the "Hee-hee" messages that had haunted him in the forest.
"Not Kin… Chinatsu's crazy handwriting."
Naruto tensed, watching the black-suited boy sit across from her.
The boy had neat black hair and bright eyes that seemed to speak. His voice was soft and gentle.
"I'm new at this," he said warmly. "Talking to you feels like talking to a classmate."
Compared to the oily older hosts, he looked almost pure.
Host club tactic, huh?
Chinatsu visibly relaxed—which worried Naruto more. The first step to getting into someone's heart was lowering their guard.
They talked. Naruto listened and learned her life.
Her full name was Watanabe Chinatsu. A university student working multiple jobs. Her father had died early; her mother worked to fund Chinatsu's education.
She lived frugally—studied hard by day for scholarships, worked at a restaurant at night. Tough life, but hopeful.
Her only real wound was being a "plus-size girl" in a society that never let her forget it.
Pretty girls were surrounded by handsome men. The men who approached her were always ugly or mocking. Friends shoved her off camera during video calls. Strangers assumed she was a rich older woman flaunting a boytoy.
Her one refuge was a small bar with a boss who genuinely treated her well. She went there now and then for a drink, and there she'd met Takahashi Maiha—the friend who'd brought her here.
"Nothing too strange. Just starved for love," Naruto judged.
He couldn't help remembering Kado—another man who'd spiraled because he'd never been recognized.
Was there a pattern?
Arashi learned she was a hardworking student and expressed admiration. He'd left high school to work and support his family, he said. He liked people who made their own way.
Chinatsu felt the same.
Before long, the night ended. The bill came—
3,000 yen.
Cheaper than a drink at her regular bar.
"You can pick a host to walk you home~" the staff teased.
Chinatsu chose Arashi. He looked surprised and happy, asked to meet again. She apologized softly.
"I won't come again after this."
"That's okay. It's just… too rushed to say goodbye like this. If you find me annoying, you can ignore me." He winked.
After thinking, Chinatsu exchanged contact info.
"Oh no… that's bad," Naruto muttered.
But he was only a spectator here. A memory.
Arashi served her attentively, saw her to the door. Chinatsu smiled politely.
"It's just because I paid. He's acting," she told herself.
Naruto arched a brow. Pretty clear-headed.
The scene warped.
Time sped forward. Chinatsu returned to routine: classes, work, occasional drinks at her bar. Naruto drifted beside her through it all, helpless to intervene.
Until one evening—
She brought a group of classmates to her bar.
As soon as they arrived, attention snapped to a pretty classmate. The boss and staff lavished her with praise. No one looked at Chinatsu anymore.
Her refuge was stolen. She became invisible in the place she'd relied on to breathe.
Why? Just because they were pretty, the world revolved around them? She deserved to be ignored?
She drank hard, bile rising in her chest, and blurted out a bitter jab:
"Of course her jewelry looks nice. She has a lot of boyfriends."
The bar died.
Even the boss who usually cared about her stared in shock.
Naruto sighed. "Unbelievable."
Chinatsu fled to the restroom, steadied herself, realized she'd gone too far, and came back intending to apologize.
But everyone was already laughing again. The boss joked with the group like nothing happened.
No one cared whether she existed.
That silence hurt more than the stares.
Chinatsu broke. She ran out crying.
No messages. No concern. No one looked for her.
Only one ping came through—
From Arashi.
She called him, desperate. He picked up instantly.
He rushed out despite risking work, soothed her. She suggested coming to his club to help his sales.
She went back into that glittering world.
Arashi held her hand gently.
This time, she gave herself completely to him.
The bill came—
10,000 yen.
She flinched, wakeful again, reality smashing through.
Arashi apologized. Since she'd single-booked him, service fees applied.
Then he quietly pulled cash from his pocket and slipped it into her palm, fingers intertwining.
"Please take it," he whispered. "I didn't explain clearly. My fault. I'll pay the extra."
She refused. He insisted softly.
"Don't tell anyone, okay?"
In the end, she used his money to pay.
Naruto's breath caught.
So this is a real host.
Chinatsu told Maiha, who squealed and shipped them hard, insisting Chinatsu had found a hidden gem.
Soon, Arashi became more intimate. Not like host and customer, but like a boyfriend.
Daily selfies. Outfit photos. Sweet messages.
Chinatsu began to fall in. She worried about her savings, then soothed herself—payday was coming.
She went to see him again.
But he was entertaining another customer.
To request him, she needed to open champagne—minimum 17,000 yen.
She couldn't afford it. She sat alone all night.
Afterward, Arashi apologized tenderly.
She apologized for not spending for him.
"I don't want you to do that anyway." He looked at her seriously.
That kindness made her more anxious.
A wealthy regular was dumping huge money into his sales. Chinatsu felt she'd lose him if she didn't keep up.
So she took out loans to buy him a first champagne bottle.
Arashi promised to spend the night with her after work. To avoid gossip he changed into casual clothes.
Chinatsu stared at him, dazed.
They went to a restaurant. She was too self-conscious to order, but he told her to pick whatever she wanted. If she couldn't finish, he'd be her "trash can."
He said he'd cover the taxi.
He said to call when she got home so he wouldn't worry.
He said to tell him her troubles—he'd find a way.
He watched her leave, all gentle eyes.
Chinatsu fell completely.
To earn quick money for her "boyfriend," she decided to become a rental girlfriend—a grey-market service in Japan.
But she lacked confidence. She asked Maiha to help style her. The makeover worked. She looked far better. Men even approached her on the street.
She was thrilled. She went to see Arashi in her new look.
He praised her—then a wealthy patron arrived and summoned him away.
Rules were rules. To book him, she had to buy champagne.
It was fine. She could take loans. She was going to be a rental girlfriend soon anyway.
She ordered 70,000 yen of champagne.
Naruto closed his eyes beside her.
This is beyond saving.
The club exploded into spectacle.
"Princess, drink your love!"
"Drink!"
"Drink!"
"Drink drink drink drink drink!"
"Now, Prince, drink your love!"
"Drink!"
"Drink!"
"Drink drink drink drink drink!"
Chinatsu gazed at Arashi, smiling blissfully.
"Now, our princess, say a few words!"
They handed her a mic.
"Three!"
"Two!"
"One!"
"Uh, um…" Chinatsu hesitated, and—
Arashi wrapped an arm around her shoulders and murmured in her ear:
"Chinatsu… do you like me?"
"I—I do."
She fled to the restroom, heart racing.
When she came out—
Arashi had been taken again by the rich patron. He looked at the woman with the same tender gaze he'd used on Chinatsu.
Seventy thousand yen meant nothing here.
To buy more happiness, you bought more expensive packages.
Chinatsu panicked, wanting to take more clients, but the rental company told her she needed a month of training and tests first.
She'd already quit her old job for this. Now she had no income and crushing debt.
"These rental services are way more 'professional' than I expected," Naruto muttered numbly.
He knew how this would go.
A plus-size college girl with no stable income and a monstrous demand for affirmation.
What road did she have left?
She was stopped by a man in a suit offering an immediate-pay job.
She followed.
It was a trap. The "job" was either selling provocative photos online or outright servicing clients.
He smiled and promised the money would come instantly. No coercion. No illegality. She could quit anytime.
That was the most terrifying part.
Chinatsu convinced herself she could hold the line, stay firm, not fall.
She did earn money—very fast.
And turned from a student into a sex worker.
She closed her eyes and nightmares flooded in. She opened them and it was another doorbell, another body she no longer owned.
Did she really love Arashi that much?
Was he worth the price she was paying?
Maybe while she suffered, he was clinking glasses with someone else.
She called him. If he didn't answer, she swore she'd stop.
The phone rang.
At the last possible moment—
Arashi picked up.
Naruto stood beside her with a single mood in his whole being:
I'm done. I'm completely done.
The memory fast-forwarded toward its ending.
Her secret was exposed. The university found out.
She was expelled.
Her mother didn't scream at her. Even accepting this outcome was hard enough.
Chinatsu collapsed in regret, sobbing on the street.
Sensing her wavering, Arashi appeared again and used his final weapon—
A sudden, overwhelming French kiss.
They "became official."
Soon he asked her birthday, wanting to celebrate. Then he "discovered" they shared the same birthday.
What a coincidence.
Chinatsu was ecstatic. She promised him a surprise gift.
The "gift" was a 1.5 million yen champagne package.
She begged the staff to keep it secret. She had to gather 1.5 million before his birthday.
She took clients nonstop, wrecking herself.
At last—
She scraped together 1,500,000 yen.
She sent Arashi an early happy birthday message, then slept from exhaustion.
She woke at four in the afternoon.
She hurriedly dressed and went to the club, trembling with excitement, waiting for his reply.
Then a message came:
"Maiha-chan, I want to see you soon too~"
"…Huh?"
Chinatsu froze.
Naruto saw it too. "Oh boy. Wrong name."
Hosts mixed up names all the time. The better they were, the less they slipped.
But Arashi had said he was new.
"So I'm just another customer… so ordinary he can't even remember my name…"
Chinatsu covered her face and sobbed.
The memory began to blur with her emotional collapse. Nakamura's grief bled through to Naruto, carving a faint ache into him too.
He stood there helplessly, thinking:
At least she hasn't spent the 1.5 million yet. She can start over.
But then—
Chinatsu turned and looked straight at him.
Her sorrow drained away. Clarity returned.
The whole city froze. People stopped moving. Cars stopped. Neon stopped flickering.
She met his eyes and said, "So this is what you really look like?"
Naruto startled. She could see him?
Chinatsu pulled out a compact mirror and handed it to him.
Naruto opened it—and found he was no longer blond, blue-eyed, fox-whiskered Naruto.
He looked like himself from before transmigrating.
Smooth black hair. His original face.
He touched his hair, then looked up in confusion. "This is your memory, right? You can control it?"
Chinatsu nodded. "Only a little. With this." She produced the same black fragment.
The fragment that had dragged him here.
"What's going on?" Naruto asked. Too many questions were piling up.
"I'll keep it short. This space can't hold much longer. It'll send you back soon," Chinatsu said grimly.
"As you saw, after I learned the truth I cried on the street for a long time. I don't remember how long."
"Then I felt something cold and heavy pressing me down. When I turned around, there was this pool of black liquid pulling me underground."
Naruto's scalp prickled. "Can you recreate that scene?"
Chinatsu shook her head. "The memory won't go that far. Listen. The black liquid tried to cover me and drag me under. I struggled, but it was too strong."
"I kicked and fought. Somehow I hit something. Maybe my survival instinct was desperate enough. I grabbed it—and pulled out this fragment. It came with me to the shinobi world."
Naruto frowned. "So this fragment belongs to the one behind all this?"
"Yeah. They clearly have space-time powers." Chinatsu stared at him. "Do you remember how you transmigrated?"
Naruto froze.
He dug for the memory.
"…I… huh?" Cold sweat broke out. "I don't remember."
He'd never thought about it. In novels, transmigration was a "given."
You go to another world to live the power fantasy.
"I suspect the mastermind erased our memories of before and after transmigration." Chinatsu asked sharply, "Have you ever had surges of intense negative emotion in your head?"
"No… why?"
"After I transmigrated, my inner demons kept amplifying my negativity. I'd swing between lucid and insane."
Naruto paused—and a realization hit.
Sakura had had a severe emotional collapse too, right after seeing the carved messages.
She'd called it a PTSD flare.
If he thought calmly: Sakura, Kado, Chinatsu, even himself—every transmigrator he'd met carried deep wounds.
But had the mastermind chosen people with bigger scars, knowing the shinobi world would inflame them?
Naruto said slowly, "You think the mastermind brings traumatized people to the shinobi world, then uses their negative emotions to manipulate things?"
Chinatsu nodded. Her body began to blur.
"I've used the fragment. If you pour chakra into it, it drags you into your most unbearable memory. That must be the mastermind's ability."
"I don't know why they're doing this. But the deeper the trauma, the easier a transmigrator is to affect."
"And this world… is perfect at amplifying darkness."
Chinatsu grew thinner, fading.
Naruto murmured, "Because the shinobi world itself is warped. Shinobi are tools. Personal power trumps everything. There are forbidden jutsu like Edo Tensei and Izanagi that bend life and death and morality."
"Look at Itachi. On Earth he might've become a brilliant young man under decent education. Here, Danzō twisted him into slaughtering his clan."
He watched Chinatsu disappear, a bleak chill settling in his chest.
Erasing someone's inner darkness was unimaginably hard.
Everyone has their regrets. Even sages can't sever every thread of grief.
In this world, it was worse than trying to empty the sea with a cup.
A black-robed phantom drifted beside him—ethereal, hair fluttering, eyes wild with a half-smile.
"The simplest solution is to kill all transmigrators," the phantom chuckled softly. "Or… try to fix the shinobi world itself."
"That's a road harder than climbing to heaven. I won't push you. Choose for yourself."
The phantom vanished.
A twisting black vortex swallowed Naruto again and flung him back into the Forest of Death.
…
"Naruto? Naruto!"
In the forest, Sakura—ashen-faced—saw the blond boy reappear beside Kin's corpse and sprinted to him.
He dropped heavily to the ground.
"Cough—cough…"
His face regained color as his "soul" re-merged. Sakura hauled him up.
"You scared me to death." Her eyes were red. She must've been crying.
Naruto soothed her quickly, then asked carefully, "Where's the fragment? What did you do with it?"
"I wrapped it and set it aside." She sniffed and pointed to the torn cloth nearby.
"How long was I gone?"
"…About five minutes."
"I see." Naruto reached to pick it up. Sakura widened her eyes and nearly stopped him.
"Don't worry. Without chakra, it won't activate."
"Oh… okay. Then you learned something, right?"
"Yeah. Let's go hand in first. I'll explain after."
Naruto hoisted Sasuke onto his back. The three of them headed for the central tower.
Sakura's emotions seemed more and more unstable… and honestly, anyone would be. She'd been living on alert every second.
Naruto glanced up at the canopy.
At first, the shinobi world had felt fresh and exciting. He'd thought his identity as Naruto would let him carve out a legend.
Now he felt an invisible hand in everything, toying with people.
It sent the traumatized into the shinobi world, let the environment ferment their darkness, and turned transmigrators into a deadly guessing game where suspicion bred slaughter.
What an awful, grotesque hobby.
Naruto looked at the gate ahead, adjusted Sasuke's weight on his back, and felt one thought rise above everything else:
He had to get stronger—fast.
Before that, though, he needed to confirm a few things with Sakura.
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