"Huh… where am I?"
A boy around sixteen years old slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry at first. Light and shadow mixed together, making his head feel heavy. He blinked a few times and finally managed to see his surroundings.
He was lying on a wooden bed inside a quiet room. The air felt warm and calm. Above him, a paper lantern hung from a thick wooden beam, spreading a soft yellow glow. The ceiling was made of dark polished wood, simple but strong. In the corners, faint marks were carved—old chakra seals used by shinobi families to protect their homes.
To his right was a sliding shōji door. Pale moonlight passed through its paper surface. A faded ink painting of mountains and flying crows was drawn on it. The light fell gently onto the tatami floor. The woven straw mats looked clean and neat, carrying a faint smell of grass and old smoke.
Near the wall, a low wooden table stood quietly. A half-folded ninja flak jacket rested on it. Beside it lay a metal forehead protector. The engraved symbol reflected the lantern light, as if silently guarding the room.
The boy tried to sit up.
The moment he moved, a sharp pain exploded inside his body.
"Ugh—!"
It felt as if his insides were torn apart. His chest tightened, his limbs trembled, and cold sweat appeared on his forehead. His body was clearly badly injured.
He swallowed hard and tried to call out.
"Is… anyone here?"
But his voice was weak, barely louder than a whisper.
Suddenly, a strange transparent panel appeared in front of his eyes.
Congratulations, Host
You have successfully reincarnated into the Shinobi World
The boy froze.
"What…?" His eyes widened. "Who are you?"
Another line appeared.
I am the System. I am the one who brought the Host to this world.
Before he could ask more, a violent pain struck his head.
"Ahhhhh—!"
He screamed.
The sound echoed through the room.
The next moment—
Bang!
The sliding door burst open.
"—Hey!"
A girl rushed in without any hesitation. Her movements were fast and sharp, trained by years of battle. Moonlight followed her inside, clearly revealing her figure.
She was a kunoichi.
Her ash-brown hair was tied into a short high ponytail. Some loose strands stuck to her forehead, damp with sweat. Her eyes—steel-gray and alert—widened the instant she saw him screaming on the bed.
She wore a dark sleeveless shinobi shirt, with her flak jacket loosely fastened, clearly thrown on in a hurry. Her Leaf forehead protector rested around her neck instead of her brow. On one of her gloves, there was dried blood.
Not his blood.
From an earlier fight.
She dropped to her knees beside the bed immediately.
"Don't move!" she ordered.
Her voice was firm, but there was fear hidden beneath it.
The boy slowly calmed down. The pain in his head faded. His thoughts suddenly became clear, as if something heavy had settled into place.
Another message appeared.
Host memories have been successfully integrated.
He breathed deeply.
"I was… a Half-Emperor stage cultivator," he murmured. "I walked the Dark Divinity Path to conquer the Dao. But I was betrayed by an ally. At the crucial moment, he killed me for the Dark Divinity Artifact."
His fists tightened.
"My name… is Long Hao."
Before he could think further, another system message appeared.
Host, prepare yourself.
We will now transfer the memories of this body's original owner.
"Wait—" Long Hao tried to speak.
Too late.
A crushing pain filled his head. Countless memories flooded in—faces, voices, battles, emotions.
Minutes later, everything went quiet.
He opened his eyes again.
"I understand now…" he thought. "The original owner of this body was Akira Yashiro. A member of the Yashiro Clan. Yesterday, he went on a mission with his team. While saving his teammates, he was badly injured."
His gaze slowly shifted to the girl beside him.
"Reika Yashiro," he realized. "The leader of Akira's team."
More memories surfaced.
"She… has feelings for Akira. But Akira was too foolish to notice."
A faint complicated emotion appeared in his eyes.
Akira Yashiro—now Long Hao—looked around the room again and spoke softly.
"System. Explain yourself. Why am I here? What exactly are you? Tell me about this world. Even with Akira's memories, I'm still confused."
A new panel appeared.
I am the System. My task is to assist the Host in achieving his goal.
Initializing world overview…
This world is ruled by chakra—an energy born from both body and spirit. Nations exist, but true power belongs to hidden villages. Shinobi are raised as weapons, scouts, healers, and leaders.
Peace is fragile.
War repeats endlessly.
Strength decides survival.
Shinobi walk between light and shadow. Missions stain their hands. Bonds are built in blood and broken by betrayal. Talent matters—but will matters more.
Akira silently analyzed the information.
"I already know most of this from Akira's memories," he thought. "But tell me—are chakra and Qi the same?
The system replied.
No. Chakra and Qi are different forms of spiritual energy.
Akira's heart tightened.
"Then… can I cultivate here using my Qi refining methods?"
The answer appeared immediately.
Host, if you attempt to absorb chakra using Qi cultivation methods, your body will instantly explode.
"What?!" Akira's eyes widened in shock.
"If that's true… then how am I supposed to cultivate? How will I regain my strength and reach my old goal?"
The room fell silent.
Only the lantern swayed gently above, as the fate of a fallen cultivator and a wounded shinobi began to intertwine.