[Day 30 – Daily Tasks Completed]
[Completion Streak: 30]
Walking: 10,000 / 10,000 — Completed
• Observation: 1h / 1h — Completed
• Food: Completed
Night settled over Konoha.
Naruto lay on the thin mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling. His body was still. His mind was not.
Today, the system store would install.
Thirty days.
No failures.
No shortcuts.
Every day, he walked until his legs trembled. He observed until boredom threatened to break his mask. He ate when he could—and learned to endure when he couldn't.
For the monthly task, he had done more than survive.
Fishing.
Trapping.
Planning.
A small pond near the river. Crude, bed-sized, reinforced with stone. Fish transferred carefully, fed sparingly.
A sustainable source of food.
Yet no confirmation appeared.
System… you better not be playing games with me.
As his eyes closed, memory dragged him back.
Flashback
Winter was approaching.
Cold wind cut through the village streets, slipping through thin clothes like knives. Naruto walked slowly, conserving energy. Hunger gnawed—not sharp anymore, but constant. Ever-present.
He stopped.
A ramen stand stood ahead.
Ichiraku.
A name from another life. From fiction.
But this was not anime.
Naruto approached, then stopped just outside the curtain.
If I step in… he might regret it.
And then he'll hate me too.
The curtain shifted.
The voice wasn't sharp.
It wasn't fearful.
It was… warm.
"You've been standing there a while," the man said gently. "Come inside."
Naruto flinched and looked up.
Teuchi stood behind the counter, wiping his hands on a cloth. His eyes weren't narrowed. They weren't cold. They simply looked at Naruto—as if he were just a child standing alone in the cold.
Naruto didn't move.
Teuchi smiled faintly. Not wide. Not forced. Just tired. Sincere.
Naruto hesitated, then slowly climbed onto the stool. His feet didn't reach the ground.
A large bowl of ramen was placed in front of him.
Steam rose, fogging his vision.
Naruto ate.
Not wildly. Not desperately.
Years of discipline from another life guided his hands—but his body trembled with every swallow.
When the bowl was empty, another replaced it.
Then another.
By the third bowl, his mind caught up.
I shouldn't be here.
I'm taking too much.
He stopped, fingers tightening around the chopsticks.
Teuchi noticed immediately.
"I…" Naruto's voice came out small. "I don't have money."
"Then you're in luck," Teuchi said mildly. "Tonight's on me."
"You still look hungry."
"I… I can stop."
Teuchi studied him for a long moment.
"When was the last time you ate?" he asked quietly.
Naruto didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The fourth bowl arrived.
Then a fifth.
When Naruto finally stopped, it wasn't because he was full—he knew now that his body might never truly feel full again—but because something warm had lodged itself painfully in his chest.
Why?
Why are you doing this?
Tears slipped out before he could stop them.
Teuchi froze.
"Hey—hey," he said quickly, moving around the counter. Awkward. Careful. He crouched and gently pulled Naruto into his arms. "What happened?"
"I… I didn't eat today," Naruto whispered. "I was looking in the garbage."
Silence.
Teuchi's arms tightened—not in anger, but restraint.
"…I see," he said softly.
He set Naruto down and disappeared into the back.
When he returned, he wasn't holding food.
He carried a fishing rod. A bucket. Simple tools.
"You won't eat like this every day," Teuchi said. "So I'll teach you something better."
Later that night, as Naruto stepped back into the cold, Teuchi stood beneath the lantern light, watching the small figure disappear.
"You protected this village," he murmured to the empty street.
"But if you could see how your son is living… what would you do?"
Back in the present, Naruto opened his eyes.
Kindness exists, he thought. But it's rare.
And rare things were valuable.