The Black Market on the fringes of the Land of Fire was no place for a child, yet there he was.
With a backpack that seemed to weigh more than his own body, an eleven-year-old boy with brown hair and eyes radiating a weariness far beyond his years walked steadily toward the Mercenary Guild. As he passed, shadows in the narrow alleys began to whisper.
"Look at that... what's a brat doing here?" muttered a scarred bandit, leaning against a grime-covered wall.
"Don't you know?" his companion replied in a low voice. "He's been showing up here for a year now. They call him a 'specialist'."
"Seriously? I thought that was just a drunkard's tall tale."
"It's no joke. But the weird thing is, he never takes assassination missions. Only theft and intel gathering."
"How strange. Those pay the least. With that bounty board outside, you'd think he'd be hungry for glory."
"Forget it. The kid is damn good at finding things and making his targets' belongings 'disappear' before they even realize he was there."
Kazuma Satoru heard it all. His ears, sharpened by his current level, caught every word, but he didn't flinch. 'If only they knew... I don't kill them because my HP bar is a joke. One well-placed kunai would send me straight to see Enma-sama,' he thought sarcastically.
He pushed through the guild doors—a noisy place saturated with the smell of cheap tobacco and sweat. He walked straight to the counter, where an old man was reviewing scrolls with a permanent scowl. Kazuma climbed onto a stool with a sigh of relief.
The receptionist looked up, squinting through his glasses. "Kid. You're back. Any luck with the commission?"
"It was a walk in the park," Kazuma replied, dropping his bag onto the counter with a heavy thud. "There were no ninja guarding the cargo, just some second-rate mercenaries who fell asleep on watch. It was too easy to 'borrow' these scrolls."
As he emptied the bag, several transport scrolls rolled across the wooden surface. The man, known as Kamanachi, inspected them with professional boredom.
"Mmm... fast for someone your age. But well, in this business, the result is all that matters."
Kamanachi confirmed the seals were intact and pulled a stack of bills from under the counter. "Here you go. 3,000 Ryos. Mission officially completed."
The moment Kazuma's fingers brushed the money, a mechanical, cold voice echoed in his mind, accompanied by a semi-transparent interface only he could see.
> [ Mission Complete ]
> [ Experience Gained: +50 ]
> [ Congratulations! You have reached Level 8 ]
> [ +2 Skill Points obtained ]
>
A small, satisfied smirk curved his lips. He stuffed the money into his pocket and turned to leave, but Kamanachi's voice stopped him.
"Hey, Kazuma. Drop by tomorrow. Some new escort or search missions should be coming in. I'll see if I can find one that doesn't involve fighting a Jonin and save it for you."
"Appreciate it, Mr. Kamanachi. See ya."
Stepping out into the fresh evening air, Kazuma finally allowed himself to relax. He opened his Status Panel as he walked toward his hideout.
[ Character Status ]
* Name: Kazuma Satoru
* Class: Adventurer (Rank: Novice)
* Level: 8
* Age: 11
* Available Skill Points: 2
* Current Skills:
* Steal: Allows the user to snatch a random item from the target. Success rate depends on Luck (And Kazuma has plenty).
* Enemy Detection: A passive radar that warns of hostile intent nearby.
* Trap Detection: Essential for surviving ninja-infested outposts.
* Lurk: Hides the user's presence and sound. His ultimate defense.
'One year... it's already been a year since I popped up in this hole,' he thought bitterly.
He didn't belong to this world. He knew this place from the manga he read in his previous life: the Naruto World. A place where, if you aren't born with a magic eye, a beast inside you, or a famous last name, you are basically cannon fodder.
He had transmigrated into the body of Kazuma Satou, the "strongest adventurer" (note the sarcasm) from Konosuba. At first, he was thrilled. He expected the power of Gojo Satoru or at least to be an Uchiha with a cheat system. But no. He got the "Adventurer" class—the weakest of them all. The "Jack of all trades, master of none."
But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was a cosmic error.
'I was born without a single drop of chakra! Not one! Even the mosquitoes in this world have more spiritual energy than I do!' he screamed internally, remembering the day he tried to prime an explosive tag and nearly fainted from physical exhaustion.
When he discovered his chakra coils were basically decorative, he cried. He swore it was a Genjutsu cast by a stray dog, but reality was cruel. No chakra meant no Ninja Academy. No Academy meant no "Will of Fire."
Though, thinking about it, that was a blessing. At ten years old, he was already too old to enter, and his adult mind prevented him from being brainwashed by Konoha's heroic speeches. He knew the truth: civilians without lineages in this world are less than nothing. If you die, you end up in a mass grave while the ninja "heroes" get monuments.
The only thing that kept him alive was his Luck (Rank: EX) and a kind old lady who picked him up off the street when he was nothing but a kid in dirty rags. She looked after him in her small but cozy home. She had lost her sons in the Third Great Ninja War and lived alone. Ironically, she died of natural causes shortly after. Kazuma figured that in a world where people explode or get eaten by giant summons, dying of old age at 80 was the ultimate luxury.
Now, at 11, Kazuma looked at the list of skills available to learn with his 2 new points:
* Drain Touch: I could use this to steal chakra from ninjas since I don't have my own...
* Snipe: Combined with my luck, I could put a kunai through a Hyuga's eye from fifty meters out.
"Well," he whispered to himself as he turned down an alleyway, "if the world wants me to be a chakra-less ninja, I'll be the most cheating mercenary they've ever seen."