I turned two.
At least, that's what I decided as I watched the cherry blossom leaves falling outside the orphanage window once again. This event passed without fanfare. No cake with candles, no clowns, not even a dutiful congratulation from the staff. The only one who remembered the date of my birth was the System.
Right in the morning, as soon as I opened my eyes, golden confetti (virtual, of course) floated before my vision.
[Happy Birthday, Player!]
[Achievement Unlocked: "Didn't Die of Misery"]
[Description: You survived another year in this branch of hell on earth, keeping your sanity and limbs intact.]
[Reward: +1 Endurance (Permanent). You've become a bit harder to kill. Trust me, you'll need it.]
Thanks, you piece of junk, I grumbled mentally, feeling my body fill with a barely noticeable strength. You're the only one who understands me.
The main upgrade of this year was mastering bipedalism. The skill [Walking (Active)] finally crossed the critical threshold. I stopped moving on all fours like a crab and now proudly marched on my own two feet, falling not every three steps, but only every ten.
It was a breakthrough. The world ceased to be a collection of floor textures, baseboards, and furniture legs. It gained a vertical axis. I could reach the door handle. I could look onto a chair. I could… oh gods, I could reach the windowsill and see the street!
But along with physical growth came another, far less pleasant change. Full understanding of the language.
My [Language (Japanese)] skill hit the 95% mark. I stopped hearing a set of sounds. I began to understand the meaning. The intonation. The subtext.
And it was terrible.
Before, the hatred of the nannies was just background noise to me, like static on the radio. Negative aura, nothing more. Now, that hatred had words. Clear, venomous, hitting right on target.
"That bakemono is awake again," hissed "The Warden", walking past my crib and casting a look full of disgust at me. "Staring with those creepy eyes. I'm sure he's plotting something. Normal children don't look like that."
"Don't get close to him, Akio," instructed "Valkyrie", intercepting another child who was reaching for my toy with childish curiosity. "He's contagious. He's cursed. He brings nothing but trouble. Stay away from the demon."
"If not for Sandaime-sama's order, I would have long ago..." began a third one, young but already soaked in the poison of the general atmosphere. She didn't finish the phrase, but her hand involuntarily clenched into a fist.
Every such word was a blow. Not physical, but mental. And the System, that dispassionate accountant of my soul, recorded every missed hook.
[Mental Damage Received: -1 to Mood.]
[Mental Damage Received: -1 to Mood.]
[...]
[Your skill "Mental Resistance" has gained +0.2% progress!]
I turned into a walking punching bag that passively leveled up resistance to psychotrauma. I learned not to react. Made my face a stone mask. But inside, somewhere deep down, cold, black anger was accumulating.
They thought I didn't understand anything. That I was just a strange, silent child. Fools. I recorded every word. Every insult. Into my personal "Book of Grudges." And one day, when I become strong enough, I will present them with the bill.
But for now… for now, I could only endure. And wait for a mistake.
I quickly learned: being a "punching bag" is unpleasant, but tolerable. Words don't break bones. But the most sophisticated weapon in the arsenal of my jailers wasn't insults.
The cruelest punishment was Silence.
That day, reveling in my newfound freedom of movement, I explored the boundaries of the playroom. My two-year-old body was clumsy, and my curiosity boundless. I reached for a tall ficus standing on a shaky stand, just to see if it was real.
One awkward movement. Loss of balance. A push.
The crash of shattering ceramics sounded in the silence of the orphanage like a grenade explosion.
I froze, looking at the black earth and shards scattered across the parquet. It was pure accident. Absurdity. Any normal caregiver would scold the child, maybe spank them lightly, and make them help clean up.
But for "The Warden," who was on duty that day, it was a gift of fate. An excuse.
She didn't scream. She didn't hit me. She slowly set aside her knitting and walked up to me. Her face was frighteningly calm.
She silently took a broom, swept up the dirt. And then she looked me straight in the eyes—coldly, the way one looks at dirt under fingernails.
"Demons aren't supposed to play," she said in an icy tone. "Demons should sit in the dark."
And she grabbed me by the arm—painfully, leaving bruises—and dragged me out of the playroom. We walked down the corridor to an inconspicuous door at the end of the hall. The supply closet. The place where mops, buckets of bleach, and old rags were kept.
The lock clicked.
Darkness fell instantly, dense and stifling. The smell of dampness and chemicals hit my nose.
[Attention! You have entered a zone with the "Isolation" debuff!]
[Effects:]
[— Sensory Deprivation (lack of light and sound).]
[— Chance of developing claustrophobia: +10% every hour.]
I was left alone. Sitting on the icy tiled floor, I heard only my own breathing and the hollow beating of my heart. An ordinary two-year-old would already be in hysterics, tearing their nails against the door and calling for mommy.
But I wasn't ordinary.
Instead of panic, a cold, ringing rage rose inside. They think they can break me with this? With darkness? I was in the void after death! I saw the Nine-Tails! What is your mop in the corner to me?
And then the System, which had been silent until now, as if assessing my state, issued a quest window. It glowed in the dark with a soothing blue light.
[Survival Quest Generated!]
[Title: "Meditation in Darkness"]
[Description:]
[Your jailer believes isolation will break your spirit, make you cry and beg for mercy. Prove to her that she made a fatal mistake. Use this time not for fear, but for power.]
[Objective:]
[ ] Spend 2 hours in isolation while maintaining absolute calm (no crying, screaming, or banging on the door).]
[Reward:]
+200 EXP
+1 Wisdom (PERMANENT)
New Skill: "Concentration Lvl. 1"
Two hundred points! A permanent buff to Wisdom! A new skill!
System, I smirked mentally. You are my cruelest, yet best teacher.
I shifted, settling more comfortably on the hard floor. Crossed my legs, trying to adopt a lotus position (which was quite a task with chubby infant limbs), straightened my back, and closed my eyes.
Breathing. Inhale—count to four. Pause. Exhale.
I walled myself off from the dampness, from the fear, from the darkness. I went into my mind. Into my mind palace.
And I began to make plans.
I thought about the Academy. About the day I would first walk into the classroom.
I went over the techniques I would learn in my memory. Shadow Clones. Rasengan. Hiraishin.
I recalled the faces of those who would be useful to me. And those who would become enemies.
Time lost meaning. In the darkness, there were no minutes, only cycles of breath.
Two hours flew by like a single moment.
The clang of the opening lock sounded deafening. The door swung open, and the harsh light of the corridor hit my eyes.
"The Warden" stood on the threshold, hands on her hips. A triumphant smirk played on her face. She expected to see a crushed, sobbing, hiccuping-from-fear child crawling in his own snot.
Instead, she saw me.
I was sitting in the same pose she had left me in. Absolutely calm. My hands rested on my knees. I slowly raised my head and looked at her.
There were no tears in my eyes. No fear. No pleading.
Only cold, adult calculation. And silence.
The smile slid off her face. She flinched and involuntarily took a step back, as if she had seen a ghost.
"You..." she exhaled, her voice trembling. "You're not normal."
At that moment, a notification flashed before my eyes.
[Quest "Meditation in Darkness" COMPLETE!]
[Received: +200 EXP!]
[Wisdom +1]
[Learned Skill: "Concentration (Lvl. 1)" — You are capable of ignoring external irritants for the sake of an internal goal.]
I slowly stood up, brushed off my pants, and walked past her into the corridor without even deigning her with a glance.
After the closet incident, my life in the orphanage transformed completely. It was no longer the survival of a victim. It turned into a complex real-time strategy game.
Goal: Survive until the Academy with maximum stats.
Resources: My weak body, a sarcastic System, and the intellect of an adult.
Enemies: Staff (High-level Mobs) and, oddly enough, other children (Minion Mobs).
Children aren't born evil. That's a fact. But like sponges, they absorb the mood of adults. The nannies whispered to them that I was "bad," "dirty," "scary." And they believed it. My "Curse of the Pariah" debuff worked flawlessly, turning me into a social target.
Their tactics were primitive, like a level one mob script, but effective. Snatch a toy. Push on the sly. Point a finger and laugh, repeating hurtful words.
I didn't respond. Engaging in PvP with two-year-olds was beneath my dignity, and 2.5 units of Strength didn't guarantee victory in a fair fight anyway. Instead of fists, I decided to use my main weapon.
My brain.
I sat in my corner, pretending to be fascinated by a stain on the wall, while scanning the "battlefield." And then the System threw me an idea.
[Quest Received: "Social Engineering"]
[Type: Tutorial / Stealth]
[Description:]
[Direct confrontation is the lot of barbarians and tanks. A true strategist acts from the shadows, using other people's hands. A "Location Boss" has appeared in your sandbox—a bully who thinks he has impunity. It's time to teach him a lesson in political intrigue.]
[Objective:]
[ ] Provoke a conflict between two other children while remaining above suspicion.]
[ ] Punish the offender by proxy.]
[Reward:]
+100 EXP
+1 Intelligence
Unique Title: "Sandbox Puppet Master"
I smirked predatorily (which likely looked creepy on a child's face). Challenge accepted.
My target was Takeshi. A sturdy, big-foreheaded boy who considered the playroom his fiefdom. He was the one who "accidentally" stepped on my hand yesterday.
Takeshi had a weakness—greed. And he had a treasure—a wooden box full of blocks, which he guarded like a dragon guards gold.
The second element of the equation was Yuta. A quiet, whiny boy, the eternal victim. This morning, a kind nanny (one of the few) secretly gave him a candy in a bright wrapper. Yuta didn't eat it right away, but just held it in his hand, admiring the shine of the foil.
The plan matured instantly.
I waited for the moment when Takeshi turned away, engrossed in building a tower. His attention was scattered.
Activating "Stealth" mode.
I quickly, almost silently, crawled up to Yuta. He didn't even have time to realize what happened. A snatch—and the candy migrated from his sticky palm to mine.
Before Yuta could inhale to scream, I had already darted to Takeshi's "treasury."
The movement was polished. The candy slid into the box of blocks, getting lost among the wood.
A second later—and I was already sitting in my corner, studying the pattern on the carpet with the most innocent look.
[Stealth Check... Success!]
In the next instant, the siren went off. Yuta realized the loss and howled so loud the windows rattled.
"Valkyrie" came running at the scream.
"What happened, Yuta-chan? Who hurt you?"
"My... my... candy was stolen!" he squeezed out, choking on tears.
The nanny frowned. Her gaze, of course, darted to me first. I calmly withstood this gaze, demonstrating empty hands and angelic humility. No evidence.
"Search," she commanded.
The search was short. The shiny wrapper treacherously glinted in Takeshi's box, among his precious towers.
"Takeshi!" the nanny's voice turned to steel. "Shame on you! Taking from the weak!"
"It wasn't me!" the bully wailed, turning purple with indignation. "I didn't take it! It just appeared!"
But who would believe the group's main hooligan? The evidence was irrefutable. The verdict was passed instantly: Takeshi was publicly scolded, stripped of his blocks, and put in the corner. Yuta got his candy back (and was given another one as consolation).
Takeshi stood in the corner, smearing angry tears, unable to understand how his world had collapsed.
I watched this from the shadows. No one even looked in my direction.
[Quest "Social Engineering" COMPLETE!]
[Brilliant work, Agent 007 in a diaper!]
[Received:]
+100 EXP
Intelligence +1 (Now you are even more dangerous)
Title Obtained: "Sandbox Puppet Master" (+10% success chance in deception and stealth actions).
I felt like Moriarty. It was a delightful feeling of power. I didn't touch the enemy with a finger, but he was defeated and humiliated by the very system that protected him.
Be afraid, I thought, looking at the back of the sobbing Takeshi. This was just a warm-up.
The moment of triumph over Takeshi was sweet but brief. In the bottom line, the daily life of the orphanage consisted not of spy intrigues, but of monotonous, jaw-breaking routine.
I quickly realized that reality differs from anime. There, heroes became stronger in a couple of training montages set to upbeat music. Here, every step toward strength was paid for with sweat, scraped knees, and hours of boredom.
I couldn't meditate and accumulate chakra—the "Don't Touch!" quest hung like a Sword of Damocles. But no one forbade me from leveling up my body.
As soon as we were taken out for a walk in the tiny courtyard fenced with a high wall, other children ran to dig in the sand. I went the distance.
[Daily Quest: "Path of the Athlete (Beginning)"]
[Objective: Walk 500 steps at a fast pace without stopping.]
[Reward: +10 EXP, +0.01 Strength.]
Five hundred steps. For an adult—a minute walk to the fridge. For a two-year-old child with short legs and a messed-up center of gravity—a real marathon.
I wound circles around the perimeter of the yard, puffing like a steam engine. My legs buzzed, my lungs burned, but I didn't stop. The nannies looked at me like I was possessed, twirling fingers at their temples, but didn't interfere. Let the demon run, as long as he doesn't bite.
[Quest Complete! +0.01 Strength.]
Every hundredth of a stat was a victory. I was literally gnawing my power out of this world.
And then, on one of these gray days, the routine burst like a soap bubble.
The atmosphere in the orphanage changed instantly. The air became electrified. Nannies ran around like scalded cockroaches. Feverish cleaning began: floors were washed, dust was wiped even where it had lain for years, children were forcibly washed and changed into dress clothes.
I understood immediately—an Inspection was coming. Or something worse.
Closer to noon, the heavy front doors swung open. He walked into the orphanage.
The Third Hokage. Hiruzen Sarutobi.
In person, he looked even older and more decrepit than I remembered from the screen. Wrinkles cut deep furrows into his face, his back stooped under the weight of his robes and, apparently, his sins. But behind this mask of a "kind grandfather," I now saw what I had missed in my past life.
Weakness. And the infinite weariness of a man who had long lost control of the situation.
He didn't come alone. Two ANBU glided like silent shadows behind his back.
[Warning! S+ Rank NPC Detected!] the System blinked red in panic. [Recommended Action: Pretend to be furniture. Be especially wary of the one on the left. Root pattern mask. He reeks of death.]
I nearly stumbled. Root? So Danzo is already here. His tentacles are already wrapping around the village's throat, and this old man allows him to breathe down my neck.
The staff lined up, bowing so low their noses touched the floor. The Hokage merely nodded carelessly to them and walked into the playroom. His gaze, tenacious and heavy, found me immediately.
He approached. Slowly, leaning on his staff. And squatted down in front of me to be on the same level.
"Hello, Naruto-kun," his voice was soft, warm, with the huskiness of tobacco smoke.
But to me, this voice sounded like metal scraping on glass. Fake. Absolute, refined fakery.
I looked up at him with my huge blue eyes. Outwardly, I was a cute child. But inside me raged a storm of icy contempt.
You... the mental scream echoed against my skull. You dare smile at me? You promised Minato and Kushina you'd take care of me! That I would be considered a hero! And what is the result? I live in a fleabag motel, eat slop, and hear every day that I am a demon! You are the God of Shinobi? No. You are just an old, weak-willed coward.
"How are you doing here?" he continued, not noticing (or pretending not to notice) my silence. "Are they treating you well?"
That question was the last straw.
Treating me well?!
A whirlwind of images I knew from canon raced through my head.
Sakumo Hatake, the White Fang, bullied into suicide right under your nose.
Orochimaru, experimenting on children, and you let him go because you "couldn't raise a hand against a student."
The Uchiha Clan... Danzo is already sharpening knives, and you close your eyes, hoping the problem will resolve itself.
You are the weakest Hokage in history. Your kindness is criminal negligence, paid for with others' blood. And my broken life.
I remained silent. I couldn't say this to his face—I would be packed off to Root or an asylum instantly. But I put all these thoughts into my gaze. A direct, unblinking gaze devoid of childish naivety.
Hiruzen flinched. His standard smile faded, something like guilt or fear flashed in his eyes.
He sighed heavily, looked away, and reached into the pocket of his robe.
"This is for you, Naruto-kun. A small gift."
He placed a bundle on the floor next to me. A small lump wrapped in coarse paper.
"Grow up big and strong, Naruto-kun. The village needs you," he uttered the standard, memorized phrase. Then, obeying some impulse, he reached out to ruffle my hair.
I barely held back from recoiling. Every cell in my body screamed: "Don't touch me!". But I forced myself to freeze. Dodging could arouse suspicion.
His dry, warm palm touched the top of my head. This gesture was supposed to express fatherly care. But I felt only heaviness. The heaviness of hypocrisy.
"I must go," he removed his hand and straightened up with visible relief, as if shedding a load. "Take care of him," he threw to the nannies without even looking at them.
"Hai, Hokage-sama!" the staff responded in chorus.
He turned and walked toward the exit. The tapping of his staff receded: tap, tap, tap. The sound of nails being driven into the coffin lid of my childhood. The door closed, cutting off his aura of grandeur from the squalor of my world.
I remained sitting on the floor, staring at the bundle. The nannies bustled around again, discussing the visit of "the God of Shinobi himself," but no one approached me.
Slowly, without interest, I pulled at the edge of the paper.
Inside lay a wooden figurine. A crudely carved ninja in a classic stance, painted with cheap paint that had already started peeling on the nose.
An ordinary, penny-worth toy that could be bought in any stall for a couple of ryo.
I looked at this wooden idol, and I wanted to laugh.
[Item Received: "Wooden Shinobi Figurine"]
[Quality: Common (Trash)]
[Effects: Can be used to play "ninja war." Or as kindling for a fire if it gets really cold.]
[System Comment: A generous gift from the village ruler to the orphan hero. Don't spend all the pleasure at once.]
Even the System oozed sarcasm.
I felt no gratitude. I felt only emptiness and bitterness that settled on my tongue with the taste of ash. This visit changed nothing. It was just a bureaucratic checkmark. The old man came, ensured the "weapon" was breathing and hadn't run away, threw a bone so his conscience wouldn't gnaw at him, and left to rule his sinking village.
I kicked the figurine aside. It hit the baseboard with a clatter and rolled under the wardrobe. Let it rot there.
That night, I didn't sleep.
Lying in my crib and looking at the strip of moonlight on the ceiling, I buried the last remnants of hope.
It was foolish to wait for a kind wizard. It was foolish to hope for the canon, where Naruto was saved by his unkillable faith in people. I didn't have that faith.
I realized finally and irrevocably: no one is coming. No one will save me. I am alone. Absolutely, totally alone against a whole world that wants my death or submission.
"Fine," I whispered into the darkness. My childish voice sounded quiet but firm. "If you don't want to be my friends, you will become my stepping stones."
I clenched my small fists so hard my nails dug into my palms.
I am weak in body? I don't care. I will start training my mind with double, triple fury.
I can't use chakra? I don't care. I will become the best theoretician in history.
Every seal. Every technique. Every enemy weakness. I will recall everything: from the mechanics of the Rasengan to the secrets of the Mangekyo Sharingan. I will disassemble this world into formulas and equations.
And I will turn my brain into the perfect weapon. And when my body finally catches up to it in development, when this damn quest banning chakra falls...
I won't seek acknowledgment like canon Naruto.
A window flashed before my eyes. This time, no jokes or sarcasm.
[Attention! Character Alignment Shift!]
[Your Goal has been updated.]
[Current Goal: "Survive" → New Goal: "Dominate".]
[Hidden Stat "Will" Unlocked.]
I closed my eyes. An evil smile played on my lips.
The game was over. The war had begun. And I was ready for it.