'I once admired someone.'
'Well, he was just a fictional character. So, what does it matter, as long as I tried to live my life the way I wanted it to be.'
'That was what I believed. And then I died—right when I was trying my best to live in that kind of world.'
Everything changed after that.
The first thing he saw was a ceiling that looked like it hadn't been touched in years—faded wooden panels, a few small cracks, and a faint rusty discolouration creeping along the edges. It was the kind of ceiling that gave off an old-lodge smell, faintly dusty and cold. He stared at it, blinking slowly, then quickly, then repeatedly—more than ten times—just to confirm whether this was a dream he was about to wake up from.
Or whether he had really been flattened by that truck.
'Seriously… there was no pop-up message saying, "Get ready, bitch, for getting Isekai." How am I supposed to know that was the truck?' He muttered inside his head, his thoughts dry and unamused.
He raised his hand, flexing his fingers, clenching them into a fist. He could feel the small stiffness in his joints, the cool air brushing over his skin. Too real for a hallucination. With a slow exhale, he pushed himself off the creaky, outdated bed; the springs groaned under his weight like an old man complaining.
"Hm. I'm alive, alright," he whispered. The floor greeted him with a cold bite that shot up his legs, and he winced. Definitely alive.
He walked toward the washroom, the floorboards lightly creaking under each step. The small mirror hanging above the sink had a faint water stain running down the edge, but as soon as he leaned closer, the reflection staring back at him made the breath hitch in his throat.
A kid. Blond. Blue eyes. Whisker marks.
"What…" He gripped the sides of the sink. "Wow. Okay. Wow." His voice cracked a little, but he couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips. "I actually got reincarnated into the Naruto world. That's… kind of lucky, not gonna lie."
He turned his head left and right, checking every angle. The kid was familiar, yet not exactly the Naruto he remembered. A little sharper in features, a bit more alert in the eyes—maybe that was the influence of his soul mixing in. Still, undeniably the same body.
"Well, at least I don't look bad. A little grooming, decent clothes, and yeah… I can probably pull off being popular later." He fixed his hair with his fingers, humming lightly. "Though, ugh, this kid really didn't bother with cleaning, did he?"
His thoughts drifted as naturally as breathing.
'Danzo is going to be a pain… But as long as I keep that Hokage as my shield, I should be free to move as I want. With that whole Will of Fire thing, I've got plenty of advantages to pull from that old man.'
He paused. Even thinking about the Hokage stirred something warm—something that wasn't originally his. Emotions woven into this body: respect, admiration, and a faint longing for family warmth he had never known in his past life either.
'Well… it's convenient. I can use that. Playing the good little happy family isn't a bad route.'
He stepped back into the room and surveyed it properly this time. Empty cups of instant ramen everywhere. Clothes tossed around. Dust gathered in corners. A lone window letting in the faint morning noise of the village—distant chatter, someone calling a vendor price, a dog barking.
'Yep. I need to tidy this mess up.'
He grabbed the empty ramen cups, stacking them with a light sigh. "Kid, seriously," he muttered to himself as he tossed one after another into a trash bag. The rustle of plastic, the faint thud of cups hitting each other, and the ambient murmur of Konoha outside combined into a simple, strangely comforting background.
After clearing the trash, he swept the floor. Dust puffed up in little clouds with each stroke of the broom. By the time he finished, his stomach growled—loud enough that he scrunched his eyebrows.
"Right… Cleaning makes you hungry. Forgot about that part."
He looked around the now semi-presentable room, hands on his hips.
A new life. A new world. A familiar body.
And an empty stomach.
"…Okay. Food first. Existential crisis later."
After checking the wardrobe—only to find four to five more empty ramen cups tucked inside like forgotten treasure—he exhaled sharply through his nose. The sight made him pinch the bridge of his nose.
"This kid…" he muttered, shaking his head.
Given this kind of diet, there was no way he could support the plan he had in mind. Ramen alone wouldn't give him the fibre, vitamins, protein, or anything remotely close to what he needed to develop a proper, healthy body. If he wanted real growth, he needed real food.
'As long as I can get meat, I can cook myself decent meals,' he thought. 'Protein is the priority. Muscle first, chakra training later.'
Thinking it over, he decided to head toward Ichiraku Ramen—not for the usual bowl the original Naruto begged for, but for something he could work with. Beef noodles. He still felt that weird leftover craving from the original soul—something nostalgic, a comfort kink—but at least he would request more meat and less noodle this time.
The moment he stepped outside, Konoha greeted him with a buzzing wave of life.
Vendors calling out prices. A couple arguing playfully over groceries. Shinobi walking past with flak jackets rustling. Children sprinting through the street, laughing. The air smelt faintly of grilled skewers, fresh rice, and dust warmed by the sun.
Naruto walked silently, much calmer than the version of himself these villagers were used to. That naturally drew eyes toward him. He caught bits of whispers every now and then—nothing too loud, but loud enough when directed at him.
"Is that… Naruto?"
"He's awfully quiet today."
"Looks different…"
He heard them only because he was paying attention—not because they were brave enough to speak within his earshot.
None of it bothered him.
As long as they kept their distance and didn't try to meddle with him, he didn't care what they said behind his back. Words only hurt if he let them in—and he had no intention of letting them.
People often saw living alone as sad, pitiful even. But to him, solitude meant clarity. Too many people in his life would only be a nuisance he didn't need. As long as he had a few things he valued—goals, tools, maybe a handful of important figures—that was enough.
And speaking of valuable things…
"Nice smell."
He found himself in front of Ichiraku Ramen.
The small wooden stand was exactly as iconic as he remembered but with subtle, more realistic touches. The red-and-white noren curtains swayed gently, revealing the bustling inside. The sizzle of broth simmering, the rhythmic chop of a kitchen knife, the clatter of bowls being washed—it all blended into a warm, inviting ambiance.
To his surprise, there were extra benches outside the stand, lined with customers eagerly eating. It made sense, of course. In reality, a place this famous would easily spill out customers during busy hours.
"Welcome!" Teuchi Ichiraku called out the moment Naruto approached. The old man's voice had that seasoned warmth of someone who had served thousands of bowls of ramen in his lifetime. "Naruto, eh! Come in, come in. Take a seat. It'll be ready in a minute."
Naruto slipped onto a wooden stool and grinned. "Hehe! Thank you for the hospitality."
When he placed his order—something far more balanced, emphasising beef over noodles—Teuchi paused mid-stir, giving him a brief, curious look. Then the old man chuckled and shook his head.
Kids Naruto's age changed tastes all the time. Especially the most notorious troublemaker in the area. It wasn't strange at all.
"Good! Have more meat then. Don't worry about the price," Teuchi said cheerfully, ladling broth into a bowl. "On the house."
Naruto laughed with a bright, natural smile. "Yep! I've decided to be Hokage one day. So I've got to grow stronger, right? For that, I need muscle. Beef equals muscle."
Teuchi's grin widened. The old man always liked Naruto's energy, but this version—the determined yet oddly composed one—felt refreshing.
"Hokage, huh? Big dream, big appetite," Teuchi chuckled, glancing over as his daughter, Ayame, stepped in from the back to help. Her presence added a gentle rhythm to the kitchen, bowls stacking, utensils clinking.
Ayame smiled warmly at Naruto. "More meat for a future Hokage, coming right up."
For the first time since waking in this world, Naruto felt a small, genuine warmth slip into his chest.
Not a bad start to the day.
After eating his fill, Naruto let out a soft, satisfied sigh. The warmth of the broth still lingered in his stomach, and the rich taste of beef clung faintly to his tongue. As he stepped out of Ichiraku Ramen, the afternoon breeze brushed against his cheeks—cool, refreshing, perfect for a walk.
He decided to take a light stroll to help digest the food.
"Hm… this kid already helped Hinata," he murmured internally.
With each passing moment, more memories bubbled up—small, scattered scenes aligning inside his mind. Among them, he recalled one particular event clearly: Naruto standing up for a timid girl with lavender eyes, shielding her from a group of bullies. Even though he ended up beaten to a pulp afterward, that one gesture had rooted something deep in Hinata's heart.
'Well, that's cool,' he thought casually. 'At least I've got a small admirer.'
He snorted under his breath, amused. Not a bad perk in a world like this.
As he walked further, he found himself standing before the towering Hokage building. The structure rose proudly above the village, sunlight glinting against the stone. Shinobi moved in and out, some carrying stacks of paperwork, others clearly returning from missions. The whole place radiated a sense of responsibility he wasn't ready to tackle just yet.
From there, he took a turn down a quieter street until he reached the village library. The entrance was flanked by neat shrubs and a wooden signboard with carved patterns. The moment he stepped forward, however, the librarian at the desk gave him the same look as always—polite but firm.
"No entry without academy registration," she said with routine professionalism.
A standard safety protocol. No wanderer from another village should be able to stroll in and read sensitive Konoha material. Makes perfect sense. In a week, after academy registration, he'd be allowed inside anyway.
'Fine, fine,' he thought as he turned away. 'I'll come back later.'
With nothing else pressing for the day, Naruto decided to stretch his legs a little more.
'I'll do some light exercise. Real training starts tomorrow.'
He began jogging at a medium pace, weaving through the main streets and then along the outer paths of the village. The sounds of daily life echoed around him—vendors closing stalls, kunoichi chatting during break, a dog barking somewhere near a dumpling shop.
By the time he completed two full rounds around the village, sweat dripped down the sides of his face, and his breathing grew uneven.
"Damn…" he muttered, wiping his forehead. The kid's stamina was not yet where he wanted it to be.
Still, he pushed onward until he found himself back near the familiar noren curtain of Ichiraku Ramen.
Teuchi looked up the moment Naruto appeared again, surprise flickering across his features. Ayame peeked from behind the curtain, equally curious.
"Back again already?" Teuchi asked with an amused chuckle.
Naruto grinned, placing a hand over his lightly rumbling stomach. "I got hungry again. Just a little."
He ordered meat onigiri and a couple of small side items—things with decent protein content—leaving the duo blinking in mild confusion.
Ayame laughed softly. "Naruto, you're eating like you're preparing for a long battle."
"Pretty much," he replied with a smirk. "Gotta build muscle if I'm gonna be Hokage one day."
Teuchi shook his head, smiling proudly as he started preparing the order.
And as Naruto waited, catching his breath and listening to the faint sizzling from the kitchen, he couldn't help but think:
Not a bad routine for a first day in this world.