In the world of Naruto—inside Konoha, the Village Hidden in the Leaves—the morning sun hung high in a cloudless blue sky, its warmth spilling over tiled rooftops and winding streets.
A soft breeze rustled through the towering trees that gave the village its name, carrying with it the scent of fresh wood, food stalls, and distant training grounds where the rhythmic thuds of kunai hitting targets echoed faintly.
Laughter rang out from nearby paths as villagers went about their day, blissfully unaware of fate, chakra beasts, and gods that toyed with destiny.
In the middle of a small park, tucked between tall trees and worn stone paths, a lone boy sat on a swing set.
The chains creaked softly as he rocked back and forth, his feet dragging lazily through the dirt. His gaze was fixed on the sky, unfocused, as if he were looking past the clouds themselves.
He had dark, slightly messy hair that framed a young face still soft with childhood. His skin was lightly tanned, and his most striking feature—unnatural for a civilian—were his deep purple eyes, sharp with awareness far beyond his years. He wore a simple white shirt, brown shorts, and sandals that were already scuffed from daily wear.
"Fuck… I can't believe I'm in Naruto, man," he muttered under his breath, voice low and strained.
His name was Ardyn Kaze.
But inside that small body lived another soul entirely—a soul from a different world. A world with screens, internet arguments, fan theories, and endless rewatches of the very anime now surrounding him in vivid, terrifying reality.
This wasn't a lucid dream.
This wasn't a prank.
This was Konoha.
Ardyn let out a long sigh, leaning his head back as the swing reached its peak.
' Much worse,' he thought bitterly. ' I'm a flippin' kid… in a world where giant chakra monsters can flatten cities.'
Bijuu. Akatsuki. Pain. Orochimaru. Names that once thrilled him now felt like death sentences.
Unlike the prodigies and monsters that populated this world, Ardyn had no bloodline. No Sharingan. No Byakugan. No Uzumaki chakra reserves. He was painfully normal.
A civilian-born kid.
His parents owned a modest clothing shop near one of Konoha's busier streets. Business was booming and tbey lived comfortably. Enough to eat well. Enough to live peacefully.
Peacefully… until canon kicked in.
' Man…' he thought, lips twitching with dark humor. ' I really had to die while gooning. That's how I go out?'
The irony almost made him laugh.
He'd read dozens—no, hundreds—of fanfics with that exact setup. He always mocked them. Always said, 'That'd never be me.'
Yet here he was. Dead at eighteen. Young. Useless. No achievements. No legacy.
The only regret he truly felt burned sharper than any fear of ninja wars.
'…I didn't even clear my browser history.'
A moment of silence passed. Then he nodded solemnly.
' I'll miss you,' he thought. ' Theobrobine. Derpixon, NYl. They are Legends. You'll always have my heart.'
The swing slowed to a stop.
Ardyn planted his feet firmly on the ground and stood, brushing dirt from his shorts. His childish reflection stared back at him from a nearby puddle—small, fragile… but alive.
"Well," he muttered, squaring his shoulders as he looked out at the village. "Fuck it."
His purple eyes sharpened.
"I better figure out how I'm gonna survive in this hell house."
Ardyn stretched his small body, joints popping softly as he worked out the stiffness in his arms and legs. He rolled his shoulders, flexed his fingers, then hopped off the worn path of the park and started walking toward home.
The village felt different now that he was inside it.
Shops lined the streets with wooden signs swaying gently in the breeze. Vendors laughed loudly as they packed up for the weekend, and shinobi passed by in pairs—some masked, some not—moving with the easy confidence of people who could kill without thinking twice.
As he walked, his gaze drifted toward the Ninja Academy.
The building stood quiet, its windows dark and its training yard empty. No shouting kids. No Iruka-sensei yelling. Just silence. School was closed—it was the weekend.
That's when the reality of his situation really settled in. He was six years old. The same age as Naruto Uzumaki.
Six years old, with an entire lifetime ahead of him in one of the most dangerous worlds imaginable. Years to train. Years to grow stronger. Years to prepare.
Yet unlike the main characters of this world… He had no plot armor. No destined prophecy. No sealed god inside his gut.
'Damn,' he thought.
Still, part of him felt excited. The characters!
' I can't wait to meet them,' he thought as he continued walking. ' I only entered this body this morning, and I haven't met anyone important yet.'
His lips twitched.
"Except Ichiraku."
The ramen stand had been exactly as he remembered—warm, inviting, and comforting in a way that felt almost sacred. He made a mental note to go back one day. A real visit. One that mattered.
Soon, the road curved upward, opening into a long stretch of stone steps.
At the end of it stood the Hokage Monument.
Four massive faces carved into the mountain, staring out over the village like eternal guardians. Ardyn stopped walking.
For a moment, he just stared.
Nostalgia washed over him like a wave. Countless episodes. Countless scenes burned into his memory. Seeing it in person felt surreal—almost unreal.
He smiled softly.
' Not gonna lie,' he thought. ' It hits harder in real life.'
Unlike Naruto, though, he had no desire to stand up there one day. No dream of becoming Hokage. He'd seen how that path ended—loss, sacrifice, and endless responsibility.
"Hard pass," he muttered.
Eventually, he reached his home.
A tall, five-story building tucked neatly between other village structures. It stood out—not flashy, but well-maintained. Solid. His parents owned the entire place, renting out the bottom three floors while living comfortably in the two above.
Stable income. Safe home. A good start.
' Well,' he thought as he climbed the stairs, ' money's sorted out. That's one thing off the list.'
But he scoffed internally.
' Not that it means much here. If money mattered, that one guy—what was his name again? Gatō or something—would've lived.'
He was killed by Zabuza in the very first arc. Power always trumped wealth in this world.
He entered his room and flopped onto the bed, the mattress creaking softly under his light weight. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused, mind racing.
Regret crept in.
If he'd listened to his parents back then… if he'd taken life more seriously… maybe things would be different now.
He clenched his fists.
Then exhaled.
"Soaking in sadness won't help," Ardyn muttered aloud. "I need to get strong."
He rolled off the bed and dropped to the floor, placing his hands down carefully. His arms trembled slightly as he pushed himself up.
"1…" "2…" "3—ahh—"
Bang.
His arms gave out completely.
His forehead smacked the floor with a dull, painful thud. And just like that— Ardyn Kaze was knocked out cold.
....
A few hours later, Ardyn slowly opened his eyes.
The first thing he felt was a dull ache pulsing through his forehead. He groaned softly, blinking as the world swam into focus. The wooden floor beneath him felt cold against his cheek, and his arms were still sprawled out awkwardly from where he'd collapsed.
"Ugh…" he muttered, lifting his head slightly. "Did I seriously knock myself out doing push-ups?"
As he pushed himself up onto his elbows, something felt… wrong.
The room was darker now. Evening light filtered in through the window, painting the walls in shades of orange and gold. Dust particles drifted lazily through the air. Everything looked normal.
Except for the thing floating directly in front of his face.
A glowing blue screen hovered inches from his eyes.
It wasn't reflected light. It wasn't a trick of exhaustion. It was there—sharp, clear, and unmistakably real. Lines of faint geometric patterns pulsed along its edges, and strange symbols flickered across its surface before stabilizing.
Ardyn froze.
His breath caught in his throat.
"…No way," he whispered.
TO BE CONTINUED