Haru decided something was wrong with Konoha the moment Naruto wouldn't shut up.
"I'M BACK, DATTEBAYO!"
The shout echoed across the street, bouncing off rooftops, walls, and Haru's skull.
"…Three years," Haru muttered, hands in his pockets. "Three years of training with Jiraiya, and that's still his opening line."
People crowded the road, cheering, laughing, crying. Naruto grinned like he'd just conquered the world.
Haru smiled too—genuinely.
Good for him.
"Guess life's about to get complicated," he said lightly.
He had no idea how right he was.
Haru went to sleep like a normal person.
He woke up like an idiot.
"…Why is my bed so soft?"
He opened his eyes.
Silk curtains. Gold embroidery. A ceiling tall enough to host a clan meeting.
Haru froze.
"…I don't own this much fabric."
He sat up.
Something heavy rested on his chest.
He looked down.
"…Why do I own this much fabric?"
His hands were pale, slender, and definitely not his. Rings glinted on his fingers. The robe he wore probably cost more than his entire ninja career.
A mirror stood nearby.
Haru walked toward it slowly.
The face staring back at him was handsome. Arrogantly so. Sharp jaw. Cold eyes. The kind of face that looked like it bullied people for fun.
"…Nope," Haru said firmly. "Absolutely not."
He slapped his own cheek.
The reflection slapped back.
"…Ow."
The door burst open.
"YOUNG MASTER!"
A servant rushed in, dropped to his knees, and bowed so hard his forehead hit the floor.
Haru jumped. "Hey—don't do that! You'll hurt your....."
He stopped.
"Young master?"
The servant didn't look up. "Young Master, you collapsed after drinking and gambling all night at the Crimson Pavilion. The clan elders are furious."
Haru stared.
Drinking.
Gambling.
Collapsed.
"…I don't even like alcohol," he whispered.
As he was escorted through the estate, the situation only got worse.
Huge courtyards. Armed guards. Martial artists everywhere.
People bowed.
But their eyes were sharp.
Judging.
Disgusted.
Haru felt it clearly.
This body was strong. Stronger than his old one by far. Solid muscles. Balanced posture. A natural martial foundation.
But the reputation?
Absolute garbage.
"He's the clan's shame."
"Born with talent, wasted it all."
"Trash young master."
Haru scratched his head.
"…So I got the rich body but the bad ending?"
That felt unfair.
Then the headache hit. Not the normal kind.
Something inside him shifted.
The world flickered like bad genjutsu.
"…Okay, I officially don't like this part."
Text appeared.
Not clean.
Not confident.
Like it wasn't sure he was supposed to see it.
—WARNING—
—SOUL INCONSISTENCY—
—FORCED STABILIZATION—
"…That sounds expensive."
The servants panicked as Haru collapsed.
"Young Master!"
"Call the physician!"
"He's seizing!"
Haru's vision darkened.
The last thing he thought was—
Naruto just got back… and I miss one night?
He woke up coughing dirt.
"…I take it back. I want the silk bed."
He pushed himself up.
Stone ground. Broken tiles. Wooden buildings soaked in blood and sweat.
Men fought with swords nearby.
Someone got kicked across the courtyard.
Haru stared.
"…This is not Konoha."
His body felt heavy. Strong. Unfamiliar.
He tried to run chakra.
Nothing.
"—Ah."
Panic arrived late but loud.
Then ,something clicked.
Not explaining itself.
Not helping.
Just quietly… there.
Haru swallowed.
"…Please tell me this isn't permanent."
Far away, in Konoha—
Naruto Uzumaki laughed loudly, reunited with friends.
And somewhere in the Murim world—
A notorious young master opened his eyes, now occupied by a man who was polite enough to apologize before fighting.