The roar, which felt like it had ruptured my eardrums, cut off as abruptly as it had begun. The world, which just a second ago had been convulsing from the strikes of the colossal beast's tails, fell into a cottony, ringing silence.
No, not silence. It was shell shock.
Gradually, sound returned. First, like a distant hum in a pipe, then—as a rising cacophony. The crackle of burning wood. Distant, hysterical screams. The stomping of many feet.
Hands were holding me. Rough, calloused hands smelling of acrid tobacco, ancient dust, and something metallic. Blood? I tried to open my eyes, but the world blurred into muddy, colored splotches. I was blind as a mole. The only thing I could distinguish was a crimson glow somewhere above and giant shadows darting against its background.
Voices sounded right by my ear.
A low, rattling elderly baritone. And answering him—sharp, clipped phrases of young people.
I strained my hearing, trying to isolate familiar words. "Naruto," "Hokage," "Kyubi"? At least something from the canon I was so proud of! But the air was filled with gibberish.
"...Gaa... arr... khh..." — it sounded like guttural abracadabra to me.
Panic, previously suppressed by the shock of rebirth, began to rise from my stomach in an icy wave.
I wasn't just in another world. I wasn't just in the body of a helpless infant who couldn't even hold his head up. I was in an information vacuum. I was deaf, dumb, and didn't understand a single word. All my knowledge of the plot, all those hours spent watching anime and reading manga, were instantly rendered worthless. What good is knowing the main villain's weakness if you can't understand if someone is asking you to eat or planning to kill you?
Calm down, I ordered myself, feeling my tiny heart hammering against my ribs. You are a Player. You have a cheat. Where is it?
And as if responding to a mental call, a bright blue flash cut through the darkness before my eyes.
The saving rectangle of the interface unfolded right in the air. The text on it, thank all existing and fictional gods, was in English. The letters danced, assembling into lines resembling the boot log of an old computer.
[System Failure... Critical Core Error...]
[Initiating Recovery Protocols...]
[Rebooting System "Gamer"... 99%... Complete.]
[Emergency Soul Binding to New Avatar: Complete.]
[Synchronization with Shinobi World: Successful.]
And then, as a final chord, a window popped up that sent a chill down my spine:
[Congratulations! (Probably...)]
[Welcome to "HARDCORE" Mode, Player!]
[Developer Note: You asked for this.]
Hardcore mode? I howled mentally, feeling my non-existent fingers go numb. This isn't even hardcore! This is some sadistic mod written by a psychopath on heavy drugs! I'm a baby in the epicenter of a destroyed village!
Reality swayed around me. I was being carried somewhere. In jumps. My stomach lurched to my throat. I felt nauseous, dizzy, and my body felt like an alien and incredibly heavy sack of bones.
I needed to assess the scale of the disaster. Numbers don't lie. Numbers are the only thing that makes sense right now.
System, Status! I barked mentally. Show me what we have to work with. Just don't kill me with it immediately.
The interface blinked.
[You're welcome. Try not to drown in self-pity.]
A sheet of stats unfolded before me. I scanned the first few lines and realized: "Hardcore" was putting it mildly.
The text before my eyes wasn't just statistics. It was a sentence carved in blue neon.
[Character Status]
Name: Naruto Uzumaki (Mental Imprint: Alex Miller)
Level: 1 (EXP: 0/100)
Age: 0 years, 3 hours, 24 minutes
Title: Jinchuriki of the Nine-Tails
Global Debuff: "Curse of the Pariah" (Permanent. Unremovable.)
I gulped nervously (which turned out to be a difficult task for an infant throat) and looked down at the attributes.
Attributes:
Strength: 0.5
(Comment: You might accidentally knock yourself out trying to scratch your nose. You are capable of nothing else.)
Agility: 0.3
(Comment: Coordination is absent as a class. Your movements are pure Brownian motion in a meat sack.)
Endurance: 2.0
(Comment: The only parameter not at rock bottom, thanks to your fuzzy "tenant." Without him, you would have already died from pain shock at birth.)
Intelligence: 9.0
(Comment: Your only trump card. An adult mind in a vegetable's body. Try not to go insane from boredom.)
Wisdom: 2.0
(Comment: The ability to make right decisions. Right now, the best decision for you is to simply breathe.)
Charisma: 1.0
(WARNING! Penalty -90% from "Curse of the Pariah" debuff. Final Value: Critically Low. Your existence causes 99% of the population to desire burning you at a ritual stake.)
Stat Points: 0
Skills: None
Zero-point-five strength… Zero-point-three agility… panic squeezed my temples like a cold hoop. I was horrified. I wasn't even a zero. I was a statistical error! A negative value! Any draft could send me to respawn, but apparently, there would be no respawn. And Charisma? One? The zombies in Resident Evil have more charisma!
My woeful reflections on my own worthlessness were rudely interrupted.
The running across rooftops (or wherever they were carrying me) stopped. I was carried into a room—the air here was stale, smelling of sour milk, bleach, and hopelessness. The warm, tobacco-smelling hands of the old man that held me before vanished.
Instead, I was snatched up by other hands. Female ones. But they held not a drop of maternal softness. They were cold, hard, and rough. I was held not like a child, but like a ticking time bomb or a piece of rotten meat.
I looked up. A woman's face in a white bonnet leaned over me. Her lips moved, spitting out sharp, hissing sounds.
"...Bakemono..." — the only word I could isolate from the stream of speech.
A wave of hostility radiated from her so strongly that my skin itched. It was physically painful. Like being dunked in ice water.
System! I prayed mentally. What did she say? Translate! I need to understand the enemy!
The interface window blinked obligingly, but the text in it brought no joy.
[Error.]
[Function "Simultaneous Translation" is temporarily unavailable.]
[Reason: Database missing. Activation requires at least minimal understanding of the language by the host.]
Damn it! Useless piece of junk!
[However...] the System continued, as if mocking me. [I can perform a spectral analysis of the emotional background.]
A reddish aura appeared around the woman's head with percentage captions, like in some futuristic detective game.
[Audio Source Analysis:]
HATRED: 85%
FEAR: 10%
DISGUST: 5%
[System Advice: I recommend refraining from natural needs during her shift. There is a 68% probability that she will "accidentally" forget to change your diapers until morning.]
The System's snide, mentor-like tone was infuriating, but the information was terrifying. 85% hatred. That's not just "she doesn't like me." That's "she dreams of strangling me but fears the consequences." So this is how the Charisma debuff works in practice. It's not a number. It's a real threat to life.
The woman grimaced in disgust, as if holding a dead rat, and sharply lowered me down. My back met a hard mattress. The impact wasn't strong, but palpable—no gentleness whatsoever.
Then she turned and walked away, stomping her feet angrily. The light switch clicked.
I was left alone.
The darkness wasn't total—moonlight filtered through high windows, picking out rows of identical wooden structures from the gloom. Cribs. Dozens of cribs.
I lay on my back, unable to even roll over, staring at the ceiling where shadows of tree branches danced. It was a stalemate. I was trapped in a helpless body, surrounded by enemies, without the ability to speak or understand speech.
I needed to do something. A plan. I urgently needed a plan. Crying and waiting for rescue is the lot of ordinary babies. I am a Player. And if this world wants to play hardcore, I accept the challenge.
System, I mentally called out to my only, albeit sarcastic, ally. Let's take it step by step. What is this language barrier and how do we break it?
The blue screen blinked, dispelling the gloom over the crib. The answer appeared line by line, as if someone was lazily typing on a keyboard.
[Linguistic Environment Analysis...]
[Unknown Language Detected: Japanese (Standard Konoha Dialect).]
[Your Current Proficiency: 0.00% (Absolute Zero).]
[Recommendation:]
[The "Total Immersion" method is used for language learning. Engage passive listening mode, associate sounds with objects and actions. Good luck. Forecasts indicate it will take years to reach conversational level.]
"Years?!" my mental scream echoed in my skull. "Are you kidding me? I can't wait years! I need to understand what's happening right now! Download a language pack for me! You're a System! You must have access to a database!"
[User, curb your appetite.] the text on the screen glowed with a slight red border, expressing the AI's irritation. [What did you expect? That I would connect to Konoha Wi-Fi and download "Google Translate" for you? There is no internet here. No cloud storage. Only pain, suffering, kunai, and ninjas in open-toed sandals. All data must be mined manually. Hardcore Mode, remember?]
I ground my toothless gums. Logical. Cruel, but logical. No freebies.
"Fine..." I tried to calm down. Anger is a bad advisor, especially when lying in your own swaddling clothes. "Then stats. I'm a wimp. Worse than a wimp. How do I raise them? No quests yet, no mobs to farm."
[The progression mechanic is simple: Repetition is the mother of learning (and grinding).]
[Want to raise Strength? Lift a rattle a thousand times. Overcome gravity.]
[Want Agility? Try to catch a fly or at least put your finger in your mouth on the first try.]
[Want Intelligence? Solve differential equations in your head. Though, where else would you raise it? The nine in the INT column is the only reason you are currently having this dialogue instead of drooling at shadows.]
"You're not a System, you're an insult generator with a calculator function!" I snapped back.
[I am a highly efficient motivational interface. You just have critically low stress resistance. Perhaps when you have free points, you should invest a couple into Wisdom? So my comments don't cause you hysteria.]
I took a deep... no, mentally deep breath. Arguing with her was useless. She (it?) was my window into this world, my guide, and my personal troll. I'd have to endure.
There remained the last question. The most important one. The one for which I, actually, chose this world.
I closed my eyes and listened to the sensations in my body. There, in the navel area, where ordinary people just have guts, I felt IT. Warmth. Heavy, thick, living warmth. It pulsed in time with my heart, but in a different rhythm. It was like a dormant volcano or a ball lightning curled up into a ball.
Chakra. The great energy capable of changing reality.
"Chakra..." I whispered mentally with reverence. "I feel it. It's here. System, how do I access it? How do I start forming channels? The 'Leaf Concentration' exercise? Meditation?"
This time, the usual sarcasm did not follow. The interface window instantly changed color to an alarming, pulsing crimson. The text appeared immediately, in large, bold letters, as if screaming right in my face.
[WARNING! CRITICAL ALERT!]
[Object: Chakra (Mixture of physical and spiritual energies).]
[Your Current Control: 0.0001% (Negligible).]
[Host Condition: Physical immaturity. Chakra Pathway System (CPS) is in formation stage.]
[Verdict:]
[Your body is that of a newborn infant. Your channels are thinner than hair. Any attempt at conscious extraction or condensation of chakra before reaching the biological age of 4-5 years will result in immediate rupture of channels, burnout of tenketsu, and irreversible organ damage.]
[Simply put: You will explode from the inside like an overheated boiler.]
Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I imagined it too vividly.
Following the warning, a new window popped up, styled like an official document stamped "TOP SECRET."
[MAIN STORY QUEST RECEIVED!]
[Title: "Don't Touch! That's for Christmas!"]
[Description:]
[Your new toy is a complex, powerful, and deadly dangerous mechanism. Your hands are itching to "poke it with a stick," test the limits, launch a Rasengan at the ceiling. But doing so is CATEGORICALLY forbidden. Right now, your main task is to contain your curiosity and thirst for power.]
[Objective:]
[ ] Do not attempt to actively use chakra for the next 3-4 years (until full CPS stabilization).]
[Reward:]
[Healthy, fully formed Chakra Pathway System.]
[+5000 EXP (awarded upon completion of "Infancy" stage).]
[Penalty for Failure:]
[Severe disability, total loss of ability to use magic, or Death.]
That was a gut punch. A knockout.
My last hope for at least some activity was ruthlessly trampled. I dreamed of training from the cradle, becoming a genius, surpassing Itachi and Kakashi... And reality slammed my face into the table: "Sit still and don't twitch, or you die."
I was trapped.
Trapped in a helpless body that didn't obey.
Trapped in a room with people who dream of killing me.
Trapped in a world whose language I don't understand.
And even my own power was locked away with a timer set for three years.
I lay in my crib, staring into the darkness, listening to the breathing of other children. For the first time in these endlessly long hours, I was overcome not by panic, but by a heavy, viscous despair, like a swamp.
"So, endure..." I whispered soundlessly. "Just lie here and endure."
But somewhere on the edge of consciousness, under a layer of self-pity, an angry, stubborn thought began to stir. Despair is for the weak. If I can't level up my body and chakra, I'll level up what's left. My brain. I will learn this damn language. I will understand the rules of this hell. And I will survive to spite everyone.
Despair is sticky and consuming, but completely unconstructive. You can, of course, lie there for days, pitying yourself and cursing fate, but stats won't grow from that, and chakra won't unlock.
A few hours later (or maybe days—an infant's biological clock worked on the "sleep-eat-scream" principle), I came to a simple conclusion: I needed to act according to the System's precepts. Endure. Overcome. Look for loopholes.
But, as it turned out, the main problem wasn't a world conspiracy or the Nine-Tailed Fox inside. The main problem crept up from below.
It happened suddenly. The internal biological reactor, processing the wretched milk that was poured into me, performed a critical waste dump. The sensation of warmth was replaced by sticky discomfort, and the air around the crib filled with an aroma far from the scent of roses.
And in this theater of the absurd, the System didn't miss the chance to perform a solo number. A red alarm window flashed before my eyes, accompanied by the sound of a siren.
[URGENT QUEST!]
[Quest Code: "Biological Threat"]
[Description:]
[Oh no! The fuel compartment has depressurized! You are in the epicenter of the blast zone. The situation is critical (for your nose and skin) and requires immediate intervention by the sanitary station in the form of the nearest NPC-nanny.]
[Objective:]
[ ] Signal distress and achieve a diaper change within 10 minutes.]
[Reward:]
+5 EXP
+1 to Hidden Stat: "Dignity" (Temporarily restored)
[Penalty for Failure:]
Debuff "Toxic Environment" (-1 to Mood every minute).
Permanent damage to "Dignity" stat.
Skin irritation (Physical damage).
"Stat 'Dignity'?" I howled mentally, feeling my cheeks flush with shame (though, seemingly, infants shouldn't feel shame). "Are you kidding me?!"
[Every aspect of a Player's life is important,] the System parried. [Your manhood, albeit in a metaphorical sense, is currently under threat. Act, Player, or remain lying in the products of your own vitality, contemplating the greatness of the Hokage.]
A countdown timer appeared in the corner of the screen: 09:58... 09:57...
I felt like a sapper who has to defuse a bomb while tied to a chair. Only the bomb is me.
The "Warden" was on duty in the room—that same woman with 85% hatred. She sat in an armchair at the other end of the hall, reading a book and demonstratively ignoring the existence of the children.
Attempt Number One. Diplomatic.
I let out a quiet, pitiful whimper, designed to awaken maternal instinct.
Reaction: Zero. The woman didn't even turn her head. She turned a page with a sound like she was chopping cabbage.
Timer: 07:30.
Attempt Number Two. Persistent.
I raised my voice, switching to a demanding cry. Hey! Accident here! Maintenance crew, to the machine!
Reaction: Negative. The Warden twitched her shoulder and muttered something. Probably wished for me to shut up.
Timer: 04:15. The discomfort was becoming unbearable. My skin started to sting.
"Oh, so that's how it is?" anger began to boil inside. "You want war? You got it. I won't just scream. I'll bring a sonic Armageddon down on you."
I filled my lungs with air (as much as my chest volume allowed) and turned the siren to full power. But not just chaotic yelling. I put all my pain, all my despair, and most importantly, the intention to wake everyone up into this scream.
"WAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAH!"
The domino effect worked flawlessly. My wail woke up the neighboring baby. Scared, he started crying too. A minute later, half the room was roaring. It was a symphony of chaos.
The Warden's face twisted in a grimace of pain, as if all her teeth hurt at once. Ignoring such noise was impossible—other staff would come running, there would be a scandal.
She slammed the book onto the table and, stomping like an elephant, headed for my row.
"Damare, kitsune!" she hissed.
I didn't understand the words, but the emotion translator obligingly highlighted her aura in crimson. She was furious. But she was coming to me.
A yank. I was roughly pulled out of the crib. No tenderness—I was thrown onto the changing table with the grace of a loader throwing a sack of cement. Cold hands tore off the dirty cloth, roughly wiped my skin (I clenched my toothless jaws not to scream from pain), and wrapped me in a clean one.
All this time she hissed curses, looking at me with such disgust as if I were radioactive waste. But I didn't care. I won.
As soon as I was returned to the crib, a golden notification flashed before my eyes.
[Quest "Biological Threat" COMPLETE!]
[You are a master of toilet time-management!]
[Reward:]
+5 EXP (5/100)
Stat "Dignity" restored. Congratulations, you can respect yourself again.
Despite the humiliating situation, grim satisfaction spread in my chest. I forced the enemy to submit. I used the environment, calculated the reaction, and got my way.
This is just the beginning, I thought, closing my eyes and feeling dryness and comfort. Today I forced you to change my diapers. Tomorrow I will force this world to reckon with me.
Weeks folded into months, merging into a single gray stripe of "sleep-eat-toilet" mode. But if for an ordinary infant this time was a period of unconscious existence, for me the orphanage turned into a training ground. A personal "sandbox" where every scream and every movement mattered.
I stopped perceiving the bars of the crib as a prison. Now it was a safe zone. A base where I could restore mana (which I didn't have yet) and analyze logs.
The first and main task remained language. I turned into one big radar. My hearing greedily snatched sounds from the air: the cooing of nannies over "normal" children, their vicious hissing in my direction, snippets of conversations in the corridor.
The System encouraged these linguistic torments with its characteristic malice.
[Skill Progress "Language (Japanese)": 2.1%]
[Status: Sentient Parrot.]
[Comment: You already distinguish the commands "Eat," "Sleep," and "Shut up." For survival in the orphanage, this is basically enough.]
Words gradually gained meaning. "Ohayou"—morning. "Oyasumi"—lights out. "Bakemono"—that's me. My middle name, which I heard more often than "Naruto."
Parallel to this was the "hardware" leveling. Any activity turned into a grind. Rolling from back to stomach—a D-rank quest. Holding my head upright for a minute—a feat worthy of Hercules.
[Passive Skill Acquired: "Head Control" Lvl.1]
[Reward: +1 to Strength.]
I was incredibly proud of myself. Just think, a whole unit of strength! Now I could accidentally hit myself with a rattle and not cry.
But the real "fun" began when we, the grown human larvae, started being let out "for a walk." A large fluffy carpet in the center of the playroom became our Arena. A Colosseum for crawlers.
Here, the laws of the jungle reigned. Children are cruel creatures in their spontaneity. They pushed, stole toys, bit, and screamed. And I found myself in the center of this chaos.
My debuff "Curse of the Pariah" worked flawlessly here too. As soon as I crawled up to the general pile, the children instinctively, on a subconscious level, crawled away to the sides. I was a leper. A lonely island in a sea of colorful rompers. The nannies watched this with silent approval.
However, I had grown tired of the victim role in my past life.
The System, as if reading my thoughts, threw a window before my eyes that smelled of excitement.
[New Quest: "First Social Dominance"]
[Description: In this world, he who has resources is right. That chubby toddler with the stupid bangs over there owns a Legendary Rank Artifact—a bright red rubber ball. This trophy must belong to you.]
[Objective:]
[ ] Take possession of the red ball.]
[Restrictions:]
[Physical aggression (biting, scratching, headbutting) is prohibited. Allowed: Psychological pressure, cunning, use of "Heavy Aura."]
[Reward:]
+50 EXP
+1 to Charisma (Yes, you need it)
Skill: "Intimidation (Kindergarten Level)"
Fifty experience points! That was a ticket to the next level.
I focused my gaze on the target. The chubby boy was enthusiastically gnawing on the ball, drooling with happiness. He didn't know his time was up.
I began to move. Slowly, methodically moving my hands and knees, I crawled toward him in an arc, like a shark circling a victim. The boy noticed me. He stopped chewing and froze, looking at me with wide eyes.
I stopped at arm's length. Can't hit. So, we'll crush him with intellect.
And I just stared at him. Without blinking. I put all my experience, all the heaviness of my situation, and all the grim determination of a Jinchuriki into that gaze. I looked at him like a debtor who missed a mortgage payment.
The boy paled. His lower lip quivered. He felt the threat radiating from me—cold, adult, incomprehensible to his childish mind.
[Mental Attack Applied!] the System reported joyfully. [Target demoralized. Critical hit to the psyche!]
I leaned forward and let out a low, guttural growl. Not a cry, but specifically a growl.
That was enough. The opponent's nerves failed. The boy squealed, dropped the "Artifact," and, flooding with tears, scrambled on all fours toward the saving legs of a nanny.
The battlefield remained mine.
I triumphantly crawled to the ball and covered it with my palm. It was sticky with someone else's drool, but to me, it was sweeter than an Olympic champion's cup.
[Quest "First Social Dominance" COMPLETE!]
[Received: +50 EXP!]
[Charisma +1]
[Learned Skill: "Intimidation (Lvl. 1)" — Your stern gaze forces children to give up toys with a 15% probability.]
And following that, outshining everything else, a golden firework flashed:
[Congratulations! You have leveled up!]
[Level 2 → Level 3]
[You received 5 Stat Points (SP)!]
Level up! I barely held back a squeak of victory. Five points at once!
I didn't hesitate for a second. Opening the interface, I dumped all five free units into Intelligence.
Intelligence 9 → 14.
My head spun for a moment, and then the world became even sharper, clearer. Thoughts flowed faster. Strength and agility will come with training the body, which is currently too weak. But the brain is my only weapon in this hostile environment. I need to learn faster. I need to plan. I need to survive.
I sat in the middle of the carpet, clutching the red ball in my hand. Other children huddled in the corners, casting frightened glances at me. The nannies whispered, looking at me with undisguised hostility.
Let them hate, I thought, sinking my gums into the rubber surface of the ball. Let them fear. I am no longer a victim. I am a Player. And I just finished the tutorial.
I looked at the high windows of the orphanage, behind which Konoha bustled.
The real game will begin when I get out of here. But for now... this ball is mine. And no one will take it away.