Chapter Text
Pain.
It was all he could feel at the moment. Blind, searing pain assaulting every nerve ending that existed within him.
‘Dying hurts.’ The thought lingered in my mind– ‘Do I even exist?’ –longer than it should have. No more words could convey any sort of explanation to what I felt— It was too much. Too painful. Too—
Then nothing.
“–ta!”
‘What?’
“–enta!”
‘The fuck’s happeni-’
×÷×÷×÷×
“Kenta!”
My eyes snap open, my gaze greeted by the hazy silhouette of a man in green uniform kneeling on one leg in front of me.
“Kenta! Oh, good. I had thought we needed to go fetch Morikawa-san out of her cubicle.” He blurts out, his right hand resting atop my left shoulder.
I continue to stare at him, bewildered.
‘What the fuck is–?’
“Come on, get up. We’ll get you to Morikawa-san to get you patched up.” He says, his other hand reaching to nurse his temple. “This is going to be a headache.”
It took me exactly five seconds for my sense of touch to return to normal, letting me feel the rough texture of coarse dirt under my back, giving me enough reason to follow his instructions— Lying down on any kind of dirt was a very uncomfortable feeling.
A small crowd of kids had formed around me, the oldest of which had to be no older than 12.
“Tch. Serves you right, bastard!” I hear one of them jeer at me.
“Hah! The great Kenta-baka, punched to the ground by Izumi-chan!” Another one yelled, followed by an uproar of phrases that seemed to convey the same sentiment— All very obviously directed at me.
Standing up had been a challenge in itself, my first few steps being a completely wobbly mess. It took some more time— and a couple falls— to stabilize myself enough to not fall down every three steps.
Even the guy with the green uniform had to take a step back to make sure I wouldn’t fall headfirst into the ground; slowing down his pace enough until I could walk stable.
“Alright, Clear off!” The man shouts, a subtle hint of authority visible in his tone. “Breaktime’s over. Get back to your classes!” Followed by the murmuring and soon disbandment of the said crowd. One of the passing kids even had the gall to try and spit on me— only to miss by a huge margin.
“Tch. Do that to Izumi-chan again and you’re definitely getting more than that!” He taunted, before storming off to a corner who knows where.
I stopped, staring at the boy’s retreating form before continuing to tail behind the man dressed in green. I flicked my gaze over onto the man leading me, observing and taking note of his appearance.
He had worn blue, somewhat tattered jeans together with some kind of dark blue-ish long-sleeved undershirt, covered by a thick, green sleeveless jacket that adorned some kind of red swirl on its back. On his forehead was a bandana; the unmistakable gleam of metal visible in the midst of it.
“Uhh… Mister—” I blurt out.
“That’s Sensei Kazehuro for you, brat!” He interrupts, irritation reeking out of his voice.
‘Sensei? What sort of Japanese—’
I pause for a second, my eyes widening.
‘I’m not speaking English. Something—’ I take a look at the man again. ‘Something’s not right here.’
‘Was that fucking Japanese?’
“Oi. Are you coming?” The man says, his voice cutting through my thoughts. “We’re here. Get in.” He says, his hand pointing at a doorframe at the end of a hall.
“Oh… right.” I answered sheepishly, before making my way into the room he had pointed at.
‘Why the fuck is he speaking Japanese?’ my inner voice screamed.
Opening the door, I set my eyes upon a blonde woman with the same bandana on her head, the same metal piece reflecting the room’s fluorescent lights. She was sitting atop an ergonomic chair, her nose buried deep into what looked to be a newspaper.
‘Are those words… fuckin' kanji?’ I ruminated, making sure to squint my eyes as much as I could; the reflection from her bandana messing with my vision.
She barely takes a glance away from her paper, before redelving her nose deep inside whatever interesting story she had been reading under it.
“Go sit down on that bed over there. I’ll be with you in a bit.” she states, her head not lifting from her paper.
On the other hand, my face had to be making the world’s most shocked face the universe would ever stand to witness.
‘She just spoke to me in Japanese.’ I surmised. ‘And I just fuckin' understood her.’
I need a drink.
×÷×÷×÷×
‘Okay, someone definitely spiked the glass of whiskey I downed before… all this.’
The resulting checkup was rather boring; the nurse— ‘Who are apparently called medic-nin’— walked over after what felt like thirty minutes of waiting to stare at my head for a few seconds before declaring me fit to leave.
Currently, I’m on a random bench I found after rounds of walking, staring up into the starry night sky above.
The resulting headache of the recent phenomenon had quite the effect on my sanity. A day before, I was at the ripe old age of Eighty-six, sitting down on my porch after a successful career designing propulsion systems and advanced mechanisms for space travel, pouring down my last bottle of Jack Daniel’s on a glass before getting assaulted by the sensation of a thousand knives on every surface of my body.
Now, I’m apparently twelve, quite very obviously not an old man, with absolutely zero recollection and idea on how to answer every when, what, how, and why question my mind could try to produce.
“Phfff….” I mutter out, my head deciding to transform into a pin cushion of migraines at the most inconvenient moment of my current life.
And apparently, I just had to be isekai’d in one of the worst places to be cannon fodder in.
‘The fuckin’ Naruto world, of all places.’
It wasn’t exactly hard to deduce, especially when a giant piece of evidence consisting of four giant heads carved into a giant rock mountain was sitting right there in front for my eyes to see.
‘And the Japanese, don’t forget that.’
I hadn’t seen any sort of Naruto content ever since I graduated college seventy-eight years ago— and even then, my main source of content was the fanfiction that was so very prevalent in those teenage times of mine.
‘Well, maybe I could answer some of those 4W type questions.’
The question of When wasn’t exactly a problem either, seeing as the same piece of evidence was in fact, evidently placed in front me once more. I didn’t know any other place in the Narutoverse that had four distinct faces visible on the side of a huge mountainside.
“Konoha, at the very least. Could be worse, I guess.” I muttered out, exhaling a sigh of relief.
Another very blatant piece of evidence that was staring me in the eye was the fact that I was in what had to be Konoha’s Ninja academy— leading me to assume that I, in turn, was a student in the said academy.
What I didn’t know was the exact time period I was dropped into; which had to be after the Fourth Hokage’s Inauguration, but it was also missing a fifth face in the mountain, which meant that Naruto Shippuden hadn’t taken place yet.
Which leads me to two options: Either I’m in the same class as the rookie nine, or I’m reincarnated as useless cannon fodder to be used to ensure the main cast doesn’t get the missions that would’ve killed them.
‘Choices, choices…’
Like I had a choice.
I let out a sigh, before pulling out a small packet of biscuits that I had found in the pockets of the pants the poor boy’s body I had just recently been lobbed into was wearing. Pulling up the packaging over my face, I could distinctly see the Kanji symbols printed onto the otherwise ordinary piece of plastic wrapper. I stared at the text for a while— before a distinct growl from my stomach convinced me to finally open the packet to devour the said biscuits.
“A… ano-sa, oji-san…?”
I wasn’t even halfway through eating the packet of biscuits when a sudden voice caused me to jolt upwards, causing all my uneaten biscuits to get spilled onto the cement pavement below.
Obviously pissed, I summoned up every ounce of irritation I could muster, my eyes ready to glare lasers at whomever caused me to lose probably was the only meal I would have today.
With a huff, I turn back, all sorts of unpleasant words already bubbling up in my throat.
Only to be greeted by a Kid with a very, very recognizable hairstyle.
It was a very interesting experience, to say the least. To have all your plans of being a forgettable background character that wouldn’t even be spared a single frame of animation by whomever animates whatever episode I’d be included in; barely interacting with any of the main cast. Of course, it also had to happen on the same day I was plopped into this place.
Alas, Fate had other plans.