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GSiN: Ch. 01
🕑 Added 2025-02-05 16:33:47 +0000 UTCMy name is Aotsuki Ryouma.
After my birthday this year, I'll be five years old. I live in District 9 of Konoha, and of course, I am still unmarried.
As a child, I never overdid it with chakra, nor did I push myself too hard with physical training.
I went to bed at 10 PM, ensuring I got ten full hours of sleep every day. Before sleeping, I drank a cup of warm milk, the familiar comfort of the ritual almost making me forget my strange situation.
Then I did 20 minutes of stretching exercises to warm up before bed, ensuring I left no fatigue or stress for the next day.
Sometimes I wondered if I was overdoing it with the routine.
But the neighbors said I was perfectly normal.
However, I had a secret I had never shared with anyone: I was actually a reincarnator from Earth.
My method of reincarnation had been somewhat different from my predecessors. It hadn't been caused by overworking to the point of sudden death due to exploitative capitalists, nor had it been due to being run over by the infamous Truck-kun.
Instead, one day, a meteor with a diameter of over 24 kilometers had struck Earth at a speed exceeding 70 Mach, delivering what could only be described as a "friendly face punch."
While others had panicked about ManKO, I had found myself oddly calm. Perhaps that was why I had retained my memories.
Oh, yeah, how could anyone know what ManKO was... That had been the name of that damn meteor. What a strange name. Who had come up with it? It had sounded so wrong in many ways...
Maybe it was just me.
Before the impact, officials had tried to suppress the news, but such an event had been impossible to conceal. How could they? It had been a fucking damn 24 km big meteor!
And of course, the news of the meteor poised to reset humanity had spread like wildfire.
Humans never knew which would come first, tomorrow or an accident. Fortunately for me, at least I had known the cause of my death.
While everyone else had run screaming through the streets as the massive meteor approached, I had stood there watching the mass hysteria.
What had been the point of running? That thing had been bigger than most cities.
Instead of running with the crowds, I had looked for the tallest building around. I might as well make it memorable, if it was going to be my last day.
The wind had whipped around me as I stood on the edge, watching that ball of fire grow larger by the second.
"If I'm the protagonist of some story, this would be a great time for some hidden powers to manifest!" I had shouted at the sky, positioning myself in what I had hoped was a perfect attack stance.
"KA."
"ME."
"HA."
"ME."
"HAAAA!"
"KAMEHAMEHAAA!"
"Kamehameha?"
As expected, nothing had happened.
"Damn, knew it. I'm just a mob character, aren't I?" I had laughed, dropping the pose. The meteor had been close enough then that I could feel its heat. "If I'm going out..."
I had pulled back my fist as the massive rock filled the sky.
The punch had connected with the meteor just as it hit. My right arm had vanished instantly in a burst of heat and pressure, but I had managed one last act of defiance, raising my remaining middle finger skyward.
"Suck it, ManKO—" had been all I had managed before being crushed completely.
I had died so fast that I couldn't even feel pain.
Still, I had had some regrets, who didn't?
As someone fresh out of university who'd barely tasted a year of freedom in the working world, it had felt a bit unfair that the end would come so soon.
I hadn't been "a workhorse" long enough... Then again, maybe it had been better that way.
But what I hadn't expected was that I would be reborn in the Naruto world with my memories intact.
I wasn't reborn during the era of the main storyline, around Year 60. Instead, it was during the Second Ninja World War when the shinobi world was at its peak.
My mother, Chisato, had retired from her ninja career after being injured.
Being conscious from birth had been both a blessing and a curse. Every moment had been crystal clear, including her suffering.
Sadly, within a year of giving birth to me, her health had continued to decline, and she had eventually passed away.
Even though we had spent less than a year together, I retained some impression of her.
Despite the name "Chisato," which had brought to mind serenity and a thousand sakura petals, her temperament had been fiery. Although her frail body had left her unable to walk unaided, she had often lashed out verbally at my father, Ken.
"I don't need your help! I can do this myself!" Mother would snap, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of her chair.
"Chisato, please..." Father would say softly, his hands hovering uncertainly near her shoulders.
Mother's sharp tongue had masked her frustration at her failing body. And Father's kindness had only seemed to anger her more.
My father was a quintessential nice guy.
While I hadn't recalled seeing him in the manga, he had turned out to be surprisingly capable.
Before I had arrived in this world, he had already completed multiple A-rank and even S-rank missions, earning him the title of an elite jonin.
Highly skilled individuals often blamed themselves for the misfortunes of those close to them, and my father was no exception.
He had believed that his dedication to missions had caused him to overlook my mother's desire to keep up with him.
"She kept pushing herself because of me. I ruined her," he would whisper when he thought no one could hear, his face twisted with guilt.
Harboring such guilt, he likely hadn't realized that every time he faced her, his expression was one of forced smiles.
This self-deprecating look was precisely why my mother had always been so critical of him.
After all, she had been a proud person. Pride could be as deadly as any weapon. Mother's pride had been killing her as surely as her injuries.
My father's constant self-pity had felt like an insult to her dignity and ninja way.
These two were really hopeless, I had thought to myself with a sigh.
Miss one opportunity, and you'd regret it for the rest of your life. These two would surely regret it in the future.
Despite these thoughts, I had already decided at the time that once I grew up, I would step in as a mediator to help my parents open up to each other.
After all, they were my family in this life.
This had made me feel even more constrained by my current infant body.
I couldn't control how long I stayed awake each day and would often fall asleep without warning.
But as mentioned earlier, humans never knew whether tomorrow or an accident would come first.
My mother eventually passed away.
My father had long anticipated this outcome, given how frail her condition had been.
He had used every connection he had and had even sought out Tsunade, the world's greatest medical-nin, the princess of the Senju clan.
But it had all been in vain; her health never improved.
"There must be something else we can try. Anything," Father had pleaded with the visiting medical-nin.
The man had shaken his head slowly. "Ken-san, we've tried everything within our capabilities. She is gone. My sincere condolences."
I had witnessed my father's every effort. As someone familiar with the storyline, I understood that he had done everything he could.
Even if I myself had been in the same situation, I wouldn't have fared better. Perhaps only Madara, with his mastery of medical techniques and White Zetsu, could have saved my mother.
But this method had been out of reach, my infant body couldn't communicate any such ideas, let alone explain my source of information.
Her death had dealt a heavy blow to my father, as expected. However, the beast of war didn't stop ravaging for anyone's misfortunes.
He had held me close, his hands trembling. "I failed her. I failed you both."
Even as an infant, I could feel the change in him. The gentle father was beginning to crack.
After organizing my mother's funeral, he had only cared for me for a few months before being called back to the battlefield.
"Ken-san, you're needed on the frontlines," the messenger's voice had been apologetic but firm.
Father had looked at me, hesitating. "Already? But..."
"The war waits for no one. Not even grief."
You might be wondering what happened to me, a helpless infant just a few months old.
In what could be called a grim joke, Konoha had a well-established system for taking care of children left behind during the war.
The "Konoha Wartime Childcare Center," established by the Second Hokage, had been specifically designed to address such situations.
The staff at this facility were primarily the wives of ninjas sent to battle.
"Another war orphan... at least this one's quiet," one of the caretakers had murmured as she settled me into my new crib.
The Second Hokage's foresight in establishing this place had been remarkable. Though 'war orphan' wasn't quite accurate in my case.
In short, my life was secure for the time being.
In fact, as a single parent, my father might not have cared for me better than these experienced women, some of whom had already raised two children of their own. These women had mastered the art of caring for war-children.
After my father had returned to the battlefield, I could sense the uncontainable emotion from him whenever he came back for short rests between missions.
That emotion was hatred.
"I'll make them pay. Every single one." His voice had changed when he held me now, the warmth replaced by something cold and sharp.
I prided myself on my ability to read people. I had always thought my father was like Hatake Sakumo, who was a warm and sunny presence to his allies but cold and ruthless to his enemies.
But I hadn't expected my mother's death to affect him so much.
Truthfully, I was deeply concerned about him in this state. Even in my peaceful previous life, I'd seen how hatred corrupted people. But here, in a world of chakra and jutsu, that corruption could be catastrophic.
Bringing personal emotions into war would inevitably lead to disaster. He was walking a dangerous path, and I, a mere infant, could only watch.
