"Feed these brats some pig food—at least let them survive the night!"
Who was that?
Who was speaking?
Did I get drunk and pass out on the street?
Rinto slowly opened his eyes, only to be met with complete darkness. The familiar ceiling and incandescent lights of his room were gone. Instead, a faint glow from oil lamps outside a row of iron bars provided the only illumination.
What's going on?
Startled, Rinto sat up and scanned his surroundings, his heartbeat quickening.
Nothing around him was familiar!
Rows of iron bars formed cages, their bases resting on the cold, uneven ground. Inside these cages, ragged children huddled together, their eyes filled with fear and despair.
This…
Looking down at his small, frail hands, Rinto felt a cold sweat break out across his body.
"I… I'm only six or seven years old?!"
If this isn't a dream, then something is seriously wrong!
These hands weren't his. They lacked the roughness he was accustomed to. This wasn't his body.
And the gnawing hunger in his stomach told him one thing—this was real.
"This is…"
Rinto let out a bitter chuckle and weakly lay back. It was too much to process all at once.
He had traveled through time.
Suppressing his hunger, Rinto closed his eyes and searched his mind for memories of this body's previous owner. Unfortunately, his mind was completely blank—emptier than the tissue box on his bedside table back home.
"My money!"
Rinto was no stranger to the concept of transmigration. In his past life, he had worked in sales. Besides dealing with clients, his favorite pastime was reading web novels. He had often fantasized about time travel, envying protagonists who got to experience epic adventures.
But now that it was his turn?
No thanks!
At least let me spend the tens of thousands I saved first!
Thinking about his hard-earned money sitting in his safe, untouched, made his chest ache. But reality was reality. Having been through the grind of life, Rinto knew when to bow his head. Time travel was not something he could resist.
Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself.
"At least I still have my memories. Otherwise, this would be no fun at all."
In his previous life, Rinto was a well-known salesman. He had been through countless client negotiations and challenges, developing an unshakable mentality—the key to his survival.
Silently adjusting his mindset, Rinto reevaluated his surroundings.
A pitch-black, windowless cage. Cold, damp ground. Stale, musty air. Dozens of ragged children.
This was cruel. This was misery.
The only logical conclusion? He was underground.
And given the conditions, this was likely the hideout of some human trafficking or criminal organization.
Just as he was lost in thought, a sudden harsh knocking sound echoed through the chamber.
"Ding! Ding! Ding!"
The noise jolted him.
"Damn! Are you ghosts? Walking around without making a sound?" Rinto muttered, rubbing his eyes.
In the dim candlelight, a cold-blooded middle-aged man in a gray tunic, his feet wrapped in hole-ridden socks, banged a wooden stick against the iron bars. A strange metal forehead protector, etched with unfamiliar symbols, adorned his forehead.
Expressionless, the man tossed handfuls of black, rock-like balls into the cage, scattering them across the ground.
Rinto, sitting near the bars, picked one up and inspected it. Then, glancing at the man's attire, his pupils slowly dilated.
Wait… I've seen these clothes before.
A lightning bolt of realization struck him.
The word "Hokage" popped into his mind, sending a shockwave through his heart.
And then he remembered the language spoken earlier—it matched the pronunciation of the Japanese he had heard in anime.
The metal forehead protector… It had to be a ninja headband!
Rinto looked at the black food pellet in his hand and felt a chill run down his spine.
No, no, no! I can't be sure yet! Maybe this guy is just some lunatic with a weird fashion sense!
Around him, the children scrambled for the food, stuffing the pellets into their mouths like starving animals. Some hoarded extras, clutching them protectively and glaring at their peers with sharp, wary eyes. Others, who weren't fast enough, could only stare at those who had succeeded, their eyes burning with hunger and desperation.
Rinto felt their stares fall on him, their green-tinted eyes locked onto the pellet in his hand.
"Swish!" A soft sound.
Rinto swiftly swallowed the pellet, avoiding unnecessary trouble.
Survival first.
Strangely, despite tasting like dirt, the pellet quickly filled his stomach, spreading warmth through his body.
Not bad. One pill equals a full meal.
As the hunger pangs subsided, Rinto leaned against the wall, trying to recall everything he knew about Naruto's world.
The more he thought, the more alarmed he became.
"Damn it! My head is full of memes instead of actual plot! 'I, Madara, would like to call you the strongest' and 'carrying a bag of rice up several flights of stairs'—this is useless!"
Muttering to himself, he smirked bitterly and sighed.
"Youth…"
As the candlelight dimmed, Rinto closed his eyes, slipping into an uneasy sleep.
---
Time passed. He didn't know how long he slept before he was violently awakened.
Outside the cage stood an old man in a white coat, flanked by several men in ninja attire. The middle-aged man from before banged the iron bars with his stick, his expression filled with cruel glee.
"Get up, brats! Stand by the cage!"
The children woke in a panic, huddling together like frightened lambs. Rinto blended into the crowd, lowering his head and observing the outsiders from the corner of his eye.
With a grating screech, the cage door swung open.
"Move it!" The man barked, shoving them forward.
Rinto followed, keeping his head down. They were led through a dimly lit passageway, its end unknown.
---
The underground cavern was vast. Water dripped from stalactites. The air reeked of blood. At the center stood a massive stone platform, stained dark red.
Before it, a man in a tattered cloak stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the altar with cold indifference.
"Master Igane, the offerings are ready!" A kneeling ninja reported, voice filled with reverence.
Igane Isamu nodded silently.
"And the containers?"
"We have 152 prepared."
Igane Isamu's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Begin the ritual."
The cultists cheered maniacally, their voices blending into a twisted hymn. The cavern entrance darkened again as a new wave of people emerged—men, women, elders—all with vacant, soulless eyes.
Rinto's gut clenched.
This isn't just any cult. This is Jashinism.
His body suddenly felt sluggish, the world distorting around him. The cultists drew grotesque weapons and descended upon the adults, their blades painting the ground in crimson.
Then Igane Isamu screeched.
"Not enough! Kill some of the containers!"
The cultists turned toward the children.
Rinto's heart pounded. His body refused to move.
A blade swung at his neck.
"MOVE!"
With a final burst of will, Rinto barely dodged the attack.
But the next swing came faster.
As his vision darkened, he saw a familiar body fall.
Wait…
That headless body…
Was his.