Chapter 1: A Salted Fish Among Ninja
"Asakawa, I'm sorry about your parents… I really am," said the middle-aged homeroom teacher, adjusting his glasses with a faint sigh. "But I hope you can keep your spirits up. The village will always be your home."
"I know, sensei," Asakawa Naoki replied quietly, his tone flat but polite.
The teacher looked at him for a moment, then sighed again. "Alright. Head back to class."
Half a month had passed since Asakawa Naoki's parents were killed by enemy shinobi while on a mission. Their deaths left the seven-year-old completely alone.
Before that, Naoki had always been a quiet kid—reserved, not exactly sociable, but diligent. He showed promise. Now, he just looked… empty.
It wasn't hard to understand. Losing your parents so young would shake anyone, let alone a child barely in his first year of the Academy.
Naoki left the office in silence and made his way slowly down the hall toward his classroom. But the dull look in his eyes wasn't just grief.
It was something else.
Because the truth was—he wasn't really Asakawa Naoki.
At least, not originally.
The soul inside this body was from 21st-century China. He'd died suddenly after pulling an all-nighter juggling multiple games, energy drinks, and a dangerously ignored liver. Next thing he knew, he was waking up in another world—in the body of a boy whose soul had shattered from losing both parents in one blow.
The memories had fused. He now *was* Asakawa Naoki, with all the past and pain that came with it. But he also remembered who he used to be—and recognized immediately what world he'd landed in.
Naruto.
One of the games he had been playing before his death was a Naruto RPG. He'd watched the anime too—maybe not religiously, but enough to understand the basics.
At first, he'd been excited.
Ninjas. Chakra. Jutsu. Maybe even a bloodline ability if he was lucky. It was the kind of dream every fan joked about. And with his new identity, he had a second chance.
For a few days, his teacher had even praised his focus. It looked like he was trying to channel his pain into strength, ready to walk the ninja path and maybe one day avenge his parents.
But after that short burst of motivation, he suddenly stopped trying.
The teacher thought he had lost heart. But the truth was far more complicated.
Naoki had realized something terrifying.
He couldn't sense chakra. At all.
No matter how hard he meditated, concentrated, or followed the basic exercises in the Academy's scrolls—there was nothing. Not even a flicker.
Which made no sense. According to the memories he'd inherited, the original Naoki *could* use chakra. Barely, yes, but it was there.
But now? Nothing. Gone.
That's when he figured it out. Chakra came from the fusion of physical and spiritual energy. But now his spirit—his soul—wasn't from this world. It made sense that his spiritual energy might not be compatible with this body's physical one. Without chakra, he couldn't mold or manipulate energy. And without chakra, becoming a ninja was impossible.
It was a crushing realization.
At first, he was frustrated. But he was also an adult—mentally, at least. He had lived through worse.
Naoki's parents hadn't been from any prestigious clan. His father was a Chūnin, his mother a Genin. In this world where legacy and bloodline ruled everything, hard work alone wasn't enough. Even if he had chakra, his chances of ever becoming a Jōnin were slim.
In a twisted way, not being able to become a ninja might've been a blessing in disguise.
In his old life, he had no parents. He'd clawed his way through school, worked part-time jobs to survive, and eventually dropped dead from exhaustion. This life, at least, came with a government-provided pension after his parents died on duty. He had food, a roof over his head, and the freedom to do nothing.
Was it so bad to just be a salted fish for once?
Naoki walked into class and headed straight for his seat—the back row, far right corner. His favorite kind of spot. Just like in his last life.
Time to start another peaceful, lazy day.
Let the others chase dreams of glory. He was content to coast.
"All right, class! We have a new student joining us today—please give her a warm welcome!" the teacher announced.
He stepped aside, revealing a red-haired girl around their age standing beside him.
"Go on. Introduce yourself."
The girl nodded and stepped forward. "Hi… I'm Uzumaki Kushina. I'm seven years old."
She spoke with a mix of confidence and hesitation, her voice steady but her eyes darting nervously across the room.
Almost instantly, the room erupted into whispers—loud ones. Half the kids weren't even trying to be subtle.
"Whoa, what's with that hair?"
"Looks like blood!"
"Are there even people with red hair in the Land of Fire?"
"Must be from somewhere else… Maybe a spy?"
"Red hair, huh? Let's call her Tomato!"
"No, Pepper sounds better!"
"Little Tomato! Little Pepper! Haha!"
Kushina's eyes narrowed, her fists clenched by her sides. She was clearly trying to hold it together, but the mockery stung.
The teacher just stood there, silent.
As did the boy in the front row with bright yellow hair—Namikaze Minato. He glanced at Kushina and smiled faintly, but did nothing.
From the back of the room, Asakawa Naoki watched it all—and clicked his tongue.
"…God, what a bunch of brats."
He didn't shout. But his voice cut through the noise all the same.
The entire class turned to look at him. Even the teacher blinked in surprise. Kushina's eyes widened slightly.
"Oh look, the dead-last speaks," one boy sneered.
"Yeah, what's the dropout doing lecturing us?"
"You think being kinda pretty means we won't slap you around?"
That last one came from a short, chubby kid. He was glaring hard, but Naoki barely looked at him.
He sighed. "You're all so loud for people with nothing going on."
"What did you say?!"
"Seriously—just look at you. You," Naoki said, pointing to the chubby one, "look like a walking rice ball. You—" he turned to a tall kid with a crooked face "—you've got more acne than chakra. And you—are those eyebrows, or caterpillars?"
The class fell into stunned silence. Then the snickers started.
Because as cruel as it was… he wasn't wrong. Every insult was on-point, accurate enough to sting.
The kids who'd been teasing Kushina turned red with embarrassment and rage. No one liked being clowned on in front of the class.
Naoki leaned back in his chair, totally unfazed. "You can dish it out, but can't take it? Typical."
The chubby kid's face twisted. "Yeah? Well at least I *have* parents!"
That one hit harder than he expected.
The room froze.
The teacher finally stepped in. "Alright! That's enough—everyone, sit down!"
The tension in the room didn't fade immediately, but the noise slowly died down. Kushina glanced back at Naoki, then looked away quickly.
Naoki didn't regret speaking up. He didn't do it for her. He just couldn't stand the noise. But still… he had to admit, the look on her face made it feel a little worth it.
Maybe being a salted fish wouldn't be so quiet after all.
*******
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