A faint chirp of birds broke the silence before dawn.
Renji Arakawa stirred beneath his thin blanket. His eyes opened slowly, quietly adjusting to the soft gray light filtering through the paper windows. He didn't sit up right away. He just lay there, listening—to the quiet breathing of the other children, to the distant creak of the wooden hallway, to the world itself.
Nothing felt… wrong.
But nothing felt quite the same either.
He shifted slightly. His body didn't ache the way it usually did after sleeping on the stiff futon. His mind, normally slow to boot up after waking, was already clear—like a sharpened blade drawn from its sheath. No fog. No drowsiness.
And then he noticed it.
Information. It didn't come crashing in like a flood—but rather, it flowed in steadily. Instinctual. Balanced. His senses had sharpened—not superhuman, but efficient. The creak of floorboards, the brush of wind outside, the breathing patterns of children around him—he could parse them all without trying.
> [Synchronization Complete – Simple System Fully Operational]
The interface returned with a faint shimmer. This time, it didn't demand his attention. It simply hovered at the edge of his vision, passive, silent unless summoned.
Renji didn't smile. But he felt a small ripple of satisfaction inside. Quiet, careful.
So this is the difference. This is what synchronization really means.
His body felt… precise. Lighter, stronger, more in tune. He didn't feel a rush of power, but a sense of underlying potential—like a coiled spring, waiting. His breath came easier. His thoughts didn't wander anymore. They moved with intention.
He rose without sound, careful not to disturb the others.
Bare feet padded against cold wood as he slipped into the hallway. Pale light cast long shadows across the walls. The orphanage was still sleeping. Perfect.
He stepped into the old washroom, closed the sliding door behind him, and knelt in front of the mirror. His reflection stared back—same messy black hair, same pale skin, same slim frame. But the eyes were different.
Focused. Awake.
He activated the system manually with a thought.
> [Simple System – Active]
> Main Menu:
1. Profile
2. Store
3. Missions
He opened the Profile tab first.
---
[Profile – Renji Arakawa]
Age: 3
Origin: Konoha Orphanage
Chakra: Dormant
Status: Stable
Bloodline: Thousand Hands (Asura – Dormant)
Talent: Mental Apex [unique]
Body: Adaptive Vessel [unique]
---
A glance at the stats confirmed it—Mental Apex was online. The background process of understanding had already begun. His brain wasn't just absorbing—it was compiling. Patterns, logic, memory—all of it linked together with a seamless kind of flow.
Even something as basic as the room layout etched itself into his mind, complete with mental coordinates and angles.
It didn't make him a genius in an instant, but it made becoming one inevitable.
If this had been any other child, he thought, they would've cracked from the pressure or misused the power on impulse.
But not him.
He knew better than to rush. This world didn't reward flashiness. It rewarded timing. Preparation. Survival.
He closed the tab and moved to the Store.
---
[Simple System – Store]
> Categories:
1. Bloodlines
2. Techniques
3. Tools
4. Others
> Custom Compilation Enabled
---
He didn't buy anything. Not yet.
He only had 5 points—the daily reward. But even those points were important. He'd use them wisely. No gambling, no impulse. He needed a plan before even spending one.
Renji exited the system with a breath and stood slowly. His body adjusted to balance effortlessly, joints smooth, center of gravity instinctive. The Adaptive Vessel was subtle, but undeniable. A child's body, yes, but now perfectly tuned for growth, learning, and eventual combat.
He opened the washroom door and padded silently back to the main room, slipping under the blanket just before the dorm mother's footsteps echoed down the hall.
He didn't look like anything special. Just another orphan child curled up on a futon.
But inside, something was unfolding.
Not a genius born of luck, but a thinker forged by patience.
He'd remembered the world. Now he would learn it again, properly. With the system behind him, his body ready, and a mind sharper than blades—he would begin his journey. Step by step. No sudden moves. Just observation, timing, and quiet development.
First, awaken chakra.
Then, adapt to the bloodline.
After that—well, that would depend on what opportunities appeared. Konoha was a land of war scars and secret roots. If you looked close enough, the cracks always showed.
And cracks could be widened.
---
[New Feature Unlocked – Mission Tab Available]
> Would you like to open?
Renji glanced at the shimmer in the corner of his vision, then closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.
He'd check it later.
For now, he would blend in—perfectly.