I hit Level Two.
Or at least, that's my best estimate based on the cycle of seasons drifting past my window. There was no cake, no candles, and no presents. No off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday."
The only entity that bothered to congratulate me was the System.
[ Achievement Unlocked: Survivor (Year 2) ]
[ Reward: You're still alive. Keep it up. ]
The crowning achievement of this past year was mastering the art of bipedal locomotion. My [Walking (Active)] skill finally reached the point where I could move on two legs without eating dirt every three steps.
It was a total game-changer. The world ceased to be a mere collection of floor textures and furniture legs; it gained a vertical axis. I could reach door handles. I could peer onto chairs. I could finally... reach the windowsill.
However, with physical elevation came a far more haunting upgrade: total linguistic comprehension.
My [Language: Japanese] proficiency had hit 95%.
I no longer just heard words; I understood context, nuance, and the poisonous subtext behind every conversation. And it was miserable.
Before, the nurses' hatred had been mere background noise—a vague, negative aura. Now, that hatred had a vocabulary. Sharp, toxic words.
"That demon is awake again," the 'Matron' hissed as she passed my crib. Her voice sounded like stones grinding together. "Look at him, staring with those creepy eyes. I bet he's plotting something."
"Don't go near him, Akio," the 'Valkyrie' warned another child who was looking my way with innocent curiosity. "He's contagious. He's the reason for all our bad luck."
"If it weren't for the Hokage's orders, I would have already..." one began, leaving the sentence hanging, though her glare was louder than any verbal threat.
Every word hit like a physical blow. The System, ever-impartial, recorded the damage.
[ Psychological Damage Detected. Mental Fortitude +1 EXP. ]
I had become a walking punching bag, passively grinding my defenses. But the harshest punishment wasn't the verbal abuse. It was the silence.
One day, while exploring the playroom, I accidentally knocked over a flowerpot. Dirt spilled across the floor. It was a genuine accident—my toddler-tier Agility and Dexterity had simply failed me.
But to the caretaker, it was a gift.
She didn't scream. She didn't strike me. She did something worse. She walked over, silently wiped down the pot, and then spoke in a voice as cold as absolute zero:
"Demons don't get to play."
She dragged me to a small closet where mops and buckets were kept, tossed me inside, and turned the key.
Click.
I sat in the pitch black on the cold tile floor. I didn't panic. My adult mind suppressed the instinctive terror of a child. In its place was only a cold, ringing rage.
Then the System, which had been silent for hours, flashed a new window into the darkness.
[ QUEST: SOLITARY CONFINEMENT ]
Objective: Endure the punishment without crying or begging for mercy.
Bonus Objective: Meditate and calm your mind.
Time Limit: 2 Hours.
Rewards: +200 EXP, +1 WIS, New Skill: [Meditation].
Two hundred points! A permanent Wisdom buff! A new skill!
System, you are my best friend and my cruelest tormentor.
I crossed my legs into a lotus position—or as close to it as my pudgy two-year-old limbs would allow—and closed my eyes. I began to breathe. Slow. Deep.
I focused on my thoughts. My plans. I thought about the Academy. The jutsu I would master. The people I would meet. The vengeance I would eventually exact.
Two hours went by in a blink.
When the Matron opened the door, expecting to find a sobbing, terrified child broken by the dark, she found me.
I was sitting perfectly still, meeting her gaze with clear, ice-blue eyes. There was no fear in my look. Only cold calculation.
She flinched, taking a frantic step back.
In that moment, I realized something vital. Their hatred was their weapon. But my mind and my will were my shield. And that shield was getting stronger every single day.
My life in the orphanage had transformed into a complex strategy game.
Goal: Survive and max out stats before the Academy.
Resources: My body and a sarcastic System.
Enemies: The staff and, strangely enough, the other children.
Children aren't evil by nature. But children are sponges; they soak up the moods of the adults around them. The nurses whispered that I was "bad," and the kids believed them. My [Pariah's Curse] was working perfectly.
Their tactics were primitive but effective. They stole my toys. They shoved me when no one was looking. They pointed and laughed, parroting the slurs they'd heard from the adults.
I didn't retaliate. Fighting toddlers was beneath me—besides, my Strength of 2.5 didn't exactly guarantee a clean sweep in a brawl.
Instead, I observed. I used my Intelligence.
Takeshi was my primary antagonist—a sturdy boy who fancied himself the king of the playroom. He was the one who pushed me the most.
My plan was simple, yet elegant.
Takeshi had a favorite toy—a wooden block with pictures on it. Another boy, a quiet, whiny kid named Yuta, had a piece of candy the nurse had given him that morning.
I waited for the moment Takeshi looked away.
[ Stealth Mode: Active ]
I quickly crawled over to Yuta, snatched the candy from his hand, and before he could even process it, I dropped it into Takeshi's toy box. Then, I retreated to my corner and waited.
Predictably, Yuta burst into tears.
A nurse came running at the sound of the siren. "What happened, Yuta-chan?"
"C-c-candy..." he sobbed, pointing at his empty hand.
The nurse began the search. Naturally, she found the sticky contraband in Takeshi's box.
The verdict was swift. Takeshi tried to defend himself, but who believes a known bully? He was scolded and forced to apologize to Yuta. Takeshi, humiliated and indignant, started wailing from the sheer unfairness of it all.
I sat in my corner, feeling like a pint-sized Moriarty. It was glorious.
[ Social Manipulation Successful! ]
[ Intelligence +1 ]
[ Karma: Who cares? ]
But not all my days were filled with tactical espionage. Most of the time, it was just routine. Eat, sleep, poop, repeat.
The only variety was the short walks in the small orphanage courtyard. While other kids played in the sandbox, eating dirt and drooling, I began my training arc.
Since I couldn't channel chakra yet, I focused on the hardware.
Five hundred steps. For a two-year-old, this was a marathon. A death march. I circled the yard, my chubby legs burning, until I collapsed from exhaustion.
[Vitality +1]
[Skill Up: Walking Lv. MAX -> Running Lv. 1]
I began to realize that this world wasn't as simple as it seemed in the anime. On screen, everything was a montage. Training, growth, victory. Here, every step was a struggle. Every experience point was earned through sweat and humiliation.
In the evenings, lying in my crib, I stared at my status screen. The numbers grew. Slowly, painfully, but they grew. And that gave me hope. I wasn't just surviving. I was preparing.
One day, the gray routine of the orphanage shattered. Tension hung in the air like static electricity. The nurses ran around like headless chickens, scrubbing floors and dusting corners that hadn't seen a rag in decades.
I knew immediately—an inspection was coming.
And I wasn't wrong. Around noon, the Third Hokage entered the building.
Hiruzen Sarutobi looked older and more tired in person than on screen. But behind this mask of universal sorrow, I saw something I hadn't noticed in my past life watching anime.
I saw weakness.
He didn't come alone. Two ANBU operatives in porcelain masks flanked him. Their presence instantly dropped the room temperature by ten degrees.
[ALERT: High-Level Entities Detected!]
[Warning: Killing Intent (Passive) detected.]
[Status Effect: Fear (Suppressed by Gamer's Mind).]
The System was panicking, but I stayed calm. I recognized the mask of one operative. Root. So, Danzo already had his hand on the pulse—or rather, on the throat—of the village. And this old man, this "God of Shinobi," allowed it.
The nurses lined up and bowed so low I thought their spines would snap. The Hokage nodded benevolently and walked into the playroom. His gaze found me instantly.
He walked over and squatted in front of me.
"Hello, Naruto-kun," his voice was warm and kind. But to me, that kindness sounded fake. Like a cheap knock-off.
I looked up at him, and a wave of cold, pure contempt rose in my chest. I didn't see a great leader. I saw a walking disaster. A man whose indecision and hypocrisy cost this village thousands of lives.
"You!" I screamed mentally right into his smiling face. "It's because of you I'm rotting in this hole! You promised my father, a hero, that I would be taken care of! That I would be seen as a hero! And what is the result? I am a pariah. A demon hated by everyone. You couldn't even ensure me a normal existence!"
"How are you doing here? Is anyone hurting you?" he asked, and genuine concern sounded in his voice.
That concern was the last straw. Hypocrite. He knew exactly how I was treated. He had a crystal ball that could watch anyone in the village! He knew, but he did nothing.
"Is anyone hurting you?" I mocked him in my thoughts.
"Of course not, old man! Just like no one hurt Sakumo Hatake, the White Fang, whom you let be bullied into suicide! Just like your student Orochimaru, who experimented on children right under your nose, and you just let him go because you were 'sentimental'! Just like the Uchiha clan! You let Danzo slaughter them all—men, women, children—and then pretended it was a 'tragic necessity.' You are the weakest, most cowardly, and most incompetent Hokage in history! And you dare ask if I'm okay?"
I remained silent. My face was a perfectly blank mask of a toddler. But my eyes, I was sure, were as cold as ice.
He seemed to sense it. His smile faltered slightly. He sighed, the weight of the world seemingly on his shoulders, and handed me a small wrapped package.
"This is for you."
He placed it next to me, ruffled my hair (I barely suppressed the urge to slap his hand away), stood up, and left.
As soon as the door closed behind him, I unwrapped the package. Inside lay a simple wooden ninja figurine. Roughly carved and painted. A generic child's toy.
Logical. Cheap. And absolutely useless.
I looked at the figurine, then at the door where the "God of Shinobi" had disappeared.
[Item Received: Wooden Ninja Toy]
[Rarity: Trash]
[Stats: None. Flammability: High.]
[System Comment: Wow. Thanks, Grandpa.]
I felt no gratitude. Just bitterness. This visit changed nothing. It was just a formality. The old man ticked a box on his "good deeds" list and went back to managing his sinking village, leaving me alone with the consequences of his failures.
That night, I didn't sleep. The Hokage's visit didn't give me hope. It took the last drop of it away.
I realized, finally and irrevocably: No one is coming to save me. No "kind grandfather" will swoop in and make it better.
I can only rely on myself. On my mind, my will, and this snarky blue screen floating before my eyes.
I made a decision. From this day on, I stop hoping. My plan must be flawless.
I lay in bed, staring at my tiny hands in the dark. I was still weak. But I was angry. And this anger was pure, cold fuel.
I wouldn't just train my body. I would train my mind with double the intensity. I would recall everything. Every jutsu, every seal, every weakness of every character. I can't use chakra yet? Fine. I will become the best theoretician this world has ever seen.
I will turn my brain into a perfect weapon. And when my body catches up, I will reshape this rotten world created by that hypocritical old man. I will reshape it to fit me.
The game stopped being just about survival. It became preparation for war.
And I was ready.
[Quest Updated: The Path to Power]
[Objective: Survive until Academy.]
[New Sub-Objective: Master Theory. Memorize the Canon.]
[Reward: The power to crush fate.]