The sun hung directly overhead, a relentless golden weight that turned the paved streets of Konoha into a shimmering haze. At high noon, the village didn't sleep; it sweltered.
Yang Fe moved through the crowd, his scrawny frame casting a short, sharp shadow against the sun-baked stone. He adjusted the strap of his equipment bag, feeling the familiar prickle of sweat against his pale skin. His white hair, stark and messy, seemed to catch the light like polished bone, drawing occasional glances from passing civilians.
The air was a thick bouillon of smells—the salty steam from Ichiraku Ramen, the earthy musk of the nearby forest, and the faint, metallic tang of kunai being sharpened in the weapon shops. To his left, a merchant barked prices for fresh scrolls; to his right, the rhythmic thwack-thwack of a training yard echoed behind a high wooden fence.
Red-roofed buildings huddled together, draped in colorful laundry that hung limp in the breathless air. High above, the Great Stone Faces watched over them, the Hokage's expressions carved in eternal, silent judgment.
Yang Fe is a boy out of place—both literally and figuratively. Transmigrated from another world, he possesses memories and sensibilities foreign to the Naruto universe, granting him a unique perspective on its customs and power structures. Physically, he is scrawny, with pale white hair that partially obscures his eyes, a pallid complexion, and an average height for his age. His appearance, while reminiscent of the Hyūga, is distinct enough to mark him as an outsider, even among those who share his blood.
His family's history is one of gradual estrangement from the Hyūga main house. Yang Fe's great-grandfather, once a member of the main family, failed to awaken the Byakugan, a pattern that persisted through subsequent generations. This failure led to the family's quiet exclusion from clan affairs, sparing them the burdens of the branch house's cursed seal but also stripping them of status and support. By Yang Fe's time, the family's only inheritance is a surname, a few faded traditions, and a reputation as commercial ninjas—skilled in negotiation, logistics, and the less glamorous but vital work of supporting Konoha's economy.
Orphaned at a young age, Yang Fe is driven by a desire to prove himself—not just as a ninja, but as someone worthy of belonging. His commercial background instills in him a pragmatic, resourceful mindset, valuing adaptability and subtlety over brute force. Yet, the shadow of his lost lineage haunts him, fueling both insecurity and a stubborn determination to forge his own path.
Yang Fe tugged at the strap of his worn satchel, pale hair falling into his eyes as he trudged along the crowded street. The academy loomed ahead, its gates buzzing with chatter. Groups of children walked together, laughing, jostling, already forming bonds that seemed natural to everyone but him.
To Yang Fe, walking with the "brods"—the noisy neighborhood kids—was nothing short of torture. Their endless questions, their bragging about who could throw a kunai straighter, grated on his nerves. But becoming a ninja meant taking this step, and no matter how much he disliked the company, he couldn't skip it.
Inside, the classroom smelled faintly of chalk and old wood. His class was filled mostly with commoner children and a few from small ninja families. They sat awkwardly, some whispering nervously, others trying to look confident.
Through the thin wall next door, Yang Fe could hear the elite class—the one reserved for children of the great clans. The names carried weight: Uchiha, Hyuga, Sarutobi, Aburame. Their laughter was sharper, their confidence louder. Yang Fe's pale fingers tightened around his desk. He knew he didn't belong there, but the reminder stung all the same.
The instructor entered, a middle-aged chunin with a stern face softened by a faint smile. He began the lesson with the basics: the Will of Fire. Yang Fe listened, half-bored, half-curious. Words about protecting comrades, about loyalty to Konoha, about sacrifice. To most kids, it was common sense. To Yang Fe, it was a puzzle—an ideology he would need to test against reality.
A week passed in the academy, filled with dull lectures about the Will of Fire, teamwork, and the history of Konoha. Yang Fe endured it all with quiet patience, waiting for the day that truly mattered.
Today was that day.
The classroom buzzed with excitement as the instructor announced:
"Today, you will learn to refine chakra—the foundation of every shinobi's strength."
Yang Fe's pale fingers trembled slightly as he formed the hand seal for concentration. His heart raced. He had read about chakra, dreamed about it, but now he would finally touch it.
Closing his eyes, he focused inward. Breath steady. Mind calm. He reached for the energy within his body—the fusion of physical stamina and spiritual will. At first, it was faint, like a flickering candle. Then, slowly, it grew warmer, brighter.
And then it happened.
A sharp pulse echoed in his mind, and suddenly, a translucent panel appeared before his inner vision. Yang Fe's breath caught. He had given up hope of ever seeing this again.
[System Panel Activated]
Attributes:
Strength: 2
Agility: 3
Stamina: 2
Intelligence: 5
Perception: 4
Luck: 1
New Function Unlocked: Chakra Refinement Bonus
- Efficiency increases with perseverance.
A notification blinked:
+1 Stamina (First Chakra Refinement)
Yang Fe's lips curled into a rare smile. The system—the mysterious Golden Finger he thought had abandoned him—was back.
Excitement surged through him, mixing with nervousness. He wasn't just refining chakra like the other kids. He was evolving.
For the first time, Yang Fe felt that his scrawny frame and forgotten bloodline didn't matter. He had something no one else did.