[2] – The HUD
[2] – The HUD
Morning arrived with the abrupt, jarring ring of a mechanical alarm clock—an archaic device that Reiji had come to dread during his brief time in this world. He slapped at it groggily, the clumsy motion sending the small device spinning, and just like that, the shrill noise ceased. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the fog of sleep, but for a moment, everything felt off.
Sunlight filtered through the thin paper window, casting a soft glow over the room. The rays illuminated dust motes that danced lazily in the still morning air, a peaceful sight that only confused him further. The peacefulness clashed with the sudden disorientation that flooded his mind.
For the briefest of moments, he expected the familiar sights and sounds of his university dorm: the low hum of the coffee machine, the distant murmur of students chatting in the hallway, the faint buzz of his laptop. He even caught the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee in his memory, a comforting and grounding detail.
But reality came crashing down. His hands.
He looked down at his tiny, chubby fingers—the hands of a six-year-old boy. Not his hands. Not the hands of the university student he once was.
The previous day’s events came flooding back: the entrance exam, the overwhelming realization of where he was, and most importantly, the surreal confirmation that he had passed the exam.
Still here. Still six years old. Still in... Naruto.
The words echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly to himself. If someone had told him yesterday that he’d wake up in a world based on the anime Naruto, he’d have laughed them off. But here he was, stuck in a world he knew next to nothing about, trying to survive and somehow make his way as a ninja.
He pushed the thought aside for a moment. A note from Nanako caught his eye on the small table beside his futon. The handwriting was neat and familiar—Nanako’s gentle script.
Official Academy training begins next week. This is your time to prepare and get ready for the Academy. We all believe in you.
Reiji blinked, the words sinking in. The note was simple, but it meant everything. Training. Next week. That meant he had a week of time to figure things out.
He needed to learn. He needed to understand the strange system that had attached itself to him. He needed to master Chakra control—something that seemed as elusive as the wind and as volatile as fire. But more than anything, he needed to make sure he wasn’t going to be crushed in this strange, high-stakes world of shinobi.
Reiji’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that food had been skipped in favour of worrying over the future. He quickly ate the rice balls and pickled vegetables Nanako had set aside for him, but his mind wasn’t focused on the meal. Thoughts of survival, growth, and training swirled around his head like a whirlwind.
Once breakfast was finished, he stood up and made his way to the small room in the back of the house. Nanako had given him a private space where he could stay and have his own space. The sunlight streamed in through the paper window, casting soft patterns on the floor. He took a deep breath, steadying his racing thoughts. This was his time. It's time to focus.
With a quiet resolve, Reiji closed the door behind him and crossed the small room. It was bare, save for a few simple futons. Still, it was his space, and that made all the difference. He sat down on the floor, settling into a cross-legged position, the familiar act of meditation helping to calm his mind.
“System,” he whispered.
It wasn’t necessary to whisper—it was simply instinctive. The moment the word left his lips, the familiar shimmer of the air around him appeared, and with it, the blue Interface materialized, floating just before his eyes.
This time, he was calm. No longer overwhelmed, no longer struck with panic or confusion. He’d realized that the system, while strange, was also an invaluable tool—a boon in this chaotic world. It was his only constant aid in navigating the unknown, and he couldn’t afford to take it for granted.
Reiji began to scan the options, each clicking into place in his mind as he mentally navigated through the Interface.
[Personal Information]
[Quest System]
[Chatora]
[Attributes]
[Interface]
[Inventory]
[Map]
[Natural Affinity]
[OUTWORLDER]
First, his eyes settled on [Attributes]. He clicked it, and the information filled the screen before him.
[Attributes]
Power (E-): 5/100 (Below Average)
Speed (E-): 7/100 (Below Average)
Spirit (D): 15/100 (Average)
Recovery (D-): 12/100 (Below Average)
Intelligence (A): 85/100 (Excellent)
Luck (?): Unknown
Reiji studied the numbers, his frown deepening. His physical stats—Power and Speed—were nothing special, ranking low at E- and E- respectively. It was hardly surprising, given that his body was that of a six-year-old. Still, it was disheartening. Recovery was also low—clearly something he would need to improve if he wanted to last in this dangerous world. But then there was Spirit, sitting firmly in the middle at a D ranking. That seemed like it might have potential, but it also left him with more questions than answers.
The one number that stood out the most was Intelligence. 85/100. It was the only stat that was higher than average. Maybe that’s my real advantage, he thought. Being intelligent could only get him so far in a world where strength and speed ruled, but it was better than nothing.
His eyes lingered on the Luck attribute, which remained a mystery, marked with a question. He hadn’t seen anything like it before. Was luck something that could be measured? Or was it a secret he had yet to uncover?
The numbers alone didn’t tell him much. He would have to keep training and keep pushing forward.
Reiji decided to dive deeper, selecting the [Chatora] tab next.
[Chatora (0/4)]
Energy in all beings.
5.25% Chatora [No Attribute] (0.26/5)
0% Chatora [No Attribute] (0/5)
0% Chatora [No Attribute] (0/5)
0% Chatora [No Attribute] (0/5)
Basic Chatora Control: Unlocked (Efficiency: 2%)
His Chakra, or as this system called it, “Chatora,” reserves were low—practically non-existent. Yet, he still had some control over it. He wasn’t completely helpless. It wasn’t much, but then again, he couldn’t afford to be picky.
Moving on, he selected [Quest System].
[Active Quests]
- Become a Ninja: 1/10 steps completed
Reward: ???, ???
Time Limit: None - Morning Training: Complete 10 push-ups, 10 sit-ups, and run 1 km
Reward: +1 Power, +1 Speed
Time Limit: Today
[Completed Quests]
- Academy Entrance Examination
Reward: Academy Student Status, Basic Chatora Control, +0.25 Chatora
Reiji raised an eyebrow. The “Morning Training” quest was simple, almost laughably so, but the rewards—additional power and speed—were tempting. Had it appeared because the original Reiji had done this daily? Or was the system guiding him toward physical improvement? Either way, he saw an opportunity to increase his chances of success.
His eyes drifted to the [Interface] tab next.
[Interface Settings]
Display Mode: Transparent
Notification Sound: On
Recite Notification: On
Quest Alerts: On
Combat Analysis: Off (Unlock at Level 5)
Health Display: Off (Unlock at Level 3)
Experience Bar: Off (Unlock at Level 2)
Current Level: 1 (0/500 XP)
Levels. Of course. The gaming elements were becoming clearer. This system operated on experience points, levels, and quests—just like the video games he’d occasionally played back home. He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it, but it did make the world seem more... manageable. There were systems and rules in place, and that gave him a sense of control, even if it was still new and confusing.
Next, he navigated to [Natural Affinity].
[Natural Affinity: Undiscovered]
Complete the Chatora paper test to determine elemental affinity.
Elemental affinity? Reiji was no expert on Naruto lore, but he knew enough to understand that Chakra could be manipulated into different elemental forms—fire, water, earth, wind, and lightning. That test would be important.
Next, he tapped on [Map], expecting something more detailed. Instead, he was greeted with a sparse, rudimentary map. The entire world was marked as an “Elemental Nation,” with most regions labelled as [Undiscovered]. It didn’t give him much to go on, but it confirmed what he suspected: this world was vast, filled with many places he had yet to explore.
[Inventory] was even more underwhelming. The only thing inside was a note: “Acquisition of storage seals required for expansion.”
Not exactly a helpful start. Reiji made a mental note of that—storage seals.
Finally, he clicked on [OUTWORLDER]. The screen flashed for a moment before displaying the message:
[Access Denied: Requires Level 5]
It's a dead end, for now. Reiji grunted in frustration, closing the Interface with a sigh. While it was nice to have some insight into how the system worked, it still felt like he was fumbling in the dark. Much of the information was locked or underdeveloped, and that left him feeling like he was running in place.
His immediate priority was gaining experience, levelling up, and completing the morning training quest. He could always deal with the rest later.
“Might as well start now,” he muttered to himself, setting his shoulders in resolve.
Reiji changed into loose, comfortable clothes—better suited for physical activity—and stepped outside. The cool morning air greeted him, sharp and refreshing, like a silent challenge. His breath puffed out in a cloud, the early chill causing him to shiver before the warmth of determination took over momentarily.
The orphanage grounds were quiet at this hour, save for the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. Most other children were still asleep, but Reiji was alone with his thoughts, preparing for physical exercise.
Push-ups, sit-ups, and running are simple enough. But these rewards are exactly what I need.
His small, six-year-old frame shuffled across the yard toward an open space behind the orphanage. He glanced at the patch of grass, and the cracked pavement nearby, then dropped into position for push-ups.
The first few motions felt mechanical, forced. He positioned his hands, focused, and lowered his body. Push-ups, he thought. It should have been easy. I’m healthy, right?
But the physical training was far more challenging than he’d anticipated. His arms trembled almost immediately as he pushed back up, and his body seemed to reject the effort. His six-year-old body lacked the strength and endurance he was used to.
Five push-ups in, his arms began to shake uncontrollably. His muscles screamed, and they gave out completely by the time he hit eight. He collapsed, face down on the cold earth, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. This is pathetic, he thought bitterly, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. No wonder my Power rating is so low.
After a few moments, he managed to roll onto his back, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He let out a slow breath, trying to calm the burning sensation in his arms. His six-year-old body wasn’t designed for this level of exertion.
After a few moments, he rolled onto his back, wiping his face on his shirt sleeve. He let out a slow breath, trying to calm the burning sensation in his arms.
Reiji pushed himself back up, attempting another round. The second try was no better. He managed only two more push-ups before his arms trembled again and gave way, his body collapsing back to the grass beneath him.
The sit-ups were no easier. His body ached after every crunch, each motion more difficult than the last. Sweat dripped from his brow, but he forced himself to continue. Ten sit-ups, he told himself, just ten.
He did them in short, painful bursts. His abdomen burned with every flex, and the soreness in his muscles felt like a constant reminder of how weak he truly was. His chest felt tight, his breath shallow as the minutes stretched on. But he completed them—ten sit-ups, every single one a battle.
Finally came the one-kilometer run. The thought of it filled him with dread. He wasn’t used to running like this—not with a smaller stride and lungs that felt too small for the task at hand.
His chest burned as he jogged, and his legs quickly grew heavy. The path was longer than it seemed, the distance stretching before him like a mountain he had to climb. He alternated between jogging and walking, trying to catch his breath, but each step felt like it took everything he had. His legs screamed for relief, but he pushed through, the finish line just a blur in the distance.
By the time he crossed the finish line, his legs felt like jelly, and his chest was heaving, threatening to collapse on the spot. But he didn’t. He stood there, panting, his hands on his knees, trying to steady himself as his body screamed for rest.
Finally, he staggered over to the small park area behind the orphanage—a patch of grass that felt like an oasis now. He collapsed onto it, sprawled out, his clothes clinging to his body with sweat. The ground felt cool against his heated skin, and the sound of his breath was the only thing breaking the silence of the early morning.
For a moment, he lay there, allowing his body to recover, too exhausted to even move. His limbs felt like they had been pushed past their limits, and his chest rose and fell with the effort of staying conscious. But despite the pain, there was a strange sense of accomplishment.
And then, just as he thought he might pass out from exhaustion, a soft ding echoed in his ears.
A notification followed by a monotonous voice.
[Quest Completed: Morning Training]
Rewards: +1 Power (6/100), +1 Speed (8/100), +5 XP (5/500)
[New Quest Available: Chatora Meditation]
Meditate and focus on your Chatora for 30 minutes
Reward: +0.05% Chatora Control, +5 XP
Time Limit: Today
Reiji blinked in surprise, his mind still catching up to the new quest.
The immediate feedback was satisfying, even if the gains seemed minimal at first glance. The +1 to Power and Speed and the XP felt like small steps. But the more he thought about it, the more it clicked.
This system wasn’t about huge, immediate jumps. It was about gradual, consistent improvement—small, incremental increases in strength, skill, and control. No matter how trivial it seemed, each task brought him closer to something bigger.
Sitting on the grass, his body still trembling from the run, Reiji allowed himself a moment of reflection. A quiet smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He wasn’t where he wanted to be—not by a long shot—but he was moving forward. That alone was enough for now.
After resting for a few moments, he managed to get to his feet, his legs still unsteady beneath him. Finding a quieter spot under a nearby tree, he attempted the next quest: Chakra Meditation. The shade of the tree provided some relief from the sun as he sat down, crossing his legs beneath him. He closed his eyes and focused inward, trying to shut out the world around him.
He began to recall the sensation from yesterday’s exam—the warm, flowing current that had surged through his body when he had focused on his Chakra. That energy had been subtle but powerful, a hum that seemed to radiate from deep within him.
For the first fifteen minutes, nothing happened. His mind wandered, his body restless, the silence around him only amplifying his growing frustration. He shifted positions, trying to find something comfortable, anything to help him relax and focus. `
Maybe I need to form the hand sign?
He pressed his palms together in what he remembered as the basic seal. The gesture had always seemed so simple, but maybe it would help him connect to the energy he was trying to access. He pressed his palms together in the familiar position, his fingers interlacing, and took a deep breath.
Immediately, he felt it.
A faint stirring in his core, a small but undeniable shift. The Chakra inside him seemed to respond to his intent, like a barely-there current of warm energy, moving sluggishly but obediently. He focused on it, trying to stay relaxed as he willed the flow to gather, to grow stronger.
The next twenty minutes were a battle of concentration. The sensation was there, but it was like trying to hold water with his hands—sometimes, the flow would follow his direction, and sometimes it would slip away completely. His mind kept drifting, trying to latch onto the warmth and keep it contained, but every time he thought he had control, the energy would dissipate.
Focus.
He reminded himself. Stay calm.
With every breath, he tried again, drawing the energy in, feeling the flow pulse slightly beneath his skin. Slowly, he could tell he was getting better at this, not through mastery, but through persistence.
The full thirty minutes passed with only small progress, but still, it was progress. Reiji opened his eyes, feeling drained but somehow... lighter. The frustration was still there, but now it was tempered by a sense of quiet accomplishment. He hadn’t achieved perfect control, but he had made an effort, and that effort mattered.
Another notification appeared just as he stretched out his stiff legs.
[Quest Completed: Chatora Meditation]
Rewards: +0.05% Chatora Control (2.05 %), +5 XP (10/500)
[New Quest Available: Leaf Concentration]
Balance a leaf on your forehead using only Chatora for 5 minutes
Reward: +1% Chatora Control, +10 XP
Time Limit: 5 days
Leaf concentration?
Reiji plucked a leaf from the tree above him, holding it up between his fingers. Balancing a leaf on his forehead using Chakra seemed almost laughable. He recalled a few scenes from an anime that played in the background of his dorm room—students sitting cross-legged, their faces serene, with leaves glued to their foreheads. It looked simple enough when it was done by characters who were already skilled. But now that it was his turn, the task felt daunting.
With a deep breath, he pressed the leaf against his forehead, attempting to focus. He gathered his Chakra, trying to channel it into the center of his brow, but the leaf immediately fell to the ground the moment he did.
Okay. Focus. He tried again, this time centering his Chakra with greater intent. The leaf stayed for a few seconds, a fragile moment of success before it slipped away again.
After another twenty failed attempts, his frustration grew. The leaf kept dropping, each failure making the task seem more insurmountable. He rubbed his forehead, exhaling sharply, the pressure building in his chest. This exercise was more challenging than he’d thought—much harder.
Maybe I’m not ready for this yet.
He sighed, sitting down against the tree trunk. The leaf remained on the ground in front of him. He needed more basic control and focus before he could even think about attempting this challenge again. With a reluctant groan, he decided to postpone the leaf concentration. He’d return to it later once he had better control over his Chakra.
With that decision made, he stood up and started heading back to the orphanage. The smell of food drifted through the air, and his stomach rumbled in response. Nanako was likely preparing lunch, and the thought of a warm meal pushed aside his momentary frustration.
“There you are! I was beginning to worry,” she said, her eyes taking in his disheveled state. “You… look exhausted. Were you training?”
Reiji nodded, lowering himself onto one of the cushions. His muscles ached from the morning’s physical training, but there was a quiet satisfaction in the soreness. The burn in his limbs was a sign of effort.
“Yes,” he replied, looking up at her with a tired but determined smile. “I want to be ready for the Academy.”
Nanako paused mid-stir, a nostalgic expression flashing across her face before she quickly masked it. “Such determination…” She trailed off, her voice softening. “You remind me of—” She stopped herself, pressing her lips together. “Never mind. Wash up and eat. You’ll need your strength.”
After lunch, as Nanako busied herself tidying up, Reiji hesitated for a moment before turning to her.
“Nanako-san,” he asked quietly, “do you know any basic Chakra exercises I could practice?”
She glanced down at the small child in her arms and gently rocked them before responding. “I’m not a shinobi myself, but I know the leaf concentration exercise is a standard starting point. Meditation is good for control, too.” She paused, studying him for a moment before adding, “There should be a ninja scroll around here somewhere.”
She carefully placed the toddlers in their cradles and then disappeared into the storeroom. Reiji heard the rustling of boxes and the faint sound of old scrolls being unrolled. Moments later, Nanako returned, holding a thin, slightly worn scroll.
“Basic Chakra Control Exercises,” she read aloud, brushing off a layer of dust. “It’s nothing advanced—just foundational techniques from the Ninja Library—but it might help you build a solid base. My sister, Nonō, left this here.” Her voice softened at the mention of her sister’s name.
Reiji, deeply grateful, bowed deeply in thanks. “Thank you, Nanako-san.”
She gave him a small smile, then handed him the scroll. As he unrolled it carefully, a familiar ding echoed in his mind. A notification appeared before him, interrupting his thoughts.
[Scroll: Chatora Control Exercises]
Detailed Information Lacking. Requires Further Improvement