The Kid Naruto Wasn't Doing as Well as Me

The sun was setting, and dusk was falling.

The pale red sunlight fell across the road, stretching the little figure walking along it into a long shadow.

On either side of the road, cherry blossoms drifted down here and there...

The air was filled with the scent of flowers, refreshing and soothing.

"Nanfeng... where's that boy run off to now?"

"Hey, uncle! You've got plenty of customers today... business is booming."

"Auntie Baihui, I could smell the fragrance of your red bean soup from way down the road!"

"Fengzi, come on... let's go play together!"

"I can't. It's almost time for dinner..."

The little boy had just returned from outside and seemed well-liked. The shopkeepers in the alley would all tease him and call out a greeting when they saw him.

As he stepped onto the path leading to his home, the neighborhood children his age would ask him to play, too.

But the boy clearly had other things to do.

He was obviously popular, and at least when it came to getting along with people, he knew exactly what he was doing.

The way he spoke and carried himself didn't seem like that of an immature five- or six-year-old boy, either.

His name was Akiya Nanfeng, and he was a transmigrator.

"So beautiful..."

After dealing with the people around him, Nanfeng arrived at a Japanese-style courtyard and looked up at the scenery before him.

Beneath the setting red sun, wisps of cooking smoke rose from the houses, filling the place with the warmth of everyday life.

It had a charm all its own.

It was hard to imagine that just a few years earlier, this neighborhood had been reduced to rubble by the Nine-Tails' rampage.

That's right, he had transmigrated to Konoha.

His parents had been shinobi, too, and had died in that disaster.

Although he had become an orphan, thanks to his cute, handsome looks, mature mind, and the inheritance his parents had left him, Nanfeng was doing all right so far—not nearly as badly as the other orphans.

He was quite popular in the neighborhood.

The village also took good care of orphans like him.

There were plenty of orphans like him.

By now, several years had passed since the Nine-Tails was sealed.

The village had returned to peace.

Nanfeng opened the front door and walked inside, calling out with practiced ease, "I'm home!"

The house was silent.

No one answered.

Nanfeng was used to it by now... He went over to the family altar, knelt down, and bowed to the photograph hanging on the wall.

It showed a smiling couple, a man and a woman, embracing each other.

They were holding a swaddled baby between them.

The two shinobi were Nanfeng's parents, Akiya Makoto and Koritada.

Among Konoha's countless shinobi, they had been thoroughly unremarkable.

The photo had been taken when he was just born.

Not long afterward, the Nine-Tails' rampage had claimed their lives.

"Haah..."

Nanfeng let out a quiet sigh. Every time he saw the photo, he felt conflicted.

It wasn't grief or sadness. He just felt that the fate of an ordinary shinobi in this world was too tragic... They had no resources or ability to stand out.

His parents were a perfect example.

As a transmigrator, he understood better than anyone else how dangerous this world was.

Bloodline elites, living batteries, and cheaters with overpowered abilities... They were everywhere.

Compared to talent, hard work seemed insignificant.

The only one who might have truly impressed people was Might Guy... That kick had almost brought the story to its conclusion. It looked like he'd fallen just short, but the gap had been as wide as a natural chasm, impossible to cross.

And he'd paid for it by burning up his life.

Other transmigrators either had powerful backgrounds—like the Senju, Hatake, or Uchiha—or, if nothing else, were born into the Hyuga clan. But him? His parents had been two utterly ordinary shinobi, and both were dead... He didn't even have a cheat ability.

It made Nanfeng seriously suspect that the "transmigration reviewer" had it in for him.

At least he had a shinobi background. If he'd been born to civilians and then lost both his parents, he really wouldn't have known where to cry.

Taking all that into account, Nanfeng had started training as soon as he became conscious... Fortunately, because both his parents had been shinobi, the house was full of basic training scrolls. His father, Akiya Makoto, had probably planned to raise him as a shinobi.

So Nanfeng left early and came home late every day, nowhere to be seen, because he was honing his abilities.

Beating Six Paths Madara or suppressing Kaguya Otsutsuki was out of the question... From what he could tell, his potential wasn't very high. He'd be lucky just to survive the Fourth Ninja World War.

The dangers waiting further down the line made it impossible for Nanfeng to just sit around and enjoy life.

This world was special.

Children's talents emerged early. Little prodigies like Kakashi and Itachi had already earned reputations as "geniuses" by the time they were a few years old.

Nanfeng was a little behind them, but not by much. While other children his age were still playing house or running wild through the streets, he had already begun systematic training.

But he couldn't rush things.

His body was still fragile, so he was steadily building up his vitality... Excessive strain would leave hidden injuries.

He needed to take it slow and steady.

He was a transmigrator, after all. How could he be compared to the locals?

Some clans tried to force their young to mature too quickly, chasing immediate combat strength. They did produce "fresh blood" early on, but most of them didn't live long... Their days in the spotlight were limited.

"I'll just take it easy and lie low. The two chosen ones can deal with all that future trouble..."

At that thought, Nanfeng smiled faintly.

He got up to make dinner.

Training was important, of course, but he couldn't neglect nutrition, either. Eating instant noodles every day wasn't a good idea.

"Nanfeng."

A familiar voice called from outside.

Nanfeng went out to find Granny Asashaku from next door standing at the entrance, holding a food container and smiling.

"Granny..." Nanfeng greeted her sweetly.

"Little Nanfeng, I made you some saury, along with okra soup and tempura. Hurry up and eat while it's hot."

"Thank you, Granny."

Nanfeng's eyes lit up, and he bowed politely.

The old woman smiled and stroked his head, her expression kind and affectionate.

Nanfeng was already used to being fed like this... With a mature soul inside him, a knack for dealing with people, and good looks, who wouldn't like him?

On that score, Naruto was a hundred thousand miles behind him.

A little later, sitting cross-legged in the living room, Nanfeng ate while unrolling a scroll in front of him.

"I may not be able to match Itachi or Kakashi, but my physical conditioning is already far better than everyone else's. I've made some progress in basic Taijutsu and throwing weapons, too. I can't put it off any longer. Next, I'll try to extract chakra..."

As everyone knew, chakra was the core of being a shinobi—the most important thing of all.

After carefully reading the instructions in the scroll and memorizing them, Nanfeng finished his meal, wiped his mouth, and began to meditate with practiced focus.

This wasn't his first time meditating.

Thanks to both of his parents being shinobi, the house had plenty of Ninjutsu scrolls, even if most of them were ordinary.

They were all C-rank techniques, except for one B-rank technique.