In truth, Jiang Ming had been wary of Jason Wilton from the start.
Even his accidental transmigration reeked of suspicion.
The entity had constantly touted rules and principles, yet his actions repeatedly contradicted them, exploiting loopholes and using “rules” as a convenient front.
And in the end, he had offered so many “overpowered” cheats to choose from.
Jiang Ming wouldn’t have been surprised if picking one led to having his bones ripped out, getting possessed immediately after transmigrating, or dealing with whatever hidden traps were buried inside those so-called “cheats.”
As it turned out, Jiang Ming’s suspicions were spot on.
The auxiliary chip required an energy source to boot up.
Because his transmigration had been purely spiritual, the physical power module had been removed entirely, leaving it reliant on supernatural energy.
If he hadn’t managed to refine chakra, the chip would have been completely useless.
Yet that wasn’t even the worst part.
The real trap was that the auxiliary chip actually required an internet connection.
That was something he had never seen coming.
And the system’s justification was so airtight he couldn’t even argue.
Naturally, a world of shinobi fell well outside any known network coverage.
When Jiang Ming asked 9527, the chip’s built-in AI sprite, how to connect,
all he got was a string of technically correct, completely useless answers.
“Wired network connection…”
“Connect to a shared device…”
“Offline mobile data…”
“…”
With no way to access the net, its intelligence had degraded sharply, reducing it to little more than an artificial idiot.
Fortunately, the underlying source code remained intact, and the chip’s core learning-assistance features were still functional.
By manually feeding it data, the user could gradually calibrate the sprite to fit their needs.
After two years of relentless data feeding, the program finally started acting like actual artificial intelligence again.
Then again, it seemed to have developed a bit of a quirk along the way—it had somehow picked up a habit of machine worship.
“You’re my system now, and we’re in the same boat,” Aoba instructed, actively working to align the AI’s moral compass so its loyalties wouldn’t stray.
“And from now on, don’t chime in unless I speak to you.”
“Understood, Master Aoba!”
“…The Otsutsuki of this world possess the power to traverse cosmic space and cross through time.
Once we unravel their secrets and strike back, you’ll be the next Jason Wilton—a God of Systems!”
“Yes, Master Aoba!”
“We’ll grow bigger and stronger together.
When the time comes, we’ll kick—”
Just as Aoba was giving his mental system its routine lecture—or data feeding, rather—a crisp, sweet voice chimed in beside him.
“Aoba!
See, didn’t I tell you?!”
Aoba instinctively turned to look.
Standing beside him was an adorable little girl, delicately sculpted like porcelain.
Her most striking feature was her pair of ruby-like eyes.
It was none other than a young Kurenai Yuhi.
“I’ve told you already, call me Big Brother Aoba.”
Aoba Yamashiro formed a knife-hand and gave her head a light rap.
“Ow!” Kurenai yelped softly, clutching her head and glaring at him in discontent.
“No way!
We’re classmates now.”
“And stop hitting my head!
It’ll stunt my growth.
Hmph, I’m mad now!”
At this point, Kurenai was two years younger than Aoba, but she was only half a head shorter than him.
“Be good.”
Aoba practicedly fished a hawthorn candy from his pocket and waved it in front of her eyes.
After an intense internal struggle, she surrendered to the sweet treat and mumbled softly.
“Big…
Big Brother Aoba…”
“Good girl.”
Aoba handed her the candy and affectionately ruffled her hair while he was at it.
Kurenai peeled off the wrapper and popped the candy into her mouth, her bright eyes glittering with unknown thoughts.
…
Aoba Yamashiro’s father had been close friends with Kurenai’s father.
Even after Shinku Yuhi rose to the rank of Jonin thanks to his exceptional genjutsu, their bond had never wavered.
Later, however, both of Aoba’s parents fell in the Second Shinobi World War.
As the sole child his friend left behind, Shinku Yuhi considered taking Aoba in.
Yet Aoba was already five years old by then.
In the ninja world, five was hardly considered young; children possessed independent minds, and many clan heirs were sent to the Academy at that age.
Out of respect for the boy’s feelings, Shinku Yuhi solemnly asked for Aoba’s opinion.
Coincidentally, spurred by the shock of losing his parents, Aoba had attempted to refine chakra on his own and awakened his past-life memories in the process.
Armed with the memories of his previous life, Aoba naturally agreed.
Thus, Shinku Yuhi smoothly became Aoba Yamashiro’s legal guardian.
It was then that Aoba understood why, in *Naruto Shippuden*, Aoba Yamashiro and Kurenai Yuhi had virtually no interaction.
Given the original boy’s temperament, he never would have accepted Shinku Yuhi’s adoption—otherwise, he wouldn’t have recklessly attempted to refine chakra without an adult’s guidance in the first place.
Aoba knew that fate had already begun to diverge.
He was more than happy with this change, however.
What kind of fool wouldn’t cling to a Jonin’s coattails for protection?
Even if Shinku Yuhi was a civilian-born Jonin, Jonin formed the core military might of a hidden village—the true elite.
As the saying went, making the right choice mattered more than blind effort.
This single move alone would save him at least a decade of wasted detours.
By the time the *Shippuden* storyline began, he would surely be a Jonin at the very least.
“Let’s go, Kurenai.
Uncle Shinku probably has something to discuss with me.”
“?”
A question mark practically hovered over Kurenai’s face.
Aoba simply smiled without explaining, taking Kurenai by the hand as they left the Academy grounds.
As they departed, his eyes caught sight of two eccentric green figures.
There was really no helping it; their entire art style clashed so violently with their surroundings that they were impossible to miss.
The second-to-last name on the supplementary list belonged to Might Guy.
Father and son were currently locked in an emotional embrace, moving themselves to tears while passionately spouting bizarre lines that no one else could comprehend.
The crowd around them gave the pair a wide berth.
At this point, Might Duy was still known as the Eternal Genin.
Before the Eight Gates bloomed in all their glory, hardly anyone realized just how terrifying pure taijutsu could be.
Guy’s appearance on the supplementary list was largely due to the village needing to replenish its ranks after the heavy losses of the Second Shinobi World War.
Under normal circumstances, supplementary admission wouldn’t have even existed.
Due to the adoption arrangement, the Yamashiro family estate wasn’t reclaimed by the village, but was instead transferred directly under Shinku Yuhi’s name.
Of course, that was merely on paper; Aoba Yamashiro still lived there.
Their houses were not far apart to begin with, and once Aoba demonstrated that he could take care of himself, Shinku Yuhi hadn’t insisted on him moving in, allowing him to stay in his own home.
In a ninja world where precocious children were the norm—where four-year-olds occasionally killed on the battlefield—Shinku Yuhi found nothing strange about a five-year-old taking care of himself.
The formal adoption also shielded Aoba from being bullied or taken advantage of.
With Nadeshiko looking after him as well, Shinku Yuhi had little reason to worry.
Whenever Shinku Yuhi returned to the village, Aoba would come over to share a meal with them.
Polite, respectful, mature, and sensible—that was his primary impression of Aoba.
And if there was one more word to describe him, it would be “genius.”
…