Several more months passed.
Autumn winds swept fallen leaves through the streets, draping Konoha Village in a bleak shade of gold.
Ryū’s “grinding” training plan had also reached a clear milestone.
[Ding!] Late at night, after every last drop of chakra had been wrung from his body, the familiar, pleasant notification sounded right on time.
[Chakra Extraction Technique leveled up!
Lv.2 (1/600)] A warm current—far stronger and purer than the last time—seemed to emerge from nothingness and surge through his exhausted body.
His dried, aching chakra pathways were like cracked earth meeting a long-awaited rain, greedily absorbing the energy.
Chakra that once took hours to recover was now replenishing at a speed visible to the naked eye.
“Hoo…” Ryū let out a long breath, expelling stale air as a refreshing sensation spread through him.
He opened his status panel.
All the data had refreshed.
[Name: Ryū] [Age: 6] [Physique: 5] [Spirit: 7] [Chakra: 210/210] [Skills:] [Chakra Extraction Technique: Lv.2 (1/600)] [Clone Technique: Lv.2 (1/600)] [Transformation Technique: Lv.1 (255/300)] [Substitution Technique: Lv.1 (280/300)] [Basic Taijutsu: Lv.1 (298/300)] [Ninja Tool Throwing: Lv.1 (235/300)] [Chakra Control: Lv.1 (211/300)] … After months of relentless training, his total chakra had more than doubled—far beyond children his age and already brushing the lower threshold of a Genin.
The Clone Technique had also broken through to Lv.2.
The clones he created could now last for ten seconds and even perform simple actions.
Everything was moving in a good direction.
Except for one problem—realistic, unavoidable, and fatal.
Dinner.
On the table sat only a bowl of thin miso soup and two servings of rice.
His mother, Misako, quietly picked the few slices of pickled radish from her bowl and placed them into Ryū’s, an apologetic look on her face.
“Ryū, just make do for now.
Tomorrow… Mom will figure something out.” Ryū said nothing, shoveling rice into his mouth.
He knew the truth.
The household was nearly out of food.
His father’s modest pension had long been drained by the terrifying consumption of a child obsessed with training.
High-intensity physical exercise and chakra extraction demanded enormous energy.
His appetite for a single meal was now three times what it used to be.
Misako never complained.
She simply cut her own portions again and again, giving everything she could to her son.
Looking at her visibly thinner face and the fine new lines at the corners of her eyes, Ryū felt as if an invisible hand had clenched his heart, filling it with a dull ache.
“Mom, I’m full.” He set down his bowl.
It was only half eaten.
Misako froze, then hurriedly said, “How can you be full?
You’re still growing—you need to eat more.” “I’m really full.” Ryū pushed the bowl toward her, his tone firm and final.
“You eat the rest.” He didn’t dare meet her eyes, afraid he wouldn’t be able to hide his emotions.
After dinner, Ryū quietly washed the bowls and chopsticks.
As the sound of running water echoed from the kitchen, Misako sat alone in the dim living room.
At last, she spoke softly, almost cautiously.
“Ryū… we only have enough rice for three more days.” Helplessness crept into her voice.
The water stopped.
Ryū stood motionless for a long time.
Running out of food.
It was colder and more real than any enemy he might face.
Stop training?
Impossible.
That was his only path forward—their only hope of surviving in this broken world.
Giving up would be nothing more than slow suicide.
“I know, Mom,” Ryū said calmly—too calmly.
“Don’t worry.
I’ll find a way.” Back in his room, he closed the door, leaned against it, and slowly slid down to the floor.
What should he do?
Find work?
Who would hire a six-year-old?
Steal?
Rob?
The moral limits carried over from his previous life as an office worker made him instinctively reject the idea.
His gaze slowly dropped to his own hands.
No.
He wasn’t helpless.
He had strength.
Ryū took a deep breath and opened the system panel.
His eyes locked onto a single line.
[Clone Technique: Lv.2 (1/600)] A clone could last ten seconds and perform simple actions… A flash of inspiration cut through the fog in his mind like lightning.
The next morning, before dawn.
Ryū quietly got up, put on old clothes that could get dirty, and headed toward the forest behind the village.
The woods beyond Konoha Village were dense and home to many wild animals.
In his previous life, Ryū had watched countless survival videos online.
Even if most of it was theory, he still understood the basics of setting traps.
He found areas where wild rabbits often appeared and got to work.
He needed help—even if that help could only exist for ten seconds.
“Clone Technique!” Hand seals formed.
“Poof!” A clone identical to him appeared at his side.
At Lv.2, the clone was already quite solid, no longer a vague phantom.
“Go to the bushes over there and make some noise.
Draw their attention,” Ryū instructed.
The clone nodded stiffly and began clumsily moving through the brush, producing a rustling sound.
Its movements were awkward, but sufficient to act as bait.
Meanwhile, Ryū seized the moment to quickly set up a simple snare.
Ten seconds passed in the blink of an eye.
“Poof!” The clone dissolved into white smoke.
Ryū immediately formed seals again, summoning another clone to take its place.
The process was inefficient and consumed a great deal of chakra.
Setting up even the simplest trap drained nearly half his reserves.
But he didn’t stop.
Once the trap was ready, he used the same method to drive prey in its direction.
It was a test of patience.
One failure.
Then another.
By the time the sun was high overhead, Ryū’s chakra was completely exhausted, his clothes soaked with sweat.
Then— A shrill cry echoed from nearby.
Success.
He rushed over to see a gray rabbit suspended in the air, caught fast in the snare and struggling in vain.
Looking at his first catch, Ryū felt no joy—only a quiet, bone-deep exhaustion.
He skillfully processed the rabbit, rinsed himself in a nearby stream, and carried his hard-earned prize home.
When he handed the cleaned rabbit to his mother, he lowered his head and used the excuse he had prepared.
“Mom… I caught it in a trap.
In the forest behind the village.” Misako said nothing.
She took the rabbit, still dripping with water, then reached out with her rough hands and gently wiped away a smear of dirt from Ryū’s cheek.
Looking at her son’s eyes—trying to appear calm but unable to hide his fatigue—and at his small hands, stained from handling the prey, her heart felt as if it had been pierced by needles.
He was only six years old.
An age meant for being spoiled in his parents’ arms—yet here he was, running about just to keep the family alive.
She understood everything.
But she didn’t say a word.
She only nodded, her eyes reddening.
“Alright… Mom will make braised rabbit today.” The rich aroma of meat soon filled the small house, a scent they hadn’t known in a long time.
Ryū ate in large mouthfuls, yet the food tasted dull and heavy.
He looked at the forced smile on his mother’s face, while his heart screamed.
Not enough.
This was nowhere near enough.
Hunting was unstable, inefficient, and dangerous.
Catching a rabbit today was luck.
What about tomorrow?
The day after?
He needed something more reliable.
More efficient.
A way to earn money that would let both him and his mother live with dignity.
His gaze drifted out the window, toward the Ninja Academy.
There was a group of energetic “customers” there—children who weren’t exactly short on money.