I stepped out of the hospital wearing Naruto’s normal clothes—the bright orange jacket, the matching pants, the whole loud outfit the village had seen a thousand times. The second the sunlight hit the fabric I felt a familiar, low-grade irritation. I had never liked bright colours. Even back in my old life I lived in blacks and dark greys. Orange felt like walking around with a target painted on my chest.
First order of business: shopping.
I started walking without any real destination. I had watched the series more times than I could count, but that didn’t translate into actual knowledge of the streets. Alleys that should have felt familiar looked identical. Side paths branched off without labels. I didn’t even know where Naruto’s apartment was. The body knew how to move through a village, how to keep balance on rooftops if needed, but the map inside my head was still mostly blank.
I wandered for a while, letting the flow of civilians and shinobi guide me toward the denser commercial streets. Eventually I spotted a clothing shop tucked between a weapon store and a tea house. The wooden sign was faded. I stepped inside.
Most of the racks were filled with traditional pieces—simple kimonos, short robes, the kind of clothes that belonged to a different era. I moved past them until I reached a quieter corner near the back. There, almost overlooked, sat a few more modern-looking items. A black jacket with a clean cut and minimal stitching. A plain white shirt. A pair of black pants that looked like they would actually fit without screaming for attention.
I checked the wallet that came with this body. It was heavier than expected—thick with ryo. Right. Naruto had always been careful with money, the kind of guy who saved even when he didn’t have much. I paid without haggling, took the clothes into the small changing area, and stripped out of the orange set. The new outfit settled onto the body like it belonged there. Jacket over the white shirt, black pants, the orange clothes stuffed into a simple carry bag.
There was a full-length mirror near the exit. I stopped in front of it.
The blond hair and whisker marks were still the same. The blue eyes were still Naruto’s. But the black-and-white combination cut the brightness down and made the face look sharper, cleaner. Considerably better. Almost handsome in a way the orange jumpsuit never managed.
I left the shop feeling a little less like an impostor and a little more like someone who had made a small choice of his own.
My stomach growled hard enough that I actually stopped walking.
Food. Right.
I kept moving until a very familiar banner came into view. Ichiraku Ramen. The wooden counter, the noren curtain, the smell of broth that somehow cut through the street air. Naruto’s favourite place. I had eaten instant ramen for years in my old life—cheap packets, boiling water, the same salty taste over and over. I had never sat down to a real bowl made by someone who actually cared about it.
I stepped inside and took a seat.
Teuchi looked up from behind the counter and smiled the easy, familiar smile of a man who had fed the same loud blond kid for years.
"Hey, Naruto. You came, huh?"
I smiled back. "Yeah."
He didn’t ask questions. He simply started working—broth, noodles, toppings, the practiced motions of someone who had done this thousands of times. When the bowl landed in front of me the steam rose in a thick, fragrant cloud. I picked up the chopsticks, took the first mouthful, and understood immediately why Naruto had spent so many evenings here.
It was good. Really good. Rich, balanced, the kind of warmth that settled into the stomach and made the rest of the day feel manageable. I finished the first bowl without talking and ordered a second. Teuchi only chuckled and started another.
I was halfway through the second when the curtain shifted behind me and another customer stepped in.
I turned.
Ino.
She looked exactly like she did in the later parts of the series—tall, confident, blonde hair in that high ponytail, the same sharp eyes that missed very little. She paused when she saw me.
"Naruto? You’re here, huh." Her gaze moved over the black jacket and white shirt. She tilted her head. "You look very different."
"Yeah," I said. "My clothes got torn. Bought new ones."
She studied me for another second, then slid onto the stool beside mine.
"You know... you look good like this."
The casual compliment landed harder than it should have. I gave a small smile and focused on the remaining noodles so I wouldn’t have to answer immediately. She ordered her usual, and for a while we simply sat there eating. Conversation stayed light—hospital release, the weather, nothing that required careful lies. At one point she mentioned Sakura.
"Oh, right. Sakura was looking for you. She said you never showed up after they let you out of the hospital."
"Okay," I answered. "I’ll meet her."
We talked a little longer. The light outside the shop slowly shifted from late afternoon to early evening. By the time we both finished and stepped back onto the street, the sky had started to darken.
I still had no idea where Naruto’s apartment was.
We walked without any particular destination. Ino seemed content to move at an easy pace beside me. The streets grew quieter as people headed home. After several turns I realised I was completely lost again. Then we passed a familiar-looking building—simple, slightly run-down, the kind of place a single genin could afford.
Ino glanced at it, then at me.
"You’re not going home, or what?"
I looked at the building. The recognition clicked into place a second later. Right. That was Naruto’s place.
"Yeah," I said, keeping my voice casual. "I forgot my house while talking to you."
She stared at me for a beat, then lightly slapped the back of my hand.
"Okay, stop saying sweet things." She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her mouth despite the words. "I’m going on ahead."
She walked past me without waiting for a reply, ponytail swaying, already heading toward her own part of the village. I watched her go until she turned a corner and disappeared.
The system window flared to life directly in front of my eyes.
[Quest 3/100: Make Ino Submit to you]
I stared at the glowing text. The same blue, the same clinical font, the same complete lack of mercy.
"Not again," I said quietly to the empty street.
The timer for the new quest began its silent countdown somewhere behind the letters. I looked once more in the direction Ino had gone, then down at the black jacket and the carry bag still in my hand, and started talking to myself the way I always did when the next impossible demand settled onto my shoulders.
The village lights flickered on one by one around me.
Ninety-seven more after this.
I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and began walking toward the apartment that was supposed to be mine, the new quest already burning at the edge of my vision.
Give me power!!!