---Ryouma's POV---
It was Year 38, and this year, I was about to turn five years old.
Today's was weather was particularly pleasant. Through my window, I watched children playing ninja in the streets, their laughter carrying on the breeze.
It seemed the Kiri battlefield had turned in Konoha's favor.
Outside, I could hear villagers chatting loudly with each other, wearing noticeably more smiles than they had last winter.
"The war seems to be nearing its end, at least on the Land of Water's side."
"All thanks to the Sandaime!"
The villagers of Konoha harbored hopes for a peaceful future, thinking this way.
But could a war really end so easily?
As a someone with knowledge of most of storyline, I knew the war wouldn't end; on the contrary, it was about to enter its most brutal and intense phase.
But I had to admit that I'd skipped what I assumed were fillers—who would've thought I'd end up actually living in the Naruto world?
Those 'boring' episodes might have been useful now... Still, I knew enough to be certain of one thing: the worst was yet to come.
Even Kage would lose their lives in this prolonged war.
As for my own life, I wasn't overly concerned. After all, as a reincarnator, I had my own system.
Moreover, turning five was a crucial time for my system.
Although, the system was... well, to call it simple would be an understatement.
[Name: Aotsuki Ryouma]
[Skills: Chakra Molding]
[Wish Rewards: None]
[Mail: No New Messages]
That was it. As one could see, the system followed a minimalist style.
In my previous life, I had enjoyed minimalism, but when it came to my future, I would have much rather had a system packed with useful features.
Preferably with a system assistant or mascot. Maybe a black-haired beauty or a white-haired girl with animal ears—that would have been ideal.
Don't judge me. I was a normal otaku.
Sadly, these fantasies hadn't come true. My system wasn't sentient and only had four functions.
---
Stats Panel: Nothing much to say here—it was self-explanatory. Just displayed current skills and abilities.
Wish Function: This one was more interesting. Each wish consumed a Wish Heart for a chance at a suitable skill or item. When the system first bound to me, it had gifted me one Wish Heart. However, the success rate of a single wish was pretty low—1%. At least it had a pity system—guaranteed success on the tenth try.
Daily Check-In: Pretty straightforward—open the panel, get a check-in. Do it for a year, get a Wish Heart. At least this one couldn't fail.
Mail Function: If you were thinking this sounded useless, you'd be mostly right. The system's idea of correspondence was apparently just sending "Happy Birthday" once a year. Still, it did come with a Wish Heart, so I couldn't complain too much.
---
So, this made turning five particularly important for me. After receiving this year's birthday gift, I could finally get my hard pity, just like my previous life's gacha games—always saving for pity.
When I had first reincarnated to this world, I had tried a single pull, hoping to get some ability to save my mother. The result had been predictable—the attempt was just a sacrifice to the gacha.
But the system, being oh-so-generous, decided to gift me with a booby prize for my first pull.
Want to know what I got? The system, in its infinite wisdom, decided that what I really needed was a vibrator.
Yes, really. A VIBRATOR!!
What was I supposed to do with that? Tell everyone it was some kind of ancient weapon?
Wind Release: Soothing Vibration Technique?
Lightning Style: Thousand Years of... actually, better not finish that one.
It seemed the only way to get something useful was to wait for the guaranteed draw.
"What ability will I get that's most suitable for me right now?" I wondered, eagerly anticipating my birthday.
---
These thoughts had kept me up late into the night, and when morning came with its gentle sunlight streaming through my window, I was already up and preparing breakfast.
In my past life, I barely cooked instant ramen. Now look at me, making breakfast like a pro, I thought wryly, carefully balancing on my small stool by the stove.
The sizzle of eggs filled the kitchen when I heard familiar sounds from the living room—the methodical clicking of metal against metal as my father sorted his equipment.
"Father, are you heading out on a new mission?"
Setting down the pan, I hopped off my stool and peeked out from the kitchen door.
"Yes, to Kiri," Father replied. Even in this simple task, his movements held the efficiency of an experienced shinobi. "In any case, the village still needs many tasks handled."
He paused his counting, looking up at me. "I'll leave tomorrow. If there's anything you need, you can go to the care center and find Nohara-san."
"Understood, Father," I said, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
Speaking of the care center, it was a place where children were looked after together to prevent unexpected incidents. Each caregiver was assigned specific children to care for.
And Nohara Misaki was responsible for me.
She was very warm-hearted. When her daughter had been just one year old, she had noticed the care center was understaffed and volunteered, saying, "I want Rin-chan to have some playmates."
When I had turned three, I was finally allowed to move freely between our home and the care center.
Not that the care center was a bad place—in fact, because it was run by experienced mothers, every caregiver was excellent at handling children.
But the caregivers were just too enthusiastic. When I said enthusiastic, I meant enthusiastic. Don't ask for details.
For someone like me, who retained memories of my previous life, it was overwhelming. The overly affectionate atmosphere made me feel out of place, especially when they got too physical.
It seemed I wasn't quite adept at enjoying this kind of care.
Still, it wasn't the caregivers' fault for being so enthusiastic. Truth be told, my appearance in this life was undeniably striking, combining all the best features of my parents.
Mother had been beautiful but had somewhat androgynous features, with sharp, intense eyes and golden curly hair that cascaded down her back. In modern terms, she had resembled a glamorous Hokkaido gyaru at first glance.
Father, on the other hand, had simple white cropped hair, meticulously groomed, giving him the vibe of a principled intellectual. If he had poor eyesight, wearing glasses might even have allowed him to cosplay as a stern detective.
As for me, who had inherited their superior genes, I had hair like Father's—white—but in the form of short, unruly curls that somehow carried an artistic flair.
Topping it off was a single stubborn lock of hair that always stood straight up no matter what I did, while my sharp, spirited facial features were a mirror image of Mother's.
And then there were my eyes—calm and crystal-clear blue.
I had originally wanted to grow out my hair like a Super Saiyan.
This was not because I was a DBZ fan, well, I was but this wasn't the point.
Besides, plenty of males in the shinobi world sported long hair. Even the First Hokage, Hashirama, had flowing black locks.
But this idea had been vetoed by my father.
At the time, he had been preparing for a mission. Hearing my thought, Father had paused briefly before replying with a quick, "I don't think long hair suits you, Ryouma," and then turned and left.
That had been his opinion.
I wasn't too attached to the idea anyway; growing out my hair was just a passing thought. Still, it had been rare for him to outright reject one of my requests.
In the past, he had always been indulgent, agreeing to almost every one of my asks, including teaching me how to mold chakra.
While other children of the same age were still playing make-believe ninja games, I had casually asked my father to teach me, and he surprisingly agreed.
Lucky!
That said, if even my doting father didn't think long hair would suit me, then perhaps it really wasn't the best idea.
And as long it was not like Saitama's "hair," short was quite good.
Misaki, however, had once remarked that she would love to see me with long hair. What a wicked woman—she probably saw me as a dress-up doll and wanted to drag me into the dark world of cross-dressing.
Thankfully, Father had thwarted her scheme, sparing me from the embarrassment of leaving behind such a black mark on my history.
After thinking about these past trivialities, I snapped back to reality and set the finished breakfast on the table, calling my father to eat.
"Father, I made the eggs the way you like them," I said, setting down the last plate.
He looked at the perfectly cooked eggs with a slight smile. "You're becoming quite the cook."
"Someone has to make sure you eat properly," I replied, hiding my pride at his praise.
Our family had been commoners for generations, so there were no strict dining rules like "no talking during meals," "no shitting on the table," and the likes, but the last part, even we followed the rule.
As we ate, I looked up slightly and started tentatively, "How long will you be away on this mission? Ah, I'm not prying into your mission details, just... never mind."
Was it hormones affecting my mental age? I groaned inwardly at my awkward delivery.
In my previous life, I had died "unexpectedly," but it wasn't a situation I could fully control. After all, humanity as a whole had come to an end, and I had spent my last moments without my family, so there were some regrets.
I didn't even have time to get back home...
Thus, in this new life, I had resolved to start fresh, facing my new existence with the mindset of a completely new person.
Even so, the awkwardness of stumbling over my words made my face flush red with embarrassment.
"You want me to be back before your birthday, right?"
As expected, he was sharp and immediately understood what I was fretting over. His eyes softened with understanding, reminding me of gentler times before Mother's death.
"Don't worry, I'll be back before then. In the meantime, look forward to your birthday gift, Ryouma."
"Mm, I will, Father!" I smiled, genuine warmth filling my chest.
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Item suggestions are welcomed.
Skill suggestions (either active or passive) would also be interesting too, even if some have negative effects.