“I told you from the beginning—this child isn’t cut out to be a shinobi.”

  In a remote corner of Konoha Vilge, a soft-spoken woman sat inside a modest house, her face creased with worry and helplessness.

  Across from her, a stern-looking middle-aged man with a jagged scar across his chin sat in heavy silence before finally murmuring, “I’m sorry... I didn’t expect this either.”

  “I thought he was just a little physically weak. I never imagined it would be this bad… But he’s still family—there’s no reason he shouldn’t become a shinobi.”

  Despite his imposing appearance, the man’s voice carried a hint of cowardice as he tried to expin himself to the woman.

  But the woman’s frustration fred, her tone rising as she interrupted.

  “If he keeps going like this, he’s going to die out there!”

  The man’s face twisted with guilt, and he sighed deeply. “I’ll try again. See if I can trade for a couple decent jutsu... maybe boost his strength a little...”

  Not far away, in a smaller room, Kaya Shihōin shook his head as he listened to the muffled sounds of his parents arguing.

  “What a damn tragedy...”

  To be fair, Kaya wasn’t even from this world.

  Five years ago, on a random night, he had inexplicably transmigrated into the body of an infant named Kaya Shihōin, nding square in the world of Naruto. He’d spent the past five years living here.

  At first, Kaya had been excited. This world was overflowing with the kind of supernatural power his previous life could never touch—ninjutsu, taijutsu, genjutsu... It was every anime fan’s dream. With knowledge of future events, he fantasized about rising through the shinobi ranks, turning the tide of history, and standing atop the ninja world.

  Compared to the dull grind of his past life, this kind of thrilling existence felt far more appealing.

  But it didn’t take long for harsh reality to hit him like a Rasengan to the gut.

  He might not even live to see adulthood.

  His parents’ argument wasn’t wrong—this body’s talent was, to put it kindly, absolute garbage. And not the “he just needs a little more time” kind of garbage. We’re talking deep-in-the-dumpster, hopeless kind.

  Normally, if at least one parent was a ninja, the child would inherit some measure of aptitude.

  But Kaya? A walking anomaly. His talent was so abysmal even he couldn’t bear to watch. He’d started practicing taijutsu on his own from a very young age, but to this day, he still couldn’t beat most kids his age. Meanwhile, te bloomers were starting to catch up, and the gap was only getting worse.

  At this rate, if he was lucky, maybe—just maybe—he’d hit Genin level by the time he turned sixteen.

  And what could that accomplish?

  If everything went according to canon, the Second Great Ninja War would erupt well before then. By that time, if Kaya wasn’t even Genin-level, he wouldn’t even qualify as cannon fodder. He’d be the warm-up kill.

  And to make things worse, his cn was a dead end.

  The Shihōin cn might have called itself a family, but the entire cn could fit around a dinner table. Four or five people total. Other than his father, an elite Chūnin, the rest were barely Chūnin-level at best.

  Resources? Almost nonexistent. Training materials? Incredibly scarce. Life was a daily grind just to scrape by.

  And as for jutsu? The Shihōin cn specialized in Earth Release. Everything they had was earth-style.

  Kaya, of course, had to be the bck sheep—his chakra nature was fire.

  That alone had driven his parents to the brink of despair. In the ninja world, jutsu weren’t just shared willy-nilly. Unless it was passed from parent to child or master to student, it was nearly impossible to get your hands on another cn’s techniques.

  Otherwise, everyone would be running around with a thousand jutsu, and chaos would reign.

  If you wanted new jutsu, the most legitimate way was to earn them through battlefield merit.

  Easier said than done.

  So yeah, no wonder Kaya’s parents were worried. He had no talent, his cn couldn’t support him, and his elemental affinity was completely at odds with their heritage.

  It was like he was born to die early.

  Sure, technically the First Hokage was still alive and the world was retively peaceful… but “peace” was a lie for anyone who’d actually been paying attention.

  What kind of missions did shinobi take on? Protection, assassination, espionage—the usual. Conflict was inevitable. Unless ninja stopped being a thing, true peace was a pipe dream. Maybe there wouldn’t be any rge-scale wars for a while, but the small battles never really stopped.

  Madara wasn’t wrong to think the First’s peaceful methods would ultimately fail.

  Compared to his parents’ anxiety, Kaya’s own worry ran far deeper.

  “They’re worried I might die? Man, I know I’m gonna die…”

  He already knew there would be three Great Ninja Wars. How could he not?

  With his current talent and strength, making it through even one was a nightmare—let alone all three.

  “Ugh…”

  He colpsed back on his bed, striking a dramatic “I’m just a salted fish” pose. This transmigration thing? Total scam.

  But just as he was spiraling further into despair, his parents’ voices called out from the next room.

  “Kaya! Come here for a second!”

  “Coming!”

  A moment ter, his father stood tall and solemn, holding out a pouch. “There’s a hundred thousand ryō in here. Take it to the Nara Cn—it’s the payment we owe them for st month’s medicinal supplies. Guard it well.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Good. Off you go.”

  Though his tone was serious, his father wasn’t actually that worried.

  Kaya might’ve been only five, but he was mature and dependable—definitely not the type to drop money or run into trouble. Back in the Warring States period, five-year-olds were already being sent into battle.

  And more importantly, this was Konoha. The heart of the Hidden Leaf. Losing something here? That’d be harder than an S-rank mission. The pce was crawling with elite shinobi, trackers, interrogators—plenty of people ready to hand out a lesson if needed.

  But just as Kaya reached for the pouch, he froze.

  “…Kaya? What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, uh, nothing.”

  He turned and walked out the door, face calm, but his eyes shining with excitement.

  Because just now, he’d heard a voice—clear and distinct, echoing in his mind.

  “Welcome, dear host. The Pay-to-Win System has now been activated. Enjoy your experience.”

  “…Pay-to-Win? Seriously?”

  The name alone gave Kaya war fshbacks.

  Once outside, he focused inward, diving into his mental space where the so-called system had manifested.

  But instead of asking about features or origins, he immediately locked eyes with the cat-shaped mascot of the system and snapped, “What was the trigger for activation?”

  “Meow~ Activation condition met upon host first possessing more than 100,000 ryō in cash!”

  The system’s fat-lucky-cat avatar gave a cutesy spin and a wink.

  Kaya, on the other hand, wanted to punch it square in its smug little whiskers.

  “Scam... This is an absolute scam…”

  He’d read plenty of novels in his past life—he knew the drill. Some systems were straight-up malicious. No tutorials, no instructions. Some didn’t even unlock properly until the host was old and dying.

  And his system? Not much better. If he hadn’t randomly touched that amount of money today, he might’ve died in battle without ever unlocking it.

  Tears welled up in his heart.

  “Are all systems this garbage these days? No user manual, no warnings… One star review. Absolute trash.”

  <><><><><>

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