There was one disguise—one transformation—that I could use flawlessly. It was so flawless that I reckoned only true masters of disguise could recognise it.

Over the years, the disguise ended up becoming my go-to, changing a little from its original form to fit the new circumstance I’d found myself in a decade ago now. I even had a dedicated outfit for it: a black long-sleeve and dark blue cargo pants. The shoes were simple trainers, flat-footed, and had no particular logo—though I did find myself missing the old Nike tick sometimes.

August was rolling in and the overwhelmingly blistering heat had eased off these last few weeks. I looked out of my bedroom window, sticking a hand out of it to decide whether I needed to put something over my shirt.

“I guess not,” I muttered, walking over to the tall mirror attached to the left door of my wardrobe.

The person looking back at me was noticeably taller than I normally was, standing at five-foot-eleven. My skin was slightly tanned—the kind of tan you’d get from long years out in the sun—and I was sporting black hair and brown eyes, though my hairstyle was the same as my real form.

Initially, I decided to grow my hair out to screw with the villagers. Have them make the connection between me and my father and then seethe at the idea I could look anything like the Fourth—the man whose death I was supposedly responsible for. At some point though, I decided to tie the back of my admittedly wild hair into a small ponytail.

Mostly because I hated how it felt when I got sweaty and it stuck to my nape, but I couldn’t cut it because I enjoyed annoying the villagers too much. And so a compromise had to be made. The hairstyle was a part of me now, and when I thought of myself, it was the first thing that came to mind.

My whiskers were completely gone and on the whole, my face looked a little boyish. Precise age details were finicky to get down and I didn’t trust my skills enough to age myself up too much so I was hovering in that weird range between 16 and 20.

Iruka-sensei had finally seen fit to teach us the Transformation Jutsu’s voice modulation component a few months ago and I’d been using the transformation ever since to do everything. And I do mean everything because if nothing else, it was a useful exercise in chakra manipulation.

“Good to see you again, old chap,” I snorted, speaking English for the first time in a while.

Learning (or was it re-learning?) to speak English was a lot harder than I thought and getting down my once-native southern accent was even more difficult. I’d learned Japanese first, so I had to spend months teaching my tongue to speak differently than it had been doing for years. The writing and reading were the easy parts.

I’d decided to do those the minute I could but put speaking off because I thought I’d be able to slip back into it instantly.

To this day, I wondered what the hell I was thinking. Moments like those reminded me I was still a child in both body and mind. My life experience might’ve been the grand sum of twenty-two, but the brain was as much a part of the body as anything else—and said body was ten years old.

That said, my disguise wasn’t a one-to-one version of who I was before my rebirth. I’d been Naruto for over a decade and felt as much like him as I did myself and it showed in the disguise. Everything above the face was still the same shape, though my nose, jaw, and lips were all from my past life. Ultimately, it was a useless thing, but I wanted to make my disguise the perfect blend of who I was and who I used to be.

Cracking a grin, I left my apartment and pulled out my palm-sized notepad where I’d scribbled down a list of things I needed to buy for next week. I had my training with Asuma in four hours. His change to Sunday was unexpected, but thankfully my shift at Ichiraku’s was a morning one on Sundays, leaving me with the rest of the day free.

All in all, shopping would take around an hour and a half—maybe two—giving me time to heat my lunch and another two hours to digest it before training.

My shopping list would take me from the southern side of the village to the east—to the merchants’ gate, where all the merchants and businesses entered. It was also where the high-end shops and restaurants were, like Yakiniku-Q and a few others. Like the famous chain supermarket brand in all the main hidden villages: Ninja-Mart.

There were two other gates, the north and the west. The former was for visitors—anywhere from foreign ninja to people coming on day trips from neighbouring towns. All of them passed through the northern gate. It was the second biggest gate out of the three, the first being the merchants’ one on the east side.

The western gate was shinobi-only. It was frequented by people going and returning from missions and was right next to one of the T&I offices dedicated to receiving prisoners. When I became a genin, it was the gate I’d be using to go on missions with my team, and it was active 24/7.

Returning my attention to the shopping list, I decided I’d work by proximity, so whatever neat order I was thinking when I wrote this went right out of the window. Luckily, the park Asuma and I trained at was also on the east side of the village.

Which meant I could splurge on some fancy food!

That alone was a mood booster, accelerating my stroll to a brisk walk as I made a stop at my first shop.

“Mr Totsugi, it’s been too long!”

I smiled at the owner of the secondhand clothes store. It was mostly a family-run business where the community dumped unwanted clothes. The salvageable ones were repaired and everything else was dumped, meaning the quality was a steal—especially considering the price.

“How are you, Mr Sanada?” I said, walking over and shaking the man’s hand.

I couldn’t help it. Being in my body, using my first voice (or whatever I could remember of it) made me want to try and become the person I used to be in the little ways. Of course, that garnered weird looks from my unfortunate victims, but given that they hated the real me, I didn’t care much.

The usuals had long since accepted it now and were actively reciprocating my weird and supposedly foreign habits. Maybe they were carrying them over to their own lives, spreading handshake greetings everywhere.

I chuckled at the mental image.

“How’s your son?” asked the shopkeeper, his old face stretching into a smile. “I had no idea what I was doing when I was your age. My daughter ran circles around me and without my wife, she would’ve had me wrapped around my finger before she turned ten! I don’t know how you do it alone.”

I never had children in my last life—died too young—but people had children younger here. It wasn’t rare to see twenty-year-old married couples with toddlers, especially since the village had been incentivising people to do so through various welfare policies.

“With lots of patience, sir. Lots of patience.” We shared a hearty laugh. “It helps that he was already five when I adopted him. I don’t suppose you have any everyday wear for ten-year-old boys, do you? Don’t worry if they’re out of style. He doesn’t care much about fashion. I don't even mind if they're a bit oversized because he’ll grow into them.”

Mr Sanada pointed a finger at me and bounced on his feet. “In that case, I have just the thing for you. How many outfits will you need?”

I rubbed my chin. “Shorts are out since the weather will only get colder. Let me get… three short-sleeves, one long-sleeve—he has enough of those already—and two pairs of trousers.”

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“I have some jeans around 140 centimetres.”

“Perfect. Two jeans then.”

Mr Sanada slid his glasses up his face. “And the other two?”

“You know what?” I smiled. “Surprise me.”

I walked out of the building with a couple more items than I’d intended to buy but was satisfied with all of them. Mr Sanada had even thrown in a free belt when I mentioned my supposed son’s trousers size was 135 cm instead of 140 cm.

It was kind of sad, really.

No matter how many times I did it, I’d never stop feeling the jarring shock of… not being Naruto Uzumaki. Mr Sanada, who I’d learned was an insanely kind man, had run me out of his shop a few years ago—did that still make him a good man?

Hell, the way people looked at me was different, let alone how they treated me. It was the same with all the other shops. Hideo the butcher tossed in an extra chicken breast because he knew I had a growing son. Instead of refusing to serve me, the carpenter’s family brought me a cup of tea while I sorted out an order after realising the table and chairs my place had come with had run their course.

None of this was new to me, having been going about in this disguise for a few months now, but it was always sobering to see. An hour later, I was down to the last place on my list, mildly hungry, and eager to have lunch.

I looked up at the massive red sign. A shuriken separated the two words, acting as the shop’s logo. “Ninja-Mart, here I come.”

Adjusting my grip over the shop trolley, I slotted in a coin and steered it away.

“U-Um… excuse me, sir?”

A relatively young woman stood behind me. The first thing I noticed were her clothes—a rough patchwork kimono and wooden sandals. She was carrying a backpack, but it only had one shoulder strap that was digging painfully into her shoulder.

She had straight, dark brown hair and almond-shaped eyes. Her skin was incredibly pale—so much so that, if I looked carefully, I could see her greenish veins standing out against her skin. Either she was a really youthful-looking adult or a teenager, standing at around five feet tall.

I was a little surprised because people from the poorer north-west of the village didn’t come to the Leaf’s east side often.

“Can I help you?” I gave her a disarming smile but it only seemed to make her more nervous. “Why’d you call me, sir? I’m not that old am I?”

“O-Oh, no!” She waved her hands in front of her face. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

I chuckled. “It’s my fault. I went for a joke that didn’t land. What can I help you with?”

“I’m Rukia. Just Rukia—I have no last name, you see.” She bowed proper and deep, her long hair hovering over the ground. “I arrived just today from a small village. My father sent me here to restock.” Rukia pulled out a withered scrap of paper from her kimono. “The tools we use are beyond repair. Do you know where… this shop is?”

I leaned over her shoulder, staring at the hastily scribbled name of a smithy on the west side of the village. I knew of it because it was where I bought and maintained all of my weapons. Asuma recommended it to me after our training one day because the wares were cheaper for their quality compared to some other shops. They weren’t limited to just shinobi weapons and did all-purpose tools like axes, hoes, sickles, and whatnot.

“I do,” I replied. “But you’re going to have to wait for me to do my shopping. I’m Totsugi, by the way—no last name either.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Totsugi.” She bowed again. “And that’s fine. I’ll accompany you if needed.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Just wait out here.”

“Since you agreed to help me, it’s only fair I help you as well.”

Seeing that I wouldn’t be able to convince her to stay, I let her come with me. To my surprise, she could read—which wasn’t a given for people who lived in the village’s poorer areas; school cost money here unless your child entered the Ninja Academy. I supposed I was being too judgemental—being poor didn’t instantly eliminate someone’s literacy chances.

Because of Rukia, we were in and out in no time. She immediately sussed out aisles with just a glance and found the items I needed faster than me—and yet, since she was from a small village, she probably hadn’t ever stepped foot in a Ninja-Mart before. Once I’d paid for my groceries, I shrugged off the mostly empty backpack I’d been carrying around and started filling it up.

“Right!” I grunted and slung the back across my back. “I dunno about you, but I’m starving. You were a huge help today so how about I treat you to your first taste of Leaf Village cuisine?”

Rukia frowned up at me with her lips slightly downturned like she couldn't quite make up her mind. “...Are you sure?”

“I am the one offering. Besides, I’m starving and I’ve only been running errands for a few hours. You’ve probably been out and about longer than I have. Aren’t you hungry?”

“That’s very kind of you, but I think I’m alright—” She was cut off by a low gurgle, flushing down to her neck. I raised my eyebrow and she looked away. “...Thank you, Totsugi—some food would be nice.”

And so that’s how I ended up trying Yakiniku-Q for the first time.

It was heavy on the wallet, but Lord Third’s stipend saved the day. The old man probably wouldn’t like me blowing a decent amount on fine dining, but Mr Teuchi would make up the loss at the end of the month. If things got bad—which I didn’t think they would—I’d just eat Ichiraku Ramen all the time.

It wasn’t exactly healthy, but I wasn’t going to run out of food options any time soon.

I popped a beef slice into my mouth, smiling at how it numbed my tongue. “This is worth the price.”

“...How much did you pay for all this?” asked Rukia while she fried the cuts.

Every time I’d try to help out, she’d slap my hand away and glare so I simply gave up after the third go.

I stuck another slice into my mouth, skillfully dodging the question for a little while.

Rukia flipped over the slices and frowned. “Totsugi.”

“...9,500 ryo.” Her frown deepened, making me wince. “Before you say anything, I intended to eat something expensive today regardless. I’m not in the east side often so I thought I’d splurge a little.”

“Even then, did you have to invite me?” Rukia huffed. “It was kind, but I don’t want you to suffer later on because of me.”

“Eh, I won’t suffer.” I picked up the tongs she’d discarded a few minutes ago and placed new cuts on the grill. “I get paid in a few weeks and have quite a bit of money saved up. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have offered, so no more complaining.”

She looked like she wanted to contest that but sighed in the end. “If you say so.”

I learned a bit more about Rukia as the meal went on. She was adopted by a widower who found her abandoned at the site of a robbery gone wrong. A bandit crew had slaughtered her parents, who were travelling through the Land of Fire as merchants. Her adoptive father found her hours later, and seeing the tragedy she was born into, took her in to give her a better life.

I shared a little bit about myself so that it wasn’t one-sided. After she revealed something as heavy as that, I felt like I’d pried a little.

“You have a son?” Rukia’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “But… aren’t you my age?”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

I laughed, using the little time I had to figure out a believable explanation. “I’m nineteen and yes, I have a son—legally speaking, anyway. I ended up adopting him when I was fifteen.”

“...I see.”

“We also look nothing alike. He’s got blond hair and blue eyes.”

“I wonder how you explain your relationship to people,” she smiled. “What’s his name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s Naruto.”

She laughed. “As in the ramen topping?”

“As in maelstrom.” I shook my head at her laughter. “Though he is a huge ramen fan.”

We kept ordering beef until we’d had our fill. Yakiniku-Q charged a flat amount and let you eat as much as you wanted, within reason anyway. I had to explain that to my new friend because she set down her chopsticks after four beef slices and told me she was full. Even then, I needed the expertise of one of the waiters to set her mind at peace before she could really cut loose.

For someone so small, she ate a disturbing amount and I found myself thanking God it was an all-you-can-eat place.

“You know,” said Rukia, as we walked out of the restaurant, “you’re a good person, Totsugi.”

“Thank you, but I’m selfish too. Buying you a meal was convenient for me as well.” I explained. “If I didn’t, I’d have to take you all the way to the blacksmith’s only to cross the village after that to eat my lunch.”

“...And now you’ve ruined the moment.”

I snorted and continued to walk. We could’ve taken a carriage, but I’d eaten a little too much beef. If I took a carriage, I’d either end up in a food coma… or throw it all up later. Asuma was a fan of making me do egregiously active warm-ups so it was a real possibility. When we arrived, I was significantly less full.

“There’s your blacksmith,” I said, pointing at a building on the high street. “Your dad has a good eye for quality. They’re pretty cheap with prices, so you’ll be getting your money’s worth.”

“Thank you, Totsugi.” Rukia bowed and walked away.

I raised a hand in farewell when she turned around before making my way back home. I only had an hour left before my training so I had to hurry.

Making sure there was no one in sight, I dived into an alleyway and climbed to the roof, taking off.