The city lights flickered outside the window, the soft hum of an anime playing in the background. Souta Kiryuu stretched his arms, cracking his stiff joints, as he leaned back into his chair. A massive bowl of instant ramen sat half-eaten beside him, steam still rising lazily into the air.
"Man… classic Naruto never gets old," he muttered to himself, watching as the screen displayed an intense battle scene. "But seriously, why is Minato so lucky? Kushina is a ten out of ten!"
Souta let out a sigh of admiration before stuffing another bite of ramen into his mouth. His room was messy, filled with manga, gaming consoles, and a stack of empty energy drink cans. His phone buzzed with a new notification, but he ignored it, too immersed in the anime.
Then, suddenly—
Darkness.
A strange dizziness overtook him, as if gravity itself had twisted. The world around him spun violently, and his body felt like it was being pulled into a void. His vision blurred, a deep pressure building in his chest.
"W-What the hell?!" Souta barely had time to curse before everything faded into nothingness.
—
The stench of damp wood and rotting straw filled Souta Kiryuu's nose as he groggily opened his eyes. His head throbbed, and his body ached like he had been hit by a truck. The cold seeped into his bones, and the rough texture of a thin, ragged futon barely cushioned him from the hard wooden floor beneath.
"Ugh… where the hell am I?" Souta muttered, his voice hoarse.
He blinked, his vision adjusting to the dim light filtering through the cracks of an old, worn-out door. The room was small, almost claustrophobic, with walls made of aged wood that looked like they could crumble at any moment. A weak breeze slipped through the gaps, carrying the distant sounds of a bustling village.
Then it hit him—this wasn't his room.
Panic surged through him as he forced himself upright, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to pull him back down. He looked down at his hands, rough and calloused, not his own. His clothes were different too—faded, patched-up fabric wrapped around his lean frame, barely offering any warmth.
A cracked mirror sat in the corner of the room. Dragging himself toward it, he peered into the reflection, his breath hitching.
This wasn't his face.
The man staring back at him was average. Not ugly, but not remarkable either. Dark brown hair, slightly messy. Brown eyes that looked tired and lifeless. He was just… a guy.
"What the hell is going on?"
Before he could spiral into panic, a cold, robotic voice echoed in his mind.
[Transmigration Complete.]
[Welcome to the System.]
[Primary Function: Enhanced Handsomeness.]
Souta froze. "...What?"
The system didn't respond.
He waited. Nothing. No second message. No overpowered abilities. No cheat skills. Just… enhanced handsomeness?
"What kind of dumbass ability is that?" he muttered, rubbing his temples. "I don't need to be handsome, I need chakra! Strength! Something useful!"
But the system remained silent.
A loud knock on the door nearly made him jump.
"Oi! Rent's due, you lazy bum!" an angry voice shouted from the other side. "If you don't have the money by tomorrow, you're out!"
Souta swallowed hard.
It wasn't just that he had transmigrated into some random nobody—he was broke too.
As the footsteps faded away.
Souta rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Transmigration? A system? This had to be a dream. It had to be.
His stomach churned as he scanned the small, run-down room again. The cracked walls, the stiff, uncomfortable futon, the old wooden dresser—everything screamed poverty. But it wasn't just the setting that unsettled him. It was the way the air felt. Something about it was… off.
Dragging himself to his feet, he stumbled toward the window and pushed open the flimsy shutters.
The sight outside nearly made his heart stop.
People walked along the streets below, dressed in traditional-style clothing, with the occasional flak jacket mixed in. The buildings were a blend of wood and stone, their curved rooftops giving the village a distinct, old-world aesthetic. In the distance, past the tightly packed buildings, he spotted something unmistakable—
A massive mountain, with enormous faces carved into its surface.
Souta's breath hitched. His hands gripped the window frame as he stared, wide-eyed, at the monument looming over the village.
"…No way."
There was no mistaking it. He had seen those faces a thousand times before—Hokage Rock.
That meant…
He wasn't just in some random fantasy world. He was in Naruto.
His knees nearly gave out.
"Holy shit."
Memories of the series flooded his mind. Shinobi, bloodline limits, the Akatsuki, tailed beasts—this world was dangerous beyond belief. And he wasn't some protagonist with a golden finger. He wasn't a Uchiha, a Senju, or even some forgotten genius.
He was just… some guy.
Then, as if mocking him, the system finally spoke again.
[Enhanced Handsomeness Activated.]
Souta barely had time to process that before a strange sensation washed over him. It was subtle—his skin tingled, his body felt… lighter? As he turned back to the cracked mirror, his reflection seemed to shift ever so slightly. His hair looked neater, his features more refined. His eyes, once dull, now had a sharper, almost magnetic quality to them.
It wasn't anything dramatic—he hadn't transformed into some impossibly perfect supermodel. But there was a definite change. He looked… better.
"…Are you serious?" he muttered.
No chakra. No insane abilities. Just… this?
Souta exhaled, rubbing his face. Alright, think. He was in Konoha. He had no money. No strength. No connections.
But he had a system.
And right now, that system was telling him that the only thing he had going for him… was his face.
"…Well. Guess I'll have to make it work."