Chương 3: Birthday gift

Half a month slipped by quietly. Dongye Zhen executed his cultivation and study plans with meticulous precision, only occasionally heading downstairs to wander through the village, taking in the sights to relax his mind. After all, checking in at famous landmarks and grabbing a bowl of the legendary Ichiraku Ramen was one of the simple pleasures of being in the Naruto world. Unfortunately, Ichiraku's ramen was just... okay.

It wasn't exactly the kind of "glowing cuisine" that caused clothes to explode or celestial light to shine from the bowl. Konoha remained as it always was: the civilians went about their daily lives, the shinobi tended to their duties, and there was no sense of impending crisis. At least for now, there were no visible sparks indicating the outbreak of another Great War. Zhen had almost no interaction with the other children in the village. It seemed like an abnormal childhood, but he didn't care.

In his previous life, his childhood had been perfectly fine; he had no psychological trauma that needed healing through "playtime." Having been given a second chance at life, he spent nearly every waking moment on self-improvement. One morning, Zhen woke early as usual for his training, followed by his scheduled study session. Since his mother, Hui, usually worked at the hospital until evening, she would prepare meals in the morning and leave them in the refrigerator. Zhen only needed to heat them up.

He had offered to cook for himself, but Hui insisted on doing it, claiming that he shouldn't "strip her of her joy as a mother." Zhen hadn't pushed the issue; it had been their routine for two years. However, today was different. After finishing his morning studies, Zhen opened the fridge for lunch only to find a single serving of food. The rest was just raw ingredients. Had his mother forgotten? As a Special Jonin medical ninja, it was highly unlikely she'd make such a mistake.

Zhen glanced at the calendar on the wall and quickly deduced the reason. Around seven in the evening, there was a sudden knock at the door. Zhen set down his scroll, stood up, and opened the door to find a tall man standing there. He had average features and black hair tied back in a mid-high ponytail. He carried a ninjato on his back and wore the standard green Konoha flak jacket, though it was covered in dust and grime from the road.

Upon seeing Zhen, the man's stern expression instantly melted into a bright, sunny grin. He flashed a thumbs-up, his white teeth practically sparkling in the light.

"Yo, kid! Happy? Surprised?" Zhen: "..."

"Hey, what's with that face?"

"Welcome home, Father."

"Don't give me that stiff look! Can't you act a little more excited? Give your old man some sense of achievement!"

"Like this?" Zhen thought about it seriously for a moment.

"Fine. If that's all you want, I can do that." SLAM. He shut the door right in his father's face. The man outside slapped his hand to his forehead with a long sigh before helplessly knocking again. When the door reopened, Zhen wore a look of wide-eyed, innocent surprise.

"Father! You're back!"

"The sense of achievement is officially gone, hey..." Dongye Jirō said expressionlessly before dropping a light fist onto Zhen's head.

"What an un-cute son."

"What a difficult father." Jirō wasn't surprised by the retort; he seemed used to it. He walked straight into the house, asking curiously, "Zhen, did you know I was coming back today?"

"Mhm, pretty much."

"Did Mom tell you?"

"She didn't. I guessed." Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"Oh? And what was your reasoning?"

"First, today is March 25th. Second, based on the pattern of your mission durations over the past year, it was highly probable you'd arrive today."

"Sharp as ever, Zhen!" Jirō looked at his son with genuine pride, then a thought struck him.

"Did you also guess what kind of mission I was on?"

"Likely."

"My, my... you really exceed my expectations." Jirō ruffled Zhen's hair happily.

"Well, I'm going to go wash up. Your mother should be home soon." Watching the young man head toward the bathroom, a small smile played at the corner of Zhen's mouth. This was his biological father in this world, Dongye Jirō. As for the mission, Zhen truly did have a good idea: it was almost certainly border patrol. Aside from Anbu, a regular shinobi's village-based tasks were like a standard office job—no need to leave home. Client-based requests from outside the village had no set schedule.

Only border rotations had standardized timeframes. While a full-scale war hadn't broken out yet, the borders were far from safe. Combining his knowledge from his past life with what he'd gathered here, Zhen knew the Second and Third Ninja Wars were essentially linked. The "peace" in between was rife with border skirmishes. Both his parents had confirmed as much. Aside from the Hidden Mist, the Leaf, Sand, Stone, and Cloud villages all maintained significant troop concentrations at their borders.

They were just waiting for a catalyst—for someone to "consecrate the flag" with their blood. I'm looking at you, Third Kazekage, Zhen thought. And the backbone of these border rotations consisted primarily of "civilian-born" shinobi like his father. When Dongye Hui returned home, she was carrying several large boxes. Soon, the table was laden with food and a birthday cake. The lights were dimmed, and candles were lit. After Zhen made his wish and blew them out, the lights flickered back on.

"Zhen, Happy Birthday!"

"Thank you. Thank you both, Father, Mother." Today was Dongye Zhen's fourth birthday. Looking at his young parents, he felt a deep sense of warmth. His soul was forty years old; he was long past the age of hot-blooded heroism. He had little interest in "saving the world" or preventing every tragedy from the original story—nor did he think he had the power to do so. But this family, whole and happy, was his harbor in this world. It was something he had to protect.

This was why his thanks were sincere, without his usual cheekiness. Jirō took a sip of sake and sighed.

"Our Zhen is perfect in every way, he's just too precocious for his own good. He doesn't even have any friends. He turns four and doesn't have a single kid his age here to celebrate." Hui nodded in agreement.

"He probably thinks other kids are too childish. After all, he refused to even attend preschool."

"I'll make friends eventually. Once I'm in the Academy," Zhen offered. Konoha had preschools—essentially kindergartens—mainly for civilian families where both parents worked. Many children from smaller clans like the Yamanaka or Nara also attended. For major clans like the Uchiha or Hyuga, early education happened within the clan compound. These preschools usually started at age three and served as a screening process for the Academy.

If a child spent six years in school without even being able to refine Chakra, it was a waste of both their time and the village's resources.

"Zhen, this is my gift to you!" Hui pulled out a brand-new leg-strap tool pouch.

"Thanks, Mom!" Zhen accepted it gladly. He already had two pouches, but they were the waist-mounted variety.

"And here's mine." Jirō handed over a short sword. Zhen drew it to inspect it. It was a straight, pitch-black blade, similar in style to an Anbu tantō. Unlike the Cloud shinobi, the Leaf didn't have many users of long katanas, aside from clans like the Gekkō. The length was perfect for his age, but there was one issue: it was a wooden sword. Even though it felt heavy and the grain looked dense—unlikely to break easily—it was still wood. Zhen looked at his father with a deadpan expression.

"What? Something you don't like, kid? That's made from Black Ironwood from the Land of Iron. It's incredibly hard and perfect for practice. Did you want a real blade? That's too dangerous for you right now."

"Dad's right," Hui added.

"It's too early for a real sword."

"No, I'm very satisfied. Thank you, Father," Zhen said before continuing, "But what I really want to say is... it's time you taught me how to refine Chakra." The family study had many books, but they were all basic theory and history. There were no manuals for Chakra refinement or Jutsu scrolls. Attempting to refine Chakra or practice Jutsu without guidance was extremely dangerous, and his parents had clearly anticipated this by locking those materials away. The couple looked at each other.

They had originally planned to wait another year. But considering their son's maturity—and remembering that genius from a few years ago who graduated at five and became a Chunin at six—they finally made a decision. Jirō nodded seriously.

"Very well." Zhen felt a surge of excitement. Yes! Finally, the most important step of my shinobi career begins. Then his father handed him a key.

"On one condition: you have to find where I hid the scrolls first." Zhen: "..." Well, since that was the case... he might as well finish dinner first.