Uchiha Tatsumi glared at the system panel with barely restrained frustration.
"This is garbage. My only level 2 stats are Physique, Chakra, Shurikenjutsu, and Hand Seals. That just puts me at the bare minimum for an Academy student. Everything else is at level 0."
"System, stop hiding my true strength. I swear I could take on a genin with one hand."
> "Host, this is your true strength."
Tatsumi's face twisted.
He took a breath and quickly digested the system's layout. It displayed thirteen different attribute indicators, covering nearly every fundamental measurement of a ninja's abilities—Chakra Control, Physique, Ninjutsu, Genjutsu, Hand Seals, and elemental affinities like Fire, Wind, Lightning, Water, and Earth.
In the five years since his transmigration, Tatsumi had only been able to train in the basics: chakra extraction, shuriken practice, physical conditioning, and hand seals. After all, he was still just a child.
But with an adult's mind, he trained more methodically than most kids.
Two years of consistent effort had gotten him to the average level of a student preparing to enter the Ninja Academy. Compared to others his age, he was decent—maybe even ahead—but still unremarkable in the eyes of the higher-ups.
The problem was simple: he had no mentor.
Kakashi Hatake graduated at five and became a chūnin at six—not just due to his talent, but because he had guidance from none other than his father, Sakumo, the White Fang of Konoha. In the ninja world, mentorship meant everything.
The difference between being taught and fumbling through scrolls on your own? Night and day.
The Uchiha clan, known for producing prodigies like Itachi and Shisui, often nurtured its children. But Tatsumi had always been... on the outside.
Perhaps it was because his father, Uchiha Kagami, had been one of the Second Hokage's disciples—a man who, like Shisui, looked beyond clan politics. People like that weren't often embraced by the conservative Uchiha elders.
So Tatsumi had spent these past years studying the basic scrolls Kagami had left behind.
But honestly? They were beginner-level at best.
Hardly the legacy of a genius. He wasn't receiving personal instruction like the future elite. Among the clan's true heirs, he was just another forgettable kid.
That didn't sit right with him.
He was supposed to be Uchiha Shisui's father. Wasn't talent supposed to be hereditary?
Did he get transmigrated with the wrong genetic download? Did the system use up all its budget on world transfer and forget to install the actual cheat?
"This can't be it..." Tatsumi muttered bitterly. "I won't be remembered as 'Oh, you mean that guy—Shisui's dad?'"
That was too tragic.
If he wanted to change anything, he had to stand out at the Academy. And if he wanted to be assigned a strong jōnin instructor upon graduation—someone like Might Guy, Asuma Sarutobi, or even a member of the ANBU—he needed to be exceptional.
In Konoha, only two kinds of people received investment: the ones destined to be its future... and the ones sent out first to die.
Tatsumi had no intention of being cannon fodder in the looming Second Shinobi World War.
Luckily, he'd discovered the system rewarded him with Ninja Points for effort. Training his body, practicing throwing, studying ninjutsu theory—it all contributed, even if only incrementally.
Now he had 2000 points.
"Alright... let's allocate these points—wait, what?"
He blinked.
His Ninja Points read: 0.
"…huh?"
He stared harder.
"System, what's going on?!"
> "Host, what is the issue?"
"My Ninja Points are gone!"
> "2000 Ninja Points were consumed to unlock the system panel."
Tatsumi gritted his teeth audibly. "TWO THOUSAND?! Just to unlock the panel?!"
> "Correct. Congratulations, Host. You've answered correctly. +1 Ninja Point."
Tatsumi nearly flipped his futon.
But he wasn't done.
"System, is there at least a newbie gift pack or something?!"
> "Yes."
"THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY THAT EARLIER?!"
> "You didn't ask."
Tatsumi swore that if he ever became strong enough, he would eject this system straight into the Kamui dimension.
> "Host has completed the novice mission. Newbie Gift Pack unlocked."
"Oh, finally some good news." Tatsumi took a deep breath. "Let's go... give me something good—maybe Mokuton, a Sharingan upgrade, or some rare chakra nature—"
The gift pack icon popped up with a caption: "Hit me! Come on, hit me!"
Tatsumi growled. "Gladly." He mentally clicked it.
> "Newbie Gift Pack opened. Congratulations, Host. You've received: 1888 Points Rebate Coupon."
Tatsumi stared in silence.
"…So you took my 2000 points... and gave me back a coupon worth 1888?"
> "Host should thank the system's generosity."
"THANK YOU?! You mugged me and gave me back pocket change!"
Still, he used the rebate coupon to reclaim 1888 Ninja Points. With no time to waste, he immediately allocated 1000 points to Physique.
> Physique upgraded to Level 3 (0/2000)
"Congratulations, Host. Physical speed, strength, and endurance have significantly increased. You are now a senpai among the student body."
Tatsumi raised an eyebrow. "Bit passive-aggressive, system. But fine."
He was due to register at the Ninja Academy tomorrow, and at his age—with limited chakra reserves—physical ability and weapon proficiency were huge advantages.
He stretched, and the soreness from earlier training vanished like mist. He felt light, fast, energized.
"Wow… is this the power of leveling up?"
He tested a few movements and realized he could now execute techniques and katas that had previously been too difficult for his young body.
Even his chakra control felt slightly smoother.
With his excitement rising, he gathered chakra into his legs. It was a motion he had practiced a hundred times before—but this time, the result was dramatically different.
Whoosh!
His figure blurred as he dashed across the training room like a gust of wind.
"Whoa—!"
He barely had time to react as his momentum carried him straight toward the wooden table ahead.
"No, no, no—NOT THE TABLE—!"
CRASH!
The ancient table—an heirloom made from a century-old elm—shattered under the impact.
Tatsumi stood on top of the splinters, panting, hair tousled, trench coat fluttering in the breeze.
"Damn… that looked cool."
Then pain caught up with him.
"…It hurts," he muttered, sitting down and cradling his leg.
Three seconds of glory, lifetime of regret.