Silence.
He opened his eyes slowly, his thoughts sluggishly resurfacing from the depths of his mind. A faint awareness began to spread, urging him to make sense of his surroundings.
A strange, wooden room.
A thin blanket covered his body—but he wasn't on a bed, but directly on the floor.
Tatami?
He reached out to rub his temples, attempting to sit up, but the weakness coursing through his limbs quickly forced him to abandon the idea.
'System'
He silently muttered the word in his mind.
A faint, glowing screen appeared within his consciousness, vivid and clear.
So it wasn't a hallucination.
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
He had been an ordinary game designer on a blue planet, living an unremarkable life, until the system descended upon him out of nowhere. A countdown to transmigration had begun, leaving him no room to resist. In those final moments, he'd only managed to use this so-called Universal Trading System to exchange for a hefty life insurance policy to leave behind for his family.
The experience?
"Absolutely awful," he muttered to himself.
The idea of transmigrating with a golden finger system was a dream come true for many. But the problem was clear—such systems were undoubtedly man-made. Whoever was behind it… they existed.
He sat there for a long while, processing.
Finally, he seemed to come to terms with the situation. There was a saying for this, wasn't there? If you can't fight it, you might as well enjoy it. As long as he didn't take himself too seriously, life could always offer some degree of pleasure.
"Universal Trading System, huh."
He began to study its functions.
Simple.
It allowed him to trade with others. No matter the item, the system would convert it into something called Trade Points. These points could then be used to purchase anything—literally anything—from the system's store.
Even Doraemon's time machine.
You heard that right.
The string of zeros in the price tag, though? He couldn't even be bothered to count.
Still, a time machine!
One that could actually change the past.
"There's got to be a catch," he murmured, his thoughts sharpening as he skimmed the terms and conditions.
Of course, there were restrictions.
Both parties had to agree to the trade voluntarily, and the value of the traded items had to fall within a range of one-fifth to five times their original worth.
Currently, he had 110,000 Trade Points.
Roughly equivalent to the savings he'd accumulated over three years of work—minus the one percent he'd spent on that life insurance policy.
Judging by the cost of a cup of instant noodles—five points—prices in this world seemed reasonable.
Thank goodness.
At least it wasn't one of those systems that ripped you off at every turn.
"Ah, so close! Just a little more and I would've won!"
A woman's voice rang out from beyond the room, startling him. His attention snapped back to the present, and he quickly added a few powerful defensive items to his shopping cart, just in case.
Bam!
The sliding wooden door was shoved open.
A woman dressed in a sleeveless light-gray outfit appeared in the doorway. Her hair was pale gold, her eyes a striking golden hue, and her features… exquisitely beautiful.
Tsunade cosplay?
Though not an anime enthusiast, he had enjoyed it enough as a casual pastime to instantly recognize this look.
This character!
"Yo, you're awake!" The woman, who looked exactly like Tsunade, flashed him a cheerful grin as she strode over, plopping down next to him with zero pretense of elegance. She extended a hand toward him.
"Just as you can see, I'm the one who saved you. Now then, pay up. Medical fees."
Silence.
He blinked at her, dumbfounded.
From the moment she spoke, he had spent 30,000 Trade Points in exchange for basic Japanese proficiency.
His gaze shifted. Behind her stood another woman—quiet, demure, with dark hair tied in a bun.
Shizune.
Or at least someone dressed as her.
This… this can't be cosplay, he thought, his stomach churning. Did I really transmigrate to the Naruto world?
"Here's the deal," Shizune knelt beside him, her voice soft but professional. "We found you collapsed outside and brought you in for treatment."
What she didn't say was that Tsunade's exact words had been: This guy's skin is too smooth to be a commoner. Definitely some rich noble—let's milk him for treatment fees.
"I see," Silence replied, his newly acquired language skills making his words fluent. "I'll pay you something for the treatment. But first, can I have some food? Preferably something soft."
"Tch. Bossy, aren't you?" Tsunade grumbled, standing up. "Shizune, he's your problem now. Don't let him leave without paying."
From her earlier examination, she was certain he was just a weak noble—no chakra, no muscle tone.
She'd treated plenty of wealthy folks before, extorting them to fund her gambling habits. Bringing him in hadn't been an act of charity, after all.
Shizune, ever the patient one, agreed. She left to prepare some broth, cautioning him not to move too much.
Once the two women exited.
Silently exhaled, finally able to relax a little.
Their demeanor, their appearance—it all felt too real.
No, this wasn't cosplay.
It had to be the real thing.
I'm in the Naruto world.
A spark of opportunity flared in his chest.
"If that's true," he murmured, "then I'm at an advantage."
Unlike being thrown into a completely foreign world, this was familiar territory. A world he understood. A world with rules, characters, and events he could predict.
His thoughts raced.
Tsunade's infamous gambling habits came to mind. Selling her something like a resurrection item could easily fetch the system's five-times price cap. If not for that restriction, he could charge her ten times.
But mere supply and demand wasn't enough.
"The lowest level of trade is meeting existing needs," Silence muttered, a smirk playing on his lips. "The highest level is creating them."
He remembered a business story from his world: selling combs to monks.
It had been criticized as deceptive but in the gaming industry? That kind of manipulation was standard practice.
And who understood it better than a game designer?
Loot boxes. Gacha mechanics. Blind packs.
It was time to bring those concepts here.
After regaining some strength from the meal Shizune provided, Silence queued several life-saving items in the system for emergencies. Then, he prepared for his first negotiation.
He requested to discuss the medical fees and was brought before Tsunade.
It didn't take long to recognize the timeline.
The Third Great Ninja War had ended. Minato, the Fourth Hokage, had been gone for over a decade. Tsunade had long since left Konoha.
She sat alone, sipping sake. Her porcelain-like skin glowed faintly under the dim light, a blush from the alcohol coloring her cheeks. Her curvaceous figure defied her age.
Even someone desensitized by movies and TV like Seth couldn't help but admire her beauty.
"You've got an interesting look in your eyes," Tsunade said, raising an eyebrow.
She'd noticed his gaze—blatantly appreciative yet laced with calculation.
Amused, she leaned back, waiting to see what this "noble" would do next.