Naruto: Call Me Akuma

I'm officially one year old now, still living life as a baby. It's terrible, but somehow, I'm managing. One of the most noticeable improvements has been my body. My vision is much clearer now, and I can easily see distant objects. Physically, I've grown stronger—so much so that I can support my own weight and walk without my parents' help. Of course, I still pretend to need their support when walking. I've also started saying basic words like "mother" and "father." 

The first time I called my robot mother "mother," she was so overjoyed that she spun me around until I got dizzy and ended up puking on her metallic face. That moment was embarrassing. 

My understanding of their language has also improved tremendously. I can now comprehend what they're saying and have even begun to understand their written language. Of course, I'm careful never to let anyone know this—I can't afford to raise suspicions. 

When I was six months old, my mother and father took me outside for what I can only describe as a family picnic. It was the first time I saw what lay beyond the log house. As soon as we stepped outside, I was greeted by a massive bamboo forest surrounding the entire house. The sight was breathtaking. The bamboo was so tall that I couldn't even see the tops of the stalks, and the smallest stalk I saw was two or three times the size of my body. 

Seeing such enormous bamboo, I realized that everything in this world must be oversized. From the massive logs that made up the house to the towering bamboo and even my father—who stood at a staggering 14 to 15 feet tall—it was overwhelming. At first, I wondered if it was just because I was a tiny baby, but I quickly dismissed that idea. 

A few months ago, boredom hit me hard. With no one to truly converse with except my robot mother (and even then, meaningful conversation wasn't an option), my mind wandered aimlessly. 

In one of those moments, an idea struck me: What if the system had a function to display personal information? Intrigued, I began exploring the system and stumbled upon a new function—a basic stats panel. 

The panel wasn't overly detailed. It displayed my name, current health, age, height, and the mission I had accepted. Even this small amount of information fascinated me. Through it, I learned my height—2.5 feet (67.6 cm). 

This revelation gave me a crucial insight. Based on my height and the scale of everything around me, I deduced that the world I was living in wasn't just big—it was massive and mysterious. This was no ordinary place. Every detail seemed larger than life, amplifying my curiosity and leaving me with even more questions about the nature of this world. 

I started theorizing about what kind of fantasy world I might be in. At first, I thought it might be the One Piece world, with giant people and massive landscapes. But I quickly discarded that idea. There was no mention of pirates, a marine government, or anything resembling the culture or structure of One Piece. Instead, the culture here seemed like a patchwork of various ancient civilizations from my previous life. Some were instantly recognizable—ancient Rome, China, and Japan—but at the same time, it felt like none of them. It was as though this world had taken fragments of many cultures and blended them into something wholly unique. 

This strange fusion of ancient traditions and futuristic advancements left me questioning the true nature of this place. It felt as though the world itself defied logic, existing as a paradox I needed to unravel. 

Sitting on my father's massive shoulders and gazing at the towering bamboo was a unique experience. The sheer size and scale of the forest were overwhelming, but from that high vantage point, it felt like I was on top of the world. My mother followed behind us, carrying a basket of food and baby supplies. 

We wandered through the bamboo forest as a family, walking for what felt like hours. The forest was alive with vibrant colors and towering stalks, each one distinct. My favorite was the red bamboo. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen. The brilliant crimson color painted the entire forest in shades of red. The bamboo was so densely packed that even sunlight struggled to pierce through the canopy, leaving the forest floor bathed in a soft, eerie glow. It was beautiful yet mysterious, leaving a lasting impression on me. 

Right now, my mother is preparing for my birthday celebration. She dressed me in a tunic made from smooth, comforting purple fabric that felt pleasant against my skin. The tunic was accented with a broad golden collar along the edge, adding a touch of elegance. To secure it, she tied a golden rope around my waist, fastening the tunic snugly to my body. Over that, she draped a toga-like garment in a radiant golden color. It shimmered so brilliantly that, for a moment, I thought it was made of real gold. However, the material was a soft, smooth fiber—highly comfortable to wear. To complete the outfit, she pinned a golden brooch at my shoulder where the fabrics met. 

My father wore similar attire, though his version had slight differences. His tunic, like mine, was purple, but the edges were trimmed in red. He wore a golden belt around his waist, adding to the regal look. His sandals, also red like mine, appeared to be made of leather. He also wore a golden gemstone ring, one he never seemed to take off. Seeing his outfit, I briefly wondered if we were living in ancient Rome. But then I remembered how he often wore traditional Japanese clothing, and the pieces of the puzzle didn't quite add up. 

As for me, I've never liked wearing clothes. Whenever my mother dresses me, I reject them. The reason is simple: when I go 1 or 2, I can't stand the discomfort of wet clothes or sitting in my mess. Even with a diaper, the smell is unbearable. That's why I prefer being natural. 

My father doesn't seem like a middle-class person. The more I observe him, the more convinced I am that he's some kind of warrior—or perhaps even a super soldier. He's built like a tank and speaks with the authority of a soldier or general. His demeanor is stern and disciplined. He's remarkably skilled at everything—whether it's writing, drawing, or meticulously tending to his bonsai tree. He seems to excel at anything he does. When he talks, he exudes the aura of someone from an educated and wealthy background. 

But then I wonder—if we're rich and educated, why do we live in such a house? The house, though massive, feels average for him. It's entirely made of logs, and there's no sign of technology from my past life. No electricity, no phones—nothing. The only advanced technology I've seen is my mother. So, I'm confused. Are we rich, poor, or somewhere in between? Is everyone here like this? 

One thing I know for sure is that my father eats a lot—like a beast, almost like Luffy when he's hungry. I wonder how we afford so much food. My father leaves the house every day. At first, I thought he was going to war or fighting, but he always comes back with stacks of paper, which he spends hours reading and signing. He's never come home with cuts or bruises, though he sometimes wears a uniform that looks military. My best guess now is that he's a high-ranking officer. 

When my mother saw me in my new clothes, her joy was palpable. "Oh, look at my baby! Aren't you just adorable in your new clothes?" she exclaimed. She kissed me with her non-existent mouth and gazed at me like I was a lost puppy. She seemed so happy that I wasn't rejecting the clothes this time. 

At that moment, my father placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a subtle signal that it was time to go. She quickly composed herself, cradling me in her arms as we headed toward the door. I was excited too—this time, we were venturing beyond the bamboo forest. I couldn't wait to see what lay beyond and uncover more of this mysterious world. 

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Also, Beggar King has left a few pop culture references and memes. If you find them, comment, and Beggar King will give you a like. 

If we reach 100 stones, I'll reward you all with a bonus chapter!