Reincarnation into the world of Naruto with the system

Old man Teuchi really did turn out to be the owner of a small ramen stand, just as the canon described, where I stopped by... amusingly, I noticed the irony in my choice of words. But calling him an "old man" felt off now—he looked more like a "friendly guy in his early forties." I suspect the only one who ever called him an old man was the canonical Naruto himself. That kid had a habit of calling every girl older than him "big sis" and every adult man something equally odd. Where did he even pick that up? And calling Tsunade "granny"... seriously, I may have terrible self-preservation instincts too—probably a bloodline trait—but not that bad.

Anyway, after having a bowl of hearty ramen that was both cheap and surprisingly delicious (not like that instant junk), I understood why the original blond kid had such a deep connection to this place. I decided then and there that I'd definitely become a regular. The only downside was that I didn't get to see Teuchi's daughter (or was it granddaughter?)—she wasn't there. It slightly dampened my mood on the way home. Then again, she couldn't be much older than me, so it's not like she'd be working the counter late at night. She was probably helping out in the kitchen. Makes sense.

The ramen stand wasn't very busy that night—just me and two others. One was a masked man with silver/gray hair who flinched when he saw me, then promptly ordered two more bottles of sake, even though he was already drinking. The other was a random chunin I didn't recognize. Approaching the masked man for conversation seemed pointless. If it was Kakashi, he'd have reached out to me himself if he wanted anything, given his rank as an elite jonin. Since he didn't, why should I?

The chunin, though, caught my attention. Why? It was simple—I'd seen this guy at least 20 times throughout the day. If I added the times I'd noticed him throughout the week… well, it was a lot. He never did anything overtly suspicious, though; his actions all seemed plausible. Like, when his stomach growled earlier today, I believed he genuinely needed food. Still, the frequency of these "coincidences" made me suspicious.

I had a theory: instead of assigning ANBU to keep an eye on me, they might've just sent a chunin. After all, why waste ANBU resources on a harmless kid? A chunin would be enough to keep watch and subtly ward off overzealous villagers. Gennin were too young for such a monotonous, low-priority task, and they might act impulsively if things got heated. A chunin, however, could handle minor threats and wouldn't mix personal feelings with duty—at least, not as much. And if a real threat did appear, a chunin wouldn't go down instantly, buying time for backup to arrive.

Honestly, it made sense. And for me, it was a relief. A chunin was far easier to deal with than ANBU—no need to hide every little quirk. They'd likely chalk it up to "quirky kid stuff."

Complex reasoning has increased your Intelligence by 5!

Damn you, system. Sure, the notification is nice, but I swear there's a mocking undertone.

I was so lost in thought on my way home, feeling content after my meal, that I didn't immediately notice a chunin approaching me on the empty nighttime street. Not the observer—another one. And he was clearly drunk.

"Oh, look who it is—the little demon brat! It's all your fault! Do you even know how hard my life is?"

Crap. I'd been optimistically hoping all the drunks had already gone home a couple of days ago.

I glanced at his stats, and my stomach dropped. Some were just under 200; others were even higher. Yeah, no amount of heroic effort was going to save me here. Running wasn't an option either. So, I straightened my posture, put on a serious but slightly somber expression, and spoke softly, calmly, and politely. Here goes nothing.

"I can imagine, but only just. After all, I'm just an orphan. I've never known what it's like to lose loved ones. I can't possibly understand how exhausting your work as a chunin must be, serving the village day after day. And judging by your vest, you've likely had to handle missions that weren't exactly… clean. Always for the good of the village, of course. I can't fathom what it's like to endure that, nor how you might turn to drinking for some solace, or even how much you might yearn for warmth and recognition…."

I rambled on, weaving every stereotypical struggle of a shinobi into my speech with as much empathy as I could muster. Thankfully, the guy was drunk enough not to question why a kid was saying all this. If anyone asked later, I could just claim I'd read it all in books. Being a quiet kid who loved reading made that plausible. Hell, no one had ever caught me reading one of Jiraiya's novels, so I doubt anyone would question my choice of literature.

By the time I realized it, we were sitting on the roof of a nearby building. The chunin must've brought me here. Well, better a rooftop than some dark alley. If he wanted to beat me up, this wouldn't be his location of choice.

That realization gave me a boost of confidence. Watching his reactions carefully, I adjusted my speech based on what seemed to resonate with him the most, and eventually, my monologue turned into a full-blown dialogue. He started pouring out his frustrations, completely forgetting I was supposed to be a "little demon brat."

After what felt like hours (and left my throat sore from all the talking), my body began to give out. My Uzumaki heritage and whatever perks I got from the fox weren't enough to keep me going. My endurance was hitting rock bottom. Even the chunin noticed how exhausted I looked and, surprisingly, offered to escort me home. Just a few hours ago, he'd been ready to throttle me. Funny how things turn out.

Too tired to refuse, I let him practically carry me back. My body was completely drained after such a physically and emotionally taxing day. As soon as I got home and locked the door behind me, I collapsed on the floor. My last coherent thought before passing out was the system notification:

Congratulations! You have created the skill "Narutotherapy"!

"Great, now I'm on track to become either a holy paladin or a psychiatrist," I mumbled before drifting off.