Naruto: The Shinobi of Gluttony

Kuzo looked at his hand, contemplating the cursed seal on his palm that read 'Gluttony.'

"Next up is Kuzo," said the academy teacher as he called his name.

Kuzo let out a long sigh, rose from his seat, and made his way to the platform. Many students of similar ages, around 12 or 13, cast their eyes upon him. No, they were younger than him, for he had already failed a year or two.

He couldn't recall precisely; it hadn't been many days since he'd transmigrated into this body.

He stood beside the teacher, who wore an expression that clearly conveyed, 'Let's get this over with.'

Kuzo formed a hand seal and uttered, "Clone Jutsu."

A puff of smoke emerged, followed by nothing.

The cause of this ineffectiveness lay in the cursed seal on his palm, and he was aware of it subconsciously. Similar to how the body communicates hunger or illness to its owner through thoughts, Kuzo could know it was fault of this seal. In exchange for power to eat all he wanted, he had forfeited his ability to learn new things related to chakra, leaving him with only basic weapon-throwing skills and rudimentary taijutsu.

"You should call it 'Smoke Jutsu,'" someone suggested.

"Hahaha!"

"Kuzo, give up! You have better odds of becoming a farmer than a ninja."

Many taunted him, but Kuzo didn't perceive it as bullying; he considered it a harsh truth.

This was Naruto's world, Konoha's village, where only the strongest survived, and even the strong didn't last long. He could become a villager, a merchant, or anything else, but he wouldn't be able to protect himself if trouble arose.

"Go back to your place," the teacher directed, without requesting further demonstrations from Kuzo.

With a sigh, Kuzo returned to his seat.

Upon reaching his seat, he rested his head on the table and ruminated, 'So this is the god's punishment to me: humiliation, mockery by a group of children, and living in constant fear of death. The worst part is that I never feel full after meals. It's like being on a diet.'

He held back the tears. Was he crying? That's a valid question. No, but he certainly felt hopeless.

Despite being an academy failure who couldn't use chakra properly, he possessed knowledge exclusive to ninjas. He doubted that the village authorities would permit someone with his knowledge to live freely outside the village.

'Adapt or perish,' he thought as he laid his head on the table, attempting to ignore the bullying, which soon subsided.

'Now that I think about it, maybe I should save myself the embarrassment and skip the taijutsu class. Today is the last day before the graduation exam, so here I am.'

He drifted off to sleep in the middle of class, indifferent to potential punishment or danger. He had already lost his previous life, a cause for grief.

In this new life, he found the notion of losing life itself to be a reason for celebration, even though the deceased can't partake in festivities.

'How did I end up here in the first place?' he wondered. Was it the cliché isekai route involving a truck accident? No, but he was certain something had occurred before his arrival. 

The only thing he could recollect was a dark figure with horns who had grasped his hand and mumbled some words he couldn't remember. Then, he was enveloped in light and awoke as a 14-year-old. He had lost count of the days spent in this world, but he was certain about his destination. After all, there were no mountains bearing the faces of Kages in his homeland.

Kuzo examined his hand. The hazy memory couldn't be a fabrication. The word 'Gluttony' was deeply etched on his palm.

Sighing, he made the decision to accept his life as it was and embrace whatever came his way.

He then frowned, thinking, 'I don't want to go home, but I can't help it. I need food.'

-x-X-x-

After school, Kuzo walked home alone.

He was the class loser, so he didn't have many friends, except for those at the Civilian Academy.

Well, that's life.

The most challenging part in this life was being a second-generation member of a shinobi family. Both his parents were ninja, with his mother as a chunin and his father as a Special Jonin. Being raised in such a household came with high expectations from his parents.

Kuzo had two siblings, an older brother and sister, and they were doing well, leaving him to bear the burden of daily disappointment.

'Being unable to mold chakra doesn't help either.'

He arrived at his home and knocked on the door, which opened automatically. He didn't question it because there was a seal on the doorstep.

'Why do I only remember my family members as Mom, Dad, big sis Akane, and big brother Doju? Having a child's memory doesn't help.'

Inside, he found his mother preparing lunch, while his father lay on the floor, reading some book. His siblings were nowhere to be seen, probably they were on a mission.

With a smile, Kuzo entered and greeted the body's owner's mother. "Mom, I'm home."

"I know," she replied while chopping vegetables.

He washed his hands and took a seat at the kitchen table.

Interestingly, the cursed seal not only hindered his mastery of ninjutsu but also heightened his appetite. His mother, a middle-aged woman with dark hair, set the plates.

'Man, I've waited too long for this.'

"This kid has an enormous appetite compared to his talent," his father remarked, observing Kuzo. "No. Eating just a grain of rice would seem huge in comparison." 

Kuzo had to admit that his father had a point.

"Don't be too hard on him. It's our fault for pushing him into the Ninja Academy," his mother interjected. "The Civilian Academy would have been a better choice."

"It's too late for him to learn any trade. He's nearly 14, but... Sigh. It's already challenging enough to face my colleagues," his father sighed.

"You're not facing it even harder. Trust me. Our neighbor always makes fun of me. Her kids never rose above genin rank," she said, her voice tinged with sadness.

"I understand," his father nodded in sympathy.

"Look at him. Even as we're talking about him, he's not the least bit embarrassed. All he thinks about is food," his mother remarked.

"Maybe we were too soft raising him. Even with our encouragement, he's showing no results," his father said.

'Soft, my ass. Running in the morning every day, throwing shurikens... and if I slacked off, I'd get slapped. Well, not me exactly. The poor soul who used to live here,' Kuzo thought, eating without much emotion on his face. 'So this is what soft Asian parents are like. I miss the memes.'

"Perhaps it's the karma from the war," his mother suggested.

"Well, let's find him a job that suits him."

Kuzo finished his food. Although not fully satisfied, he stood up, bowed, and said, "I'll be outside."

"Tomorrow is your exam; you should be preparing," his mother reminded him.

"What's the point?" Kuzo replied, opening the door.

"Young man! Where is your Will of Fire?" his father called out.

"That's a good question, Dad," Kuzo said, turning back. "I'll go look for it now."

For the first time, he saw his father smile at him.

-x-X-x-

'So that's why the previous owner wasn't talkative.'

Sitting in his chair at the academy, Kuzo felt a discomfort in his rear end. He could hardly sit without feeling sore.

After making a smart comment to his dad, he had been disciplined.

"Alright, everyone, get ready for your final exam. This is your third attempt. If you fail this time, you'll stay in the academy and possibly be asked to do something more useful with your life," the teacher declared, casting a disdainful look at Kuzo and a few others. "Some might even be expelled."

Even the teacher looked down on students like them.

This was the hierarchical system: the top students got everything, and those beneath them got the leftovers.

Each student was then called in turn.

-x-X-x-

"Alright, Kuzo, you've shown proficiency in taijutsu and throwing skills, but nothing exceptional," the examiner stated. "Your ninjutsu, genjutsu, and chakra control are... Well, there's hardly any chakra to control."

Kuzo, with a deep frown, sighed. "Why talk so much? Just tell me to go home. What's the point of explaining that I have some skills? I've failed, and that's it. You don't have to be delicate about my feelings. Ninjas are trained to die, not to be sensitive."

Despite his weakness, he had some pride left. He was proud of not being a complete loser… Thinking about it again, it might not be the case. He had lost almost everything, except his virginity.

The examiner took a deep breath. "Good attitude. You've already accepted the fate of being a shinobi."

"But I'm not going to be one."

"Who said that?"

"Wait a second, I failed the exam?"

"Yes."

"Then, why are you talking so much?"

"Someone like you still possesses valuable skills, and we can't let you leave the village with the skills you have. People like you are needed by the village," the examiner explained, smiling. "Your parents have found you a good job."

"A good job?"

"You'll be a civilian spy. You'll assume a new identity, integrate into a new community, and report back to us," the examiner said. "In that context, you're a true shinobi."

'Praise me to send me to my death, huh? Well, I guess I don't have to deal with Asian parents anymore.'

'Let me put on my best acting.'

Hesitantly, Kuzo asked after his monologue, "Can you repeat that?"

"You're a true shinobi."

He put his hand behind his head and rubbed it. A beaming smile appeared on his face. "Don't say that. I might feel embarrassed."

"Your acting skills are good, but you're not that happy, are you?"

"Well, a true ninja can see through it," he replied, erasing his smile and adopting a gloomy, serious expression. "Who would be happy with such responsibility?"

"I think you're unhappy that your parents found you this job."

"Even if they hadn't, what other choices do I have?" Kuzo said.

"As you already know the ways of Konoha's shinobi, we won't let you leave easily. You'll have to live under restrictions and work only in certain jobs."

"Alright, I get it," Kuzo said, crossing his arms. "But if I'm working, how will I get paid? Also, how can you guarantee that I won't leak any information?"

"Don't worry. You'll receive a substantial payment at regular intervals, perhaps once a year. To blend into the place we'll send you, you'll have to find a cover job. You're a spy, not a social worker," the examiner explained. "There's also something called a curse seal that will prevent you from divulging any secrets."

"A curse seal? So you'll have some control over me," Kuzo muttered.

"Only in case you were captured or decided to betray the village. If you were captured, you'd face a fate worse than death, and you'd welcome the opportunity to die."

"I understand. I understand," Kuzo sighed. "So when do we start?"