Arriving in the Naruto world by filling out a form

Ren wasted no time. Ignoring the lingering soreness in his body, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. His muscles ached from inactivity, but he pushed past the discomfort—this was more important.

Without another word, he followed the med-nin out of the hospital ward, his mind racing.

As Ren followed the med-nin through the hospital corridor, he couldn't hold back his urgency. "What condition is he in? Is he badly injured?"

The med-nin shook his head slightly. "We can't disclose that information until we confirm your relation. A shinobi's details are kept confidential."

Ren gritted his teeth but didn't argue. It made sense—in a world filled with spies and hidden dangers, a ninja's status couldn't be carelessly revealed.

Still, the fact that they were calling him to verify Juichi's identity meant that his father was at least conscious and responsive.

That alone was a relief.

With that thought, he quickened his pace, following the med-nin deeper into the hospital.

As Ren moved through the sterile white corridors of the hospital, he couldn't help but observe his surroundings.

The halls were crowded with patients and medical staff, but there was no usual chatter—only the soft murmurs of grief, the distant cries of families, and the tense silence of those who had lost too much.

A woman sat in a corner, clutching a headband in her trembling hands, her face pale with disbelief. A small child beside her sobbed quietly, unaware of the full weight of the tragedy but sensing something was deeply wrong.

Further ahead, a group of shinobi stood together, their expressions unreadable. One of them clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. The rage in his eyes told Ren that someone he cared about had died.

Even the hospital staff, though focused on their duties, carried weary faces—they had likely been working non-stop since the attack ended.

This was the true aftermath of the Nine-Tails' rampage.

"So many lives shattered in a single night… and this is just one hospital."

It was a harsh reminder—this world was not an anime. If he didn't grow stronger, he too could be reduced to just another name on a casualty list.

As they continued moving through the hospital, Ren's heartbeat quickened. The weight of the moment pressed down on him—was his father truly okay?

Soon, they reached a closed door, the med-nin knocking lightly before pushing it open.

Inside, the room was small, containing two hospital beds. The air smelled of disinfectant and bandages, the faint beeping of medical equipment breaking the silence.

Ren's eyes immediately locked onto the figure in the bed closest to the window.

It was him.

Juichi Takahashi.

His father was alive.

Ren felt a wave of relief wash over him… but that relief was short-lived.

As his gaze traveled downward, he froze.

Juichi was missing half of his right arm.

Bandages wrapped tightly around the severed limb, stopping just above the elbow, the fresh white cloth still lightly stained with blood.

For the first time in his new life, Ren truly understood what it meant to be a shinobi.

As soon as Juichi noticed Ren step into the room, his tired yet familiar eyes softened. Despite the obvious pain he must have been feeling, he forced a small grin and said,

"Took you long enough, kid. What, did you get lost in the hospital? Thought I raised you better than that."

His voice was slightly hoarse, likely from exhaustion, but the lighthearted tone was unmistakable.

Ren stared at him for a moment, his throat tightening, but he quickly composed himself. He knew what his father was doing—easing the tension.

So, he played along.

With a smirk, he crossed his arms and replied, "Well, I had to take my time. Wouldn't want to rush in and ruin your beauty sleep."

Juichi let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Smartass. At least I know you didn't hit your head too hard."

Despite the casual exchange, Ren's eyes flickered briefly to the bandaged stump where his father's arm should have been.

But he didn't say anything.

He chose not to point it out.

Right now, Juichi wasn't looking for pity or sadness. He was still the same stubborn shinobi he had always been. And if he could act like everything was normal, then so could Ren.

Ren kept his expression steady, choosing not to focus on his father's missing arm. Instead, he took a seat by the bed and smirked.

"Well, I got thrown across the street by a chunk of debris, blacked out, and woke up in a hospital bed. But other than that? I'm doing great."

Juichi raised an eyebrow, amusement flashing across his face. "Thrown across the street, huh? Guess that means you're tougher than you look."

Ren shrugged, leaning back slightly. "I like to think so. Though, between you and me, I'd rather not test my durability against flying buildings again."

Juichi chuckled. "Good instinct. That means you might actually survive being a shinobi."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the heaviness of the situation lingering just beneath the surface. Neither of them wanted to talk about the battle, about the losses, about the future that had just been altered by Juichi's injury.

So, for now, they didn't.

Instead, they talked about small things—Ren's time in the hospital, the bad food, the annoying med-nins, and anything that didn't involve a giant fox tearing through the village.

And for a brief moment, things almost felt normal.

Even though Ren wanted to avoid talking about the hard stuff, Juichi himself broke the silence with a sigh.

His grin faded slightly, replaced by a more serious expression as he leaned back against the pillow.

"Listen, Ren… we can joke all we want, but we both know things aren't the same anymore."

Ren tensed slightly, but he didn't interrupt.

Juichi glanced at his bandaged arm—or rather, what was left of it. His face didn't show self-pity or sadness, but there was a weight behind his eyes that wasn't there before.

"I won't be on active duty anymore."

The words hung in the air, heavier than anything else he had said.

Ren swallowed, staying quiet as Juichi continued.

"Losing a limb like this… it means my days as a front-line shinobi are over. The best I can hope for now is a support role in the village, maybe teaching or logistics."

There was no bitterness in his voice, but Ren could tell—his father had spent his entire life as a shinobi. And now, that life had effectively ended.

"This changes things for both of us, kid."

Ren tightened his fists under the table. He had known—of course, he had known. The moment he saw the missing arm, he understood that their future had shifted.

But hearing Juichi say it out loud made it real.

"Don't worry," Ren said, forcing a confident grin. "I'll be joining the Academy soon, and you already know I'm a genius. I'll get strong in no time, so you can just rest at home."

He tried to keep his tone lighthearted, hoping to ease the weight of the conversation.

But Juichi simply shook his head.

"Rest at home?" he scoffed. "Kid, I might be down an arm, but I'm not dead. I'll still be working."

Ren frowned. "But… you just said you can't be on the front lines anymore."

Juichi sighed, running his remaining hand through his hair. "Yeah, I can't go on missions, but Konoha still has plenty of work for shinobi like me. The village needs all the manpower it can get after the attack. Whether it's training recruits, intelligence work, or helping with logistics, I'll be doing something."

His eyes locked onto Ren's, steady and unwavering.

"I may not be able to fight the way I used to, but I'm still a shinobi. And I still have a son to take care of."

Ren clenched his fists, feeling a mix of emotions—relief that his father still had a purpose, but also frustration at the situation.

He had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Juichi could take it easy for once. But of course, his father was too stubborn for that.

Ren gritted his teeth, his frustration bubbling to the surface before he could stop it.

"This isn't fair!" he snapped, his voice louder than he intended. "You just lost your arm! You nearly died! Why do you have to go right back to work?! Can't you just—just stop for once?!"

Juichi raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at the outburst, but he remained silent, letting Ren continue.

"The village can survive without you! You don't have to act like you're fine when you're not! Do you even care what happens to you?!"

His breath was heavy, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

And then—he froze.

A cold realization crept over him as he heard his own words. The way he was talking—this was how a child would act.

An angry, frustrated kid who didn't know how to handle his emotions.

Not a grown man who had already lived one life before this.

Ren stared at his own trembling hands, feeling an odd sense of disconnection between his mind and his body.

"This isn't like me… right?"

But as he reflected, the answer became clear.

This wasn't him.

This was the influence of the body's original owner.

Ren Takahashi—the real Ren Takahashi—was a six-year-old boy who had just survived a warzone and nearly lost his only parent. His emotions, his frustrations, his fear of the future—they were bleeding into the consciousness of the person who had taken over his body.

And no matter how much his past self tried to suppress it, that fear and anger was real.

Juichi, still watching him carefully, finally let out a deep sigh.

"You done?" he asked simply.

Ren hesitated, then slowly nodded.

Juichi leaned back against the pillow, his expression unreadable. "Good. Because you're right, and you're wrong."

Ren looked up, his frustration still lingering, but now mixed with curiosity.

"I can't just stop, Ren," Juichi continued, his voice calm but firm. "Yeah, I lost an arm. Yeah, I nearly died. But Konoha just lost the Fourth Hokage. Hundreds of shinobi are gone. The village is hurting, and I still have a duty."

His one remaining hand clenched into a fist. "I won't sit around and do nothing while there's still work to be done. That's not who I am."

Ren wanted to argue. He really did. But he could see it now—nothing he said would change Juichi's mind.

This wasn't about being reckless. This was about being a shinobi.

Taking a deep breath, Ren forced himself to calm down. He could feel the last remnants of his frustration settling into something more manageable.

"Fine." His voice was quieter now. "But don't expect me to like it."

Juichi smirked. "Didn't expect you to."

And just like that, the weight in the air seemed to lighten—just a little.

Ren exhaled deeply, pushing his emotions down. He knew he wouldn't win this argument. His father was too stubborn, too devoted to the village.

"Alright," he said, crossing his arms. "You're going to do what you want, no matter what I say. Fine. But that just means I'll have to handle things on my own."

Juichi raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly does that mean?"

Ren met his gaze head-on. "I need to start training seriously."

His father leaned back against the pillow, looking at him thoughtfully.

"You're already set to enter the Academy soon. They'll teach you the basics. What's the rush?"

Ren clenched his fists. "The Academy won't be enough."

He knew the kind of shinobi that world would produce—how many mediocre graduates left the Academy barely capable of handling a real mission. He refused to be just another Genin struggling to survive.

Juichi studied him carefully before sighing. "You really are serious about this."

Ren nodded. "You're going to be busy. You won't have time to train me like you planned. So I have to take responsibility for my own growth."

For a moment, Juichi was silent.

Then, a small smirk appeared on his face. "Heh. You sound just like me when I was your age."

Ren rolled his eyes. "Great. That just means I'm doomed to be as stubborn as you."

Juichi chuckled, then leaned forward slightly, his expression more serious.

"If you're that determined, then listen up."

Ren immediately straightened, knowing what was coming was important.

"I may not be able to train you myself anymore, but that doesn't mean I can't guide you. If you're going to train, then train smart."

"Of course, I'll train smarter if I want to get ahead of everyone and become stronger faster," Ren said confidently.

Juichi gave him a knowing look before leaning back against the pillow. "Alright then, genius. How exactly do you plan to do that?"

His tone wasn't mocking—if anything, it was curious. Testing him.

Ren paused. He had ideas, but now was the time to lay out a real plan

{A/N:- No system messages in this chapter. Had to take a lot of help from gpt to get the emotional stuff down. I know a lot of people won't like how ren behaved here but don,t worry such over reaction was only for this chapter I'll expand it in the next chapter or the one after that}