I'm Inside Naruto Manga

(A/N: Part of the content about reality is purely fictional and should not be taken seriously.)

A faint beam of light shone through the dusty glass, casting a trail across a long table covered in dust. The room was split into contrasting zones of light and shadow.

Hattori sat in a chair by the window, repeating the same behavior he had for the past two days.

The room hadn't been used in a long time. Judging by its clutter, the building's management had likely converted it into a storage space.

Hattori had stumbled upon it by chance, and since it offered a perfect vantage point of the luxury apartment across the street, he made it his base of operations.

His target was no secret. Hattori suspected that the person connected to the mystery of his transmigration was none other than the original Author of Naruto, Masashi Kishimoto.

There are several pieces of information on the window sill beside him, some of which were internet researches, and some of which were materials he had coerced out of an unfortunate manga company's employee during the Anime Convention in Los Angeles.

Hattori glanced at the documents, silently reciting the details he already knew by heart, "Masashi Kishimoto. Age 43. Born in Katsuta, Okayama Prefecture... A Manga Author. Current residence: Room 1603, Building A2, Iwamotocho, Chiyoda Ward, Tokyo…"

After arriving in Chiyoda Ward, Hattori wasted no time diving into intelligence work.

His first stop was the publisher of the manga serialization, located in the bustling Chiyoda Ward. Known for being home to the Imperial Palace, Japan's National Diet, and various central government institutions, Chiyoda also housed headquarters of numerous prominent companies. Among them was Shueisha, the publisher of Weekly Shonen Jump.

While Shueisha was part of a larger conglomerate, Hattori wasn't about to dig any deeper, as this was just the beginning, and both cost and difficulty were limiting factors.

The nature of his transmigration was elusive, hard to explain or link to anything specific. For thorough understanding, slow and steady infiltration was the most reliable approach.

But Hattori lacked the luxury of time. After confirming the location, he immediately utilized his Ninja Skills: posing as an employee during the day to scout, and sneaking into the office at night to sift through records.

Admittedly, this approach wasn't very efficient. And unsurprisingly, his findings revealed nothing unusual, and the company seemed to be a legitimate operation.

Hattori wasn't discouraged. This outcome aligned with what he had thought about countless days and nights. Things wouldn't be that simple. Shifting his focus, he turned his attention to the Manga Author himself.

…

Rustle.

The crinkle of a plastic bag broke the room's silence.

It was afternoon when Hattori returned from outside, carefully ensuring no one noticed the undocumented resident. He quietly shut the door, turning the storage room back into his hidden base. Maneuvering past a few scattered items, he placed the bag of food he'd bought onto the long table.

Hattori opened the packaging, which is a freshly microwaved bento from a convenience store, and stabbed a straw into a bottle of milk. As he ate, he kept one eye on the opposite building.

"I looked nothing more like a super stalker pervert." Hattori mumbled between bites, "And it's not even for a girl. What a pain."

Did shadow clones need to eat? Hattori wasn't sure. But if it made him feel a bit better, he wasn't going to stop.

Compared to the high-stakes assassinations against enemy ninja, gathering intel like this was mind-numbingly monotonous. And besides, it wasn't his money.

When Hattori first arrived in Chiyoda, he'd found navigating the area confusing. Even with his proficiency in Japanese, the overwhelming number of terms on the map, like Tokyo Metropolis, Tokyo Special Wards, Tokyo Capital Region, made his head spin.

Eventually, he learned that the broader concept of 'Tokyo City' encompassed a massive area. But now that he was in the city's core, surrounded by skyscrapers and bustling streets, he knew he'd reached the right place.

Experiencing Tokyo's population density firsthand, Hattori finally understood why the subways were packed even late at night.

Still, as someone who traveled by taxi, he was spared that ordeal. Lately, however, taxi drivers seemed unusually friendly. They often asked if he knew someone called "Taxi Man".

"Takushi... man... some kind of trend?" Sitting amidst the clutter of the storage room, Hattori pondered the word and the peculiar behavior of those who mentioned it. Ultimately, he chalked it up to the unfathomable quirks of Japanese people.

The cramped, unclean space of the storage room didn't faze Hattori. His days over the past week had been a constant hustle with no time to relax, but he wasn't one to complain or succumb to negative emotions.

He could execute missions in far worse conditions if necessary, and he believed his original body shared the same resilience.

Of course, the fact that his intelligence target was a man still grated on his nerves, a sentiment he felt compelled to emphasize.

"Even after all this observation, there's nothing noteworthy about this Manga Author." Hattori mumbled while cleaning up the remnants of his meal, "I would only stay in Japan for seven days, and less than half of it has passed. The main body might be getting impatient by now."

From the intelligence he had gathered, Masashi Kishimoto typically woke up around midday. Most of his time was spent indoors, working with his assistants on draft illustrations.

His social activities were minimal, and the lights in his apartment stayed on late into the night… It seemed the weekly serialization deadlines were taxing.

But these observations yielded no anomalies or peculiarities… just a mundane routine.

"This isn't going anywhere." Hattori muttered as he put down his binoculars. A mental image of the manga company's schedule he had spotted earlier resurfaced in his mind, "It's about time. Today's the day he's supposed to attend a small gathering for company's Manga Authors and hand in his manuscript. Might as well go in and check it out."

The sun occasionally peeked through the clouds, reflecting off the ubiquitous high-rise buildings. Its light brushed across the pedestrians on the street below, offering no real warmth. It was still a bustling, lively time of day.

Across the street, behind the balcony of the luxury apartment, Hattori noticed movement. Masashi Kishimoto bid farewell to his assistants before donning formal attire. Once the assistants had left, Kishimoto finished his preparations. Even from two buildings away, Hattori could almost hear the soft click of the door closing as Kishimoto left.

Luck was on Hattori's side, as the windows hadn't been locked.

A few minutes later, Hattori, observing from a higher vantage point, saw Kishimoto step out onto the street below. The middle-aged man, the supposed 'creator of everything from behind the scenes', was now under Hattori's scrutiny.

To be honest, Kishimoto's appearance didn't match Hattori's imagination of an extraordinary figure. His features were neat but not particularly striking, and he could easily blend into a crowd.

Like most Japanese men, he kept his hair slightly long and parted in the middle. On regular days, he wore plain shirts, dressing formally only when necessary.

Hattori watched as Kishimoto got into a car and drove away.

Taking a deep breath, Hattori finally decided to act.