The Hodgepodge Shinobi: A Gacha-Gone-Wrong Adventure

So.

Let's recap.

I'm in the body of a random orphan named Kenji. I've been dropped into a hidden ninja village that looks like feudal Japan met a particularly aggressive arts-and-crafts convention. I'm technically part of Team 14 now, and I've been conscripted into ninja school.

Also, I may or may not still be slightly invisible and leaking lint.

We walked in silence through winding streets that all looked the same—wooden signs, paper lanterns, buildings that clearly hadn't passed any modern fire safety codes. People nodded at the silver-haired kid beside me. No one looked at me, either because of the jutsu, or because they'd already emotionally written off "Kenji" as a lost cause.

Eventually, we reached what looked like a poorly maintained playground mixed with a military training camp. There was a clearing, a few logs with kunai sticking out of them, and two kids waiting: one looked perpetually sleepy, the other had energy like he'd downed six energy drinks and headbutted a bee hive.

Then there was the adult.

He was tall, grumpy, and had the permanent expression of someone who'd tried to take a nap and was instead handed three children and a war crime. I would later learn his name was Arata-sensei, but at that moment I dubbed him "Disappointed Father #3."

He looked up. "Ah. Kenji. You decided to join us. Late. As usual."

I gave him my best fake smile. "You know how it is. Temporal confusion. Reality distortion. Lint-based sneak techniques."

He blinked.

The hyperactive kid, meanwhile, bounced toward me like an overcaffeinated ferret. "KENJI! Did you figure out a jutsu yet?! I've been working on mine all week! I can almost make sparks now! SPARKS!"

"Cool," I said, trying to remember what a jutsu was. "Is that… good?"

"Only if you don't want to explode!" he beamed.

"Ah. Right. Definitely the vibe I'm going for."

"Line up," Arata-sensei barked.

We did. I was dead last, because I wasn't sure which way "forward" was anymore.

"I want to see your progress," the sensei said. "Basic clone jutsu. Let's see it."

Oh good.

More words I didn't understand.

The silver-haired boy went first. He formed some hand signs, muttered something, and poof—three perfectly formed copies of himself appeared beside him. One even crossed its arms in synchronization.

The sleepy one went next. Her clones were a bit blurry, but still human-shaped. The hyperactive one? His clone exploded. Everyone clapped. It was apparently normal.

Then it was my turn.

Everyone looked at me.

I looked back at them.

I raised my hands, tried to remember any of the signs the others had done, and settled for doing the Macarena. Then I squinted really hard and shouted:

"Clone Jutsu Go!!"

Nothing happened.

I blinked.

Still nothing.

The System, unhelpfully, chimed in:

"Insufficient chakra control. Would you like to initiate a Flawed Fusion based on observed techniques?"

Yes. Yes, please. Anything.

Analyzing...

Observed: Clone Jutsu

Observed: Overly enthusiastic lightning-based attempt by teammate

Fusion Result: "Clone Zap Dumpling" — a barely stable, high-pitched edible clone that self-destructs after 3.5 seconds.

Deploying…

"Wait, what—"

POOF.

Suddenly, floating in front of me was what looked like… a steaming dumpling with eyes.

It blinked. It squeaked. Then it yelled:

"ZAP ZAP GO!"

It launched itself at a nearby training dummy and exploded in a blinding flash of light and gravy.

Everyone stared.

Smoke curled in the air. A faint scent of chives lingered like shame.

Arata-sensei rubbed his eyes. "…What the actual hell was that?"

"I—I think it was a tactical snack?" I offered weakly. "High protein. Medium damage."

The silver-haired kid squinted. "Did that dumpling scream?"

"I think it had feelings," I muttered. "And regrets."

The hyper kid clapped wildly. "KENJI YOU'RE A GENIUS! Can I eat one?!"

"Absolutely not," said literally everyone else at once.

Arata-sensei sighed the sigh of a man rethinking his career.

"Kenji," he said slowly. "Where exactly did you learn that technique?"

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Then shrugged. "It's… a family thing?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What kind of family teaches explosive dumpling warfare?"

"…a very hungry one?"

He stared at me a long time. Then turned away.

"That's enough for today. Go home. Kenji, stay back."

Oh no. I was about to get expelled from ninja school on Day 1. For dumpling terrorism.

Once the others left, Arata-sensei crossed his arms.

"You've always been strange," he said. "But today… that wasn't chakra control. That was something else."

I said nothing.

He leaned closer. "You've never even used proper chakra before. And yet you summoned something. Something unstable. Is there something you're not telling me?"

I looked him dead in the eye.

"…I like soup."

He stared at me.

I stared back.

Finally, he sighed. "Get out of here."

I sprinted.

Back in my sad little room, I collapsed on the futon, clutching a singed dumpling wrapper that had appeared in my pocket after the explosion.

The System pinged again:

"Congratulations! You have successfully deployed your first Flawed Fusion™. User performance: Questionable. Effectiveness: Chaotic Neutral. Taste Rating: 7/10."

I groaned and rolled over.

I was stuck in a strange ninja village, surrounded by children with actual death powers, armed only with lint-based sneak mode and suicidal snack clones.

I buried my face in my pillow and mumbled:

"…I miss oat milk."