The Hodgepodge Shinobi: A Gacha-Gone-Wrong Adventure

I made it back to my room looking like I had been in a food fight with a sushi chef who held a personal grudge.

There was rice in my eyebrows. A scroll jammed halfway into my hoodie. My hair smelled like burnt soy sauce and mild regret. But I was alive. So, you know—progress.

I collapsed onto the futon face-first, the stolen scroll still crinkling beneath me like a shameful tortilla.

I needed rest. I needed water. I needed a lawyer.

Instead, the System chimed.

New Objective: Analyze Unauthorized Scroll.

Note: Contents may be cursed, unstable, or extremely stupid.

Disclaimer: You're probably going to touch it anyway.

"…Correct."

I sat up slowly, unrolling the damp, starch-smeared scroll like it was a trap (which it probably was).

Most of the ink was intact, and the writing was in that lovely mix of swirls and jagged lines that screamed, "Read this and suffer." At the top was a title written in what looked like violently enthusiastic brushstrokes:

"Technique of the Wandering Spoon."

"…You're joking."

Analyzing technique...

Result: Legitimate. Possibly intended for culinary combatants or lunatic hermits.

Risk Level: ✱✱✱✱✱ out of 5.

I scanned the rest of the scroll. It wasn't long. Just a series of hand signs, a chakra flow diagram, and a sketch of a person standing triumphant while cutlery swirled around them like orbiting satellites.

"So... a flying spoon technique."

Correction: It's a chakra-forged spectral utensil technique.

Purpose: Unknown. Possibly defense. Possibly table setting.

I stared at it.

Then at my hands.

Then back at it.

And because I am, at my core, a man of impulse and poor decisions, I said, "Let's roll."

I stood in the center of the room, door locked, window closed, scroll open on the floor like a summoning circle. I took a breath.

I tried to remember the hand signs. I got halfway through before realizing I didn't know any of them. They all looked like "sad jazz hands."

"Okay," I muttered, "just pretend you're doing ninjutsu Tai Chi."

Initiating Flawed Chakra Molding Protocol…

Fusing concepts: "Metallic Utility" + "Defense" + "You really want this to work, huh?"

There was a hiss.

Then a pop.

A glowing silver spoon appeared. It hovered. Spun once in place. Wobbled.

I stared.

"Holy crap, it's working—"

The spoon darted at my head and slapped me.

"OW!"

Technique Activated: Spectral Spoon Slap – Defensive Misfire Variant

Effect: Mild cranial percussion. Duration: 10 seconds.

Three more spoons appeared. They whirled around me like angry kitchen spirits.

"Okay, stop! Cease! Desummon! UNSUMMON!"

One of them bonked my shin. Another spoon swatted a houseplant.

I dove under the futon, covering my head, as a metallic windstorm of cursed silverware pinged around the room like angry Roombas.

Warning: Chakra reserves dropping.

Suggestion: Exit Utensil Mode and reassess life choices.

Ten seconds later, the spoons vanished in a puff of lavender-scented smoke, leaving me curled up on the floor in a fetal position, surrounded by dents and existential dread.

The next morning, I limped into the training field, hair sticking up in all directions, looking like someone who lost a fight with a buffet.

Ren raised an eyebrow. "Did you get mugged by a kitchen?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Considered saying it was training. Considered saying it was a dream. Settled on:

"I'm developing a bloodline technique called Cutlery Flow Style. It's very obscure."

Jun whispered to Ren, "This kid's gonna die."

I ignored them both and stared off into the distance, pretending to be mysterious instead of sleep-deprived and lightly concussed.

Arata-sensei arrived late, holding coffee, eyeing me like I was a noise complaint given form.

He pointed at me without even putting his drink down. "You."

I blinked. "Me?"

"Yes. You. I don't know what clan you're from, what weird technique you're hiding, or how you're still alive after yesterday's archives incident, but you're officially flagged for 'observation.' Congratulations."

"…That's not a good thing, is it?"

"No," Arata said flatly. "That means if you so much as sneeze weirdly, I have to fill out a form and probably call someone in a robe."

He sipped his coffee, then turned away.

"Oh, and good luck tomorrow. You three are being assigned your first field mission."

My heart dropped. "Field mission?"

He smirked. "Don't worry. It's just plant gathering."

New Quest: "Collect Medicinal Herbs Without Dying"

Bonus Objective: Avoid activating snack-based summons in front of civilians.

Difficulty: Unreasonably high, given your track record.

I exhaled slowly and whispered, almost inaudibly:

"…I am going to explode something, aren't I?"

The System, unhelpfully, pinged a new notification:

Spectral Spoon Slap: Now Available as a Passive Defense Option.

Warning: May activate randomly when insulted.