Daigo took a long rest after his training, his body sore and his mind unusually quiet. As he drifted into sleep, his thoughts pulled him back to his previous life.
Yep—it was the usual isekai setup. Truck-kun had done his duty and sent him across worlds.
In his past life, there was nothing particularly notable about him. Just a regular guy from a middle-class family who followed the rules, studied decently, worked a stable job, and lived a predictable, day-to-day life. Nothing dramatic. No big ambitions. Just… normal.
And then he was born into the world of Naruto.
From the very beginning, he knew this was a nightmare-level world. There were clan killers, brother killers, and people who'd murder you over a misunderstanding or a suspicious glance. It was chaos held together by flimsy village banners and ancient grudges.
But he got lucky. He was born a Sarutobi.
Not just any Sarutobi—but one from the wealthy branch, the kind with more money than sense.
His parents weren't ninja. In fact, his entire paternal line had never been shinobi. They were businessmen. When Konoha was first founded, the Sarutobi clan had owned various properties and trade interests outside the village. Someone needed to manage it all—his great-great-grandfather stepped in and started a thriving civilian lineage within the clan.
So, while most Sarutobi were on the battlefield, his side of the family made bank in the background.
The reason he stayed in Konoha at all was simple: his elder brother inherited the business empire. There was no bad blood between them—if there had been, Daigo figured he wouldn't be living such a ridiculously luxurious life now.
To be honest, the business world—or any kind of routine civilian work—just didn't suit him. He had no interest in budgets or trade ledgers. So he figured he'd settle in Konoha permanently, maybe aim for some comfortable council seat or elder position when he got older. Something dignified, but not too demanding.
As for becoming Hokage? Ha. Controlling everyone? Cleaning up this broken world?
Screw that.
Even if, by some miracle, he wanted that job, that old geezer—the Third Hokage—would never give it to him anyway.
No thanks. He'd stick to the sidelines, enjoy his gold-plated futon, and find a way to cheat the system just enough to stay alive and comfortable.
That was the plan.