At night, deep in a dense forest, several figures were camped at a small site with a makeshift tent pitched by the campfire.
Four men sat around the fire, all wearing high-collared cloaks. Their pale, gloomy faces looked especially eerie under the flickering light. Each of them bore some injuries, and after a long silence, a black-haired man with a ponytail finally spoke.
"If it wasn't for that kid dragging us down, we'd have finished already. I'm going to teach him a lesson!"
He rose and strode toward the tent, his hand gripping the hilt of his blade, clearly ready to cut someone down.
"Enough. This is for the clan head to decide. We're in the middle of a war — one more person means one more chance to complete the mission."
The older man sitting in the center stopped him cold. He didn't have much of a relationship with the man in the tent, but his status left him no choice. The clan head had specifically ordered him to look after the kid, no matter how useless he was.
Hearing the older man, the ponytail ninja was clearly angry but couldn't disobey his captain.
Inside the tent, the man in question was slowly waking up.
"Where the hell…? I remember drinking too much and walking by the river… then I slipped…"
A sharp pain pierced his head and his back felt like it'd been hit by a truck. He opened his eyes with effort — no familiar ceiling greeted him.
He saw only the dark, rough canvas of the tent above him. He tried to move, but it felt like sleep paralysis — his whole body was numb. As his head throbbed again, he passed out once more.
Some time later, he was roused by arguing outside. His limbs finally responding, he managed to sit up.
Looking at his unfamiliar hands, his strange clothes, and the katana at his side, he silently digested the memories flooding his mind.
"Shit… I really transmigrated? And into Naruto? Good thing I remember the story… but wait, isn't the timing all wrong?"
That's right — he'd been just another corporate drone, recently out of school, working his dead-end job and living for the weekend. One night at a company party, he drank too much, wandered to the riverside, slipped, and died. Next thing he knew, he woke up in this sorry body.
"Uchiha Gin… so I'm an Uchiha…"
According to the memories, this was the Warring States era — way before Konoha was even founded. The Uchiha had just signed a truce with the Hagoromo clan to oppose the Senju. Their mission now was a brutal one — to kill off Senju children in order to cripple the next generation.
The original Gin had lost both parents in the war. Because his mother was the elder sister of Uchiha Tajima, the current clan head, he was taken in as an orphan. But in this clan of prodigies, Gin was painfully mediocre — even at over twenty, he'd been humiliated in sparring matches by kids half his age.
Recalling how he'd been beaten by a young Madara, Gin's face twisted.
"That was young Madara? If I'd managed to beat him, I could brag about it for life…"
After sorting through his memories, the new Gin assessed his situation. This was an age of chaos — no rules, only death at every turn. As a freshly transmigrated soul, staying alive was the priority. In this era, living to thirty was already a luxury.
He tried circulating chakra and felt it crawl through his body like a snail — sluggish and unreliable. Just to check, he also muttered to himself:
"System, activate!"
…Nothing. Gin opened his eyes and sighed.
"Mediocre talent, no system… what a trash start."
After thinking it over, he decided to stick close to Tajima, his powerful uncle. As long as he didn't take risks, maybe he could survive until Konoha was founded and enjoy a few peaceful years.
With that, Gin got to his feet and stepped outside.
The three men around the fire opened their eyes at his approach. The older man's gaze sharpened when he saw Gin and he barked coldly:
"Come here."
Gin obediently sat opposite him.
"Uchiha Gin, I'll report your mistake today to the clan head. On the next mission, you'd better follow orders and not act recklessly again."
As he spoke, his narrow eyes flashed red, the oppressive aura of his three tomoe Sharingan (Copy Wheel Eye) making it hard for Gin to breathe — but he still nodded stiffly.
"Three tomoe… top-tier Uchiha combat power."
Gin thought grimly — this mission was not going to be easy.
Earlier, upon hearing that the Hagoromo clan had accomplished a major feat, the proud original Gin had impulsively charged into Senju territory to outdo them, only to be discovered and nearly killed by Senju scouts. He was saved only because their captain, Uchiha Fenghuo, intervened.
That foolish move had angered his teammates, but Fenghuo suppressed their complaints because of Gin's family ties.
"The original was really that reckless?"
At that moment, the ponytail ninja from earlier appeared, having come back from his watch. Seeing Gin up and about, his vein throbbed.
"Uchiha Gin, if it weren't for the captain protecting you, I'd have burned off that curly hair of yours already. If you pull another stunt, I'll deal with you before the Senju do."
Gin winced at his hostility. The others' glares made him feel a crushing pressure.
"Man, just how hated was the original…"
Glancing at the giant shuriken stuck in the ground nearby, he caught sight of his reflection in its blade. A mess of fluffy curls, dead-fish eyes, and — despite the Uchiha genes making him fairly handsome — an inexplicable punchable aura.
"Sorry, everyone. I was reckless earlier. From now on, I'll follow your lead."
Sometimes you just had to lower your head to survive — especially before fully mastering the body's strength.
"Huh?!"
The others stared at him, utterly dumbfounded, as if they'd seen a ghost.
(End of Chapter)
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