I'm running.
Feet slapping on broken stone. Every breath burns, like smoke's gotten into my lungs and decided to stay.
Every explosion shakes the dirt under me like God's rolling dice just to be cruel.
And I can hear it.
Not just the screams. Those are background noise now.
I hear the Kyuubi. His roar cutting through buildings. Its like he is, in his controlled form is giving out commands.
"Don't run.
Die tired."
That's what his voice says, even if no one else hears it.
I dive behind a broken wall. Something, maybe chakra or adrenaline or plain stupid luck, told me to move three seconds ago, and I obeyed.
The wall behind me explodes in orange fire.
I have no weapons. No jutsu. No allies.
And right now I'm not a transmigrated genius who will boldly proclaim to the world that he is the strongest.
I was an office worker in my past life for fuck's sake. Right now, honestly, I'm just a human trying not to piss himself in a war zone.
I'm not ashamed to admit it.
It's my first time experiencing something like this.
I crawl through dust and glass, eyes stinging, ears ringing. Somewhere in the distance, I think I see Minato.
A golden flash.
Then gone.
Like lightning pretending to be human.
Then.
A sound.
Not a roar. Not a jutsu.
A cry.
Baby.
I freeze. My chest tightens.
It's not Naruto. No whiskers. Just a regular infant, maybe a year old, buried in a toppled food cart, tucked in a basket like someone thought that would save him from the apocalypse.
And suddenly.
I'm back there.
My world.
Hospital light too bright. My mother's hand cold in mine.
She said, "You don't have to be strong all the time."
Then she was gone.
Just like that.
My legs move before my brain catches up.
I haul debris like I've got chakra to burn. Wood splinters tear into my fingers.
Doesn't matter.
I grab the baby. It's screaming. Still alive. Still loud. I shush him like I know how.
He looks at me. Wide-eyed. Innocent.
And now I've done it.
He was supposed to die. Just one more casualty in the footnotes of a tragedy.
Perhaps a background character destined to not see the next sunrise?
But now?
Now I've changed something.
I guess, this is my first rebellion against the world.
The ground trembled again. A second tail slams down three streets away, and I know we don't have time.
I need cover. I need chakra. I need to be a ninja.
But I'm not.
I'm just—GROWL!
Low. Wet. Close.
I turn.
A beast, not Kurama, some mutated summon thing, a tiger made of shadows and scroll ink.
Its eyes find me. Me and the baby. Fresh meat.
I back up. Somebody planted this. It looked eerily like Sai's jutsu.
I can't fight this. I have no plan. No tools. No backup.
I just wanted to see the start and make my way to the bunker, man.
My heart's a jackhammer. My head's screaming run run run run—
I trip.
The baby hits the dirt, screaming louder.
The beast leaps.
This is it. This is how I die in a world that's not mine, in a body too weak, trying to play hero when I should've stayed a spectator.
I throw my arm up on instinct. I scream.
And something inside me...cracks.
Or maybe unlocks.
A pulse rips out from under my skin. Chakra, but slick, weightless.
Ink.
It spills into the air, fast, alive, wrapping around me like it knows what to do better than I do.
Above me, the beast descends.
The ink surges, sharpens, forms.
Another tiger. Mine.
Solid black. Eyes like calligraphy.
ROAR.
They collide midair, fang to fang, scroll to scream.
And then, boom.
Ink. Dust. Silence.
Gone. Both of them. Like they were never real.
A ring of inked earth surround us. The baby's quiet now. Maybe in shock. Me too.
I collapse.
My vision is going. Too much. Too fast. My body's short-circuiting.
The, a shadow.
Someone's standing over me.
Eyes like coal under moonlight. Calm. Observing. Not surprised. Not afraid.
Itachi.
Younger. Age...maybe five like me.
He doesn't say anything.
He just stares at me.
My vision fades.
But I do feel being picked up and put over a tiny shoulder before blacking out completely.
...
The first thing I notice is the ceiling. It's cracked.
Hairline fractures spiderwebbed across stone like someone punched it. The second thing?
I'm cold. Not "open window" cold. Metal-table-in-a-morgue cold.
Third?
I'm alive.
Which, considering I was nearly eaten by chakra-ink-tiger number on while summoning chakra-ink-tiger number two, feels... unexpected.
My throat's dry. My fingers ache like I tried to fistfight a scroll. My stomach feels hollow, like whatever chakra I unlocked cracked something important on the way out.
But I'm not dead.
Good.
Now what?
I shift, wincing. Linen blankets, thing and scratchy. A candle flickers in the corner, barely holding back the dark.
Someone's here.
A shadow leans against the far wall. Crossed arms. Barely moving. Not guarding the door. Not relaxing either. Just watching.
Itachi.
A lot younger than I remember, but with that same haunted stillness, like he already knows how the world ends and is politely waiting for it to finish the act.
He doesn't speak. Not yet.
Just watches.
Like trying to figure out what species I am.
I try to sit up. Bad idea. The room tilts sideways, and I make a noise I hope doesn't sound as pathetic as it feels.
Say something clever.
Say something normal.
Say literally anything to stop him from staring through you like a goddamn Byakugan.
"...thanks," I croak. "For dragging me."
Still nothing. Just a blink.
Then, finally, he speaks.
Quiet. Crisp. Like he cuts the air into pieces and hands you one.
"That wasn't your first time fighting, was it?"
Boom.
No warning shot. No polite circle-around. Just a kunai through the center.
I freeze.
Heartbeat goes vertical. Mouth opens, closes. No answer comes out because I don't have on that doesn't raise red flags.
What do I say?
1. "Haha, I was just lucky?"
2. "Yeah, I've got a chakra anomaly nobody's ever seen before, no big deal?"
3. "Technically, I died in another world and watched your whole life on TV — great performance, by the way?"
Yeah, no.
I glance away. Pick a crack in the floor to focus on.
"I don't know what that was."
True.
And not.
Itachi doesn't move. Doesn't blink. Just absorbs the answer, like a sponge absorbs blood.
"It looked like you copied that tiger."
That tightens my spine. Cold prickles creep down the back of my neck.
Copy. Let's put that on the side for now.
Root.
Danzo's little house of horrors. Ink-based jutsus.
The kind of chakra manipulation that takes years to weaponize, and leaves a trail of emotionally stunted orphans behind.
And I pulled it off screaming with a baby in my arms and a death monster six feet away.
Yeah, no way that looks natural.
I keep my voice low. Controlled. Like maybe if I sound calm, he won't sniff out the panic crawling just under my skin.
"Did I? I wasn't even thinking. It just... happened."
Itachi doesn't answer. But his eyes sharpen. Just a flicker. Like he's filing that statement in some internal ledger labeled 'Inconsistencies.'
Then he shifts. Small, subtle. One foot angled toward the door now. Readying to leave. But not yet.
Not until he's sure.
"What's your name?"
And there it is.
The question I hoped he wouldn't ask.
I could lie. Easy.
Pick a random civilian surname, slap on a generic shinobi family name. Say "Kenta" or "Riku" or "Kenji." Konoha's full of nameless orphans right now. War makes ghosts fast.
But here's the problem:
If I lie, and someone checks later, I'm screwed.
If I tell the truth and he digs deep enough, I'm still screwed.
So I split the difference.
"Don't remember."
Silence.
I meet his eyes this time. Steady. Tired. Real.
"Woke up like this a few months ago. Head was... fuzzy. No parents. No memories. Just flashes."
He watches me. Still and quiet.
A mirror that judges.
C'mon. Buy it. Don't be smarter than the script right now, Itachi. Please.
Then, a beat later, he speaks.
"You didn't flinch when it leapt."
I blink.
"What?"
"That tiger. When it lunged. You didn't close your eyes. You just raised your hand."
The silence stretches thin between us.
I want to laugh.
I want to scream.
I want to say, because I've died before. Because that was mercy compared to everything I've seen.
Instead, I just whisper.
"I was too scared to blink."
Another truth.
Another not.
Itachi nods.
A fraction of a nod.
Then, for real this time, he turns to leave.
Hand on the sliding door. Candlelight catches the edge of his hair, just enough to crown him in gold for half a second.
"You should stay here tonight. Don't go outside."
"The fox?"
"That is over. But, some ANBU are tracking residual chakra signatures. They're...curious."
He steps out, halfway through the door, then pauses, doesn't turn, just leaves the last line floating like smoke.
"I'll see you at the Academy."
Then he's gone.
Damn. I folded like wet paper.
Guess old habits die harder when they're carved into you with pliers.
I thought I was done being scared. Turns out, I just changed zip codes.
So much for playing it cool.