The night was deep, and in a dense forest, a few figures had set up camp. A simple tent stood beside a crackling bonfire.
Four people sat around the fire, all clad in high-collared robes. Their pale, grim faces looked eerie under the flickering firelight.
Each bore some degree of injury. After a long silence, a black-haired man with a ponytail spoke up.
"If it weren't for that kid dragging us down, we'd have finished already. I'm going to teach him a lesson right now!"
He stood, heading toward the tent, his hand resting on the long sword at his waist as if ready to make someone regret their existence.
"Enough. This matter is for the clan head to decide. It's the warring period now—every extra person increases our chances of completing the mission."
An older man seated in the center intervened.
Though he had little personal connection with the person in the tent, that individual's status left him no choice. The clan head had ordered him to look after the guy, and no matter how useless he was, the older man had to offer some protection.
The ponytail man fumed inwardly but couldn't defy the captain's orders.
Meanwhile, inside the tent, a man was slowly waking up.
"Where the hell am I? I remember getting blackout drunk and walking by the river to sober up, then slipping…"
A sharp pain stabbed through his head, and his back ached as if he'd been hit by a cart. Struggling, he opened his eyes—no familiar ceiling greeted him.
In the dim space, he could faintly make out the tent's hemp fabric roof. He tried to lift his hand, but his body felt pinned, as if under a nightmare's weight. A wrenching pain in his head knocked him out again.
Some time later, he was jolted awake by the argument outside. His limbs regained some strength, and he managed to prop himself up.
Staring at unfamiliar hands and clothing, and spotting a samurai sword beside him, he pieced together the memories flooding his mind. After a few seconds of silence, he muttered, "Damn, I really traversed? And into Naruto? Good thing I still remember most of the plot—Naruto, Sasuke, all that—but isn't this timeline a bit off?"
Indeed, he'd been a typical office worker, coasting through life, until a team-building event led to a few too many drinks. Drunk, he'd wandered to the riverbank, lost his footing in his stupor, and fell in. That was the end of his old life. Now, he'd woken up in this unlucky body.
"Uchiha Gin… an Uchiha, huh?"
From the memories, this was the Warring States period, long before Konoha's founding. The Uchiha clan had just signed a pact with the Hagoromo clan to jointly oppose the Senju clan.
Their current mission, dubbed the "Seed Removal Operation," aimed to weaken the Senju clan's future strength. Teams were tasked with ambushing and eliminating young Senju members to disrupt their lineage.
The original Uchiha Gin had lost both parents in the war. Since his mother was a cousin to the current clan head, Uchiha Tajima, he'd been taken in by Tajima after becoming an orphan.
But among the prodigious Uchiha clan, Uchiha Gin was painfully average—borderline useless, even.
In his twenties, he'd lost miserably in a spar against a ten-year-old clan member.
Recalling the memory of being thrashed by a kid, Gin's face twisted oddly. "That was freaking Madara as a kid. If I'd beaten him, I'd brag about it forever."
After skimming the original owner's memories, the new Uchiha Gin analyzed his situation.
The Warring States period meant chaos—no order, just constant danger. Swords and ninjutsu struck without mercy, and a single misstep could end him.
As a freshly ordinary guy, Gin decided survival was priority one. Living to thirty in this era was a luxury.
He tested the chakra in his body based on the original's memories. It flowed like a sluggish snail—barely there. He silently chanted, "System, activate!!!"
…
No response after ages. Gin opened his eyes and sighed. "No talent, no system. What a disastrous start."
After some thought, he resolved to cling to the original's lifeline: Uchiha Tajima, the current clan head and a powerhouse. As Tajima's distant nephew, Gin figured he could coast safely until Konoha's founding, as long as he avoided risks.
With that, he stood and stepped out of the tent.
The three men resting by the fire snapped their eyes open at the noise. The older man, spotting Gin emerge, fixed him with a stern gaze and said coldly, "Come here."
Seeing Gin mobile, he gestured him over. The newcomer obeyed, sitting across from the older man.
"Uchiha Gin, I'll report your daytime blunder and the losses it caused to the clan head. For the rest of this mission, no more recklessness. You follow my orders."
His narrow eyes flashed crimson, a wave of pressure making Gin struggle to breathe. Still, he nodded firmly.
"Three-tomoe Sharingan—top-tier Uchiha power," Gin noted mentally. This mission's difficulty was no joke.
The original Gin had learned the Hagoromo clan had already completed a major task. Too proud to let them gloat, he'd ventured deep into Senju territory to find their target.
Before even reaching Senju land, he'd been spotted by an outer patrol. A Senju squad ambushed them, and the inept original Gin was knocked out with one monstrous punch to the back.
Sent flying like a cannonball, he'd crashed headfirst and passed out. Only the team captain, Uchiha Fuka, had saved him.
That reckless stunt had earned him the team's ire, but Fuka, aware of Gin's ties to Tajima, had quelled their anger.
"Was the original that impulsive?" Gin wondered.
A figure flickered into view—the ponytail Uchiha who'd wanted to discipline him earlier. On night watch, he'd rushed back hearing the camp stir. Seeing Gin recovered, a vein pulsed on his forehead.
"Uchiha Gin, if the captain weren't protecting you, I'd have burned off that curly mop already. Cause any more trouble, and I'll deal with you before the Senju can."
Gin winced, feeling the hostile glares from the others. "Just how hated was the original?"
He glanced at a giant shuriken nearby, using its polished edge as a mirror. With the Uchiha's sharp vision, he finally saw his new face: wild curls, punchable dead-fish eyes. Despite the clan's good genes making him handsome, he radiated an oddly aggravating vibe.
"Sorry, everyone. I was reckless earlier. From now on, I'll follow your orders."
When in a pinch, bow your head. Unfamiliar with the original's skills, Gin opted to lay low.
"Huh????"
His words stunned the group, their jaws dropping as if they'd seen a ghost.
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