Konoha Year 39. The Second Great Shinobi War was nearing its conclusion. Though isolated skirmishes still flared up, the dawn of peace had begun to shine on the horizon.
Whether shinobi still roaming distant battlefields or civilians within the village walls, their faces no longer bore the same anxiety of days past. A calm, victorious confidence had begun to take root.
The good news was clear: after years of bloodshed, the war was finally showing signs of winding down. For the people of Konohagakure, the future had never looked brighter.
Mito Uzumaki, now 75, continued to exert a quiet but formidable deterrence over the other nations. Hiruzen Sarutobi, 48, had consolidated his reign as the Third Hokage. Sakumo Hatake, 26, was in his prime—strong, respected.
The bad news? It was only this war that was ending.
Unlike the First Great Shinobi War, the Second was defined by the mass death of genin and chūnin—a brutal escalation in the scale of violence. And in truth, this war was merely the prelude to the true calamity: the Third Shinobi War, a far more vicious storm looming just seven years ahead.
For now, though, on the edge of Konoha, in a crumbling house long forgotten by time, a low voice rasped with laughter.
"Heh… heheheh… Another day survived. Sixteen years old and still breathing. A miracle worthy of the Ōtsutsuki themselves."
From the shadows, a figure emerged—gaunt, skeletal, wrapped in tattered cloth like a revenant clawed from the grave.
Tsukasa Kaede loved the sun.
When he arrived in this world, he hadn't come with a plan. Just one goal: survive another day. Live until he couldn't anymore. Not for lack of trying—but because, for the longest time, trying was impossible.
He hadn't come here by spirit. He hadn't reincarnated with a cheat. His body had been physically dragged here.
In the split second before dying a miserable death on Earth, he'd been flung into the world of shinobi—his body regressed to that of a child, his mind intact. The trauma of it shattered him.
A normal human from Earth contains about 40 trillion cells. In the shinobi world, even the average civilian had 130 trillion—and that wasn't just a stat boost. That was a difference in species.
This meant that the viruses and bacteria Kaede brought with him—pathogens deadly on Earth—barely registered here. At worst, a few native sneezes and the microbes were dead. Maybe a mild cold lasting half a day.
But for him, even a benign microbe native to this world meant war. A full-scale battle with Death itself.
From day one, Tsukasa Kaede had fought a losing battle with sickness. Disease after disease. Organ failure waiting at every corner. His immune system—meant for Earth—had no business existing here.
Why didn't he just refine chakra to suppress the infections?
Because it was impossible.
Native shinobi extracted chakra from the synergy of their massive cellular reserves and mental strength. 130 trillion cells working in harmony to produce life energy.
Kaede? He had 40 trillion. Less, actually, given how much sickness had devoured him. And even if he tried to force chakra extraction, what would that accomplish? He'd burn through his few functioning cells and collapse on the spot.
Any chakra he did manage to refine wasn't enough to circulate through his body—much less fight the pathogens festering inside. Mastering chakra control required more chakra to practice with… and that was assuming someone was even willing to teach him.
If he pushed too hard, drew out too much? He'd die on the spot.
Sixteen years. Sixteen years of starving battles in his own bloodstream, where fat, glucose, and proteins were ravaged just to keep his body functioning. He was a walking skeleton—but a skeleton still alive.
And now… for the first time, he could say it: he had adapted. He had earned the right to exist here.
His lifespan? Crushed. Even if he avoided all future illness, he had already lost decades. But Kaede no longer feared death. He had spent those sixteen years not only fighting to survive—but hunting for a way forward.
And he had found it.
"All these years… refining that pitiful trickle of chakra, bit by bit. Studying, testing, shaping a path meant for me... and finally, it's taken shape."
Kaede looked at his reflection. His face, gaunt and sunken, bore a haunting resemblance to Nagato. He stared at his hands, curling the bony fingers into fists.
The power he had discovered… In native terms, it could only be called:
Corpse Release.
Kaede could manipulate a zombie virus—resurrecting the dead as living husks.
He had never told a soul.
The reason was obvious. Without power to protect it, revealing this kind of jutsu would guarantee death. At best, he'd be imprisoned as a heretic. At worst? Executed or dissected.
Manipulating the dead was forbidden. It was the domain of the most dangerous kinjutsu—techniques sealed away for eternity. And it wouldn't take long before people began asking how he developed it.
Did he steal bodies from battlefields? Kidnap civilians for experimentation?
You don't just stumble upon necromantic chakra on accident.
And this power—one that defied the boundary of life and death—was too disruptive to exist in this timeline. Especially now, between the Second and Third Wars.
"The Second Hokage's Edo Tensei hasn't been rediscovered yet… and Orochimaru hasn't even begun to study it."
Kaede raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. For once, he inhaled deeply—and didn't hear the telltale wheeze of collapsing lungs.
The worst was behind him. He had work to do. He had a dream to chase.
First: escape this dying, broken Earthling body. He couldn't afford sentiment. He needed to live.
"The gap between 40 trillion and 130 trillion… is just too wide. And now, with this ruined body? I'm probably operating with less than 20 trillion functional cells. Even with a lifetime of effort, I'd barely qualify as a genin."
Kaede narrowed his eyes.
Orochimaru, at this point in history, had only just begun to dabble in Living Corpse Reincarnation. There was no point relying on his future research.
No—Kaede would forge his own path. Whatever it took.
He would seize every opportunity. Even if it meant being a beast of burden for the Leaf. Even if it meant licking the boots of his enemies. Every scrap of favor, every overlooked mission, every shadow assignment—he would take it.
Beasts of burden had their uses. Konoha was very good at using people to the fullest. Like now.
A shadow approached, breathless. "Orders from Lord Ryoma. A medical-nin squad is being dispatched to the northern border. You're assigned."
"Another infiltration mission, huh?" Kaede muttered. "War may be over, but the hatred isn't. Skirmishes and ambushes, endless as weeds... Even someone like me, with no real talent, has to go play medic in enemy territory."
He looked up at the speaker—Takano Kazeya, a medic who had once served under Jiraiya during the Second War. According to history, he was supposed to have died from toxic mist during the battle of Amegakure.
But Kaede… had pulled him back from that fate.
At just the right moment, he'd extended a hand—and Kazeya had survived.
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300 Stones in this story = 1 Bonus chapter in every fanfic currently translated