The light from the campfire illuminated a small clearing in the forest of the Land of Fire. An old man and a boy sat under the moonlight. The old wolf, whose strength had not waned under the burden of age, was enlightening the young pup.
"Remember, grandson: the life of a shinobi is not a pretty picture that will be written in scrolls and passed down to future generations. Shinobi are shadows, assassins who know no mercy. The weak in this world will be killed and forgotten, while the strong will live. You were born with power that others can only dream of, and I am just as strong. But know this: there is always someone stronger. Never forget that. I will always help you, as will our clan, but always be stronger than anyone who threatens your life. We may be exiles, but we are always Uzumaki." The old man tossed more wood into the fire and continued. "The Uzumaki clan is one of the strongest, but we do not partake in clan feuds. We only trade and sell our creations, yet we do not lose people like others do. I am certain that one day this will lead to tragedy. I only hope that the Head's and the elders' council's desire to avoid spilling our clansmen's blood does not turn someone against us, someone whose power the clan cannot withstand. But in the last few hundred years, no such person has appeared. I cannot imagine a force that could subdue us. But I do not deny that someone might try. And you, Okami, know this: it is better to die in defiance than to kneel. That is the way of the shinobi, the life of an Uzumaki."
---
For several weeks now, the old man and I have been traveling through the Land of Fire. The stunningly beautiful, pristine landscapes, untouched by centuries of pollution, had a charm that resonated with me. Vast forests, towering trees, and clear waters gave me the feeling that I had landed on another planet, which, in a way, was true.
Old man Setsuna was an engaging storyteller, and I was mostly a listener, though I occasionally asked questions.
His tales varied, sometimes laced with gruesome details. If I were an ordinary child, I likely wouldn't have believed him or would have dismissed his stories as fairy tales. But what's one story worth when he told me he encountered a five-tailed beast that left a scar on his back as a memento, which he showed me? His back looked as though it had been literally welded. As I recall, the jinchuriki of that "deep-fryer" was a man in red armor. At this point, no one yet knew about the power of human sacrifice, and the first jinchuriki, Mito, had not yet been born. If she would be born at all. So it's no surprise that the tailed beasts roamed freely.
Knowledge of this world's history was my greatest trump card so far, but also my biggest problem. Thoughts of the future's major issues preoccupied me too much. Having been reborn, I had no desire to die from a random bijuu or in a battle against powerful foes. But that was a matter for the future.
From my perspective, my blood-related old man was like an ordinary soldier, a patriot of his country. In our case, the clan. He always portrayed the clan in the best light, but as a patriot, he also slipped in jabs and criticism toward the clan's policies. Many clansmen, according to his stories, craved battles and bloodshed, but the clan's policy was different, and people like Setsuna had to adapt and change their views or, in the old man's case, rely on other skills for survival. Fuin was a versatile power, and knowledge opened up vast possibilities. I knew there were many details he wasn't telling me, but I couldn't fully dive into them yet—my strength wasn't enough.
For now, the question was only about our journey and my training. As the old man said, years of training awaited me. If only I could find money for my needs. Worlds change, but money is needed everywhere.
Sure, as an elder, Setsuna didn't suffer from a lack of funds, but not everything is measured by a wallet, especially in a world where strength rules. The law of the jungle in its bloodiest form. In the case of the tailed beast, he could have lost his life, as did the people who were with him at the time. But he survived, and they didn't. Isn't that the ultimate proof of strength and the essence of this world?
Money, as Setsuna said, was needed for many things. Food, shelter, and clothes, which I'd outgrow in a few months. He had money, but as he told me, I'd have to earn for my own needs. He wouldn't abandon me in the forest, but he wouldn't just hand me money either. Damn Warring Clans Era, where children serve as military forces. If I were a child born in Konoha, even an orphan, I'd at least get some allowance.
How, pray tell, does a five-year-old earn money in a world without even a landline phone, where people run around cutting each other? But he said he'd explain later.
So, with stories and stops, we moved toward one of the cities. There, according to the old man, a long stay awaited us—how long, I didn't know, but for now, it was our destination. There, he'd find me work. I hoped it wouldn't involve cleaning up after animals or working in the fields.
But there was one significant detail that occupied most of my time and attention.
On the third day of our journey, I was allowed to use something I hadn't been gifted with in my past life—chakra. An astonishing thing. But first, there was a, let's say, watery lecture.
It was another clearing, free of trees, one of many we'd come across in the forest. The dense woods hid many things. Including remains, which I saw. And they weren't always animal in origin.
We sat on the grass, still damp from morning dew. The sun was just rising. Beautiful weather—perfect for a coffee and a chocolate-filled bun. I squinted at the thought of that delicious filling.
"Alright," the old man clapped his hands, drawing my attention. "What do you know about chakra, my student?"
He sounded like a Jedi mentor. I thought for a moment and answered:
"Chakra is an integral part of all living things; it exists everywhere: in stones and trees, in the sky and on the earth. Using various methods, the most common being hand seals, one can regulate and control chakra to create various effects, such as manipulating natural elements. Chakra also allows one to run faster than any beast and be several times stronger. Chakra has become an energy that all people produce to some extent; those who run out of chakra die. Produced within 'coils' that surround and connect each chakra-producing organ, the energy circulates throughout the body in a network called chakra pathways, similar to the cardiovascular system. Certain people, like shinobi, have learned to generate more chakra and release it outward through tenketsu to perform jutsu."
"Mhm, so far, all correct. As Akihiko said, you've read a lot. Continue."
Why are you smiling, old man? If I'd lived in a prison, I'd have read a lot too, if they'd let me.
"Chakra is created when two other forms of energy, collectively known as physical or life energy and spiritual energy, are mixed together. Physical energy is gathered from every cell in the body and can be increased through training, stimulants, and exercise. Spiritual energy comes from the mind's consciousness and can be enhanced through study, meditation, and experience. These two energies, as they grow stronger, make the resulting chakra more powerful. Thus, continuous practice of a technique builds experience and increases spiritual energy, allowing for the creation of a larger volume of chakra. As a result, a ninja can perform the same technique with greater power and expand their chakra reservoir. The volume of chakra is not limited, but only a few ninja truly have large reserves. Except for the Uzumaki, of course. This cycle also applies to physical energy, except that instead, a ninja must increase their stamina. Some unique individuals have significant potential, allowing them to exponentially increase their chakra reserves in a relatively short time. The Senju, Uzumaki, and Uchiha are known for members with large chakra reserves."
"Well done, your knowledge is at a good level. It's all true. No matter how much I hate the Uchiha, some among them are monsters who can rival us. The Senju have always had large reserves. But we, the Uzumaki, are perfect in this regard. Every Uzumaki is born with a large chakra volume, and throughout their life, this volume grows even larger. Even half-breeds, like you, Okami, have all the advantages of an Uzumaki. Though…" He gave me a strange look and said, "You're unique in this regard."
I wanted to roll my eyes. There he goes again, badmouthing the Uchiha and praising the Uzumaki. I'm not exactly disagreeing, but hearing it every day gives me a headache. But I wasn't paying attention to that anymore. Something else caught my interest.
"What do you mean, old man? Why am I unique?"
Sure, I'm handsome and the best. But when someone else says I'm unique, it raises some bad suspicions. Is my chakra reserve not as large as other Uzumaki's? I knew the Sharingan was a huge advantage over others, but what if they gave me one thing and took away another?
"You insolent brat, call me Grandpa or Teacher!" As if I'd do that. This is my revenge for leaving me for five years, you old hen. I stuck out my tongue—child's prerogative. Though, remembering how he beat me for three hours straight, I know his hand, and foot, are heavy. But as he explained and apologized, it was for the sake of observers, to lower their guard. Not everyone is ready to watch a child being beaten for that long.
"Tch. Fine, I get it. As for your chakra, you'll figure it out yourself. Now come sit closer."
I didn't say anything and sat in front of him. He placed his hand on my stomach, and I suddenly felt—hard to describe—strange.
"I've infused my chakra into your source. Feel it. Not many can replicate this technique, but remember: you must never allow foreign chakra into your chakra pathways, let alone your reservoir—it will lead you to the grave. There are many dangerous and unique jutsu. Now, figure it out."
He left me and went off, probably to set up camp. That didn't matter anymore.
I felt the chakra, how it moved, its volume, and my pathways. It was as if I'd suddenly gained a new organ. I'd had these sensations since birth, but faintly, like on the periphery. Now it was vivid, like a third arm. Magic.
As someone who'd already experienced the wonders of this energy when I passed out from pain, I didn't immediately try to move it through my whole body. I took a tiny fraction from my chakra core, literally one-hundredth, and directed it to the pinky of my left hand.
Oh, damn. It glowed blue and started hurting sharply. Like someone was tearing my finger apart from the inside. I'd felt pain like this after a therapy session in the hospital. Damn cancer. Now my finger was literally being ripped apart. I tried to do something, but my attempts at chakra manipulation did nothing; I was doing something wrong.
"As I thought." The old man appeared beside me and waved his hand toward me. Some glyph flashed at the edge of my vision and vanished. I felt my chakra diminish, as if something had blocked it. The pain stopped after ten seconds.
"What was that? Why did it hurt so much?"
Ugh, tears welled up. Setsuna frowned and said:
"Your chakra, Okami, there's too much of it; your chakra volume is too large. I saw what you did, but even that tiny drop of chakra damages your pathways. You could have lost your finger if the pathway had burst."
"So what do I do?"
"I applied a Fuin, but it won't last long. In an hour, it'll be washed away by the pressure of your chakra. You'll have to experiment, grandson. Only you can control your chakra. If you blow up your fingers or something else—don't worry, I'm always nearby and will heal you." With that, he ordered me to eat breakfast. According to him, a long day awaited us.
I definitely saw a glint of amusement in his eyes. The old man clearly knew how to solve this problem but left me to figure it out myself. Fine. Experiments were an integral part of my life, though now it wasn't sitting with test tubes but risking blowing up my fingers. But such is the way of the shinobi. I hope.
---
A few hours later.
The pain of my fingers literally exploding, multiple times, made me more cautious. What Madaras and Kaguyas? Future problems didn't concern me. My fingers were exploding from my own chakra. I tried taking less and less from the core, from one-hundredth to one-thousandth, and a few minutes ago, I succeeded.
I was so happy! And the old man, noticing my progress, was smiling too.
I did it! Magic was now within reach! Watch out, Voldemort. Now I'm the chosen one, I'll come and…
"Now circulate that amount through all your pathways, not just your fingers."
No, he's definitely my personal demon, assigned to me after death to bring pain.
---
For a week now, I've been using chakra, circulating it through my whole body. The old man said this would make my pathways expand and strengthen. For someone who was ordinary, even frail in terms of physical fitness, chakra opened up immense possibilities. I was like a super-soldier dreamt of by science.
Fast, faster than the deer I chased and outran, leaving it behind.
Strong enough to lift a boulder weighing about a hundred kilograms.
Agile, as if I'd trained in gymnastics my whole life.
Yes, back on Uzumaki Island, playing with Akihiko, I knew my natural abilities were impressive, but with active chakra use, it was incomparable. My body was as if made for battle. Even without actively training, it gave me what ordinary people strive for over years. Now I was superhuman.
Another interesting point was the Sharingan. The copying eye of the Uchiha clan was a fascinating organ from a biological perspective. Why do the eyes turn red? Where do the tomoe come from? Not to mention the Mangekyo. And other questions I put off for the future.
For now, the first tomoe, which I awakened upon realizing my death and rebirth, gave me both little and much. I could see chakra outlines around and farther than usual. The old man in my eyes was like a sun. So large and voluminous, he sometimes blocked my entire view. The first time I saw him, I asked him to somehow hide his chakra and was shocked when he said he was already concealing his full volume, and what I saw was only one-twentieth.
There were other nuances: my body's responsiveness and reaction speed improved significantly with the Sharingan activated, like being on some drug. Everything slowed down—not slow-motion like in movies, but noticeably. As Setsuna told me, this effect could be toggled. It made sense that I was processing information faster than usual, not that time suddenly slowed.
When I asked for a sparring session, which we already did at every stop, I noticed a difference. I could at least somewhat track his legs, which used to hit me in the head. I managed to block. Of course, it didn't change much, and he still knocked me out, but it was progress. Medical techniques are great: he beats me, and I get up after a few minutes of healing.
Pure masochism, but I liked the feeling of a strong body. After frailty, the difference was stark, especially when I missed the nimble old man and smashed tree trunks to splinters.
As for the Sharingan's copying and hypnosis, nothing substantial came of it. The old man once shot water from his mouth, and I tried to figure out where such a volume of water came from his oral cavity. Chakra literally created water from nothing. I couldn't copy it, nor could I hypnotize a rabbit they brought me for an experiment.
When I asked about learning ninjutsu, they told me, figuratively, to take a long walk. It was too early for me with my control, especially with my chakra volume. A fair point, no matter how much I grumbled: I'd more likely blow myself up than produce anything useful with ninjutsu.
Days passed in sparring, conversations, and tales of Uzumaki greatness. We bypassed all settlements along the way, though I didn't see them, I knew they were there—they had to be. I didn't know why, but I didn't care. I was playing with my new toy.
And so our adventure reached the end of the fourth week. After lunch, the old man disappeared for an hour with orders not to go anywhere and reappeared just as suddenly.
"Pack up, Okami. The City of a Thousand Nights awaits us."
Sen no Yoru no Machi. The City of a Thousand Nights. Sounds grand. Who gave it such an interesting name?
"What were you doing in the city, Grandpa? Just curious. You said it's a few minutes' run from here."
He no longer minded how I addressed him. Probably got used to it. And I stopped playing the child for long and just started calling him Grandpa.
"Checking the area and setting up signal barriers to know if someone with more chakra than an ordinary person approaches. We'll be living here for a while, so it's better to prepare in advance. I left you so you wouldn't get in my way."
I don't know why he said I'd be a hindrance, but I understood. If someone attacked him, it's better I stay here, under the barriers he set up at every stop, than draw attention in a fight. Dangerous times—everyone's cutting each other everywhere.
Gathering our belongings, we set off.
We ran through the forest in a straight line, encountering no obstacles except for roots, which I tripped over at first. It was a kind of training—running for hours to the next stop without falling face-first in the dirt. I had a lake's worth of chakra, so I stopped riding on the old man's back the next day after I managed to channel chakra through my pathways, fully enhancing my body. I got tired, sure, but only a little. Chakra and a young body have many advantages.
After half an hour of running, the city came into view. Though calling it a city was a stretch. The houses, surprisingly (not really), were in traditional Japanese style, with smoke rising from chimneys throughout the city. The weather was warm. Why they were smoking wasn't clear. The medieval city was surrounded by a nominal fence of bamboo and wood, four meters high. Even I could jump over it. The fence was more for people and animals that might attack.
Shinobi weren't welcome here, as I gathered from the old man's stories. Ordinary people, who might never meet a chakra user in their lifetime, didn't believe tales about them, and those who knew the truth kept their mouths shut. Dangerous for their lives, as the common folk believed.
We emerged from the forest onto the road and walked slowly, like ordinary people, toward the gates I'd seen earlier.
"Grandpa, how should I behave? I've only talked to you, Akihiko, and a few others in the clan. I just want to know upfront what I can say and what I can't."
I didn't want deaths because of my careless tongue. Judging by the stories and his attitude toward common people, Setsuna would rather kill a problem than solve it.
"I was just about to tell you about that." He adjusted his bamboo hat and said, "Don't say you're a shinobi or that you use chakra, especially to other kids in the city." As if I'd play with kids. "And don't use chakra outside the house, especially on ordinary people. Only in cases of direct threat or if I'm not around. But dose your strength if you have to fight an ordinary person: they're too fragile, like ants underfoot. You'd kill them without noticing. You're still a child, but even this entire city poses no threat to you. Now just smile and act like a normal kid, heh-heh." He grinned at his simple joke, and we approached the city gates, where two guards stood in some old samurai armor. Swords at their belts and a spear, firmly held by the pair, were an interesting sight. Cosplayers, almost. Oh, right, there are samurai here who use chakra. It'd be interesting to see them.
"Hello, young men, may we enter this fine city?"
Old man, who are you, and what have you done with my battle-hardened grandpa? I was surprised, of course, but didn't show it. A grin stretched across my face. But inside, I thought: his voice changed. I'd been joking that he was quite the old man, but his voice was anything but old—firm and deep, fitting his massive frame. Now his voice was like that of a dying man; he hunched over, cloaked in a robe that hid his figure, the hat and gray hair adding to the look. Just an ordinary old man with his grandson. I'd have to ask later how to change my voice.
The guard on the left answered, while the one on the right only glanced at us and continued scanning the surroundings. Their helmets covered their mouths, so the voice sounded muffled.
"Greetings, old man. Tell us where you're from, your reason for coming to the glorious City of a Thousand Nights, then pay the entry fee. Passage for those over ten years old is fifty ryo. For those younger, two hundred. The city promises protection from beasts, and the Daimyo ensures safety from bandits."
Why so much for kids? I didn't understand. I wasn't yet familiar with this world's currency system or its rates, but it seemed odd. But maybe there was a reason. He took a scroll in hand and waited for an answer.
"We're simple hereditary farmers, noble warrior, coming from Otama Village, north of this city. We traveled eight nights to reach this place, and only Kami-sama helped us on this journey. We fled, warrior, fled as if from the plague. Some spirits, like minions of Jashin himself, were killing and slaughtering people. Blood was everywhere. The village was burned. As if Oni had crawled out of the underworld. I miraculously saved my grandson. I want to raise him in a safe place; he's only five, with his whole life ahead. Knowing that the Daimyo of the Nights, blessed by Kami, guarantees the safety of his lands, we came to this city. Oh, how wonderful is the Daimyo, caring for his people, may he live long, may his reign…"
The guards exchanged a look, their eyes more eloquent than words. They didn't believe his story, dismissing it as a fairy tale. Just ordinary bandits attacked the village. The guard interrupted him and said:
"Alright, alright, old man, pay the fee, and you can live in peace. Just know that the Daimyo watches for every violation, and his punishment is inevitable. The tavern is on the main street, three streets down. If you're looking for something cheaper, turn right after the fourth street and go to the end. There'll be houses for rent for anyone willing."
Setsuna handed over the ryo, and we calmly passed through the opened gates, which were manually operated from the other side. The wood was heavy, so there were four guards on that side.
The city's appearance didn't inspire enthusiasm. An ordinary village from the twenty-first century, just wrapped in Japanese aesthetics and without power lines. In the distance, I saw a palace, likely the governor's. Mud and water squelched unpleasantly underfoot, and the smells made me think they'd kill me with the second breath. This wasn't the City of a Thousand Nights anymore—just a city.
I want to go home. To modernity. One hundred percent.
---
After renting the house the guard recommended, we sat in the backyard, like Shikamaru and his father in the anime. Instead of a strategic game, we had a small table and green tea. Time for a talk. Earlier, I'd unpacked my things in my room—not much to unpack—and looked around. The house was similar, just with one extra room compared to the clan's, and newer. It seemed to have been built recently. An ordinary backyard, covered in grass that still needed tending, and the view of another house didn't offer much to gaze at. On either side were similar houses, separated by fences. It looked like these houses were built and rented to many. A whole business. The woman who rented it to us introduced herself as a subordinate of the Daimyo. For a month's rent, or whatever it's called here, the old man paid two thousand ryo. I don't know if that's a lot of money or not.
Sipping his tea, the old man said:
"Ask your questions. I can see they're swarming in your head."
"Why do kids have to pay more to enter? I thought it's usually the other way around."
"Fewer street urchins, and kids over ten can be treated as adults and punished accordingly." Hm, I hadn't thought of that. "Simple reason. What else is on your bright mind?" I glanced critically at my dark hair, which was already hanging long. But whatever.
"Why didn't you just use genjutsu on the guards, and why not buy this house? She offered it."
The woman said the house cost only a hundred thousand ryo, and we'd be full-fledged citizens of the city. As if we were loafers and freeloaders before.
"As for genjutsu, alas, Okami, it's too dangerous. If your Sharingan were developed, you could pull it off. But my chakra is too aggressive. You don't notice it as much since we're related. And it's not necessary for such simple matters. For those who use chakra, it's aggressive too, but not enough to cause harm through genjutsu. But for ordinary people, it's lethal. I'd turn them into vegetables if I tried to control them. And I'm not skilled in it anyway—just know the basics my teacher gave me." He took another sip. "As for buying, I just didn't want to spend the money."
He smirked and pulled a scroll from his robe.
"Here, this is for you."
"What's in it, old man?"
"Channel chakra."
I did, and with a soft pop, a young writer's kit appeared before me. A brush, a jar of something black—likely ink—a roll of paper, and a black glove.
"Starting tomorrow, training begins and will continue for a year, after which you'll go on your first mission. That will be your job, how you'll make a living. I'll pay if the missions are from me, or the client will, but through me. For now, you'll be a freeloader. But I'll say this: I'll give you everything you want, but only for this year. After that, you're on your own."
If I were a real child, it'd be tough. Fortunately, I'm not. Starting to earn at six isn't impossible, but in this world, it's already dangerous. Good thing there's chakra.
"Got it."
I nodded seriously, but my gaze caught the glove.
"What's this for?" I picked it up and put it on. I understood. It started disrupting the chakra flow in my right hand, where I wore it. Not too strongly—I could break through the blockage—but I didn't.
"I can see in your eyes that you get it. It'll help early on when you need to dose your chakra. Once your control reaches the minimum level suitable for Fuin, you won't need this crutch."
Food appeared on the table unnoticed.
"Now eat. You'll need it after training. Today, I'll increase my strength."
He smirked, knowing I'd suffer. Here we go.
Ugh, he only recently increased it. I didn't complain, understanding he was training me for my own good.
An extremely interesting year awaits me. I hope I survive. Though with this sadistic medic, dying will be hard.
---