Chapter 1 : The beginning

The sky shimmered with stars, a radiant white moon casting its watery glow through wispy clouds.

Atop a rocky mountain, three solemn, ancient faces overlooked the village below, where stone-lined streets glowed faintly from the last open shops. Drunken shouts mingled with quiet murmurs in the night air.

A sudden cry shattered the stillness. Moments later, doors creaked, and hurried footsteps broke the quiet.

"Toshiro! Are you alright?" A girl, around sixteen, rushed in, her worry clear. She scooped up the small figure on the bed, gently patting his head and back, her embrace tender and protective.

"I'm fine, Mei-neechan!" Toshiro muttered, though his thirty-year-old mind felt awkward in this childlike body. Ignoring his protests, Mei rested her chin on his forehead, her hand rubbing his back, holding him tighter as if to banish his fears.

"Another nightmare?"

"Well..." he sighed, giving up his half-hearted attempts to pull away. Her familiar scent—a mix of shower gel and her unique fragrance—began to soothe his frayed nerves, the tension from his dream melting away.

Mei watched him relax, her heart heavy yet relieved. Toshiro, the son of her late sister and an elite jounin, had faced tragedy too early. His father died on a mission before he was born, and his mother, frail and ailing, passed when he was just four. For the past years, Mei had been his steadfast guardian.

"I'm fine, Neechan. I can't even remember the dream," Toshiro reassured her.

Mei gently tucked the quilt around him, deciding he was telling the truth. Smiling softly, she said, "Well, Toshiro-kun, I have nowhere else to be. How about I stay? With your Neechan here, those nightmares won't dare return."

"Mei-neechan, really, there's no need! I feel great—your help already did the trick."

Mei glanced at his dark eyes, chuckling lightly before turning to leave. As she walked out, Toshiro's gaze caught the Uchiha clan symbol on the back of her top. A faint sigh stirred within him.

Once the door closed and the room grew quiet, his thoughts began to wander.

He wasn't just a child—he was a thirty-year-old man from the modern world, someone who had only recently embraced fitness. In his twenties, he'd learned to navigate the shift from the illusion of endless possibilities to the stark realities of life.

The experience had been promising. He had just started his business, brimming with ambition, when fate threw him into this strange world.

As a teenager, he had devoured the Naruto anime and remained a devoted fan, capable of answering any lore-related question even now.

Why Toshiro of all names? Isn't that the short Shinigami from Bleach? But the real issue was his surname—Uchiha. His lips curled into a bitter smile as the remnants of his nightmare lingered.

How could I miss it? A figure in white floated high in the sky, forming hand seals under a full moon. His mouth stretched into an unsettling grin, exuding triumph. "Light up the world, Infinite Tsukuyomi!"

The haunting image of Madara Uchiha activating the Infinite Tsukuyomi during the Fourth Ninja War was the nightmare that had shaken him awake.

In yesterday's dream, a masked figure floated above the village, whispering, "Rin, I'll bring you back." The night before, a small figure in an ANBU uniform sat atop a telephone pole in the clan compound, a sword strapped to his back.

"Oi! This life is not for me!"

The four-year-old, now called Uchiha Toshiro, sighed softly, unsure of his next move. Will these recurring dreams fade as my memories fully merge?

This flood of memories brought its own problems. Other transmigrators get systems, golden fingers, or even multiple bloodlines. Why am I stuck without any perks? If the ROB—or whoever decided my fate—didn't want to give me a system, the least they could've done was drop me into a normal world, not this violent, blood-soaked ninja nightmare.

Unlike Toshiro from Bleach, who wields the strongest Ice Zanpakutō and has the coolest lieutenant, I ended up as an Uchiha—a clan mostly wiped out before the main story even begins.

—

The Next Morning

The village stirred as dawn's light chased away the night. Streets gradually filled with life, the marketplace bustling with activity, a sign of a promising day. At the heart of it all lay the Uchiha Clan compound, home to Uchiha Toshiro.

"Good morning, Auntie," the boy mumbled, pushing open the bedroom door with one hand while rubbing his sleepy eyes with the other. He yawned mid-greeting, glancing toward the kitchen where Mei busily worked.

"How many times must I tell you? Call me Onee-sama, not Auntie!"

Mei was adamant about the title. Being called "Auntie" made her feel like a married woman with kids, which she wasn't—she was still a teenager. As the youngest in the family, she'd always longed for a younger sibling to call her Onee-sama.

Toshiro ignored her and headed to the bathroom. He filled a bucket with water, washed his face, brushed his teeth, and freshened up. Glancing in the mirror, he studied his new face: dark eyes, fair skin with a hint of baby fat, and spiky dark hair reminiscent of Obito's.

"Hmm, I'll grow into a handsome guy," he mused, offering himself a little boost of confidence.

In the dining room, Mei approached the table carrying a food container. Her long brown hair framed her striking features, and her navy blue turtleneck and apron gave her a warm, homely appearance. She was Toshiro's maternal aunt, the one who had taken him in after his mother's death a week ago and had cared for him ever since.

The original Toshiro had been grieving his mother's recent death, his sorrow so profound that he barely ate. Three days ago, overwhelmed with guilt and sadness, he passed away in his sleep. I woke up in his place, likely a consequence of the Uchiha clan's deeply emotional nature that Tobirama mentioned in the manga.

Since then, Mei had moved into Toshiro's home, assuming the role of his caregiver. This followed Uchiha tradition: whenever a child became an orphan, the clan arranged for close relatives to care for them—providing daily support, teaching them life skills, and fostering loyalty to the clan. If no relatives were available, widowed elders took on the responsibility.

Both sat at the table, the aroma of miso soup, grilled fish, pickles, steamed rice, and natto making their hunger more apparent as they prepared to eat.

"Itadakimasu," they both said, picking up their chopsticks in unison. They ate with focus, the only sounds in the room being the occasional clink of chopsticks against dishes and the soft rhythm of chewing.

He recalled how his mother, even in declining health, had instilled proper manners and the esteemed traditions of the Uchiha clan, regarded as royalty in the Leaf Village and the Land of Fire.

Thankfully, by the time he transmigrated, the original Toshiro had already mastered reading and writing. As a transmigrator, understanding Japanese came naturally, sparing him the hassle of relearning the language. Phew.

"I'm done, Mei-neechan. I'll go study," he said, rising from the table.

"Alright. I'll handle the dishes," she replied, relieved to see his healthy appetite. Content, she let him go about his day.

The study room, located opposite the master bedroom, was sparsely furnished. A large, square low table dominated the center, while a massive bookshelf lined the wall. A simple futon added to the room's minimalist feel, providing a space to sit and study at the table, which was spacious enough to accommodate five or six people for meetings.

The surreal nature of this world and my situation had started to fade with the familiarity of my morning routine—until the next moment hit me like a brick.

-------------------------

AN : You can read chapters published ahead on my p@treon account - p@treon.com/noviceauthor777