I died under concrete.
That was the last sensation I remembered clearly—not pain, not fear, just the crushing weight of something final pressing down on my back as my PC screen went black mid-game. An earthquake. One moment I was a 33-year-old man hunched over a keyboard, the next I was nothing.
No tunnel of light. No divine voice.
Just silence.
Then warmth.
Then crying that wasn't mine—but somehow was.
I was reborn screaming.
At first, I thought it was a dream—some vivid hallucination the brain fires off when it refuses to accept death. But dreams don't have weight. They don't have the smell of cloth, the pressure of hands, or the low, steady murmur of voices speaking a language I understood instinctively, even though I'd never spoken it before.
Japanese. Not modern. Familiar in a way that twisted my stomach.
"Easy… easy… he's healthy."
A man's voice. Calm. Controlled.
Another voice—higher, strained with exhaustion but warm. "He has your eyes."
That was when I realized something was wrong.
I couldn't move properly. My limbs were small. Weak. My vision blurred at the edges, colors bleeding together. Panic flared—but it was muted, dulled by a body that didn't yet know how to panic.
I wasn't dreaming.
I was a baby.
And as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the truth became impossible to deny.
This wasn't just reincarnation.
This was the Naruto world.
I grew up listening before I ever spoke.
My parents didn't know it, but I memorized everything. Their conversations. Their silences. The way my father corrected my mother's grip when she held a kunai to peel fruit. The way my mother scolded him for wearing his flak jacket inside the house.
Uchiha.
That name carried weight even before I understood politics.
My father was a chūnin—quiet, observant, the kind of man who didn't waste words. My mother, also a chūnin, sharper with her tongue, quicker to smile, but no less dangerous. They weren't famous. They weren't clan elites.
Just shinobi who survived.
We lived near other Uchiha families. One house in particular had a loud boy who laughed too much and tripped over his own feet. I heard his name often.
Obito.
And another name spoken with a strange mix of reverence and distance by adults.
Kakashi.
I didn't need confirmation. I already knew the timeline.
Year 46 after Konoha's founding.
Same birth year.
I had been dropped into canon—early enough to matter.
I waited.
Not because I was afraid.
But because I was patient.
If this world followed rules—and it always did—then power would come with time.
The system confirmed that belief on my third birthday.
It happened quietly.
No lightning. No pain.
I was sitting in the yard, stacking wooden blocks with the uncoordinated hands of a toddler, when something clicked behind my eyes.
Not a sound.
A presence.
Then—
[Gamer System Activated]
User detected: Reincarnated Soul
Synchronization complete
I froze.
My breath hitched, not because I couldn't breathe, but because I didn't need to think to understand what I was seeing. Transparent text hovered in my awareness, clean and unmistakably artificial.
I didn't scream.
I smiled.
That morning, my father knelt in front of me with an expression I hadn't seen before.
Serious. Intent.
"You're three now," he said. "That's old enough to begin."
My mother leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "Light training only. Don't scare him."
My father nodded. "Just the basics."
He placed a leaf on my forehead.
"Focus," he said. "Feel what's inside you. Don't force it."
I already could.
Chakra wasn't abstract to me—it was pressure, warmth, a slow-moving current that responded when I reached for it. I mimicked his breathing. The leaf trembled, slid, then stuck.
My father's eyes widened just a fraction.
Good. Let him think I was talented—not impossible.
As we practiced, the system reacted.
[Skill Detected: Leaf Concentration]
Skill Registered
Another prompt followed when he began drilling me through slow, deliberate hand signs—Tiger, Boar, Ram—over and over, correcting my fingers gently.
[Skill Detected: Hand Seal Drill]
Skill Registered
The interface updated as the morning passed.
Skill Status
Leaf Concentration — Level 0 (Active)
Experience Until Next Level: 69.69% / 100%
Description: Allows the user to increase chakra control.
Chakra Usage: 1 chakra per second
Passive Effect: +1% Chakra Control
Hand Seal Drill — Level 0 (Passive)
Experience Until Next Level: 67.67% / 100%
Description: Increases speed and efficiency of hand sealing.
Passive Effect: +1% Hand Seal Speed
"Enough," my father said eventually. "That's good for today."
My mother crouched beside me, brushing dirt from my sleeves. "You did well."
I nodded, playing the obedient child.
Inside, I was already planning.
That afternoon, I told my mother I was going to play nearby.
She hesitated, then nodded. "Don't go far."
I didn't.
The Naka River wasn't far, and neither were the ants.
I crouched near a small mound, fingers tightening around a stone. The first strike was clumsy. The second cleaner. By the tenth, I was efficient.
No hesitation.
No guilt.
They were living creatures. The system confirmed it.
+5 EXP
Again.
+5 EXP
I worked methodically, breaking the nest apart, crushing ants as they spilled out. Time blurred. Hours passed.
By the end, the notifications were stacked.
[EXP Gained: 550]
[Level Up!]
My body pulsed—not painfully, but noticeably. Warmth spread through my limbs. Breathing became easier. Deeper.
Level-Up Results
Health Regeneration:
1.00 → 1.10 HP/s
Chakra Capacity:
400 → 450
I checked the requirements for the next level.
EXP Required for Level 2: 894
The nest was empty.
I stopped.
No need to push my luck.
I washed up at home before anyone asked questions.
Dinner was quiet. My father talked about patrol rotations. My mother complained about ration prices. I listened.
When night came, I lay on my futon and stared at the ceiling, pulling the system up one last time.
Status Window
Level: 1
Health Regeneration: 1.10 HP/s
Chakra Capacity: 450 / 450
Skills:
Leaf Concentration — Level 0 (69.69%)
Hand Seal Drill — Level 0 (67.67%)
I closed my eyes.
Tomorrow, I will do it again.
Slowly.
Correctly.