The last thing he remembered was the sound of metal.
It wasn't the heroic kind of death—no fiery explosion, no tragic sacrifice. Just a screech of steel, crushed bones, and a sudden cold silence. An accident. Meaningless. A random, mundane death. One moment he was walking down the street, and the next he was gone.
He never believed in God. Reincarnation? That was a fantasy from manga and light novels. Funny how those stories always began the same way—death, confusion, then a new world.
He used to laugh at them.
But now?
He opened his eyes, gasping for air. The world was dark, muffled… but warm. Was he inside something?
A voice echoed. Male, deep, and cautious.
"He's breathing."
Another voice followed. This one was older, more exhausted.
"He's survived… against all odds. But those eyes—"
There was a pause. "Keep this quiet. The clan doesn't need to know. Not yet."
Then everything faded again.
Time passed in fragments. Days blurred into weeks. He came to realize the truth slowly—not all at once, but in pieces.
He was a baby. That much was obvious. His limbs felt weak, and everything seemed massive. His first full look in the mirror confirmed his greatest suspicion: black hair, sharp eyes, and faint red pigments beginning to swirl in his iris. Uchiha.
No. More than that.
The whispers he heard during those first months of life—names mentioned in hushed tones—made it clear.
He was the grandson of Izuna Uchiha. Madara's younger brother. A lineage long believed to be extinct. A cursed bloodline sealed and forgotten.
"Izuna's blood lives," one man had murmured. "But for his sake, it must remain hidden."
So that's how he grew—hidden, raised in the shadow of the Uchiha Clan, on the outskirts of Konoha.
And then came Kagami.
A tall man, older now, but still sharp-eyed and calm. He had survived. Somehow, in this timeline, he had not fallen in war like in the original Naruto story. Another small butterfly effect.
"I'll raise the boy," Kagami had said. "If Izuna's bloodline is to continue, it should be guided."
And raise him he did.
Kagami never treated him like a child. From the moment he could stand, he was taught how to observe, how to breathe in a fight, how to listen for lies. He was told about the darkness of the clan, the cruelty of the village elders, and the burden that came with the Uchiha name.
But Kagami never poisoned him with hate. "See the world for yourself. Just don't be blind," he always said.
Years passed. His name became Renji—chosen by Kagami to mask his true bloodline. Kagami enrolled him into the Academy under a false surname. Renji grew up like a shadow: observing, listening, calculating.
He kept his past life a secret. His knowledge of Naruto, the Akatsuki, even the timeline—it was all locked deep within. He wouldn't rush to change the world. That was how people got killed early in these stories.
Instead, he waited.
He trained.
And then, on his sixth birthday, everything changed.
A golden screen appeared before his eyes.
[Template System Initialized.]
First Template Available:
Red-Haired Shanks (One Piece)
– Synchronization: 1%
– Status: Locked Abilities Detected
He stared, breath caught.
The system wasn't flashy. No glowing armor. No instant power-up. Just a new presence awakening within him. A calm, kingly confidence. A sense of control over his breathing, his stance. His fingers began to itch for a sword.
And then came the dream.
He stood on a ship in the middle of a vast ocean, a red cape fluttering behind him. A figure stood across from him, smiling, a straw hat in hand.
"Not bad, kid," said Shanks. "But this power—it comes with weight. You ready to carry it?"
Renji opened his eyes, heart pounding.
From that day, everything accelerated.
His swordplay improved overnight. Not flashy. Not godlike. Just precise. Every slash cleaner, every dodge instinctive. Kagami noticed first. He narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He never questioned the boy's pace—only sharpened it.
By the time he was eight, Renji could spar with adult genin without taking a hit. By nine, he could read chakra flows in battle. By ten, he had begun forging his own blade—a single crimson katana, modeled after the sabers of the sea emperor echoing within him.
Still, he kept his power hidden. This world crushed things that shone too brightly. Danzo's Root, the Elders, even some in the Uchiha Clan—they would not hesitate to remove a threat they didn't control.
He knew better.
So he smiled when necessary, bowed when needed, and only showed what he had to.
But within… he was preparing.
Because he had knowledge. He knew who would fall. Who would betray. Who would be consumed by hate. And unlike others, he would not show mercy to those who wore masks of kindness and struck in the dark.
He would walk a different path.
Not as Madara's heir. Not as Izuna's grandson.
But as Renji Uchiha, bearer of foreign will, forged by fire, sword, and system.
And when the time came, the world would remember…
Not every Uchiha walks the path of hate.
Some carve their way through the storm—with a crimson blade.