I'm Mark Jones, a physicist from the MIT Department of Studies in Massachusetts. I had been working on a project for a government contractor in collaboration with the university. It was about a propulsion engine that could have many applications for space travel. On July 25th, 2026, we had a field test scheduled, where the goal was to overload the engine and observe how it behaved.
In the control room, I was there with my eight project partners. Bit by bit, we raised the voltage:
1 gigawatt, 3 gigawatts, 7 gigawatts, 20 gigawatts, 57 gigawatts... Everything was going perfectly, but our objective was to reach one terawatt. That would prove the engine was structurally strong enough to withstand an energy overload.
987 gigawatts, 993 gigawatts, 996, 997, 998, 999, 1000...
Success. All the graphs and indicators showed it could handle it. It looked stable. Although we would have liked to push the voltage even further, we knew the government would likely shut us down if we tried.
But sometimes, when you think everything is perfect, life throws you an unexpected surprise.
The monitor lost its signal and went black. I was smiling, hugging a colleague, when I suddenly realized the screen wasn't working. And then, almost like a brief premonition, I raised my eyes toward the engine.
Like Saturn's rings, hundreds of metallic pieces were spinning around it. And then I saw it: the engine, which had been fixed immovably to the ground, started to vibrate. In less than a second, it tore free from its clamps, spinning into the air. Shards of metal flew everywhere as the machine—now a rampaging mass of steel, wrapped in beams of light from the massive voltage—shot toward us.
Everything went white in a fraction of a second. A blinding white that consumed everything… and then turned as dark as the infinite void.
The silence was so complete it felt like a bubble. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed wasn't the light, but the texture of the tatami beneath his body. Plant fibers, firm, with a dry and unfamiliar scent. His senses were… heightened. The air carried a mineral freshness; he could distinguish the subtle notes of the wooden scent in the room, even the brush of fabric on his skin felt different.
He rose slowly. His hands were small. In the reflection of a polished copper mirror, a child's face looked back at him—dark hair, deep eyes. It took only a second to recognize."No way…" he murmured, his voice higher-pitched than expected.It was Itachi Uchiha.
Before he could process the revelation, the door slid open. A tall man, firm expression and natural authority, looked at him. Fugaku Uchiha."Itachi, you're awake. Come, breakfast is ready."
The physicist's mind froze. I'm in his house. I'm… in the Uchiha clan.
The atmosphere was solemn, disciplined. The clothes he wore were simple—a dark linen robe, unlike any modern fiber from Earth, yet perfectly comfortable. The scent of freshly cooked rice, the distant murmur of the village, all confirmed he was alive in another reality.
At breakfast, Fugaku spoke little, but watched him intently. Mikoto, his mother, radiated warmth. He forced himself to mimic Itachi's childlike behavior, though inside his mind raced with scientific questions. How does energy flow here? Why do my senses feel so sharp?
The discovery of the library
Later that day, while exploring the house, he stumbled upon something that stole his breath: the Uchiha library. Shelves of scrolls and illustrated manuscripts, diagrams filled with circles, symbols, sealing formulas.This… this is a laboratory written in visual code.
Hours passed in what felt like minutes as he devoured every drawing with his eyes. Lines representing chakra channels, postures to mold energy, hand seals. For any other child, they would be cryptic scribbles; for him, they were equations waiting to be solved.
He couldn't resist. He chose a basic jutsu: Katon – Fireball Technique.Slowly, he copied the hand signs, like someone assembling a circuit. He felt chakra stirring within his body, a heat rising from his stomach to his chest. When he exhaled, only a faint red spark flickered and died instantly.
But his heart raced."It works. It works!" he gasped.
He tried again. Once, twice, five times. Each attempt made him feel the chakra more clearly: waves, vibrations, channels he could imagine as energy conduits. He analyzed his breathing, varied the speed of the seals, even tried changing the proportion between air and chakra. The results were always different: a weak flame, a spark that flared too quickly, a puff of dense smoke.
With every attempt, his body weakened until finally he collapsed to his knees, drenched in sweat, unable to sense more energy.So this is the limit… chakra runs out like fuel. I need to measure it, to understand it.
He was overwhelmed by a mix of childlike wonder and adult scientific curiosity: the thrill of having a real superpower, and the urge to dissect its mechanics with precision.
That evening, at dinner, he couldn't resist asking questions."Otōsan… how does chakra really work? Is it from the blood, the muscles, or does it come from somewhere else?"
Fugaku looked at him in silence, a mix of surprise and suspicion in his eyes. Mikoto smiled gently."You're very curious, Itachi," she said softly. "You don't need to understand everything yet. In time, you'll feel it."
But Fugaku kept watching him, more seriously. In his father's eyes there was a glint of recognition: his son was changing.
Itachi was full of questions—especially when he recalled the many jutsu from the anime, how they could alter matter, how they interacted with things as complex as space and time. Although he was eager to learn to fight, his true fascination was deeper: understanding how it all worked… and bringing science into this world.