The first thing he noticed was the weight. Not just the heavy sheets or the tatami mat beneath him, but the body itself. Strong, conditioned, a body that knew how to move—even when he didn't.
He opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling. Paper walls, a faint smell of incense, and steel—kunai and shuriken neatly arranged on a rack nearby.
…Where am I?
A small voice yanked him out of the fog.
"Taro? You up?"
The sliding door opened and a woman stepped in. Black hair tied back, a sharp Uchiha gaze, and a calm exasperation that only a mother—or someone used to dealing with chaos—could pull off.
"You're awake. Good. Kazuki's been crying." She glanced at the toddler peeking from behind her leg. "He only quiets down when you hold him. Don't think I'm letting him get away from me today."
Taro. Kazuki. The names had no meaning for him, and yet, when the child waddled forward and held up his arms, he instinctively bent down and scooped him up.
The boy stopped crying immediately, burying his face in his father's neck.
Papa.
Right. That would be him.
He had no memory of this life, no recollection of why he was here. But his arms knew. His stance knew. Muscle memory took over, and for a moment, it felt… natural.
The woman exhaled, relief barely contained. "See? Only you can calm him." She studied him for a moment. "You're acting… different. Are you ill?"
"Just… woke up weird," he said, forcing normalcy. His head felt empty, like someone had taken a chalkboard eraser to his mind.
She crossed her arms. "Overworked, I'd say. You've been covering extra patrols again. Don't think you're some miracle worker. Even an elite jōnin has limits."
Elite jōnin.
The words stuck in his throat like a warning.
Kazuki tugged on his cheek. "Papa funny today."
"Great. Roasted by my own kid first thing in the morning."
The woman smirked. "Hurry up. Patrol in twenty minutes. And don't forget to eat something this time."
⸻
Outside, the streets of the Uchiha district were eerily quiet for morning. Black-uniformed shinobi patrolled in small groups, nodding at him as he passed. Civilians moved along narrow walkways, their faces polite but wary.
Everything looked normal. Everything looked… safe.
It won't be, not in a week.
The thought hit like a stone in his gut. The timeline was clear in his fractured mind: seven days. Seven days until the Uchiha clan would fall. Until lives he was now connected to would be erased.
He swallowed.
A passing jōnin glanced at him, expression serious. "Taro. You look like you didn't sleep."
"Yeah. Long night," he replied, voice calm, but internally his mind was racing. He had no idea how he knew about the massacre, no memory of this life—but that knowledge alone felt like a curse.
"Hn." Typical Uchiha. Disapproval in every gesture. "Try not to cause trouble today. Fugaku-sama's already irritated."
"When is he not?"
The jōnin let out a rare chuckle and walked off.
He stood there for a long moment, holding the weight of his son, the streets of the clan around him, and the knowledge that in one week, it would all be gone.
And I don't even know who I am.
One week. Seven days. Survive. Protect.
Kazuki yawned, tiny hands gripping his collar. The moment was simple, human—so painfully fragile against the storm he knew was coming.
I don't even know if I can do it.
But he would try.
Because for now, this was all he had.
———
The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of smoke from cooking fires and wet earth from last night's rain. Taro adjusted the strap of his kunai pouch and began walking through the narrow streets of the Uchiha district, Kazuki safely handed off to his mother with a quick, grateful nod.
One week. The thought lingered like a bitter taste. One week until everything changed.
Patrol wasn't just a routine; it was a constant reminder that the world outside the clan walls could never be trusted. Even the villagers, who seemed simple and peaceful, carried their own burdens—and sometimes, their own grudges.
The first stop was a small herb and food shop. The bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside. An elderly man peered out from behind jars of dried roots and leaves.
"Taro," the man greeted with a quivering smile. "Out early today, eh?"
Taro gave a polite nod. "Morning, Ojiisan. Everything in order here?"
The old man's eyes flicked to the young jōnin's hands, resting on his belt. "All fine… though I heard rumors about some missing shipments last week. Might be thieves passing through."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I'll check on the route after my patrol. Stay inside until then."
The man smiled, though a tremor lingered in his hands. "Always worrying about things we cannot change."
Taro felt a small pang of guilt. And yet, I might not even be able to change what's coming… He swallowed and moved on, offering a small wave over his shoulder.
Further down, a young mother struggled to keep a crying child quiet outside her home. Taro slowed.
"Everything alright?" he asked, stepping close but not too close.
The mother flinched, eyes wide. "Oh… yes, sir. Just… some wild dogs near the east path."
He glanced in the direction she indicated. Shadows of trees swayed in the morning light, nothing yet visible. "How often do they come this close?"
"Twice this week," she said, glancing at her toddler clinging to her skirts. "People say they've been aggressive, attacking livestock."
Taro crouched slightly to be at eye level with the child. "Don't worry. I'll check the path after this round. Keep inside until then."
The mother nodded quickly, gratitude mixed with a hint of fear. "Thank you, Taro-san. You always keep watch over us."
Keep watch… or just watch the clock until everything ends.
He forced himself to let the thought go and moved .
Near the northern end of the district, a man leaned against a wall, hood pulled low. His eyes flicked to Taro the moment he passed.
Taro slowed. Not necessarily dangerous… but I don't like how he's watching me.
The man straightened. "You're the elite jōnin patrolling today?"
Taro's hand twitched near his kunai pouch. "I am. You have business?"
"No… just curious." The man's voice was smooth, practiced, but something in it didn't settle. He started walking in the same direction.
Tail me? Taro's instincts screamed. He let his pace match the man's, casual but attentive. "Be careful wandering near the training grounds. Dangerous animals have been spotted lately."
The man smiled thinly. "I'll keep that in mind."
After a few more steps, the stranger finally veered off into a side alley. Taro exhaled quietly. Good. Nothing more than curiosity… or foolish arrogance.
⸻
Observations and Thoughts
The streets were quiet, too quiet in some places. People went about their routines, offering polite bows or brief greetings, but Taro could feel tension beneath the surface—fear people didn't want to name aloud.
One week. The knowledge gnawed at him. Seven days until the clan would be attacked. Seven days until these villagers, these families, would be thrown into chaos.
He walked past the same houses he remembered from patrols, noticing small details he hadn't before: a shutter slightly off its hinge, children peeking from behind windows, elderly couples standing side by side at the gate. Simple human life. Fragile human life.
And I can't do anything yet.
Even so, he continued, moving carefully, checking each alley, each path, each corner where danger could appear. Every encounter reinforced the lesson: vigilance was survival, and in a week, survival might not even be enough.
⸻
By the time he finished the round, sweat dampened his forehead despite the cool morning. He returned to the clan's central compound, shoulders tense, eyes scanning the streets for anything unusual.
The village seemed calm. Too calm.
The storm is coming.
Taro exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. I just hope I'm.