Chapter 1: The Fire Nation Border
The battlefield stretched between Konoha and Kirigakure forces on the border of the Land of Fire. Smoke still curled from the devastated land. The ground was shattered in places, stained with old blood and littered with broken kunai and shuriken.
At the edge of the camp, a small group of young shinobi, around thirteen or fourteen years old, gathered in hushed conversation.
"Did you hear?" one boy whispered. "The Yellow Flash's student, Nohara Rin, has been missing for days now."
Another shook his head, his voice low. "First Uchiha Obito sacrifices himself, and now this… it doesn't look good for his other student either."
Leaning against the rough bark of a tree nearby, Uchiha Akira listened to the idle chatter without much interest. The wind carried their words, but he already knew the truth behind them. This was all part of a trap set by Uchiha Madara, a scheme to plunge Uchiha Obito into darkness and force open his Mangekyō Sharingan.
As someone from another world who knew this story, Akira understood these events had little to do with him. He couldn't change them, and he didn't plan to try.
After a while, he pushed himself away from the tree, dusting off his flak jacket. He turned and walked toward the small tent that was his temporary home, nestled among the trees of the forest.
His name was Uchiha Akira. He was seventeen years old, a chunin of Konohagakure. He possessed a three-tomoe Sharingan and had skill in fire, wind, and lightning nature transformations, along with the Uchiha clan's traditional kenjutsu and a self-taught proficiency in medical ninjutsu.
He had arrived in this world during Konoha's 49th year, at the peak of the Third Great Shinobi War. He had awoken in the body of a young Uchiha clansman. That boy had witnessed a close friend's death, awakening his own three-tomoe Sharingan in grief and rage, before falling in a fierce, mutual defeat against a Kirigakure jonin. In that moment, Uchiha Akira was born anew.
It was now Konoha's 50th year. Over the past year, Akira had not only fully mastered his predecessor's abilities but had also refined several higher-level techniques. Using the precise perception of the Sharingan, he had even managed to learn some advanced medical ninjutsu.
The war was winding down, its ferocity less than the previous year. Yet, Akira knew this was the year that would permanently alter the hearts and minds of people who would shape the future—people like Uchiha Obito, and Nagato.
For Akira, however, these monumental shifts were distant concerns. They were not his burden. He lacked the power to interfere even if he wanted to, and he saw no clear path to do so. He had arrived here with no special system, no golden finger to guide him. His goal was simple: to live well, and to live long. Having died once already, he understood the precious, fragile value of life all too well.
This frontline, on the eastern edge of the Land of Fire, was primarily held by Konoha's Uchiha and Hyuga clans, supported by shinobi from other families and civilian backgrounds.
Akira had just reached his tent when he heard firm, measured footsteps approaching. He turned to see Uchiha Fugaku walking toward him, his jonin vest marking his status. Akira's instincts tightened. Trouble was coming.
Uchiha Fugaku had earned the nickname "Wicked Eye" on this battlefield. He was a powerful commander, one of Konoha's strongest here, and he had also been something of a mentor to Akira over the last year, offering guidance and training. For Fugaku to come personally, it meant a mission—a difficult one.
"Clan Head," Akira greeted, keeping his voice respectful.
Uchiha Fugaku gave a short nod, his expression serious. "Akira. I have a task for you."
Akira felt a knot form in his stomach but met Fugaku's gaze. "What is it, sir?"
"We've located traces of Nohara Rin and Hatake Kakashi. They are being pursued by a significant force of Kirigakure's Anbu." Fugaku's eyes narrowed slightly. "A single student like Nohara Rin is not worth this level of mobilization from Kiri. I want you to investigate and find out what their real objective is."
Akira's heart sank. This was exactly the kind of danger he wanted to avoid. A large-scale hunt by Kirigakure meant running into even a small part of that force could be a death sentence for a lone chunin.
"It is a reconnaissance mission only," Fugaku continued, as if reading his hesitation. "Our clan can only spare a few operatives right now. You have the necessary skills. You are the most capable one available."
Hearing the finality in Fugaku's tone, Akira knew refusal was not an option. Fugaku might not know the full extent of Akira's abilities, but he knew Akira was stronger than the average Uchiha of his age, likely close to jonin level.
Swallowing his apprehension, Akira nodded. "Understood. I'll handle it."
He would take the mission, but he had already decided his approach. He would skirt the edges of the designated area, gather minimal intelligence, and return. No heroics.
Fugaku's stern expression softened a fraction, seeming pleased with the response. "I know the risks. But the clan needs more leverage in our dealings with the village leadership. This intelligence could be vital." He paused, then reached into his vest. "I have little left to teach you in the way of ninjutsu." He pulled out a sealed scroll and offered it. "This contains one of our clan's ultimate genjutsu, a forbidden technique. It is called Izanagi."
"Izanagi?" Akira asked, taking the scroll and feigning curiosity. Of course, he knew of Izanagi—the supreme illusion that could alter reality itself, activated at the cost of a Sharingan's light.
"It is a symbol of our clan's former power. The scroll will explain it," Fugaku said, a hint of pride in his voice. After giving Akira the precise coordinates of the mission zone, Fugaku turned and left, his duties as a commander calling him away.
Once alone, Akira opened the scroll. As expected, the instructions were clear. For a Sharingan wielder, activating Izanagi required three hand seals: Boar, Hare, Ram. He committed the technique to memory instantly.
Leaving the Konoha encampment, Akira deliberately moved slowly. The capture of Nohara Rin was Madara's trap for Obito. Timing was critical. Arriving too early or too late risked encountering Obito himself. Facing a Uchiha Obito armed with Wood Release and a Mangekyō Sharingan was a confrontation Akira knew he would not survive.
'It's best if I see nothing and no one,' he thought, his desire for a quiet, trouble-free patrol overwhelming. 'Just a quick look, then back.'
But as if challenging his wishes, he soon found signs of a recent and brutal fight. He had barely entered the mission's periphery when the scene unfolded before him.
The earth was torn apart. Dozens of Kirigakure Anbu lay dead, their bodies broken and twisted as if crushed by some immense, invisible force.
"Wood Release, combined with Kamui," Akira muttered to himself, a cold understanding settling in. The power was terrifying. The number of Kiri pursuers was far greater than he had imagined.
In the center of the carnage, he spotted a familiar figure collapsed on the ground: the silver-haired Hatake Kakashi.
Akira moved closer, his mind racing. A singular, dangerous thought took hold. 'This… might be my only chance to ever possess a Mangekyō Sharingan.'
The path to awakening the Mangekyō was deeply personal and cruel. Akira held no hope of ever achieving it himself. But here, on this field, was an opportunity.
'With that eye, I would have a real chance to survive what's to come,' he reasoned, his resolve hardening. He felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly buried under his will to live. 'I'm sorry, Kakashi. I'll just be borrowing it for a while. I will return it.'
He knelt beside the unconscious Kakashi. First, he placed his hands over Kakashi's chest, channeling green medical chakra to ensure the boy remained in a deep, healing sleep. Then, steeling himself, he carefully performed the procedure. He removed Kakashi's left eye—the eye that held Obito's gift.
Next, he took a sharp, pained breath and dug out his own left eye. His jaw clenched against the pain.
Working quickly, he placed Obito's eye into his own empty socket, and his own eye into Kakashi's. He covered both eyes with his hands, one over his own face, one over Kakashi's. A soft green glow emanated from his palms as he poured his chakra into the intricate medical ninjutsu, stitching nerves and healing tissue at an accelerated rate.
A few minutes later, it was done. The surgery was complete. Akira lowered his hands, his new left eye closed. He could already feel the strange, potent chakra within it, dormant but present.
(End of Chapter)