Year 63 of the Hidden Leaf Village. Early Spring.
It was night. And it was snowing.
There was no moonlight in the courtyard.
An old tree stood there, ancient and desolate.
A few cold gusts of wind rustled the treetop, producing a brittle "crack-crack" sound—like the dying breath of an old man, unwilling to pass quietly, forcing out one final groan from a decaying throat.
There were stone steps in the courtyard.
Though aged, the steps showed no signs of ruin. On the contrary, they carried a certain grandeur. Time had merely etched a few faint lines onto them—neither too long nor too deep.
Within those marks was a dark, rusty brown color. It gave off a faint, metallic tang in the air—almost like blood. As if something, or someone, had once been killed there.
On those steps sat a young boy, dressed in relatively thick winter clothing.
He was a boy with the face of a porcelain doll.
So delicate, so finely featured—he looked more like a statue than a living child, perched quietly on the timeworn steps.
He reached out and gently touched the brown stains, a bitter smile flickering across his lips. Then his gaze dropped, his eyes dimmed, and an unspoken sadness weighed heavy on his young face.
The three people within this courtyard all knew the truth:
That dark, rusty brown substance—was human blood.
"Maybe soon… mine will be added to this too."
The boy let out a quiet, bitter laugh as he spoke.
His name was Hayashi Ren, a student at the Hidden Leaf Academy, just about to graduate.
Everyone who had ever met him agreed that he was different from others his age.
If asked what made him so different, they would all say the same thing: "His personality."
Hayashi Ren had a calm, almost adult-like composure that set him apart from his peers. Many joked that he was a "little grown-up."
But if they truly knew what he had been through… they would stop calling him "little."
He had lived a full twenty-one years in another world. A world he had once called home. He knew everything about it, had experienced life there as an ordinary young man.
Then, through a strange twist of fate, he had ended up here—in this world.
To be precise, this place wasn't just another world.
It was a fictional universe from his past life.
The world of Naruto.
The reason for his sadness tonight?
Not long ago, an old man wrapped in bandages had come to see him.
He told Hayashi Ren to report to an organization called "Root" after graduation.
Most people in the village didn't know what Root was. But Hayashi Ren did. He knew exactly what Root was—because he knew the story of Naruto.
Root was a secret underground division of the Hidden Leaf—its very "roots," so to speak. They handled assassinations, espionage, and other covert, morally gray missions.
That old man had told Hayashi Ren all the benefits of joining Root:
Access to powerful forbidden jutsu, exceptional teachers, elite missions, and top-tier support…
What utter bullshit.
Hayashi Ren, having watched Naruto, recognized the man immediately. That old geezer was none other than Danzo Shimura, the head of Root.
And Root was nothing like he described.
It wasn't a prestigious division—it was a pit of horror.
A place filled with brainwashing, manipulation, and death.
Much of the chaos and suffering in the ninja world could be traced directly back to that scumbag Danzo.
If Hayashi Ren joined Root, it would be like signing his own death warrant. A slow, inevitable descent into ruin.
He might even be treated as expendable—used and discarded.
And Danzo's true intention?
To have Hayashi Ren manipulate and control the two girls who depended on him more than anyone else—using them to support Danzo's secret bid to seize control of the Hidden Leaf Village.
If Danzo ever succeeded in taking power, he would surely go head-to-head with the current Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi—leading the village into chaos and division.
That scheming, shameless old fox!
If Hayashi Ren refused to obey?
He would be killed. Silenced.
Another stain of dark, rusty brown on these steps.
He looked out at the snow falling gently in the darkness.
And fell silent.
He could only remain silent.
Because he had no special talent.
Hayashi Ren had no kekkei genkai. His parents were long dead. Even if they had lived, his lineage was ordinary—just common folk, three generations back.
A boy with no family, no bloodline, no talent… even with the advantage of reincarnation, his journey was never going to be easy.
And so—