Under the vast starry sky, the moon hung cold and bright, casting its silver light over the peaceful ninja continent below. The night seemed calm, almost too calm, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
But up here—on the moon—inside an extravagant palace, a small figure perched silently on the parapet wall.
He looked no older than seven. Snow-white hair, soft and short, framed a delicate, fair face that seemed almost too wise for a child. His robes were pure white, and beneath his collarbone, faint black markings traced mysterious shapes. An aura of quiet intelligence surrounded him, though his eyes were tightly shut, hiding whatever thoughts churned behind them.
"Seven years... seven years I've been stuck here," the boy muttered with a hint of frustration. "When will those ancient bones in the grave finally stir up some chaos? When will the war begin?"
He sighed, the cold wind carrying his words away like a secret.
His name wasn't originally this one, but it didn't matter anymore—this was the world he lived in now.
"By now, they should be about my age. Seven years... That means everything's changed down there, right?" The boy's voice lowered to a whisper, blending with the night breeze.
"No more waiting. I have to find a way back to the ninja world. I'm done with this moon. Those old relics down there—still clinging to life but doing nothing important. It'll be years before any real battle starts."
He opened his eyes just a crack, imagining the sprawling ninja lands far below. Time traveler or not, he knew his fate was tied to them. Despite his blindness, a strange glow flickered briefly in his left hand—the faintest spark of power.
"Can't just sit around here forever," he murmured.
Suddenly, a voice interrupted him.
"Young master, the head of the house wants to see you."
The voice was light, a little shy but respectful. Koyomi, his personal attendant, had a gentle presence, always watching out for him. Despite his blindness, his hearing and senses were sharp enough to know exactly where she stood.
"Don't know what Father wants," he replied with a faint smile. "But it must be important."
Koyomi bowed politely, her blue eyes sparkling under the moonlight.
"You mustn't delay, young master."
He leapt from the parapet, landing gracefully before her.
"Thank you, Koyomi. You're always so reliable."
She smiled, but there was a hint of worry behind it. She knew how rare and powerful his bloodline was, and yet, the blindness weighed heavily on his shoulders. The pure blood of the Great Wooden Clan was a blessing and a curse.
"Why must you be born blind, young master?" she whispered, almost to herself.
But he knew the answer—the purity of his blood was too strong for ordinary eyes to bear.
Later, curled up with Terumi in his arms, the boy relaxed, softly scratching her lips with a finger.
"I didn't mean to pinch you just now," he whispered. Terumi smiled sleepily, still foggy with dreams.
She reached up, stroking his face, then leaned in and kissed him gently before drifting back to sleep.
Looking at her peaceful face, he chuckled softly. "You're too attached to me these days."
Five years had passed. Terumi, once a fierce Mizukage, was now deeply intertwined with the Great Wooden Clan's destiny. She'd been guided—sometimes pushed—toward this path. She was no longer just herself but part of something much bigger.
He thought of the Reincarnation Eye and the Magatama Eye—powers he had spent years mastering. The forbidden techniques passed down by his ancestors, the deadly Bamen Dunjia, and the nearly world-ending Dao Seeking Jade he could only partially control.
His chakra wasn't strong enough to support the full expansion of the Dao Jade. Still, the smaller forms were devastating enough.
Bamen Dunjia was a last resort—a power that could kill gods but at a terrible cost: burning his blood and life away. Even the Great Wooden Clan rarely used it.
"And yet," he thought, "if Konoha falls... if Maitkai strikes... none of us are invincible."
He held Terumi closer, wondering how much she had grown in these five years—how much stronger she'd become with her own bloodline coursing through her veins.
That afternoon, dressed in a dark red robe with a wide hat shadowing his face, he stood at the gates of Wuyin Village.
Behind him stood Okkoto and Yugi, strong and silent, while Terumi lingered nearby, reluctant.
"Are you sure you want to go alone? I could come with you," Terumi said softly, her face troubled.
He shook his head, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes.
"No. This time Orochimaru's moves will be dangerous. You need to stay safe. The Fog Village isn't ready for war yet."
She nodded, trusting him despite her worry.
"I'll be back soon—maybe a month or two."
She smiled, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.
"When you come back, I'll give you everything."
He returned her smile, feeling a rare warmth spread through him.
As they walked away, Terumi watched them go with a quiet hope. Soon, the name of the Great Wooden Clan would echo across the continent.
Later, Yukito approached him with a curious gaze.
"I heard the next ninja exam will have teams of three, but it's just you and Koyomi so far. What about the third?"
Yukito was now twenty-five—cold, composed, with a striking presence. A mentor on this mission.
Koyomi stood nearby, her slender figure poised and calm. A year ago, she had awakened her own Reincarnation Eye through a personal transplant of the Hyuga's Pure White Eye—a gift from the clan to strengthen her.
She was stronger than ever, rivaling even Terumi and Yukito.
"Of course," the boy said quietly, a faint smile on his lips, his reincarnated eyes gleaming. "Our team's waiting for us in Konoha."
He looked to the horizon, imagining his family—his bloodline—waiting patiently.
His journey was just beginning.