However, those good days didn't last long.
For some inexplicable reason—or perhaps sheer stubbornness—Hanzo of the Salamander, the leader of Amegakure (the Village Hidden in the Rain), decided to provoke a shinobi war, attempting to single-handedly take on the three great superpowers of the ninja world.
Ōnoki, the Third Tsuchikage of Iwagakure, was a shrewd old fox. Though his political slogans were loud and grand, his actions were far less substantial. Instead of directly invading Amegakure, he stationed troops along the border.
Sunagakure, on the other hand—desperately poor and starving—had been itching for war. They seized the opportunity to invade Amegakure, looting and pillaging their way through.
Konoha, as the dominant force in the shinobi world, naturally couldn't sit back and watch their "good neighbors" from Suna grow stronger. Whether out of a desire to maintain peace or simply to protect their own interests, they joined the fray.
Thus, Amegakure became the battleground for a chaotic three-way war between Rain, Sand, and Leaf shinobi.
At first, Sunagakure managed to replenish their resources by exploiting Amegakure. But once Hanzo and Konoha halted their advance, Suna shifted their strategy, opening a new front.
Sunagakure had long coveted the fertile lands of the Land of Fire. Now, with a convenient excuse for war, they marched into the Land of Rivers, intending to invade the Land of Fire from the eastern front.
It was around this time that my predecessor, as part of Konoha's main forces, was dispatched to the Land of Rivers to repel Suna's invasion.
After fighting on the battlefield for over half a year, he ultimately succumbed to the call of the Pure Land, mortally wounded by a Suna puppeteer. It was this near-death experience that allowed me to transmigrate into his body.
Thankfully, I spent my first week after transmigrating recovering in Konoha's hospital. If I had been thrown straight onto the battlefield—a complete newbie who had never even killed a chicken—I might as well have been fresh meat for the enemy.
Before transmigrating, I was just an ordinary, overworked office drone under the red flag, living a mundane life. Even my transmigration was utterly unremarkable—I fell asleep from exhaustion and woke up in this world as Umino Yoru ," but this seems to be a placeholder name; likely referring to a minor Konoha shinobi.
I wasn't some orphaned Konoha outcast. I had both parents, a younger brother, and a sister. However, in the Umino family, I was the only one who became a shinobi.
Thanks to inheriting my predecessor's memories and emotions, I was able to quickly master all his ninja skills during my recovery. Otherwise, with no cheat abilities or combat experience, I wouldn't have lasted half a day on the battlefield.
Though my spiritual energy surged after transmigrating, doubling my chakra reserves, and my chakra control even rivaled that of some medical-nin, my potential was still limited.
Coming from an ordinary civilian family with no notable bloodline, becoming a chūnin was already my ceiling.
If I had transmigrated a few years earlier—before my body was pumped full of soldier pills in its growth phase—I might have had a slim chance of reaching jōnin through relentless training and battlefield experience.
But now, as an adult, my potential was pretty much exhausted. Making any significant improvements in chakra or physical abilities would be nearly impossible—unless I got my hands on Orochimaru's "core technology" or underwent some freak mutation.
In my past life, I hadn't finished Naruto, stopping around Shippūden. Still, I knew the general plot.
Naruto could also be called:
The Legend of Eyeballs: Five-Village Deathmatch My Dad is the Sage of Six Paths A Thousand Years of Uzumaki-Uchiha Drama Black Zetsu's Mommy Rescue Mission: Struggling Against OP Cheaters
For all its talk about hard work and changing fate, in the end, it was all about bloodline, destiny, and nepotism.
On the surface, it was a热血 (hot-blooded) anime, but in reality, it was dark and brutal.
Now that I was in this real Naruto world, I truly understood—bloodline mattered everywhere.
Whether you were a descendant of the Ōtsutsuki, a shinobi clan member, a civilian, or a noble—blood dictated everything.
Take Umino Ikaku , for example. Like me, he was a subordinate of the Sarutobi clan, hailing from the same small fishing village. Our ancestors were probably the same落魄 (downfallen) samurai.
But because his family was among the first to migrate to Konoha during its founding, they managed to buy a house from the Senju at a bargain—prime location, spacious, and now worth several times its original value thanks to Konoha's expansion.
Moreover, Ikaku's father became one of the first-generation shinobi, dying in the First Shinobi War—but not before marrying a kunoichi from a minor shinobi clan, improving his descendants' genes with a bit of shinobi bloodline.
As a result, Ikaku was a second-generation shinobi, placed in the elite A-class at the Academy.
Meanwhile, I was a first-generation civilian shinobi, barely scraping into the regular class thanks to my family's political ties with the Sarutobi.
After graduation, Ikaku was assigned to a jōnin-led team, while I was stuck with a chūnin squad leader, grinding through low-rank missions to gain experience.
Even after clawing my way up to chūnin by overdosing on soldier pills and surviving multiple near-death battles, the gap between us only widened.
Now, despite both being chūnin, our status and futures were worlds apart.
Ikaku was part of the Sarutobi Corps' Fire Release Unit—high merit, high safety, and directly under the Third Hokage's faction.
His future was limitless.
If he survived this war, becoming a jōnin was guaranteed.
With enough achievements, he'd likely be assigned to a key department—like the Barrier Team or the Academy.
Meanwhile, a civilian shinobi like me would be lucky to survive the war, let alone become a jōnin.
Even if I solved my chakra and physical limitations, the biggest roadblock was access to ninjutsu.
In this brutal world, ninjutsu = power, and its transmission was tightly controlled:
Bloodline inheritance Clan secrets Rare scrolls
Even sex wasn't a reliable way to learn new techniques—most clans guarded their secrets fiercely.
If I hadn't been born in Konoha, I wouldn't even have had the chance to risk my life for jutsu.
As a transmigrator, I knew how to train the Rasengan series—but Rasengan was an A-rank technique.
I wasn't a chakra monster—barely above average for a chūnin. A single B-rank jutsu would drain most of my reserves.
Trying to learn an A-rank, chakra-intensive technique like Rasengan in my state? I'd probably collapse from exhaustion.
In this world:
B-rank jutsu were typically jōnin-level techniques. Even Kage-level fighters mostly relied on B-rank jutsu in battle, saving A-rank for finishers. S-rank kinjutsu were last-resort, life-risking moves.
Don't underestimate B-rank techniques or look down on jōnin—getting even one was incredibly hard.
In most villages, elite jōnin were commanders. In smaller villages, they were often the Kage themselves.
Even in Konoha, jōnin were rare—they had Hokage voting rights.
For most shinobi clans, producing a jōnin elder was the peak of achievement. Kage-level strength was almost unheard of.
For a civilian family, having a shinobi at all was already impressive.
A chūnin was considered successful.
A jōnin? That was legendary.
Becoming a jōnin meant:
Voting for Hokage Status equal to a small-village Kage Founding a new shinobi clan
For civilians, "becoming Hokage" was just a slogan.
"Becoming jōnin" was the real dream.
Not everyone could be like Orochimaru or Minato. Most civilians didn't dare aim that high.
And this was Konoha—a privileged "big city" in the Land of Fire.
Outside, most civilians just struggled for food and safety.
Their greatest dream? Becoming a noble's servant—if they were lucky.
And in places like Amegakure, life was even worse—survival was a luxury.
Final Thoughts
This world was rigged from the start.
Bloodline, resources, connections—everything was monopolized.
And the worst part? Most people thought this was normal.
If I wanted to rise, I'd need to break the system—or exploit its cracks.
But first… I had to survive this damn war.