After taking a slow sip of the deep, ocean-scented sake, Wukunowa's fingers relaxed. He gave a contented sigh, and with a flick of his wrist, the golden-rimmed sake cup shimmered in the fading light.
The cup didn't fall. It didn't clink against tile.
Instead, it vanished into ripples of silvery-blue space.
The Card System had fused with his soul—and now he had access to a personal inventory similar to the Gate of Babylon, not of treasures, but of pirate legacy. Sake from Whitebeard's final toast. Weapons, maps, relics—he'd barely scratched the surface.
"Alright, that's enough lazing around for one evening."
Wukunowa rolled off the rooftop, stretching his arms toward the starlit sky. The sun had long set; the moon now bathed the village in soft silver light. He strolled into the bustling night streets of Konoha, golden hair catching the occasional glance from passersby.
Despite the peaceful surface, Wukunowa moved like a silent ship amid a rushing tide. The streets were full—ninja and civilians alike enjoying the warmth of the night. Paper lanterns glowed, laughter echoed from ramen stands, and families strolled, hand in hand. A perfect, artificial peace.
It's different from Earth, he thought. Everyone here smiles like they've never seen a collapsing world. There's no deadness in their eyes. Not yet.
He was just thinking about how different things could be… when a familiar voice called out behind him.
"Hey, isn't that Minato?"
Wukunowa turned, blinking in surprise.
Standing at the entrance of a fruit shop was a man in a crisp white kimono, arms crossed with casual ease.
Uchiha Fugaku.
Wukunowa—still under the identity of Minato Namikaze—smiled politely. "Fugaku. What a coincidence."
Fugaku returned the smile. "Indeed. I didn't expect to run into you out here."
Once, they'd both been students in the Ninja Academy. Different years, different clans—but both prodigies in their own right. Konoha's rising stars. Rivalry came naturally, and though time had dulled that edge, its shadow still lingered.
"You're still the talk of the village," Fugaku said with a faint chuckle. "I heard you took down the Eight-Tails' jinchūriki and the Raikage's son. Impressive. Seems I'll never catch up to you."
Wukunowa waved the praise off with a slightly awkward laugh. "Caught him off guard with Flying Thunder God, that's all. Besides, Fugaku… you've got the Sharingan. Once it evolves into the Mangekyō, even I might not be your match."
At that, Fugaku's face stiffened slightly. "Mangekyō… it's not so easily attained."
Wukunowa nodded solemnly. He knew exactly what Fugaku meant. In canon, awakening that power came with immense emotional trauma—usually through the death of a loved one.
And that future… I have no intention of letting it play out again.
Fugaku recovered quickly. "Enough of that. What brings Konoha's Yellow Flash to the street market at this hour?"
"Hmm? Oh—Kushina sent me out to buy a bottle of soy sauce."
Fugaku raised an eyebrow, then gave a bewildered laugh. "Soy sauce? You, of all people?"
"What's so strange about that?" Wukunowa shrugged. "What about you?"
"I'm… getting fruit," Fugaku replied with a weak chuckle.
Wukunowa narrowed his eyes with mock suspicion. "Fruit, huh?"
Before Fugaku could dodge the suspicion, a young boy's voice piped up from the distance.
"Father! Did you get the sesame oil mom asked for?"
Fugaku froze like a man struck by lightning.
Wukunowa burst out laughing, drawing the attention of several nearby vendors. "Pfft—sesame oil?! That's even more domestic than soy sauce!"
"Hmph!" Fugaku crossed his arms in a futile attempt to salvage his pride. "Can't a man buy cooking oil without being mocked?"
He turned to his son—Uchiha Itachi, barely six years old, who stared up innocently with wide eyes and a small bag of snacks clutched in his hand.
"You brat," Fugaku muttered. "We'll talk when we get home."
Wukunowa watched them leave with a soft smirk. It was a small moment—but comforting. Human.
They don't know yet what's waiting down the road. The massacre, the tragedy… No. If I'm here, I can stop it. I will stop it.
The shadows of old memories clung to him, but he shoved them aside and made his way to a nearby store. A bottle of soy sauce was secured quickly, and with a flick of chakra and a familiar teleportation seal, he vanished from the street.
In the next moment, he stood in front of his home.
A two-story apartment, modest but warm, its windows glowing with light. A peaceful domestic aura lingered in the air. His heartbeat quickened just slightly.
Inside, someone was waiting for him.
Someone worth protecting.
As he stood there, staring up at the place he now called home, Wukunowa's expression softened. This wasn't a game. This wasn't a show.
It was his life now.
And he was no longer just a man with knowledge of the future.
He was a pirate king's heir in a ninja's skin.
And this world… this timeline… would belong to him.