A dream crashed over Kenji like a relentless tidal wave, pulling him back to his final, haunting moments in his previous life. Once again, he saw the same scene: middle school boys tormenting a helpless kid. This time, something inside him flared—he stepped forward without hesitation, grabbing the boy's arm and offering to walk him home.
But then, darkness swallowed everything.
He was thrown back to that cruel moment. Only now, he stood frozen—helpless—watching as the nightmare unfolded. The truck roared down the street, unstoppable, barreling straight toward the boy. Kenji's limbs refused to obey; his voice caught in his throat. Time slowed as the world shattered in a sickening crash.
A guttural scream tore from deep within him—a raw, desperate sound of pain and failure.
*"You who have been given a second chance,"* a voice whispered from the void, neither male nor female but somehow both. *"Do not waste the gift you have received. Power without purpose is meaningless, but compassion without strength is futile."*
Kenji jolted awake, his chest heaving as if he had been drowning. Sweat beaded on his unusually pale skin despite the cool morning air. For a moment, he couldn't distinguish dream from reality, the memory of death still clinging to his consciousness like smoke.
Deep, shuddering breaths slowly brought him back to the present. He was alive—or at least, something resembling alive. The weak light filtering through his window told him dawn was breaking, painting the world in soft hues of gold and amber.
That's when it happened.
A single ray of sunlight managed to slip through a gap in the curtains, falling across his exposed arm like a gentle caress. What should have been warm and comforting instead felt like liquid fire. His skin began to smoke and blister instantly, the pain so intense it robbed him of breath.
His body moved before his mind could process what was happening. One moment he was lying still, paralyzed by the burning agony; the next, he had moved with inhuman speed to the far corner of the room, his back pressed against the wall as he clutched his injured arm. The movement had been so fast, so fluid, that it defied human limitations.
Panicking, Kenji rushed to every window in his chambers, yanking curtains closed and securing shutters. His hands trembled as he double-checked each seal, ensuring not even the smallest sliver of sunlight could penetrate his sanctuary. The burned patch on his arm was already healing, the blistered skin regenerating at a visible rate, but the memory of that searing pain lingered.
With shaking hands, he summoned the system interface, dreading what he might find:
**TEMPLATE SYSTEM ACTIVATED**
**Host: Kenji Nakamura**
**Template: Muzan Kibutsuchi (10%)**
**Twelve Kizuki: Locked**
**Primary Abilities:**
**1. Biological Manipulation – Can restructure body at will; create weapons, grow limbs, alter organs.**
**2. Cellular Regeneration – Instantly heals from wounds, even decapitation (unless hit by specific weaknesses).**
**Special Traits:**
**Immortality – Cannot age or die naturally.**
**Sunlight Weakness – Incinerated by direct sunlight.**
**Ultimate Technique:**
**"Perfect Demon Physiology" – Full release of body manipulation, enhancing all attributes and spawning countless whip-like appendages capable of shredding enemies instantly.**
Ten percent. He had crossed the threshold.
Despite the terrifying implications of his newfound sunlight sensitivity, Kenji couldn't suppress a surge of exhilaration at seeing his unlocked abilities. Biological manipulation meant he could theoretically alter his body in ways that defied natural law. The cellular regeneration promised near-invincibility against conventional attacks. And immortality—true immortality—stretched before him like an endless horizon of possibility.
But what filled him with the greatest relief was what wasn't there. No overwhelming urge to consume human flesh. No insatiable bloodlust. No compulsion to view other people as mere prey. Whatever had driven the original Muzan to his monstrous appetites seemed absent from this transformation.
As he contemplated this mystery, he became aware of something else—a new energy flowing through his body, one that felt distinctly different from his demonic abilities. It was warm where his other powers felt cold, harmonious where they felt alien. Chakra. He had awakened chakra.
In the Naruto world, everyone possessed chakra, but only those trained in the ninja arts typically learned to manipulate it consciously. For Kenji, the awakening felt as natural as breathing. The energy flowed through him in steady currents, and he instinctively understood that his reserves were substantial—easily at the level of an experienced chunin, perhaps approaching elite status due to his transformed physiology and otherworldly soul.
This discovery opened new possibilities. If he could master the ninja arts in addition to his demonic abilities, he would possess a unique advantage in this world. Few opponents would expect someone with his powers.
A knock at his door interrupted his contemplation. "My lord?" came Takeshi's familiar voice. "May I enter to begin the morning cleaning?"
Kenji quickly dismissed the system interface and called out, "Come in, Takeshi."
The young servant slid open the door and stepped inside, but immediately paused, his eyes widening slightly. He stared at Kenji with an expression of confused unease, as if something fundamental had changed overnight.
"Is something wrong?" Kenji asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
Takeshi startled, bowing quickly. "Forgive me, my lord. It's just... you seem different today. There's a strange feeling about you, though perhaps it's merely my imagination."
It wasn't imagination. Kenji could sense it himself—an aura of otherness that now surrounded him, marking him as something beyond normal human understanding. His transformation had progressed to the point where even untrained individuals could instinctively recognize his supernatural nature.
"Think nothing of it," Kenji said gently. "Please, continue with your duties."
Takeshi moved to open the first set of windows, but Kenji spoke sharply from behind him. "Leave them closed."
The servant paused, confusion evident in his posture. "My lord? But the morning air would—"
"Keep them closed," Kenji repeated, his tone brooking no argument. "All of them. From now on, these chambers are to remain sealed during daylight hours."
"As you wish, my lord," Takeshi replied, though his puzzlement was obvious.
The servant went about his cleaning duties with practiced efficiency, dusting surfaces and arranging Kenji's limited possessions. When he finished, he served breakfast—rice, miso soup, and grilled fish—simple fare that Kenji had grown accustomed to during his recovery.
As Takeshi prepared to leave, Kenji made his decision. "Takeshi, I need you to arrange transportation for me. I'll be departing tonight."
The young man's eyes widened in shock. "My lord? But you've only just recovered from your illness. Surely it would be better to—"
"Tonight," Kenji repeated firmly. "Can you manage it?"
Takeshi bowed, though concern was written across his features. "Of course, my lord. But may I ask where you intend to travel? The roads can be dangerous, especially for someone traveling alone."
Kenji had considered leaving without explanation, simply vanishing into the night like the creature he was becoming. But practicality won out over dramatic gestures. He knew virtually nothing about the geography of this world beyond what he remembered from anime episodes. He needed guidance, and Takeshi was one of only two people he could trust—the other being Dr. Kurogami, who would ask too many medical questions about his sudden desire to travel.
"Konohagakure, and I don't want to take any samurais with me." he said simply.
If Takeshi had looked surprised before, now he appeared genuinely astonished. "The new ninja village? My lord, that's... quite far from here. The journey would take weeks, and the political situation..."
"I'm aware of the distance and the circumstances," Kenji interrupted. "But I have my reasons. Can you arrange it or not?"
The servant nodded slowly. "Yes, my lord. There are merchant caravans that travel those routes regularly. I can speak with the village headman about securing you passage with one departing soon. Though I must ask—why Konoha? If you're seeking medical treatment, there are skilled physicians much closer to—"
"I'm not seeking medical treatment," Kenji said, then paused, considering how much to reveal. "I want to witness history in the making. The founding of Konoha represents a new era for the ninja world, the end of the Warring States period. I want to see this transformation with my own eyes."
It wasn't entirely a lie. He did want to witness the birth of the village that would become so central to the story he knew. But more than that, he needed to understand why his template progression had stopped at ten percent. In his previous understanding of progression systems, reaching certain thresholds typically unlocked new possibilities. Perhaps exposure to the techniques and knowledge of the ninja world would provide the catalyst he needed.
There was also the practical consideration of learning to fight properly. His demonic abilities were powerful but raw, untrained. If he hoped to navigate the dangerous politics and conflicts of this era, he needed to master both his supernatural powers and the conventional techniques of this world.
Konoha, under Hashirama's leadership, represented relative safety and stability. The First Hokage's philosophy of peace and cooperation meant that a nobleman seeking to learn their ways might be welcomed rather than viewed with suspicion. Of course, Tobirama was another matter entirely—the Second Hokage's pragmatic paranoia would make him a dangerous opponent if he perceived Kenji as a threat.
But Kenji felt confident in his ability to maintain his disguise, at least initially. His noble background provided perfect cover, and his apparent interest in supporting Konoha's mission would align with their goals. By the time anyone discovered his true nature, he hoped to have proven his value as an ally.
"I understand, my lord," Takeshi said, though his expression suggested he found the explanation somewhat lacking. "I'll make the arrangements immediately. When would you prefer to depart?"
"Tonight, as I said. The sooner the better."
Takeshi bowed again. "It will be done, my lord. I'll return this afternoon with details about the caravan and any preparations you'll need to make."
After the servant left, Kenji spent the day testing his new abilities in careful, controlled experiments. The biological manipulation was particularly fascinating—he could sprout claws from his fingertips, harden his skin to near-metallic durability, and even extend tentacle-like appendages from his back. Each transformation was accompanied by a strange satisfaction, as if his body was finally expressing its true nature.
The cellular regeneration proved equally remarkable. Small cuts healed within seconds, and when he worked up the courage to inflict a more serious wound on his arm, it closed completely within minutes, leaving not even a scar.
But perhaps most intriguingly, he found that his chakra integrated seamlessly with his demonic abilities. When he channeled chakra through his transformed limbs, they became even stronger and more resilient. This hybrid approach to power had potential he was only beginning to understand.
As evening approached and the sun finally set, Kenji felt a weight lift from his shoulders. The darkness was his domain now, the time when he could move freely without fear of incineration. It was a limitation he would need to work around, but also one that provided him with distinct advantages. Few enemies would expect a daylight-bound opponent, and the night offered perfect cover for the kind of subtle infiltration his new abilities would excel at.
Takeshi returned as promised, bearing news of a merchant caravan departing for the Land of Fire in two days' time. The delay was frustrating but necessary—traveling alone across the dangerous roads of the Warring States period would be foolish, even with his enhanced abilities.
"The caravan master has agreed to provide you escort in exchange for a generous payment," Takeshi reported. "He's also suggested that you might want to consider adopting a more... modest appearance for the journey. Traveling as an obvious nobleman can attract unwanted attention from bandits and rogue ninja."
Kenji nodded thoughtfully. "Wise advice. And Takeshi... thank you for everything. Your service during my illness has been invaluable."
The young man looked genuinely moved by the praise. "It has been my honor, my lord. Your family has always treated mine with kindness and respect."
As night deepened and his departure grew closer, Kenji felt a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. He was leaving behind the safety of isolation for the dangerous politics of the ninja world. But he was no longer the dying man who had arrived in this world—he was something new, something unprecedented.
The template system had given him the foundation of power, but the true test would come when he stepped out into a world shaped by gods walking among mortals. Hashirama and Madara, Tobirama and the other legends of this era—soon he would walk among them, not as a helpless observer, but as a player in his own right.
Whatever came next, he was ready to face it. The night belonged to him now, and in the darkness, anything was possible.