Chapter 15: Reborn
"Kotou… am I going to die?"
Looking at the ninja cat that was tending to him, Uchiha Fugaku felt that his body had already reached its limit, like an oil lamp about to burn out.
"Weren't you the one who told me beforehand to clean up your mess, nya? Don't you know your own injuries? Overusing Susanoo—what did you think you were, Uchiha Madara?" The ninja cat Kotou rolled his eyes at his summoner.
"Kotou, I'm already a dying man. Can't you at least say something nice?" Fugaku covered his mouth, a violent cough wracking him with pain. When he looked at his hand, it was covered with fresh bloody fragments of flesh.
"Back in the day, your ancestor Uchiha Madara had nothing but disdain for us ninja cats. Said our bodies were too small, our chakra too weak, useless for anything serious." Kotou's feelings toward the Uchiha were… complicated.
When Madara was alive, he always looked down on the ninja cat clan. After all, Madara could capture the Nine-Tails himself—why would he need cats? Cute or not, in his heart there was only Senju Hashirama!
"That was Madara, not me. When I die, just bury me somewhere quiet. I really have no regrets anymore—at least the Uchiha clan was preserved." Fugaku's heart was at ease. The outcome had already surpassed anything he had hoped for.
"So you're fine with your eldest son bearing the infamy of slaughtering his own clan, while your youngest lives trapped in hatred? I heard the news—Konoha's saying Uchiha Itachi massacred the clan. He's already been listed as an S-rank missing-nin. Why didn't you let Sasuke and the others escape with the rest?"
"Itachi… that's his own doing. He deserves to carry the sins of the Uchiha. If Ming hadn't moved the clan away, Itachi would never have shown mercy. In his eyes, the clan never outweighed the village, and his little brother outweighed everything."
"As for Sasuke… Sasuke is Itachi's reason to keep living. If Sasuke disappeared, I fear Itachi wouldn't…"
"I really don't get you Uchihas. All of you are obsessed with your little brothers. Madara was the same…"
"…Fugaku?"
"Fugaku, why so quiet?"
Kotou turned his head—and saw that Fugaku had already closed his eyes, a faint smile lingering on his lips.
Kotou had known him since he was a boy. Now the ninja cat was old and frail, yet still alive, while Fugaku, in his prime, had departed first.
Drip, drip—raindrops fell. Kotou didn't know if they were the sky's tears or his own.
"Ming, over here!"
Hearing Uchiha Inoho calling, Uchiha Ming quickly rushed over.
"Inoho, where are the clansmen?"
"They've set up a temporary camp in the forest by the stream up ahead. We were waiting for you, Clan Leader."
Being addressed that way made Ming feel a little awkward—after all, Inoho was several years older than him.
"Is everyone alright? Did anyone get injured during the escape?"
"Everyone's fine. Just a few children crying—it's a strange environment, so it can't be helped." Inoho had been on many missions, but none made him prouder than this one: saving the Uchiha.
"Look, everyone, the clan leader is back!"
"Clan leader!"
"Welcome back, Clan leader!"
Faces lit with the relief of survival after disaster. Only Uchiha Mikoto remained without a smile. No surprise—Fugaku had gone to his death, Itachi had betrayed the clan, Sasuke was alone. How could she feel joy?
Of course, everyone tacitly avoided mentioning Itachi's betrayal. For now, what mattered was that the Uchiha had escaped annihilation.
"Can we guarantee food supplies for everyone?"
As Ming began to ask, others chimed in one after another.
"Clan leader, food is sufficient. And the forest is full of wild animals—catching deer or rabbits is easy. They're weak."
Seeing that the clan had no pressing problems for the moment, Ming finally exhaled. Truth be told, in both his past life and this one, he had little management experience. Sooner or later, he would need someone to share leadership duties.
"So our top priority is to figure out exactly where we are, whether this place is dangerous, and then make further plans."
"Inoho, Tekka, Hōka—let's each scout east, south, west, and north. We need to know where we are."
"Clan leader, you should rest. We can handle it." Uchiha Hōka, a talented young man of twenty-one and already a strong jōnin, spoke with concern.
"Yeah, Hōka's right," others echoed. Now they treated Ming like a precious treasure—he had saved them all.
"It's fine, I'm not being polite. This is an unfamiliar place, and I have space-time abilities. Our first task is to pinpoint our location. Come on, let's not waste time—let's scout."
"This is my first order to you as clan leader!" With Ming saying so, the others couldn't object further.
A ninja's speed was astonishing. With their swiftness, Shunshin, and ability to ignore terrain, it didn't take long before Ming spotted a small town.
The town was dilapidated, but the buildings were unmistakably modern.
"Is this the modern world? Looks like I can finally escape life without the internet." Ming even felt a bit excited—he hadn't realized how much he missed modern society.
"Transformation Technique!" He transformed into an Asian man and entered the town, only to find it full of foreigners speaking a language he didn't understand.
"Damn it. So I really slipped through the cracks of compulsory education—what the hell are they saying? I can't understand a word!"
He never thought his journey across worlds would be derailed by something so ridiculous—language! Clearly, studying well had been necessary. What if you traveled through time and couldn't even gather intel?
Eventually, after much searching, he found a shabby newspaper stand.
When Ming reached for a paper, the middle-aged vendor snapped, "You damned street rat! Foreign punk, did you pay?"
Then he switched back to a stream of incomprehensible words.
"You're Chinese?" Ming asked, in clear Mandarin.
The man froze, eyes wide.
"You're Chinese too?" The stand owner looked embarrassed—he had just cursed at a fellow countryman.
"Sorry, I didn't know. You just looked too pale. If I knew you were Chinese, I'd let you read whatever you like, no problem." The man scratched his head sheepishly.
"It's fine, it's fine. Aren't you worried I'm faking it?" Ming teased.
"No way! Your Mandarin's way better than mine. Hahaha! What a surprise, running into a countryman here. Which paper do you want? I'll find it for you."
"Then please, just something with the latest news. By the way, boss, where is this place?" Ming asked casually while flipping through the papers.
"You're kidding me, right? This is Mexico. You didn't sneak in, did you? Better be careful, lots of gangs around. Me, I got tricked into coming here. They even burned my passport—I can't go home. And I don't have the guts to stow away on a ship back."
So it was Mexico. From what scraps of high school geography he remembered, Spanish was the main language, with something like sixty-two others as well. To Ming, though, it was all the same—he might as well be illiterate.
If not for his past life's memories, he'd only know Japanese right now. Of course, he was doing better this time: Chinese, Japanese, basic English… and ninjutsu.