The sound of clashing blades echoed through the cavern, steel meeting steel in a storm of sparks. Two titans of the shinobi world faced each other: Getsuri Tsukihana, master of gravity and storm, and Tobirama Senju, the genius of space-time and ninjutsu.
Getsuri's voice was steady, but the weight of his words pressed like stone.
"Tobirama, I hold nothing but respect for you… but tonight, you will fall to me."
Tobirama scoffed, his eyes narrowing like blades.
"Tch. As if you and your cursed clan could ever take me down."
They surged forward, their weapons colliding with a thunderclap that shook the cavern walls. Shockwaves rippled outward, tearing chunks of earth free. The air thickened with moisture and dust, the battlefield already scarred by broken kunai, shredded tags, and discarded short swords. The sheer ferocity of their battle forced even the bravest shinobi to keep their distance, lest they be swallowed by the crossfire.
Getsuri's eyes sharpened.
"This fight is over."
His body flared with natural energy — Sage Mode. His presence grew heavier, the very air bending under the pressure. His strikes promised devastation.
"Sage Art: Singularity Palm!"
A sphere of condensed gravity erupted from his hand, ripping the air as it hurtled toward Tobirama.
The Senju didn't flinch.
"Water Style: Water Dragon Jutsu!"
From nothing, a coiling serpent of water roared into being, crashing into the gravity sphere. The clash detonated with a deafening boom — torrents of water colliding against collapsing space, sending waves of spray and pressure crashing outward.
Getsuri didn't wait. He lunged through the mist, closing the distance. His taijutsu was brutal, his every step dragging Tobirama deeper into his gravitational field.
But Tobirama's red eyes flicked with calculation. His hand snapped, flinging a short sword behind Getsuri. With a flicker of chakra, the blade glowed — his Flying Thunder God mark. He intended to vanish and strike Getsuri from behind in the same breath.
Getsuri smirked, reading the ploy. His hands formed a seal.
"Gravity Style: Graviton Field!"
The air crushed inward. The short sword dropped, its arc stunted, the space around them distorting under immense pressure. Tobirama's teleportation mark trembled, unreliable. His movement slowed — and Getsuri closed in like a falling star.
Tobirama gritted his teeth. He had one chance. Chakra surged violently around him.
"Space-Time Severance!"
Getsuri answered in kind, his palm glowing with collapsing energy.
"Singularity Palm!"
The collision tore the cavern apart — gravity collapsing inward, space itself ripping outward. The land screamed, as if the world could not bear the weight of their final clash.
Year 71 — Kumogakure
A boy jolted awake, his heart hammering, his sheets damp with sweat. His breath came ragged, his mind replaying the last instant of that dream — dying as someone else.
Raizen Tsukihana: "What kind of dream was that? These dreams are getting more vivid every night…"
He sat up, reaching for the lamp. But something felt wrong. His body felt smaller. His arms thinner.
The lamp flickered to life. Raizen froze. This wasn't his room. No cracked plaster ceiling. No cheap dresser. Instead — polished wood beams above, fine woven mats underfoot.
He caught his reflection in the mirror stand. White hair. One black eye. The other, pale white.
His breath caught.
"No way… I was reincarnated? And judging by this look… this is an anime world. Damn my luck."
Memories flooded back. His old name — Jacob. The accident. And the dreams. The boy in them. Running. Playing. Living. Those weren't dreams. They were pieces of another soul merging with his.
Raizen whispered, as if saying it made it real:
"I've been reincarnated… into the world of Naruto."
Panic pushed him to the window. He ripped the blinds open. Mountains carved against the horizon. Banners whipping in the storm-wind. Shinobi leaping rooftops with the grace of hawks.
Kumogakure. The Village Hidden in the Clouds.
His throat tightened. He had died. He had woken here. But something was off — this world was not the same as the Naruto he knew.
That suspicion hardened when he overheard a neighbor call out:
"Lord Tsukihana's boy is looking healthier these days."
Tsukihana.
A clan that never existed in the Naruto he remembered.
Raizen's stomach dropped. Two possibilities:
This clan went extinct before canon, meaning his fate was sealed.
This wasn't the same Naruto timeline, which meant his knowledge of the future was useless.
Neither option comforted him.
A knock at the door. Raizen opened it to find a towering man with the same pale hair.
Taro: "Young master, are you well? You've been locked inside all morning. Do you need assistance?"
Raizen stammered a denial, muttering about oversleeping.
Taro: "Very well. But your friends are waiting at the park. Will you attend?"
Raizen forced a smile.
"Of course. I'll be there."
Later, he wandered the streets of Kumogakure.
The village was alive with sound and color. Shinobi bounded overhead, sandals striking tile with precise rhythm. Shopkeepers shouted prices, smoke from skewers curled into the air, and children's laughter rang as they chased each other with wooden kunai.
Raizen felt both awed and alien. Everything here breathed chakra, storm, and survival. And above it all, the Raikage's tower loomed — a crown of stone beneath thunderclouds. Lightning flickered across the peaks, thunder rumbling through his chest.
For the first time, Raizen understood why they called this the Village Hidden in the Clouds. It was not hidden at all. It was alive — storm in its bones, thunder in its veins.
At the park, three children waited: Daichi, Mizue, and Aika. They brightened at his arrival, though Daichi's smile faltered.
Daichi: "You're late, Raizen. We've been waiting."
Mizue: "Yeah! You forgot we said an hour earlier!"
Raizen: "Sorry. I… got lost sightseeing. Time slipped away."
The girls looked puzzled. Aika teased him, calling him strange for wandering. Daichi, though, stayed quiet, his gaze wary.
Raizen noticed. He remembered how the old Raizen — the boy whose life he'd inherited — had bullied Daichi. Mockery, shoves, cruel laughter to impress the girls. The memory burned.
As they walked toward the watchtower, Aika and Mizue laughed ahead, daring each other to touch its creaking doorframe. Daichi trailed behind, shoulders tight.
Raizen slowed to his side. The words came out softer than he expected.
"You're not slow, Daichi. They just run too fast."
Daichi blinked, stunned, suspicion flickering in his eyes — waiting for the punchline. But none came.
Something shifted in that silence. Small. Fragile. But real.
Raizen glanced up. Thunder rumbled in the distance, heavy and low. He clenched his fists.
This was his chance. To live. To change. To be more than what fate had written for the boy called Raizen Tsukihana.
And he would not waste it.