The faint creaking of wood filled the quiet room. Sunlight filtered in through thin paper windows, scattering a warm glow over the wooden floorboards.
Slowly, a young man opened his eyes. His head felt heavy, dizzy, as if he had just woken from a long dream.
Blinking several times, he sat up and looked around.
What he saw immediately stunned him. The room he was in was not his own.
Wooden walls, traditional furnishings, and a faint smell of burning oil lamps....it was completely different from the modern bedroom he remembered.
"What… is this place?" he muttered, rubbing his temple.
The last thing he remembered was staying up late the night before, binge-watching Naruto.
He had been caught up in the supplementary episodes and scrolled until he could barely keep his eyes open.
Then, without warning, darkness. When he woke up… he was here.
He stood, his body still unsteady, and only then realized something even stranger....his clothes. Instead of his usual T-shirt and pajamas, he was now wearing a high-collared robe.
He frowned, trying to recall where he had seen such clothing before.
"…Wait a second. Isn't this the uniform of the Uchiha clan?"
His chest tightened. An uneasy suspicion rose inside him.
He hurried over to the mirror placed against the wall. Looking into it, he froze.
The mirror reflected a handsome young man with dark, spiky hair and sharp features.
It wasn't entirely unlike his old face, but it wasn't the same either.
The resemblance was uncanny, yet clearly different....this was not the body he was born with.
"What the hell…"
Turning slightly, his eyes fell on a symbol stitched into his robe.
The design was unmistakable: a red-and-white fan...the emblem of the Uchiha clan.
He staggered back. "No way… I… I actually transmigrated into the world of Naruto?"
With trembling steps, he moved toward the window and pulled it open.
The scene outside confirmed his fear—and his awe.
In the distance, four giant stone faces were carved into the mountainside, watching over the village below.
The First Hokage. The Second Hokage. The Third Hokage. The Fourth Hokage.
His legs weakened. His breath quickened. This wasn't a dream.
This wasn't cosplay or some elaborate prank.
He had truly traveled into the world of Naruto.
But instead of joy or excitement, a wave of dread washed over him.
His throat tightened. Tears threatened to well up.
Because he knew better than anyone—this was not a safe world.
The ninja world wasn't all about friendship, bonds, and heroic battles like in the anime. It was blood, war, betrayal, and despair.
And worst of all....he was now part of the Uchiha clan.
Suddenly, pain tore through his skull. He clutched his head, collapsing to the floor.
Countless foreign memories flooded into his brain like a tidal wave. The pain lasted several minutes before finally subsiding.
Gasping, he sat up, his face pale. His expression was bitter as the information sank in.
It was now Konoha Year 54.
The Fourth Hokage had died during the Nine-Tails' attack, and the Uchiha clan had been blamed for the disaster.
The village leadership had already forced the Uchiha to relocate to the outskirts of Konoha, isolating them from the rest of the village.
Arata's heart sank. He knew this story. He had watched it unfold countless times in the anime.
The Uchiha weren't guilty...it was Obito who had controlled the Nine-Tails that night.
But the higher-ups of Konoha had chosen to use the incident as an excuse to suppress the clan.
It was a slow, suffocating oppression that would, in just a few years, end with the Uchiha massacre.
His hands trembled. "So it's already this time… Just a few years away from the clan's extermination."
Fear gripped his heart. He knew exactly how things would unfold.
Uchiha Itachi and Obito would wipe out the entire clan, sparing almost no one.
Fathers, mothers, children, civilians...no one would be left.
Arata shuddered. He didn't feel admiration for Itachi like many fans did.
Instead, standing here as a member of the clan, he felt only anger and disgust.
To kill one's own parents, relatives, and kin… to slaughter even innocent civilians...how could that be justified?
No matter the reason, such cruelty was beyond comprehension.
To Arata, Itachi and Obito weren't heroes or tragic figures. They were monsters.
And now, he was one of their future victims.
From the inherited memories, Arata learned more about his new identity.
His name in this world was also Arata, an eerie coincidence. His parents had died in the Second Ninja War...his father killed by Kumogakure shinobi, his mother by Iwagakure.
He was raised by his grandfather, a respected elder within the Uchiha clan.
That detail hit him especially hard. Because in this world, his grandfather looked exactly the same as the grandfather he had in his previous life. The emotions surged uncontrollably.
His parents...whom he had never met before—looked just like the ones from his past life.
The bonds of family in this new body felt painfully real, binding him to this world.
"How can I let them all die like that?!" he growled, his fists clenching.
But then despair followed his anger. What could he even do?
Yes, he possessed the Sharingan...a single tomoe, still at a beginner stage. Compared to Itachi, who awakened his at thirteen, or Sasuke at seven, his talent was ordinary. Against monsters like Itachi or Obito, he was nothing.
If he tried to flee Konoha, he would be branded a traitor. Danzo and his Root ANBU would hunt him down mercilessly.
Even if he managed to escape, would he truly be safe? The world outside was just as dangerous.
No matter which path he thought of, it all ended in despair.
Unless…
Unless he grew strong enough to fight back.
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