The sun was sinking, painting Konoha's rooftops in gold and shadow.
In the Uchiha compound, a boy leaned against the counter of a small shop.
"Boss, give me a lunch set."
Uchiha Jinzō was dressed simply—black shorts, black shirt, nothing flashy. The flame fan crest on his back marked him unmistakably as Uchiha. His eyes, however, were glued hungrily to the bento boxes on display.
He swallowed hard. Drool practically formed at the corner of his mouth.
"…Doesn't matter even if I starve. I still have leftovers at home," he muttered, half-convincing himself.
Normally, outsiders wouldn't dare stroll casually into Uchiha territory. Yet before Jinzō could decide, a sharp voice rang out.
"Uchiha Jinzō, you disgrace of the clan!"
He looked up, frowning. It wasn't the shop owner—it was a kid.
The shopkeeper's son, Uchiha Yehuo. A brat, through and through.
"Forget it," Jinzō sighed, shaking his head. He turned to leave.
But Yehuo wasn't letting it go. "Don't act like you didn't hear me. You failed the academy exam again!"
Jinzō paused. Then he grinned wide, flashing a thumbs-up.
"Right on the money!"
Yehuo's face went crimson. Who in the world bragged about failing? No Uchiha in history had ever flunked the exam twice. To him, Jinzō was spitting on their clan's pride.
"You bastard! Do you have no dignity as an Uchiha?"
"Uh-huh. You might wanna turn around first."
Jinzō's casual warning made Yehuo stiffen. He'd seen this trick before. If he turned his head, Jinzō would vanish like smoke and leave him looking like an idiot.
He sneered. "You think I'm that stupid?"
A shadow loomed.
"What did you just say, brat!?"
A massive hand clamped down on the back of Yehuo's neck, lifting him like a cat. He flailed, kicking and yelping.
"Dad!"
The lame-legged shopkeeper, Uchiha Noki, dragged his son inside with a thunderous glare.
"I'll deal with you later," he growled, then turned to Jinzō with a completely different expression—gentle, almost apologetic.
"This kid's out of line. Don't mind him. So you failed the exam—so what? Keep working hard, Jinzō."
From behind the counter, he handed over a fresh, warm bento. "Here. Don't go hungry."
Jinzō blinked. "How much, Uncle Noki?"
"Take it. No charge."
"Alright. Thanks, Uncle."
He walked off with the box, then paused at the gate. With a flick of his wrist, a fifty-tael coin arced through the air and landed neatly on the counter.
Noki laughed, shaking his head. "Too much!" he shouted.
"Keep it for next time!" Jinzō's voice drifted back as he disappeared down the street.
Watching him go, Noki's smile faded into something more complicated. "What a pity…" he murmured. Jinzō's parents had been jōnin, yet their son couldn't use a single ninjutsu.
Inside, Yehuo rubbed the back of his head, scowling. "Dad, why?! Why treat that loser better than your own son?"
"You little fool!" Noki rolled up his sleeves.
Yehuo's eyes went wide. "Wait, no—"
Too late. A broom smacked down on him, each whack punctuated by Noki's furious roar.
"Your father and I were saved by Jinzō's parents! And he helps our shop whenever he can. How dare you mock him!"
"I-I get it, stop! Ow!"
Outside, Jinzō heard the shrieks and broom-slaps echoing behind him. He chuckled, shaking his head.
But peace didn't last long.
A group of little kids—barely academy age—jumped out, circling him while chanting in sing-song voices:
"Uchiha's shame, Uchiha Jinzō! Failed the exam, ninja dropout!"
Instead of getting angry, Jinzō started humming along to their tune.
"Nice rhythm," he said, even bouncing with them. At twelve, he wasn't too old to play along.
The kids faltered. They'd come to mock him, not make friends. With a few exaggerated faces, they scattered.
Jinzō waved after them, still bouncing on his toes. "Kids these days. You're supposed to enjoy childhood while you can."
Some passing Uchiha sneered, others shook their heads, a few sighed in pity. None of it mattered. Jinzō simply kept walking home, humming.
When he finally arrived, he lit three sticks of incense before two framed photographs.
"Not a custom of this world," he murmured, "but it means something."
He bowed his head to the black-and-white portraits of his parents—shinobi who'd fallen in war.
"Thanks for giving me this second life."
Because in his previous life, he'd died like an idiot. Head full of daydreams, eyes not on the traffic light, smashed flat by a dump truck.
One blink later, he'd woken here. In the world of Naruto. As an Uchiha.
…With a guillotine over his head.
This wasn't a war yet, not officially, but conflict simmered everywhere. The Third Ninja War was inevitable. After that, the Uchiha clan itself faced annihilation.
He could die any time.
And as for the exam? He hadn't failed on purpose. He really couldn't do it. Clone Technique, Substitution Technique—two attempts, two failures. He was now infamous as the only Uchiha in history who couldn't use ninjutsu.
Sharingan? Forget it. That required emotional trauma. Opening the kaleidoscope? Extreme love and hatred. Even Obito had been chosen not for talent but for his capacity to feel.
Jinzō, on the other hand, was detached. He had no bonds, no deep ties here. Without that, the Sharingan was out of reach.
That wasn't even the biggest problem.
"What a scam of a golden finger!" he groaned, throwing himself onto his futon.
Yes, he had a cheat. It was called Deduction. Theoretically, it could create anything—from cultivation manuals to sleep hacks. Sounded amazing.
In reality? It was brutal.
First, he had to feed it the underlying knowledge. Want a sow postpartum care guide? Then provide the biology, the veterinary tech, the process details. Otherwise, nothing.
"So why not just buy the damn book!?" he ranted.
Still, the results were flawless. Anything it spat out worked. No dead ends.
"Seriously, Orochimaru should've gotten this system. Why me?"
And the kicker: once something was deduced, it was forcibly imprinted into his mind. Learned instantly. No way to decline.
That's how he'd ended up with his current disaster.
Digging through his late parents' notes, he found a mountain of sealing techniques. Neither had ever been in the sealing corps, yet here were scrolls upon scrolls. Until he stumbled on a line in his father's diary:
"If the Nine-Tails were sealed into an Uchiha, could we become Hokage with its power?"
Radicals. His parents had been radicals. Far ahead of their time, dreaming of jinchūriki power.
"Are you kidding me?!" Jinzō groaned. "Mito was still alive back then!"
But thanks to them, he'd memorized countless sealing jutsu. And one reckless idea had struck him:
What if, instead of extracting chakra, he accumulated it—like internal energy in martial arts?
Deduction loved it. A whole new system was born: chakra inner strength.
It boosted healing, extended lifespan, reinforced the body—basically, a variant of Tsunade's Yin Seal.
Sounds great, right?
Except… it locked him out of ninjutsu. Permanently.
Any chakra he tried to expel was forcefully dragged back in by his raging inner strength. He couldn't throw a single fireball.
Tears nearly burned his eyes.
And there was worse.
To advance further, he'd need outside help to raise his "upper limit."
"Goldfinger, you're a sadist," he muttered.
But no matter how much he cursed, it didn't change. His new system grew bit by bit, expanding seals across his body, enhancing every part of him. If he could ever complete the cycle, normal ninjutsu might return.
For now? He was trapped.
"What kind of trash game mechanic is this?" he snapped.
He stared up at the ceiling, hollow-eyed.
"…Destroy this world."