Part One.
The End of an Era.
The Warring States Period was a time of bloodshed, where the world knew only war. Amid the chaos, the formation of the Five Great Shinobi Villages was heralded as the beginning of a fragile peace. Yet not all-powerful clans submitted to the will of the major nations.
Among these were the Uzumaki of the Land of Whirlpools and the Rokugan of the Land of Wind. A proud and ancient bloodline blessed with the Sage's Body, exceptional chakra reserves, and comparable skills in fūinjutsu to the Uzumaki and a special healing factor with their physique.
The Rokugan Clan, though only a few hundred in number, was considered a pillar of strength within the Land of Wind. Like the Senju and Uzumaki, they were both warriors and scholars, mastering the art of sealing to protect their people and fortify their village. Their reputation known far and wide.
But with great power came great fear.
When the Third Shinobi War erupted, alliances shifted like sands in the desert. The Rokugan Clan, despite their reclusive nature.
Becoming a target for their unique abilities. They threatened the balance of power, drawing the ire of not one, but 4 hidden villages. The Hidden Leaf, Hidden Cloud, Hidden Stone, and the Hidden Mist. Each with their agendas, joined forces to eliminate the clan.
The attack was unexpected and merciless, members from each faction worked together to create an opening in the Rokugan clan's defenses.
Then under the cover of night, they combined forces and descended upon the Rokugan Clan's village. For three days and nights, they fought, their seals held off the enemy while they did their best to save as many of the younger generation as possible. But they were outnumbered and overwhelmed. On the fourth day, the Clan was no more.
Before the last elder was killed, they managed to send away a few of their most promising youngsters in hopes that at least one of them would survive long enough to avenge them. Among the handful of survivors, Bai Rokugan with the aid of his grandpa was sent out of the village via teleportation seal.
As one of the most talented, he had achieved the level of a seal master at the age of 11. His genius earned him admiration and envy. Yet, his talent came with a secret: Bai was a transmigrator.
In his past life, Bai had been an anime fanatic—a young man from another world who met his end under the front wheels of truck-kun. When faced with reincarnation, he chose the world of shinobi: to be reborn with all the knowledge of the Poison Tang Clan he had read about in various manhwa, mastery of every chakra nature, and unmatched skill in fūinjutsu formulation.
This knowledge, combined with the Rokugan Clan's heritage, made Bai a force to be reckoned with. But even he as a child was powerless against the combined might of 4 attacking Kage. Forced to watch as his family and comrades mercilessly slaughtered.
Bai made a vow—to rebuild his clan and exact vengeance on the villages that destroyed them.
After his clan's annihilation, Bai made his way to the Land of iron to lay low and build up his strength.
"tsk" those assholes, I had so many plans, now it's all gone to shit. How the hell did they even find us, I don't remember reading anything about the Rokugan Clan from the original story, but it figures as much they didn't exist, That's probably why they went after the Uzumaki in first place. They didnt get shit from us.
Oh well, I'm alive and I got plenty of time.
They fucked around and I'll make sure as shit they find out.
I'll keep heading to the land of iron for now, they won't think to find a ninja among the samurai.
quietly making his way through grass, rain, and waterfall country Bai settled in a village not too far from the land of waterfalls named after Urakaku one of General Mifune's right-hand men.
Luckily for me they were pretty loose with entering the village, it's probably due to them being neutral and all the refugees who are trying to avoid the war.
First things first look for a long-term place hopefull. Navigating this village it looks like any rural town in the Tokugawa era, dirt roads, buildings no higher than two stories, you can clearly tell the social class of a person by the clothes they're wearing, come to think of it I'm standing out way too much I'll have to buy some clothes to match my surroundings.
Walking down what looks like the shopping district, this store looks like a place for clothes.
Entering the shop ' greetings young master' how may I help you? the shop keeper spoke as he walked up.
I need a few new sets of clothes.
Right this way young master. We don't have as large a selection as a major village but I can guarantee the quality is the best you will find in any shop around here.
After about an hour of browsing, the shopkeeper finally bundled together eight sets of kimonos for me. Each was of a different color, from deep indigo to pale ivory, and the total came out to around five thousand ryō. with the funds passed onto him by his grandpa that amount was minuscule.
I slipped into one of the new sets right away, enjoying the faint scent of freshly dyed fabric as it brushed against my skin. It felt strange, walking out of the shop dressed as though I had always belonged here, yet also refreshing—like shedding the last trace of my worn-out self.
With the weight of the purchase behind me, I adjusted my collar and turned toward the nearest municipal office. My next task was clear: find a place to live. A new home, a fresh start.
After walking for about ten minutes, the imposing outline of the municipal office came into view. The building was crowded, as expected, with a steady stream of weary-looking faces filing in and out—refugees, just like me.
Inside, I approached the registration desk and spoke with the clerk. With practiced ease, I gave them the false name I had already prepared: Torah. The process was surprisingly straightforward. A few forms, a few questions, and that was it—I was officially on the books.
When I inquired about housing, however, reality hit hard. The clerk explained that the influx of refugees had already filled most available spaces. In the end, the only vacancy I managed to secure was a small room situated directly above a tattoo parlor in the entertainment district. Hardly the ideal place to settle down… but it would do.
Still, fate has a strange sense of humor. For the time being, I also managed to pick up an apprenticeship under the tattooist below. Why, you ask? Simple. Just imagine it—engraving my own fūinjutsu into tattoos. How ridiculously badass would that be?
The years bled together as the Third Shinobi War raged on. While nations clashed and legends were forged on the battlefield, I quietly honed my own art under the steady hand of the tattooist named Shino. His needles taught me precision, patience, and a craftsman's pride. My own additions—the secret layers of fūinjutsu—transformed that art into something far greater.
Even as I worked, I kept one ear to the wind, tracking the war's every shift. The fall of the Third Raikage, the Kanabi Bridge incident, the spectacle of Minato Namikaze carving through ten thousand Iwa shinobi, and Might Guy's fierce clash against the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist… these tales rippled through the streets, stirring awe and fear alike.
It was after the Kanabi Bridge incident that I decided it was time to move on to the next phase of my plan. But before leaving, I turned Shino's craft—and my own sealing expertise—upon myself.
Creating four earth clones to work in tandem, I began a painstaking process that lasted days. Bit by bit, needle by needle, my skin bloomed with an intricate design: two emerald-green dragons coiling across my body, their scales alive with storm clouds, inked in a grand yakuza style tapestry. Hidden within the patterns lay countless seals, layered and interlocked—steals for chakra, storage, amplification, defense. With them, the need for most traditional hand seals would all but vanish.
By the time Minato was nominated as the Fourth Hokage, my preparations were complete. I wrapped up my life in Urakaku Village, leaving behind the quiet streets and the shop above the tattoo parlor. My next destination: the Village Hidden in the Sand.
A harsher land awaited me, but so too did new opportunities