The 34th year of Konoha.The battlefield of the Land of Rain.The Second Shinobi World War, a regional conflict, had lasted for five years and gradually entered a state of exhaustion.
Hanzō the Salamander rose to power. In order to declare that the Land of Rain was his home, he warned the elite shinobi from other countries—Konoha, Sunagakure, Kumogakure, and Iwagakure—who dared to set foot in the Land of Rain.
The representative battle gave rise to the humiliating title of Konoha's "Sannin."
Hanzō granted the Land of Rain, which had been on the verge of collapse, a brief respite, and earned the recognition of his people. His title of "demigod" spread widely across the shinobi world.
…
The Konoha base in the Land of Rain.
A forest thirty kilometers to the north.
A figure writhed in a crater created by a powerful explosion.
"Who am I?"
"I'm Senju Nawaki!"
Senju Nawaki opened his eyes, a sharp pain surging through his body. His limbs felt cold, his head spun, and his consciousness grew even more confused.
"Where are my legs?"
He glanced around and then at himself.
The surroundings were in ruins—rocks and trees shattered, charred black mixed with scarlet stains. He lay in a wide pit, his body drenched in blood.
The lower halves of his legs were gone, shredded into bloody fragments smeared across the broken stone.
Fortunately, the most precious parts of him were still intact.
The stench of blood filled his nose, mixed with the acrid scent of burning.
He reached down to touch the remains of his legs and felt only a thick, sickening texture. The source of his coldness was clear—blood still poured from his ruined limbs.
The vivid red on his fingertips seemed to flip some kind of switch.
The haze in his mind vanished, replaced by an overwhelming surge of pain that flooded his senses.
"Hehe…"
His eyes widened, blood spilling from his lips as his breath grew ragged.
A violent clash of memories in his head felt like thousands of steel needles piercing into his brain.
Fragmented memories began to fuse.
A previous life.
He was a top-tier graduate student who had suffered under a terrible advisor, forced into a joint training program spanning eight universities. Three years, eight colleges, nine cities. In his third year of graduate school, he had completed countless projects, yet the Professor never once granted him first authorship. And yet that same man was a candidate for dean?
Graduation approached, yet his deadline was repeatedly delayed. No one wanted to waste such a capable student. But that old man gave him neither credit nor support—only exploitation to the extreme.
He wasted away, from 200 pounds to barely 100, and drove himself into an early grave.
He recalled the last scene.
An experiment requiring a PCR machine.
PCR instruments amplify specific DNA sequences, used to map genetic diseases, diagnose infections, and replicate genes. By controlling precise temperature cycles, adjusting reaction times, and intervening in genetic fragments, rapid DNA amplification could be achieved: denaturation at high temperature, annealing at low temperature, and extension at optimal ranges.
Unfortunately, the Professor was too stingy to buy a real PCR machine. Instead, he cobbled together three Boilers, mimicking these crude methods.
Who could have expected even the Boilers to be counterfeit?
The equipment exploded.
His final memory was of the broken-down tools in the lab. The ancient gun-shaped pipette, a gift from a salesperson, needed weekly calibration. The measuring cylinders, beakers, and bottles with faded scales. Reagents so old they dated back to 1948—older than the nation itself.
That alone proved Professor's "experience."
"In my next life, I'll never be a beast of burden again—especially not a poor one!"
That memory flashed, and then came this life.
He had traveled into the Naruto world, becoming Senju Nawaki, and these were his final moments.
He did not have Hashirama Senju's strength, only his naïve recklessness.
And with the treacherous decision of Senju Tobirama to disband the Senju clan, Nawaki had never been treated well—even worse than Konohamaru, the grandson of the Third Hokage.
They called it "training".
Relying on himself alone, he barely managed to graduate from the Academy, only to be thrown into the Second Shinobi World War to "broaden his horizons."
Now here he was, on the battlefield of the Land of Rain.
Yesterday was his twelfth birthday.
Tsunade had given him the Senju clan's heirloom necklace, truly naming him the patriarch of the dwindling Senju clan.
And this very morning, the naïve boy was tricked into taking on a so-called "patrol mission," leading him straight into this deadly forest.
Unaware, he had stepped into a trap.
A chain of explosions left him in this miserable state.
Only one thought remained in his mind.
"Was it really an accident?"
With his new soul, Nawaki was no longer so naïve.
Countless unreasonable details rose in his thoughts.
First: Whether he was a fresh genin or the heir of the Senju clan, he should never have been assigned to scouting missions deep in enemy territory—especially not in a place far beyond standard patrol range.
Second: The explosive tags were far too powerful. Thinking back, they had been detonated around his squadmates in a way similar to the forbidden "Mutual Detonation" technique recorded in scrolls.
(If even Sakura once survived a paper bomb stuck to her face, how could Senju Nawaki be killed outright?)
Third: His body had been under some kind of control. He had been unable to dodge and was forced to take the brunt of the blast. Even stranger—why had no one come to rescue him?
The signs were clear: someone wanted him dead.
"Oh!"
A bitter laugh escaped his lips.
"What a scam! Someone doesn't want this war to end. Is it because their interests would be harmed—or because they haven't gained enough yet?"
Conspiracy theories from his past life mixed with the shinobi world's cruelty. The conclusion was clear.
Konoha was involved.
When Tobirama Senju announced that the clan would abandon their name and merge into Konoha, the Senju ceased to be diners at the table—they became the dish.
As the young heir of the Senju, Nawaki was a thorn in the side.
Those who still bore the Senju name were treated as heretics.
War was simply politics by other means, a tool for interest groups to redistribute benefits.
And here he was, supposedly with a trump card in hand, yet betrayed by the very legacy of his two "grandfathers".
Like the Celestial Dragon of another world who had abandoned their divine title.
His situation was worse than he had imagined. The first problem was simple: how to survive and break free of his doomed fate.
He realized it in an instant.
Buzz—
His mind shook. A familiar sensation overtook him, and once again his body moved without his will.
It was the same as when he had first stepped into the trap.
His soul was separated, locked in a cage, unable to control his own body.
"The Yamanaka clan's secret technique—Mind Transfer Jutsu!"
Senju Nawaki understood. Someone truly wanted him dead.
In his inner world, everything was pitch black.
Swish—
A face appeared before him, wielding a wakizashi, and struck. Nawaki's soul-arm was severed.
"This morning… the Yamanaka jōnin who issued the mission—Yamanaka Shuichi."
Nawaki recognized the invading soul instantly. He recalled the two other "comrades" on the mission: one from the Nara clan, the other from the Akimichi clan.
The Ino–Shika–Chō trio. The three most loyal families of the Third Hokage.
So the mastermind was revealed?
The worth of the Third Hokage only grew higher.
Yamanaka Shuichi's eyes flickered with fear, but he quickly suppressed it. The secret he carried could not be revealed—but fortunately, everything would soon be over.
He stole Nawaki's soul-arm and released a black aura. Nawaki's soul-space trembled.
"What are you trying to do?"
The question flashed in his mind.
Then the soul-space flickered, and he realized what was happening.
Yamanaka Shuichi was tampering with his memory.
The Yamanaka clan excelled at spiritual techniques. The most skilled among them could even rewrite a person's memories.
Using Nawaki's severed soul-arm as a medium, Shuichi was rewriting his final moments—turning his death into nothing more than an "accident".
Erasing all traces of the true conspirators.
"Guard all you want, but you can't defend against betrayal from within. Tobirama Senju, you cursed us all." Nawaki spat bitterly in his heart.
"How dare you trample so freely in my soul-space?"
But then something unexpected happened.
Three massive Boilers appeared in his soul-space, buzzing loudly.
"Aren't these… the same three Boilers that exploded on me? No… they're handmade PCR products!"
A curtain of light shimmered into view.
[Bloodline Replenishment System]
[Name: Senju Nawaki (...)]
[Attributes: Yang (Intermediate), Wind (Elementary), Earth (Elementary), Water (Elementary), Fire (Elementary), Lightning (Elementary)…]
[Rank: Genin]
[Chakra: 357]
[Bloodline: Incomplete Sage Body]
[Kekkei Genkai: Incomplete Elementary Wood Release]
[Skills: Clone Technique (Intermediate), Substitution Technique (Intermediate), Transformation Technique (Intermediate), Ninja Tools Throwing (Elementary), Basic Taijutsu (Elementary), Earth Release (Beginner), Water Release (Beginner), Wind Release (Beginner)…]
[Passive: Scientific Acumen (Advanced)]
[Warning!!! Yin attribute chakra detected. Bloodline restoration possible.]