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Chapter One – The White Place
Kaelen had died once.
He remembered the taste of bad whiskey and the smear of streetlamps across the taxi windshield. He remembered the hollow life he had carved after war—soldier at twenty, survivor of two brutal campaigns, and at thirty a driver who ferried strangers through a city that never noticed him. His heart had once been full of samurai lore and the elegance of the sword. He had carved bokken out of wood, practiced alone in the yard, read history until his eyes ached. All of it faded when survival became his only craft.
On his last night, he was drunk. His fingers slipped against the steering wheel. The headlights of another car swelled too fast—then the world cracked in two.
Silence.
And then white. Endless, crushing white.
Kaelen's voice shook as he whispered, "Am I… dead?"
"Silence, mortal." The words dropped heavy as stones. "You stand in the presence of God. Bow."
The air thickened around him. Kaelen gasped as though gravity itself had doubled, dragging him to his knees. His forehead brushed against nothing and everything all at once.
"Why am I here?" he asked.
"You were meant to live until sixty," the voice replied, vast and echoing. "But fate shifted. To mend this imbalance, you shall be given a choice."
The whiteness pulsed. Kaelen's thoughts came ragged, tangled with disbelief. "Choice?"
"Reincarnation," said the voice. "You may be reborn into any world you desire. You may choose any gift—abilities from any realm, any hero, any story. Bleach. One Piece. Naruto. One Punch Man. Solo Leveling. Decide, mortal."
Kaelen froze. All those nights of anime marathons, all those hours spent learning the art of the sword—it was as though fate had been listening the entire time. A slow smile spread across his face.
"I choose the Naruto world," he said. "And… I want to be reincarnated with the skill of Dracule Mihawk—the strongest swordsman."
The whiteness paused, like the breath before judgment.
"Final?"
"Yes."
The voice thundered. "Then so be it."
The world exploded.
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Kaelen woke on a sagging mattress in a messy apartment. Dust swirled in a shaft of sunlight. His hands—too small, too soft—trembled as he held them before his face. A boy's hands. Thirteen years old, maybe younger.
He stumbled to his feet, heart hammering. A battered kitchen knife glinted on the counter. He grabbed it, testing its weight, and swung.
Swish.
The blade moved faster than he expected, as if his muscles already knew what to do. He stepped outside, found a wooden post, and slashed.
Swosh.
The timber split into clean fragments that scattered across the dirt. Kaelen's breath caught. His whole body sang with exhilaration.
"It's true," he whispered. "I really have his power."
For the first time since his death, Kaelen laughed. Not the broken laugh of a soldier, but the fierce laugh of someone who had been reborn.
He bathed, dressed in what little clothing the apartment offered, and boiled pasta for breakfast. The taste was bland, but the act of eating in this new body steadied him.
When he finished, he stepped out into the streets of Konoha. The village bustled with merchants, shinobi, and children carrying kunai training pouches. The scent of grilled dumplings mixed with the earthy smell of dust kicked up from sandals.
He touched the knife at his belt—not Mihawk's black blade, but enough for now—and walked straight toward the library.
Because if he was truly in the Naruto world, knowledge was his first weapon.
And with Mihawk's power in his veins, Kaelen swore he would carve a destiny sharper than any known shinobi. Chapter two first steps into power Kaelen walked through the streets of Konoha, his small frame weaving between merchants and ninja in training. The village was alive in a way that reminded him of old battlefields—not in the violence, but in the energy that thrummed through every corner. Shinobi darted across rooftops, their movements precise, effortless. Children chased each other with wooden swords, imitating jutsu. The air smelled of warm bread, incense, and the faint metallic tang of weapons.
He paused outside a large stone building marked with the kanji for "Academy." His heart skipped. The same place he had seen countless times in anime, now tangible in front of him. This was where the future ninja of Konoha were trained. And now, he would walk these halls not as a regular student, but as someone already stronger than most adults here.
Before he entered, Kaelen took a deep breath. Slowly. Learn first. Observe first. He couldn't afford to reveal his full abilities—not yet. Mihawk's power might be in his body, but he still needed to understand this world.
Inside the Academy, children practiced basic taijutsu, shuriken throwing, and chakra control. Teachers moved among them, correcting stances and timing, their movements quick and fluid. Kaelen observed quietly, absorbing everything—the flow of chakra, the rhythm of training, the hierarchy of students.
He found a quiet corner and pulled out a piece of scrap wood. With a swift motion, he tested his reflexes, slicing it cleanly in half. The air still hummed with residual energy from nearby exercises, but even here his swings were faster, cleaner, more precise. A child glanced at him, wide-eyed. He smiled politely, hiding the grin that threatened to break free.
Kaelen spent the day exploring the academy, learning the rules of this world. Ninja rely on chakra. Their jutsu can manipulate fire, water, earth, wind, and lightning. He memorized the symbols for elemental styles and the names of basic jutsu. Interesting, he thought. Their strength is versatile, but predictable. A sword can cut through chakra if wielded properly.
After hours of observation, he found a secluded training yard behind the academy. Here, he began his first serious practice. Swing after swing, he refined his Mihawk-style technique to fit a world where chakra and speed defined power. He felt the flow of his own energy syncing with his sword movements, imagining strikes that could pierce even a high-level jutsu barrier.
By the end of the day, Kaelen had drawn lines in the dirt with his blade, each one precise, lethal, and elegant. He looked at them and whispered, One day, every shinobi in this village will know the edge of my sword.
The sun dipped behind the village walls, casting long shadows across the training ground. Kaelen sheathed his sword, tired but exhilarated. This was only the beginning. The Naruto world had rules, history, and limits—but he had a plan to surpass all of it.
Tomorrow, he thought, I will begin to carve my path not just as a student, but as the strongest swordsman this world has ever seen.