Death came quickly.One moment, Isaac was staring at the glowing text of his completed doctoral thesis, fingers trembling with exhaustion and pride. The next, pain exploded in his chest, and the screen blurred into nothingness. No final words. No long goodbye. Just darkness.
And then — light.
His first breath was ragged, shallow, and terrifyingly small. His body felt wrong: tiny, fragile, weak. He tried to move and realized he was lying in the arms of someone. A woman with tired eyes, her features sharp, her clothing ragged. Her voice broke the haze.
"Welcome to Gotham, little one…"
The name she whispered afterward didn't matter. Not to him. Not anymore. Because as his newborn eyes fluttered, a screen blinked across his vision — words no infant should ever comprehend.
[Welcome, User. Initializing Naruto Template System.][First Template: Uchiha Itachi – 5% Synchronization.][Physical appearance adapted. Abilities unlocked: Two-Tomoe Sharingan, Fire, Wind, and Water chakra nature affinities, Shurikenjutsu and Taijutsu knowledge (Genin level).]
For a genius with an IQ over 200, the realization struck instantly. He was dead. Reborn. And now… he had a system. A system with rules and power.
A flicker of glass from a broken window reflected his infant face, and his breath caught. Pale skin. Black hair falling just past his ears. Dark, endless eyes tinged with crimson when he focused — the Sharingan. Even as a baby, he carried the look of Uchiha Itachi.
My name was Isaac, he thought. But no longer. In this life, I'll be Itachi.
Years Later
Gotham was a cruel teacher. Hunger gnawed at him in the alleys. Violence was as common as rain. But he was not ordinary. Even at five years old, with his Sharingan sparking to life at will and his chakra molding in his tiny frame, he was a predator in a city of scavengers.
The first time a mugger cornered him, demanding food he'd stolen, instinct had guided him. His small hands blurred, fingers flicking a shard of glass like a kunai. The man's weapon clattered to the ground before he realized he'd been disarmed by a child.
Shurikenjutsu. Taijutsu. Fire Style. The knowledge filled his muscles like a second heartbeat. Even at genin Itachi's level, he was overpowered for this rotten city.
But power came with caution. Gotham was not Konoha. Here, masked vigilantes and caped gods prowled. Batman watched from the shadows. To reveal himself carelessly would be suicide.
And yet, beneath that cold genius mind, a strange thrill burned.
In my last life, I was a man of wasted potential. Here, I'll be more. With Itachi's gifts, with my intellect, in a city of monsters, I'll carve out my place.
He pulled the hood of his stolen coat tighter, eyes glinting crimson in the dark.
"I am Itachi."
And in Gotham, that name would one day be feared.