The setting sun cast its crimson light across the thick forest and the quiet village nestled within. Every leaf, every rooftop, was drenched in a burning red glow that marked the end of another day in the Land of Fire.
Inside a spacious and elegant home, four figures sat around a dinner table. Chopsticks clattered against porcelain bowls as two pairs of people faced each other, each absorbed in their meal.
Fuqiu stared blankly at the couple sitting across from him, his mind wandering somewhere far away.
The man had a head of dazzling golden hair that glimmered like sunlight itself. It wasn't the artificial kind one could get from a salon, but a natural brilliance that made one's eyes linger. His face was youthful, no more than twenty, carrying the energy and warmth of early adulthood. Yet it was his smile that caught the soul gentle, bright, and kind. Combined with his handsome features, it gave off an aura of peace and reliability.
He was the type of person who felt like the friendly older brother next door.
Beside him sat a woman with fiery red hair rare and beautiful. Her features were delicate, though her personality seemed far from demure. Her animated gestures and hearty laughter revealed a lively, straightforward spirit.
In short, she was a sweet-faced warrior in a woman's body.
But Fuqiu knew better than to think they were just a charming young couple. The reason was simple because the man before him was Minato Namikaze, and the woman was Kushina Uzumaki.
The name Minato Namikaze might not yet shake the world, but Fuqiu knew that day wasn't far off. Soon, during the Third Great Ninja War, the name "The Yellow Flash of Konoha" would spread terror across every battlefield.
A man so powerful that entire nations ordered their shinobi to abandon missions the moment they encountered him living to tell the tale was counted as victory enough.
Aside from legends like the godlike First Hokage and Madara Uchiha, only one other shinobi had once commanded such fear Sakumo Hatake, the White Fang of Konoha and he had taken his own life years ago.
Now, only Minato Namikaze would rise to claim such renown, a name sung even decades after his death.
As for Kushina… though less famous, she was arguably even more dangerous.
Because she was the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki, the human vessel of a beast capable of reducing the world to ashes.
If Minato was a blade of lightning swift, sharp, and deadly then Kushina was a walking nuclear weapon. No fortress, no army, could withstand the sheer devastation she could unleash when that monstrous chakra erupted.
And Fuqiu knew all of this not from hearsay, not from deduction but because he wasn't supposed to be here at all.
He was not of this world.
This world was one he knew too well because back in his original life, it was just a manga. A story. A fictional world drawn by a man named Masashi Kishimoto, titled Naruto.
Fuqiu didn't know how he had crossed over. He hadn't clicked "Yes" on any strange pop-up window. He had simply worked overtime one night, stumbled home, collapsed into bed and when he opened his eyes again, everything had changed.
Different language. Different face. Different world.
He had been terrified, afraid that someone would notice something off about him and drag him off for gruesome brain experiments. After all, Konoha had plenty of "secret projects" that weren't exactly moral.
So he kept quiet, saying as little as possible. Fortunately, the man whose body he now inhabited had been quiet by nature, and his remaining memories had helped Fuqiu blend in just enough to survive.
He let out a tired chuckle. Ten hours in this new world, and he already felt like he had lived a hundred lifetimes.
This exhaustion… it felt like being back in school again.
"Honey, what are you thinking about? Eat up before the food gets cold," said a beautiful woman beside him, her gentle voice filled with concern.
Fuqiu nodded absently, forcing a smile as he picked up his chopsticks.
Life was strange. Just yesterday, he was a miserable office worker grinding away 9 to 9, six days a week. His only girlfriend had been his left hand. But now? He had a stronger body, a handsome face and a stunning wife sitting beside him.
Sure, everyone else who crossed into anime worlds ended up younger or immortal. He, on the other hand, had aged up and gained a toddler. Still, with such a gorgeous wife, who could complain?
It was a dream come true, a home, a family, a warm meal. The kind of life men in his old world worked their entire lives to earn. And he had gotten it overnight.
But then… a chilling thought struck him.
If he remembered correctly, the "son" sleeping soundly in the next room would, in a little over ten years, murder his own parents.
His wife's name was Mikoto Uchiha. His son's name, Itachi Uchiha.
Yes. That Itachi. The man who would slaughter his entire clan and earn the title "God of Itachi."
And the man whose body Fuqiu now inhabited… was Fugaku Uchiha, head of the Uchiha Clan.
A man who could not protect his people.
A man who would die by his own son's hand.
The realization hit him like a blade through the heart. Knowing the exact day of your death was not a comforting thing.
For a brief, insane moment, he wondered should he just take care of the "problem" while his son was still small and harmless? Better a crying child than a dead father, right?
But before the thought could even take root, an unbearable pain ripped through his chest, as if a meat grinder had started up inside him. His face went pale, and cold sweat drenched his forehead.
"Honey! Are you alright?!" his wife cried, panic flooding her face.
"Fugaku-senpai! Did your wound reopen?!" another voice called from the table.
"No, I'm fine," Fuqiu gasped, forcing a weak smile. "Just… a little uneasy in the heart, that's all."
And deep inside, he swore never to even think such thoughts again.
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