Ficool

[CHAOS GACHA] UCHIHA SASUKE

UNLIMITEDPOWER
21
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 21 chs / week.
--
NOT RATINGS
2.1k
Views
Synopsis
What happens when you wake up in a world you've only watched from the outside—and the massacre has already begun? He didn't ask to be reborn. He didn't ask for the memories of another life, another world where Naruto was just an anime and Sasuke Uchiha was a fictional character spiraling into darkness. But when he opens his eyes in the Uchiha compound on that night—the night Itachi slaughters the clan—he knows exactly what's coming. And he refuses to play the victim. Armed with a sarcastic cosmic gacha system that grants him legendary abilities through random pulls, infinite chakra reserves, the perfect Mangekyō Sharingan, and the Sun Breathing technique from another universe, Sasuke doesn't mourn. He moves. While Konoha sleeps and the blood is still warm, he systematically loots the entire Uchiha district—corpses, Sharingan eyes, forbidden scrolls, hidden wealth, centuries of clan secrets—storing everything in a dimensional inventory before Danzō's vultures arrive. By dawn, he's the richest orphan in the village. And the most dangerous. But power without control is just noise. So when the Third Hokage assigns him four kunoichi "guardians"—Hana Inuzuka, Kurenai Yūhi, Anko Mitarashi, and Yugao Uzuki—Sasuke doesn't resist. He adapts. He plays the traumatized child while secretly training in the shadows, learning their techniques, earning their trust, and slowly building something Konoha has never seen before: A new Uchiha clan. Loyal. Deadly. And entirely his. Behind closed doors, he masters forbidden jutsu, weaponizes his gacha-granted abilities, and plans for threats the village doesn't even know exist yet—Akatsuki, Orochimaru, the masked man calling himself Madara, and the inevitable wars to come. But the game gets complicated when bonds become real, when "acting" like family starts feeling like being family, and when the line between manipulation and love blurs beyond recognition. Because Sasuke knows something no one else does: in this world, before the war comes the inventory. And he's already won the first round. Genre: Dark Fantasy | Reincarnation | Isekai | Supernatural Action | Psychological Thriller Themes: Strategic survival, found family vs. blood legacy, the cost of knowledge, power through preparation, morally gray protagonists, ninja politics, slow-burn emotional connections Tone: Gritty, visceral, darkly humorous, emotionally layered—think The Godfather meets Demon Slayer in the Naruto universe with gacha game mechanics "The roulette spins. Fate deals the cards. But this time, the house doesn't win."
VIEW MORE

Chapter 1 - CHAPTER: 1 - The Uchiha Heir’s Silent Dawn.

A/N: To support me, pls donate and subscribe

Patreon: patreon.com/UNLIMITEDPOWER1

______________________________________________

 

Have you ever woken up with the feeling the world shifted places while you slept? "Clack—" The dry sound of a spinning roulette yanks me from my stupor. The room smells of tatami, iron, and cold smoke. My eyes—eyes that weren't mine yesterday—stare at the ceiling of the Uchiha house. Uchiha… right. I didn't die. Or did I? Tsk. The metallic taste on my tongue answers: it doesn't matter. What matters is now.

The roulette shatters the silence again. "SPIN-SPIN—trrrr—CLICK." Text appears in the air like the world itself were a snarky HUD.

[Orphan] – Medium (9)

Your parents have died… Deal sealed.

I breathe, but the air weighs like lead. Images of empty corridors, the smell of oxidized blood, the echo of footsteps that won't return. The heart beats "thump-thump, thump-thump"—it doesn't hurt. It burns. And before I can process, another roulette explodes.

[Yandere] – Medium (9) – "Naruko Uzumaki"

There's a yandere out there… Resolution: find and calm her…

Naruko? Not now. Not today. The clan is still warm. My focus is elsewhere. Before I say anything to the void, the deck of fate throws another card.

[Sadism] – Severity 11

You like hurting people… Resolution: discipline…

I laugh without sound. Black humor, minus the joke. This doesn't rule me. Next one.

[Stone Face] – Gravity 4

You're stoic…

Great. "Stone face" fits an Uchiha. And then, finally, the part that matters. The lights change. Cards dance.

[Perfect Mangekyō Sharingan – Sasuke] – Legendary.

[Energy Abyss] – Mythic.

[Super Regeneration] – Epic.

[Sun Breathing] – Elite.

[Hand-to-Hand Grandmaster] – Legendary.

A brutal bundle. Infinite energy. Eyes that burn the world. Absurd regeneration. And the sun's sword breathing inside my ribcage, as if daylight nested within me. But listen: I'm not going to train. Not today. Not now. I know this story's schedule; I watched it all from the outside—Naruto Classic, Shippuden—I saw what Hiruzen allows and what Danzō steals in the shadows. If I slack off, goodbye Uchiha inheritance, goodbye eyes, goodbye secrets. "Tick-tock." Dawn's clock runs. And the Leaf outside breathes slow, like a beast pretending to sleep.

I sit. "Fssh." The mattress yields. I grab a kunai from the nightstand—steady hand, cold veins. I channel chakra and… cut. "Zip." Silence cuts back. I weave a sign with my hands. "Paf." Shadow stretches. Clones. Two, four, eight, sixteen—and I don't even feel the cost. Energy Abyss is a bottomless bay inside me. I could light a sun and still keep warmth for a whole winter.

— No noise, no light — I whisper. The voice comes out short, hoarse.

The clones nod with the same unflinching face.

Plan: sweep every Uchiha house. Collect bodies, eyes, scrolls, ledgers, contracts, safe keys, notes from the Naka Shrine, hidey-holes under loose floorboards, wall compartments—everything. Eyes first. Yes, the eyes. I know what's coming: Shimura Danzō, bandages, a vulture with nimble hands. Not today. Not on my watch.

I head down the corridor. "Tok—tok—tok." The floor complains under feet that used to be a child's. The iron in the air is stronger on this side of the house; the night chews the last scraps of warmth. I enter the first room. Silence and shadow. A shape on the tatami. Respect. Always. I kneel. The smell of death is a message you read with your gut. I seal my nose, focus. Fine chakra, serious, precise. I know enough basic medicine from the anime and… I improvised the rest with logic. Infinite energy, control I can refine in seconds. "Okay."

"Clack." The medical toolkit opens. Forceps. Vials. I even make a "solution" with chakra and water, keeping osmolarity and temperature stable. Super regeneration helps me grasp the invisible dance of tissues. With every eye removed, I carefully seal a container reinforced with fūinjutsu. The seal: preservation, antiseptic, stasis. I draw the pattern with a steady hand—black lines like spider threads tying time inside glass. "Kch." Lid in place. Seal pressed. One eye, another, no shaking, no failing. Another room. Another body. Another pair. "Haah." Breathing sets the rhythm. And the world, for a moment, stops spinning.

Clones work in a chain. Some collect. Others catalog. Others pry up the flooring, pull boxes, find scrolls with singed edges. "Shrrr." Papyrus scrapes the table. Storage seals… ah, there it is: rolls stamped with the Uchiha fan. The smell of old ink lifts memories that aren't mine—parents studying, brothers training, laughter I won't hear. I swallow hard and open the first scroll. "Flap."

Fūinjutsu instructions. A temporary subspace model. Perfect. I slide a finger, feel the matrix. Chakra runs and the design blinks. The seal "accepts" my energy with a shiver on the skin—as if an invisible safe opened an eye. I start feeding the roll with controlled power, weaving internal space. Suddenly, the air goes "plink!"—and a mental panel appears, like the world itself handing me a perk for using the clan's tool right.

[Inventory] – Rare Skill

You have access to an inventory subspace… 100 tons by default… scales with physical stats… touch target to store… retrieve up to 1 meter from your body…

I smile without showing teeth. This is what I wanted. I didn't train a thing—I just used. Used like someone who's watched the whole scene and knows where to step. "Clack." I press my thumb to the scroll and the room answers with a low "wummm," as if an invisible lung inhaled in unison. The Inventory pours through me like a second body; I feel its edge, its curvature, the weight of a hundred empty tons waiting for me. Stage set.

— Let's go. No traces — I say.

The clones move, synchronized. A light touch on objects and "pop"—they vanish into a silent fold. Whole shelves gulped, safes unscrewed in two twists, drawers, pendants, photos, contracts, bars of dark metal that smell like old money. "Pop, pop, pop."

I run—"tap-tap-tap"—to the house next door. Bloody hands, but clean of guilt. New seal. Eyes stored. Another body covered with respect. Another "pop" of the scroll swallowing history. Clones spread like intelligent dust. A short hand sign and two of them drop into the secret basement under the tea room. "Creeeek." The wood groans. Inside: boxes with account books, donations, debts, names of merchants, routes… Information is power. I store it all.

Footsteps on the roof? "Tck." I stop. Ears open. Nothing. Maybe just wind that learned to walk. Even so, I zero my chakra signature—Mangekyō with eyes shut, heart in stone mode. "Shh." The village doesn't see me. The village doesn't hear me. Konoha yawns but doesn't wake.

With each house, a piece of the clan's soul enters my Inventory. In a broad room, I find a metal case with inner foam, made exactly for eyes. "There it is." Double preservation seal. I reorganize everything with a clear method: bodies logged by family, eyes by batch, documents by type, jutsu by category. In the corner, stacks of ryō. Money to protect people and ideas. All of it to subspace. "Pop."

In the main corridor, an almost invisible mark on the wall calls to me. Uchiha hide with elegance. I touch it with chakra, a line opens. "Klik." Inside, a long handwritten scroll. The hand is someone patient. I skim. Notes about the Naka Shrine, the staircase, the stone, the secret of the Mangekyō—irony. I give a dry "hm." I already have eyes that scorch the sky, but information is never surplus. Into the Inventory it goes.

I pivot toward the shrine. There, the dead lanterns look like eyes that chose to sleep early. I go down the steps. "toc-toc—toc." I leave clones at the entrance; one goes invisible on the roof, another maintains an anti-anything seal. I run my hand over the stone. The mechanism responds to my lineage—and to my stubborn chakra. The door opens. "grrraak." The chamber murmurs old secrets. I advance. The sage's words etch into the back of my mind—but I didn't come for that. I came for ancient scrolls, seals no one has touched in years, research notebooks. Everything slips into the Inventory with the same polite "pop." In the end, I set the stone back, sweep tracks away with a chakra breeze, erase any flicker of presence.

Outside, the night changes hue. A pale blue scratches the horizon. "Tss." Dawn sharpens the blade. I have little time before Hiruzen's masks spread like trained crows. The image of Danzō stepping on these streets makes me nauseous. I crush it with a dry thought. Not on my shift.

— West sector, now — I say.

Clones leap. "Whup-whup." I follow, light-footed. A bigger house. Someone important lived here. Heavy door, simple seal. I open it like breathing. Inside, the smell of old incense and gun oil. A secret closet behind the row of kimonos. "Tack." I open it. Sealed traps? Yes. I disarm them with care. "Klik." There, a short sword with the fan on the guard, and a notebook explaining advanced genjutsu patterns I've only seen in theory forums. Inventory. "Pop."

In a bedroom, I find a child hugging a stuffed bear. Time stops. I cover the body with a clean sheet, store the eyes with more care than any other. My fingers tremble—not from disgust, not from fear. Respect. And a silent vow, the kind that doesn't beg for a stage: I won't waste any of this.

Back on the street, the breeze brings a distant hint of… orange? A thread of foreshadowing passes, as if the color itself whispered "hi." I ignore it. Today, no one shows up. Today, it's just me and the shadows. The world can have romance later. Now it's logistics.

When the Inventory is about half full, I've covered nearly the entire block. The clones return and merge memories. "Fshh." The sum of routes becomes a map in my head. The clan's archive building remains. It's wide, at the back. The tall doors stare back like faceless guards. I raise my hand and "crack" open the locks from the inside with a chakra trick I learned watching someone who never existed in my world. Shelves, aisles, dust. Paradise for the nerd who saves civilizations with records.

Jutsu scrolls: Katon, Gōkakyū; Phoenix Flower variants; sensory-interrupt genjutsu; notes on intercepting chakra reading via reflection angle—everything. Tomes of tactics, patrol journals, mission logs. A box stamped "Confidential." I laugh inside. Confidential to whom? "Pop, pop, pop." Everything vanishes into my dimensional pocket.

The sky brightens another step. Birds wake. "Tweet… tweet… tweet." Konoha starts opening its eyes. I close the last drawer I left slightly ajar on purpose—I don't leave signs of looting, only of fate's neglect. I return, passing houses already cleaned like river-washed bones. A clone points to the northern roof: "presence?" I climb. "Flap." Nothing but tile, wind, and omen. But it's enough. We move.

Back at the original house, I gather what's left on the table—nothing. Only silence. I push the window. "Shaa." Wind enters, mussing hair that wasn't mine yesterday but is today. I set my forehead on the cool wood. Breath flows in and out like tide.

Do I think about training? I do. But I shelve it. On the outside, I'm stone. On the inside, a sun corked in a bottle. I show nothing. Not now. Tomorrow I'll be the Sasuke the village expects—withdrawn, brooding, "normal." And, at the same time, I'll be a living vault for an entire clan. I don't fight for glory. I preserve.

On the floor, I leave a few minimal signs that mean nothing—natural disorder. Whoever comes later will see a scene telling the same sad story, without extra chapters. I erase my presence, erase the scent, erase the weight. "Shi—" One last camouflage seal on the doorframe. Done.

The Inventory pulses gently, full of secrets: eyes sleeping in perfect stasis, bodies stored with dignity, scrolls that sing when I touch them with my mind, money that buys silence, weapons, armor, history. All mine—not by possession, but by responsibility. I didn't let them take what was theirs. I just held it in my arms.

And the roulette? Its sound fades, but destiny never powers down. I hear, deep inside, the stubborn spin of what hasn't happened yet. The yandere the universe promised? A faint orange rustle. The bandaged old man who collects what isn't his? The swish of wrappings in the wind. The Third who pretends not to see? A weary sigh. I place all of it on the mental shelf labeled "Later."

Now I close my eyes and let Sun Breathing run low, just enough to warm the bones without turning into dawn. "Haaa… haaa…" The sun holds its tongue. The boy with night eyes opens the door and leaves, like someone going out to buy bread. "Tok—tok—tok." Ordinary steps. Neutral face. Stone mask.

The Leaf wakes slowly. I pass through it like the shadow of a shadow. Nothing to see here. And if anyone asks, the boy is just sad. The world believes it, because believing the obvious is easy. Inside, the Inventory smiles. Outside, I don't.

When the first ray touches the district gate, a memory that isn't mine pushes at my chest: laughter, training in the yard, the smell of fish soup at day's end. I stop, out of respect. Bow my head.

— I will keep you — I say, low. And the wind carries it, like a perfect seal that closes without a click.

"Clack." Life spins the roulette once more, but this time it doesn't catch me off guard. I already have a place to store everything. And I know exactly what to show the world: nothing. Because before any war comes the inventory. And I've won the first one.

**

Curses

[Orphan] – Medium (9) – Your parents died. It doesn't matter who they were, they simply were. At least the parents who should've raised you anyway. |Resolution: Deal sealed.|

[Yandere] – Medium (9) – "Naruko Uzumaki" – There's a yandere out there craving your love, and she won't take no for an answer, nor be very willing to listen to reason. |Resolution: Find the yandere and end it or calm her down. This will not remove her romantic feelings for you, but will prevent the gacha from feeding her with Yandere Fury.|

[Sadism] – Severity 11 – You really like hurting people; you're not a serial killer or anything, but hurting people just activates that good part of your brain. The more you abstain from abusing people, the more restless and uncomfortable you get. |Resolution: Acquire Adept or higher Discipline, or acquire a Rare+ mental fortification attribute/skill.|

[Stone Face] – Gravity 4 – You're stoic, way too much; your face and voice rarely reveal your emotions, making it hard for others to know how you feel. On the other hand, your poker face is unbelievable. |Resolution: Acquire Adept rarity or higher Communication skill, or Intermediate+ Charisma.|

**

Draws

[Perfect Mangekyō Sharingan – Sasuke] – Legendary (Naruto) – Allows you to use the Mangekyō Sharingan possessed by Sasuke Uchiha, plus all enhanced abilities of the normal Sharingan. This lets the user invoke and control Amaterasu and summon a Susanoo.

[Energy Abyss] – Mythic Trait – Your energy storage is infinite, and your regeneration and output aren't hindered, but you will never hit a cap on how much energy you can store inside yourself, even if the most you can conjure is a measly fireball. You can store the energy equivalent of a billion supernovas within.

[Super Regeneration] – Epic Skill – Grants an unimaginable Healing Factor, comparable to someone like Wolverine, without immortality. As long as it doesn't kill you instantly, you'll likely survive, provided you have energy. You can further accelerate healing by spending energy.

[Sun Breathing] – Elite Skill (Demon Slayer) – A specialized swordsmanship and breathing technique created by the legendary swordsman Yoriichi Tsugikuni that imitates the sun and replicates it with the user's movements, techniques, and abilities. All techniques and forms are extremely varied and patternless, making them the most versatile and effective against enemies. With arcane power, sun flames effective against the profane can be manifested.

[Hand-to-Hand Grandmaster] – Legendary Skill – Your martial skill has reached a Saint's level. Even without any skills or energy, your mastery has reached the point where your arms and legs can strike the intangible; you can kick people so hard you literally shatter their souls or slap the magic out of their hands.

**

[Inventory] – Rare Skill

You have access to an inventory subspace where you can store inanimate targets as a stat. By default, you can store 100 tons in it; the maximum weight your inventory can support adjusts to your physical stats. To store something inside the inventory, you must move it in while touching the target. Any stored target can be retrieved at a distance of at most 1 meter from your body.