The Land of Water was a frozen hellhole. Gray fog choked the sky, the air was so damp it crawled into your bones and set up camp, and every rooftop had icicles hanging like the village was trying to grow its own stabby decor. Smelled like rust, snow, and broken dreams.
People shuffled down the streets with dead eyes, heads down, moving fast so nobody decided today was a good day to graduate them to the afterlife.
Then, out of nowhere:
"AAAAAHHH!"
A scream ripped through a narrow alley, followed by a chorus of kids losing their goddamn minds.
"MONSTER!"
"STAY BACK! SOMEBODY HELP!!"
A pack of teenagers came sprinting out like the devil himself was on their heels. One poor bastard got his sleeve skewered by a random ice spike jutting from the wall. He ripped free, piss stain spreading like he'd seen the Reaper and the Reaper was in a bad mood, then bolted after his buddies.
Makoto Uchiha whipped around and spotted the "monster" at the end of the alley.
Just a scrawny little kid clutching a steaming paper bag full of food like it was the only warm thing left in the world.
On the ground? A couple of fresh, razor-sharp ice spears sticking up like "fuck you in particular" signs.
Bloodline limit. Ice Release.
Makoto raised an eyebrow. Well, shit.
He'd thought the kid was tailing him to jump him. Turns out the little gremlin was playing guardian angel.
Even wilder: the kid had popped those ice spikes without a single hand sign.
The second the bullies vanished, the kid hugged the food tighter, ducked his head, and tried to ghost away like staying another second would curse everybody.
Makoto's eyes softened. That tiny frame in the blizzard looked one stiff breeze away from snapping in half.
"Hey, hold up."
CRACKLE-BZZT!
Blue lightning cracked through the alley. One Flying Thunder God hop later, Makoto was right in the kid's path, no hostility, just blocking the exit.
Kid froze like a deer staring down a semi-truck. Actually started shaking.
Makoto gave him a slow once-over.
Dirty face, but stupid pretty. Like, "make girls jealous" pretty. Big eyes full of fear and way too much pain for someone that small.
Reminded him way too much of little Sasuke after the massacre in the old timeline.
"What's your name, kid?"
Kid hesitated, voice barely louder than the snow hitting the ground. "…Shiro."
Shiro.
Makoto's brain did a record-scratch. Of course it's fucking Shiro. The pretty ice boy from the Zabuza & Haku duo, the one who cross-dressed so hard half the fandom still argues about it.
Speaking of which…
Makoto's curiosity won. He tilted his head, totally straight-faced.
"Drop your pants real quick, I gotta check something."
Shiro blinked those huge eyes, confused as hell, but Makoto's face was pure innocent curiosity, no malice, no creep vibes. Just a guy who needed to solve a mystery.
After a second of "do I trust this lunatic?", Shiro actually did it. Right there in the snow.
Makoto took one respectful glance, nodded like a scientist confirming a hypothesis.
"Yup. Boy. Mystery solved."
He coughed. "Alright, pants back on before your balls file a complaint."
Shiro scrambled to cover up, looking like a lost puppy who just got asked to solve calculus.
Makoto got back on track. Ice Release prodigy. Zero formal training, already popping off kekkei genkai like it's nothing. In the original story, this kid wiped out an entire mob as a child.
Give him some actual training and maybe a couple cheats from the system? Shadow-level ceiling, easy.
And the loyalty? Once Haku latches on, he will straight-up die for you with a smile.
Makoto's future "North Pole Hotel & Fight Club" empire just found its walk-in freezer manager.
He cleared his throat, dropped his voice into full dramatic villain-recruiting mode.
"Shiro… are you willing to give everything for me?"
Back in his old life that line would've gotten him canceled, arrested, and probably a swift kick in the nuts.
In the ninja world? That's Tuesday.
Shiro clutched the warm food bag tighter. The smell and heat were the first kindness he'd felt in forever.
He stared into Makoto's eyes for a long time, then gave the tiniest, most serious nod.
Makoto grinned and kept the bit going.
"From now on, your power belongs to me."
He turned to walk away, all cool and mysterious, then realized… no footsteps behind him.
He looked back. Shiro was still rooted in place, snow swallowing him whole, smiling the saddest little smile that broke and rebuilt itself in the same second.
"I… I only bring war and misfortune…" Voice cracked, ancient exhaustion in a kid's body. "If I follow you… I'll just drag you down."
Makoto's heart did something inconvenient.
He remembered the backstory. Mom had Ice Release. Dad and the village beat her to death for it. Kid snapped, murdered everybody, then spent years thinking he was the curse.
Makoto turned fully, eyes bleeding red. Sharingan spun alive, tomoe lazy and deadly.
"We're the same, you and me."
His voice carried weight that made the snowflakes pause mid-air.
"The world's the one that's fucked up. Not us."
Shiro stared into those crimson eyes, shocked stupid.
"Come with me. We'll take this piece-of-shit world and flip it upside down. I need your power."
I need you.
Four words hit harder than any jutsu.
Nobody had ever needed Shiro. They'd feared him, hated him, tried to kill him. He was a walking apocalypse in their eyes.
Now this thunder-wielding lunatic was handing him food, telling him his curse was a gift, and saying I need you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Shiro's eyes filled. He blinked hard, refusing to let the tears drop.
He looked at the Sharingan, saw absolute confidence and something warm underneath it all, and finally, finally nodded for real.
"Okay," he whispered, voice small but steady. "From now on… I'm your tool. Use me however you want."
Makoto's grin turned downright feral. He stepped forward and ruffled the kid's snowy hair like he was welcoming a new little brother.
Headpat achieved. Official member recruited.
One bag of street-vendor grub just netted him a ride-or-die Ice Release prodigy who'll hit elite jōnin minimum and take a kunai for him without blinking.
Best. Investment. Ever.
As they walked off into the blizzard, Makoto smirked to himself.
"Blood Mist era really is the cheat-code server. Haven't even been here a week and I already pulled a goddamn SSR."