The stench of gunpowder and iron-thick blood clawed at Lin Yue's throat, as suffocating as the fumes of a cheap cigar.
His eyes snapped open. His mind felt as though it had been fed through a high-speed shredder—jagged fragments of memories that were not his own tore into his consciousness. He saw the blur of hand seals for the Great Fireball Technique practiced until his fingers bled; the cold, crimson-stained weight of a forehead protector retrieved from the front lines where his parents fell; the rhythmic jolting of a supply wagon three days ago; and the dull ache of a blister on his left index finger from tensing tripwires.
These images of "Uchiha Yue" collided violently with twenty-eight years of a life spent in boardrooms and office towers.
"Uchiha Yue... so that's who I am now," he whispered. He remained still, allowing the fragments to knit together.
In the silence of his mind, the original body's life crystallized. As a scion of the Uchiha, Yue had shown early promise with the Sharingan. Yet, as the clan's prestige withered under the scrutiny of Konoha's leadership, he had been pushed to the fringes. He was a shadow in his own home, harboring a quiet, burning resolve.
I must restore us... I will make them pay. The thought wasn't Lin Yue's, but it resonated in his marrow—an obsession etched so deeply it had survived the transition of souls.
For a disorienting second, the forest floor flickered. He was back in a glass-walled meeting room. The projector hummed, casting a harsh glare over a lagging project chart. Five department heads were shouting over one another.
"Manager Lin, the bugs are game-breaking! We have to delay!" "Operations won't budge! We'll lose twenty percent of the players if we miss the window!"
In that memory, he simply tapped a rhythmic beat on the mahogany table. His voice had been a cool blade, slicing through the noise. "Three of you on core fixes tonight. The rest, prepare the contingency. I'm staying until the 8:00 AM launch."
That instinct—to find the pivot point in a crisis—became his anchor. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't dead from overwork. He pinched his arm, and the sharp, stinging reality of a fresh wound hissed back at him.
He looked toward the perimeter of the camp. Beneath a layer of deceptively still leaves lay the spikes he—the other Yue—had buried with Sato and Takahashi that morning. Within this unfamiliar frame, a calm logic took hold. His fingers twitched, tracing the phantom rhythm of seals: Tiger—Rat—Dog.
A faint, thrumming warmth flickered at his fingertips. It was clumsy, like a novice's first time touching a keyboard, but the power responded. It was real.
[Ding—Host consciousness stabilized. Memory fusion complete.] [Uchiha Rise System: Binding Successful.] [Current Timeline: Konoha Year 49 (Third Great Ninja War)] [Identity: Uchiha Yue (12-year-old Genin)] [Functions: Uchiha Legion Summon, World Travel (Cooldown), Shop.]
The mechanical chime was immediately drowned out by the frantic scritch-scratch of boots on dry earth.
Sato, stationed at the camp's mouth, went rigid. His knuckles turned white around the hilt of a kunai laced with an explosive tag. "Takahashi!" he hissed. "Movement from the east!"
Takahashi pressed his ear to the bark of a tree, his face draining of color. "More than one. At least five... six. They're heavy-footed. They're carrying gear."
Lin Yue didn't shout. He didn't panic. He focused on the heat behind his eyes, channeling the latent energy in his veins. In an instant, the world shifted into high-contrast clarity. A single, crimson tomoe began to rotate slowly within each pupil.
The forest seemed to slow. Through the foliage, he tracked the intruders. Five Iwagakure Genin led the charge, their movements frantic but disciplined. Following them was a Chunin, his posture more relaxed, his hand resting on the hilt of a short sword. He carried a bulky tool kit—the mark of an infiltrator looking to destroy supplies.
Lin Yue stepped toward Tanaka, the squad leader who was currently tending to the wounded. "Uncle Tanaka," Yue said, his voice devoid of a child's tremor. "Iwa ninjas. They're targeting the medical tent and the supplies. The leader has a heavy tool bag—likely loaded with explosive tags. They're avoiding the high ground; they know how to spot an ambush."
Tanaka bolted upright, his weathered hand clamping onto Yue's shoulder with a grounding force. "Good eyes, kid. Stay sharp. Sato, Takahashi—to the ambush points! Wait for them to hit the tripwire. Yue, guard the wounded. Do not let them slip past."
"Understood," Yue replied.
He watched the Iwa Chunin. The man was gesturing, his hand signals crisp, carving out flanking routes for his subordinates. Yue felt his fingers move again: Boar—Ox—Tiger. The chakra flow was stronger now, more deliberate.
Moments later, the forest screamed.
Two Iwa Genin, emboldened by the crude look of the camp, lunged forward. Their boots crunched into the hidden leaves.
"Detonate!"
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The shockwaves ripped through the clearing, sending geysers of dirt and splintered wood into the air. Firelight turned the twilight into a hellish orange. Screams followed the thunder as the two lead scouts collapsed, their legs shredded by the blast.
The remaining Genin faltered, terror etched on their faces.
"Useless trash!" the Chunin roared from the treeline. "Work the flanks! First one into the tent gets the bounty! Move!"
Lin Yue's heart thrummed against his ribs. He noticed something—a project manager's eye for inefficiency. The Chunin was bark, but he was cautious; he stayed exactly half a meter behind his men, his eyes darting to the floor with every step. He was terrified of the traps.
He's hesitating. His rhythm is off by half a beat.
Tanaka moved like a blur, hurlng a scroll of explosive tags to mask his position before slamming his palms into the earth. "Earth Release: Earth Flow Wall!"
A jagged rampart of stone surged from the soil. As the smoke from the tags billowed, the Iwa Chunin charged, his short sword whistling through the haze. Tanaka met him mid-air, steel clashing against steel in a shower of sparks.
The tide turned rapidly. An Iwa Genin circled wide, raining poisoned shuriken down on Sato. A blade grazed Sato's arm; he hissed in pain as the venom began to dull his reflexes.
"Takahashi, get him back!" Tanaka yelled, but the distraction cost him. The Iwa Chunin's blade bit deep into Tanaka's shoulder.
Lin Yue watched from the shadows of a supply crate. He couldn't win a fair fight—he was a twelve-year-old Genin with a half-formed Sharingan. But he didn't need a fair fight. He needed a window. He waited for the Chunin to swing, watching for the moment the man's weight shifted, the moment his fear of the ground spikes forced a momentary hitch in his footwork.
There.
Yue ghosted through the smoke, his small frame a blur of blue and black. He gripped his kunai, his mind calculating the trajectory.
Uchiha Throwing Technique.
He let the blade fly. The Chunin sensed the projectile and began to pivot, but Tanaka—seeing Yue's opening—lunged forward, locking the man's sword in a desperate bind.
The Chunin's eyes widened. He was pinned.
Pfft.
Tanaka's blade found the man's heart. Before the Iwa ninja could even gasp, Tanaka twisted the steel, finishing the work with a brutal, efficient horizontal slash across the throat. The body slumped into the dirt, the light fading from its eyes.
[Ding—Assisted in killing 1 Iwagakure Chunin.] [Reward: 100 Summon Points, 2x Basic Chakra Recovery Potions.]
The remaining Iwa Genin saw their leader fall. One turned to flee, but two others, driven by desperation, veered toward the medical tent. Their kunai were raised, aimed at the helpless men on the stretchers.
"Stop!" Yue lunged, but the distance was too great. A kunai left the Iwa ninja's hand, arching toward a wounded soldier.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!"
A roar of flame erupted from the treeline. A massive orb of churning orange fire incinerated the kunai mid-air and forced the attackers to dive for cover. Lin Yue looked up to see a girl in the high-collared robes of the Uchiha sprinting toward the fray, her hands still locked in the final seal.