Pain.
A needle-sharp, excruciating headache.
Zhang Yao's eyes snapped open. He clawed at his skull, lungs gasping for air as cold sweat matted his hairline.
His vision swam, settling on an unfamiliar ceiling. He took in the sparse, Japanese-style room and the sudden, jarring realization of his own frailty. His limbs felt heavy, lacking the substance he remembered. "I... I've... transmigrated?"
Confusion and raw disbelief clouded his gaze.
Only moments ago, he had been a hollowed-out office worker, a man who had traded a week of sleep for a project deadline until his heart gave out in the glow of a computer monitor.
Now, his mind was a storm. Fragmented memories surged forward, lashing against his nerves with the force of a tidal wave.
Uchiha Yao. Twelve years old. A member of the Uchiha Clan in Konohagakure. His reputation at the Ninja Academy was a stain—mediocre grades, abysmal Taijutsu, and Chakra reserves so scarce he was labeled a "waste" by his own kin.
Before Zhang Yao could process the weight of his new identity—
Bang!
The door was kicked off its latch with violent force.
Dazzling sunlight flooded the dim space, cutting through the gloom like a blade. Three youths, clad in the high-collared navy attire of the Uchiha, stood silhouetted in the doorway. Mockery danced in their eyes; disdain curved their lips.
At the center stood Uchiha Mao. He was taller than his lackeys, his posture radiating the arrogance of a predator in a small pond.
"Yo, good-for-nothing Yao. Still playing dead?"
Mao's gaze swept over him, dripping with ridicule. "I heard you missed the target entirely during Shuriken practice yesterday. You're a walking disgrace to the Uchiha name."
Zhang Yao's chest tightened. He wanted to bark back, to stand his ground, but the deep-seated cowardice of the body's original owner acted like a physical weight. His mouth opened, but his throat remained constricted and silent.
This vessel was pathetic.
Though he held the title of Genin, it was a hollow rank. His Chakra was a mere trickle, and even the most fundamental Three-Body Technique caused him to stumble. His graduation hadn't been earned through merit; it was a byproduct of the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox's rampage.
That catastrophe had gutted Konoha's ranks. The Fourth Hokage and his wife—the legendary Yellow Flash and the Red Hot-Blooded Habanero—had perished, leaving the village desperate for numbers. The elders had lowered the bar, churning out "Genin" to fill the void.
In a clan that worshipped absolute strength, a weakling like Yao was nothing more than a convenient punching bag for the disgruntled.
"What? The trash has lost his tongue?"
Mao's patience snapped. He stepped into the room, looming over the bed with narrowed eyes. "It's time for the protection fee. Pay up, or don't complain when we get creative with the consequences."
"Protection fee?"
Yao's brow furrowed. The memories surfaced—countless instances of these thugs shaking him down, using "protection" as a thin veil for extortion.
He looked up at Mao. He was no longer the broken boy who lived in these walls. "I don't have any."
"Ha? None?"
Mao barked a laugh, though his eyes remained cold. He reached down, fist bunching in the fabric of Yao's shirt, and wrenched him off the bed.
Bang!
Yao's back hit the wooden floor with a sickening thud.
The impact sent a jolt of agony through his spine. His bones felt brittle, as if they might shatter under the mere weight of the air.
"It seems I need to teach you how to write the word 'rules' on your own skin." Mao pulled his foot back, aiming a heavy kick directly at Yao's ribs.
Humiliation. Rage. A burning, suffocating sense of injustice.
The emotions boiled in Yao's gut, turning into a silent roar. Why! Why do I have to crawl in the dirt the moment I wake up?
Damn it! School bullying on day one? Where is my cheat? Where is my System! Come out!
Just as Mao's foot began its descent—
[Ding!]
[Detecting host's iron will to survive and the desire to sever the threads of destiny...]
[Family Growth System: Successfully Bound.]
[Current predicament analyzed. Distributing: New Player Gift Pack...]
The mechanical chime was the most beautiful sound Yao had ever heard.
System? My Golden Finger?
His pupils contracted. A wave of pure ecstasy surged through him, followed immediately by a literal wave of power.
An indescribable warmth erupted within his limbs, a vast current of energy that flooded his parched meridians like a spring rain hitting a desert. The meager, flickering flame of his Chakra suddenly roared into a bonfire.
Every cell in his body screamed in relief, greedily drinking in the sudden influx.
Chunin-level reserves.
Yao could feel it—the sheer volume of energy now circulating through him was ten times what it had been seconds ago.
But it didn't stop there.
A searing, white-hot sensation bloomed deep behind his eyes. It was the mark of his bloodline—the Uchiha's cursed and coveted gift.
His vision fractured and then sharpened with terrifying clarity. He could see the individual specks of dust dancing in the sunlight, the intricate grain of the floorboards, and the subtle, ugly twitch of the muscles in Mao's face as he prepared to strike.
"Ugh—!"
Yao let out a low, guttural cry, his hands flying to his face as his eye sockets burned.
Mao hesitated, his foot hovering in mid-air. He looked down, startled by the sudden shift in the air. "Playing tricks again?" He spat on the floor, yet an unexplainable shiver traced down his spine.
After a few ragged breaths, Yao slowly lowered his hands.
He looked up. The dull, lifeless black of his eyes was gone, replaced by a vivid, blood-red hue.
"From this moment on, the office worker Zhang Yao is dead. I am Uchiha Yao," he whispered, his voice steady for the first time. "And the Uchiha will reach the heavens because of me."
Within those crimson orbs, a single, pitch-black tomoe began to rotate slowly around the pupil.
The Sharingan.
The air in the small room turned heavy, stagnant.
The sneers on the faces of Mao and his followers froze. Their arrogance vanished, replaced by masks of sheer, stuttering disbelief.
"Sha... Sharingan?!" Uchiha Gang's voice went up an octave, trembling.
How? How could this "waste" awaken the bloodline under a simple threat?
Yao ignored their trembling. He climbed to his feet, his movements fluid and devoid of his previous frailty. He stretched his neck, feeling the unprecedented surge of power humming in his veins. The Chakra moved at his command, as natural as breathing.
Through the heightened perception of his red eyes, the world was slow. Vulnerable.
He turned his gaze toward Uchiha Mao, a cold, predatory tilt forming at the corners of his mouth.
"What was it... that you just said?"