Konoha. The Uchiha district.
Inside a study steeped in old-world elegance, an elderly man and a young man sat facing each other.
Uchiha Setsuna, the grand elder of the most powerful clan in the shinobi world, looked at his eldest grandson with clear satisfaction. The boy had sharp brows and bright, steady eyes. After a pause, Setsuna spoke slowly.
"Ren, that Sarutobi monkey has called another jōnin council. From the looks of it, the Senju faction won't be able to hold the front line much longer."
The old man, nearing sixty, carried a cold and defiant air. When he mentioned Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Hokage of one of the Five Great Ninja Villages, there wasn't the slightest trace of respect in his tone. His eyes openly showed disdain.
He snorted. "If the position of Hokage had fallen to the Uchiha, would the other villages dare act so arrogantly? Utter incompetence."
"If not for Uzumaki Mito's stubborn interference back then, Sarutobi and his lot should have been dragged into the interrogation room. Who knows? Maybe they were the ones who caused that evil Senju Tobirama's death."
At that, Setsuna let out a mocking laugh. "The Second Hokage died in battle, yet the Hokage Guard that was supposed to protect him returned intact under Kumogakure's pursuit—and even produced a Third Hokage."
"The Hokage's seat, privately passed within the Senju faction… What a joke. Disgraceful."
In Konoha, the Hokage selection process began with nominations from the leadership, typically decided among the village leadership and jōnin consensus, and finally required approval from the Fire Daimyō.
Unfortunately, the Uchiha—openly suppressed by the Senju faction—couldn't even clear the first stage despite their overwhelming strength.
In this world, brute force alone wasn't enough. Background and influence mattered just as much.
Across from him, Uchiha Ren had long grown used to his grandfather's daily tirades against the Hokage.
He calmly lifted his teacup, his expression indifferent, as if the words went in one ear and out the other.
Taking a slow sip, his black-and-white eyes drifted toward the blue sky beyond the window… and his thoughts slipped elsewhere.
More precisely, into the inner space of his Sharingan—a byproduct of his transmigrator's soul, something akin to a golden finger.
There were no reference points here. No sense of up or down, left or right. Only endless void.
And within that void stood a pale blue stone gate.
Its doors were tightly shut, unadorned, ancient, and solemn.
'War is coming. Hopefully today I'll draw something worthwhile.'
Ren moved with practiced ease, placing his hand against the gate and channeling his ocular power into it.
A dim glow spread across the surface. Twisting patterns lit up, connecting end to end, forming faint, unreadable markings.
'It's been over ten years since I awakened the Sharingan and started feeding this gate with my eye power… and yet opening it is still far off.'
He sighed inwardly.
In both lives combined, he had awakened his Sharingan at six. Now, at eighteen, he had already reached Kage-level strength and become one of the leading figures among the younger generation of the clan.
Day after day, he had poured his ocular power into the gate. The patterns now covered most of its surface.
But at this rate, it would take at least another decade to fully fill it.
'Only by evolving the Sharingan into the Mangekyō—gaining higher-quality ocular power—can I speed this up.'
As the thought formed, the gate shimmered faintly. A small bubble condensed from the light and floated before him.
Inside it was… something peculiar.
A slender, curvy woman in a tight skirt.
But her entire body was soaked in blood. One of her eyeballs hung loosely from its socket. A chunk of flesh had been torn from her neck.
Her limbs twisted unnaturally as she struggled, her mouth gaping wide in a silent, bloody scream.
'A zombie, huh… I wonder what surprises the gate will bring when it fully opens.'
Ren wasn't surprised. The gate's outputs had always been random—unreliable, even.
In the beginning, he'd gotten things like trashy novels and roadside weeds. But as his Sharingan evolved, the items had gradually become more useful.
For instance, a Nichirin Blade from Demon Slayer.
Or magic from Frieren: Beyond Journey's End, which he could learn and use through his mutated Sharingan power.
Aside from living beings, almost anything could appear.
But the randomness meant that, over the years, these items hadn't provided any overwhelming advantage.
He wasn't like those other transmigrators—jōnin at three, Kage at five, Six Paths by seven.
Getting something truly valuable depended entirely on luck.
Item: Corpse
Evaluation: A body from another world. Only the viral genes hold minor value.
Origin: Highschool of the Dead
'Heh… if I had a proper research team, this could be useful.'
'If it ties into something like Resident Evil—or even the Infinite universe—extracting the T-virus and unlocking genetic limits would be a massive gain.'
His eyes flickered as thoughts of several brilliant scientists and medical experts from the shinobi world passed through his mind.
For now, he suppressed the urge to draw blood from the zombie and inject it into someone for experimentation, placing the bubble aside.
With his daily draw complete, his consciousness returned to his body.
Across from him, his grandfather had just finished his usual rant. After taking a sip of tea to wet his throat, Setsuna's slightly clouded gaze settled on him.
After a moment's consideration, the old man spoke.
"After the jōnin meeting, Sarutobi met privately with the clan head. He wants our clan deployed to the eastern front to guard against Kirigakure's movements. Ren, what do you think?"
"What do I think…"
Ren murmured, then countered calmly, "That depends on what our clan wants—and what situation we'll be facing."
"Oh?" Setsuna chuckled, eyes gleaming. "Let's hear it."
Strong. Capable. Intelligent.
Compared to Uchiha Fugaku—rigid and dull in his eyes—Ren was on an entirely different level.
'That indecisive brat thinks he can block Ren from becoming clan head? What a joke.'
My grandson has the makings of a clan leader.
But as Ren continued, the faint smile on Setsuna's lips slowly faded.
"Grandfather, as long as Sarutobi Hiruzen and the others influenced by Senju Tobirama remain in Konoha's leadership, our clan's dream of becoming Hokage will never come true."
Setsuna's expression twitched slightly.
Ren remained composed and continued.
"So instead of chasing an impossible Hokage seat… we should take every benefit Sarutobi is willing to offer."
"The growth of the clan matters far more than a castle built in the air."
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