Night fell in a dense forest, where several people had set up camp. A simple tent stood beside the campfire.
Four figures sat around the fire, all wearing high-collared robes. Their pale, somber faces looked eerie under the flickering flames.
Each of them bore injuries to varying degrees. After a long silence, a black-haired man with a ponytail finally spoke.
"If it wasn't for that brat holding us back, we'd be done already. I'm going to teach him a lesson!"
He stood abruptly and began walking toward the tent, his hand already on the hilt of his sword, as if ready to kill.
"Enough. This is something only the clan leader can decide. We're in the middle of a war. Every extra person gives us a better shot at completing the mission."
An older man seated in the center spoke to stop him.
Though he didn't have much personal ties with the man in the tent, the latter's identity left him no choice. The clan leader himself had assigned him to watch over that guy. No matter how useless, he had to be protected — to a degree.
The ponytailed man gritted his teeth but didn't dare defy his captain's orders.
—----
Meanwhile, inside the tent, the man they spoke of slowly began to wake up.
"Where the hell am I? I remember I got blackout drunk and went for a walk by the river... then I think I slipped—"
A sharp pain shot through his head, and his back felt like it'd been hit by a truck. Forcing his eyes open, he saw no familiar ceiling—only the rough fabric of a tent roof. He tried to move his arms, but his body refused to respond, as if pinned by some supernatural force. Another wave of agony struck, and he blacked out again.
Some time later, he was jolted awake by arguing outside the tent. Feeling strength return to his limbs, he forced himself upright.
Looking at his unfamiliar hands and clothing, and the katana placed beside him, he processed the memories that had just flooded into his brain. After a few seconds of silence, he muttered:
"Holy sh*t... I really transmigrated? And into the Naruto world? Thank god I still remember most of the plot… Naruto, Sasuke, all that... but isn't this timeline a bit too early?"
That's right—he was just a low-level office worker, a fresh corporate drone. During a company outing, he had one too many drinks.
Drunk and stumbling alone by the river, disoriented and numb from alcohol, he'd lost his footing and fallen in... and died. Now, he'd awakened in the body of this poor sap.
"Uchiha Gin… an Uchiha, huh…"
According to the memories, this was the Warring States Period — long before Konoha was even founded. Chaos was the norm. Murder everywhere. Swords showed no mercy, and jutsu even less. One wrong move could mean instant death.
As a regular guy who just transmigrated in, Uchiha Gin knew survival was the top priority. In this era, living to thirty was already a luxury.
He tried circulating his chakra, as recalled from the original host's memories. It was as slow as a snail, and barely even there — sometimes it flowed, sometimes not. He mentally shouted:
"System, activate!!!"
...Nothing.
With a deep sigh, he opened his eyes.
"Useless talents, no system… what a trash start."
After thinking for a bit, he decided to cling tightly to the original body's only advantage: Uchiha Tajima, the current clan head, who had adopted him after his parents died in war. His mother was Tajima's cousin.
So long as he avoided risky missions and didn't screw up again, he might be able to survive peacefully until Konoha's founding.
Having made up his mind, Uchiha Gin pushed himself up and stepped outside the tent.
—---
Around the campfire, the three others, who had been resting, opened their eyes at the sound. The older man — their captain — locked eyes with Gin and said coldly:
"Come here."
Now able to move again, Gin obediently sat down across from him.
"Uchiha Gin. Because of your screw-up earlier, we suffered losses. I'll report everything to the clan leader. From now on, no more rash actions. Follow my orders exactly."
As he spoke, a glint of three tomoe Sharingan flashed in his eyes. The oppressive aura he exuded nearly suffocated Gin, but he forced himself to nod.
"Three tomoe... that's top-tier power for the Uchiha."
Gin silently assessed the man — Uchiha Fūka, their captain. Clearly, this mission wasn't going to be easy.
Earlier, the original Gin had heard the Hagoromo Clan had already completed a major task. Proud of being an Uchiha, he couldn't stand being outdone.
So he'd recklessly ventured into Senju territory alone, hoping to kill a target.
But before he even crossed the border, he was discovered by Senju scouts and ambushed. A Senju with monstrous strength hit him so hard in the back he flew dozens of meters and blacked out on impact.
He would've died if Captain Fūka hadn't intervened.
His idiotic actions drew resentment from the whole squad, but because of his identity, Fūka had to step in and keep the team from turning on him.
"Damn… the original guy really was a loose cannon."
Just then, another figure appeared — the ponytailed Uchiha who'd wanted to "teach him a lesson" earlier.
He'd just come off night watch and, upon seeing Gin up and about, a vein popped on his forehead.
"Uchiha Gin. If the captain hadn't covered for you, I'd have burned that mop of curls off your head. If you cause any more trouble, I'll take care of you myself before the Senju even get the chance."
Gin winced, glancing at the others who were clearly not fond of him either. The pressure was real.
"Man, how hated was this guy...?"
He looked sideways at a massive shuriken stuck in the ground. Its polished blade surface reflected his face.
Messy natural curls. Dead-fish eyes. Thanks to Uchiha genetics, he was decent-looking, but something about his expression screamed "punch me."
He took a deep breath and said sincerely:
"I'm sorry, everyone. I was reckless earlier. From now on, I'll follow your lead."
Sometimes, you have to bow your head when under someone's roof — especially when you haven't fully mastered the original's body. Survival came first.
"Huh???"
Everyone stared at him in shock, eyes wide like they'd seen a ghost.