"What?!"
Konoha, within the quiet streets of the Uchiha clan compound, a young man suddenly shot up from his bed, gasping for air.
"Here…?" Uchiha Kazuto blinked in confusion, his gaze darting around the unfamiliar room.
His chest tightened with a strange mix of familiarity and alien unease. He frowned, staring at the traditional wooden walls and the faint smell of incense in the air.
A second ago, he'd been on the verge of getting a chicken dinner in PUBG, now this?
What the hell happened?
This wasn't his home.
"Where… where is this place?"
Before he could process it further, a wave of pain crashed into his head. He groaned, clutching his temples as fragmented memories, foreign yet vivid, flooded his mind.
Moments later, his breathing steadied, and his gaze became calm. He finally understood.
"So that's it… I've transmigrated into the world of Naruto. And this body… it belongs to Uchiha Kazuto."
A wry smile tugged at his lips. He'd never believed in reincarnation or transmigration. Those were just story tropes, fun to read about, impossible to live through. Yet here he was, living proof.
"Well, forget it. What's done is done. Since I'm here, I'll make the best of it. From now on, I'm Uchiha Kazuto."
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head as he accepted reality. There was no going back. The only choice left was to adapt.
But that acceptance brought a grim realization: how was he supposed to survive in this world?
According to the memories he'd inherited, his new identity was that of an insignificant member of the Uchiha clan.
He'd joined the Guard Team, but his skills barely reached Genin level and worst of all, he hadn't even awakened the Sharingan.
He was utterly weak.
A chill ran down his spine as the memory of the clan's impending massacre flashed before him. His scalp tingled.
He was an Uchiha, living on borrowed time.
That monster, Uchiha Itachi, won't spare anyone, not men, not women, not even children. He'll butcher them all without hesitation.
Even the Mongols hadn't been that ruthless, they at least spared those who couldn't fight. But Itachi? He'd cut down even infants without flinching.
A beast wearing a human face.
Kazuto clenched his fists in frustration. To make things worse, he had nothing to rely on; no cheat, no system, no mysterious inheritance, no secret techniques.
Just an ordinary guy thrown into a death world with only his knowledge of the anime's plot as his so-called "advantage."
And honestly, what good would that do him when he couldn't even cast a basic fireball?
"Damn it… what do I even do now?"
Panic gnawed at him as his mind raced.
Was he just going to die right after arriving? No way. No f**king way.
"I must live," he muttered through gritted teeth.
His heart pounded faster, his forehead damp with sweat. The ninja world wasn't bound by any law or justice, it was chaos in human form. The strong ruled; the weak perished.
People killed as easily as breathing.
Was he really destined to be nothing more than cannon fodder?
"Justice? Law? What a joke!" he growled. "That lunatic Itachi should be arrested, Hell, he should be shot on sight!"
His anger boiled over, his breathing turning ragged. The more he thought about it, the hotter the rage in his chest burned.
This damned ninja world! These damned ninjas!
That damned Uchiha Itachi!
"Huh? Wh–what's going on?"
A sudden dizziness struck him. His body went limp, his vision blurred, and a sharp pain stabbed through his eyes. He stumbled and collapsed, feeling warmth trickle from his nostrils—blood.
Then, something changed.
His eyes twisted, spinning, one tomoe, two tomoe, three tomoe, before merging into a new, intricate pattern.
A rush of immense chakra surged through him.
Maybe it was the fusion of two souls, or maybe the intensity of his rage and despair but whatever the cause, in that instant, Uchiha Kazuto awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan.
"Power…" he gasped, trembling. "This is… my power!"
Slowly, he rose to his feet. The scarlet light in his eyes shimmered eerily, like liquid fire.
And somehow, instinctively, he understood what his eyes could do.
His Mangekyō was unlike any other.
Left Eye – Eye of Creation:
He could set rules for those who served under him. When his followers obeyed these rules, he would receive continuous energy feedback, power he could use to strengthen himself, craft new rules, or master new ninjutsu.
Right Eye – Eye of Punishment:
He could define punishments for those who broke his laws. Anyone under his command who defied him would face consequences according to the rule they violated. He could even use this eye to build his own unique organization.
A low chuckle escaped him. "Since there's no order in this damned world that I can accept… I'll create my own."
He could feel it now, the power of both eyes pulsing with his will. They had been born from his anger, his fear, his refusal to die powerless.
Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. These eyes weren't like Itachi's or Obito's, they lacked destructive power. No Kamui, no Amaterasu, no Tsukuyomi.
Purely supportive abilities.
But that was fine. Power came in many forms.
"Three laws…" he murmured.
He realized "rules" referred to actual regulations. With his current chakra reserves, he could only establish three laws and three punishments. To make more, he'd need to accumulate additional eye power, energy generated by those who followed his rules.
It was a cycle of power, creation, and faith.
And unlike a normal Sharingan, his Mangekyō's energy worked differently. It wasn't just chakra, it was something deeper, like a world's currency. It could strengthen his body, enhance jutsu, or sustain the systems he created.
With it, he could build something lasting, a structure of order in a world built on chaos.
A nation, perhaps.
Uchiha Kazuto's lips curved into a determined smile.
"Then let's begin… building my order."
…
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