Chapter 1; Being a Cannon Fodder—What a Beautiful Death!
"Uchiha Ci, the clan leader has ordered all clan shinobi to report to the Police Force Hall immediately."
"I know. I'll head there right away."
The young man standing waist-deep in the river answered without looking up, his tone even and detached. He fished out an empty soda can drifting past him, water rippling softly around his gloved fingers.
The Uchiha chūnin who had delivered the message furrowed his brows, clearly surprised. He tilted his head, studying Ci for a brief second before sighing. Then, leaning closer, he muttered in a low voice before vanishing with a Shunshin:
"Kid, the Third Kazekage's disappearance has the entire border on edge. If this keeps up, the next Shinobi World War could explode any day now. You're just a genin—don't go acting brave and taking missions you shouldn't!"
The chūnin hesitated a moment longer, watching Ci rinse the can and toss it into a sack on the riverbank. His expression turned speechless.
"As an Uchiha, you should be training—sharpening your Sharingan, improving your chakra control, polishing your taijutsu! Not wasting your time picking trash out of rivers. You're embarrassing the clan!"
And with that scolding parting shot—
Whoosh—
He was gone.
For a few moments, only the soft murmur of the river filled the silence. Then, Uchiha Ci froze. Slowly, his lips curled upward, and a spark of unrestrained delight ignited in his black eyes.
Finally.
He dropped the bent fork he'd been using to fish up debris, leapt from the shallows in one smooth motion, and landed on the grassy shore, water droplets scattering behind him like glittering glass beads.
He flung the soda can into the sack with a metallic clatter, his grin widening.
"Damn it… is the Third Shinobi World War finally about to break out?"
His voice trembled—not from fear, but barely suppressed excitement.
"I can finally leave the village… and die! I've been depressed for a whole year!"
He threw his arms up dramatically toward the crimson sky, his laugh echoing through the empty riverbank.
"Picking up trash! Chasing cats! Babysitting brats! Cleaning rivers! These D-rank missions—how the hell am I supposed to die doing that?!"
Ci let out a long, cathartic sigh. His shoulders loosened, fingers twitching with genuine anticipation.
"I can finally go home…"
---
It wasn't hard to tell that the current Uchiha Ci was no longer the original owner of this body.
He was a transmigrator—
but not your typical one.
He was what the Heavenly Will called a Heaven-sent Hero.
And what was a Heaven-sent Hero?
In the simplest terms:
> A soul chosen by the cosmos itself.
Granted a random talent.
Dropped into chaotic, tragic worlds—
tasked with rewriting fate, saving civilizations, and guiding the story toward a happy ending.
Upon success, the Hero would receive a monumental reward and return to their original world.
But if they failed…
or worse, strayed into evil and caused further harm— then once the story concluded, the Heavenly Will would erase them completely.
Of course, as a fair and lawful cosmic institution, the Heavenly Will also provided—insurance.
If a Heaven-sent Hero died accidentally during their noble mission, they could still claim compensation upon returning to their original world.
A generous five hundred million payout.
The only rules were simple:
The death must occur within the "historical" range of events.
Intentional suicide disqualified the claim.
And so, Uchiha Ci had waited patiently for a year. Waited for this moment.
The body's original owner had lost his parents young. He possessed average chakra reserves, average talent, and—among the proud Uchiha—stood as nothing but a background extra.
In the entire Naruto storyline, there wasn't even a passing mention of someone like him. At best, he would have died anonymously—either on the battlefield of the Third Great War, during the Nine-Tails' attack, or in the Uchiha Massacre.
In other words—
He was pure cannon fodder.
And what was the natural fate of cannon fodder?
Death.
Glorious, swift, unavoidable death.
Ci clenched his fists, his grin widening to manic proportions.
"As long as I make it to the battlefield and get stabbed, even the stingiest cosmic insurance adjuster would have to hold their nose and pay me!"
His heart pounded faster.
And the timing couldn't be better.
Right now, Sunagakure was teetering on the edge of war after losing the Third Kazekage. Tensions were high; armies were mobilizing. The flames of conflict were about to consume the shinobi world.
This was the age of chaos— the era of blood-soaked legends.
> The Battle of Kannabi Bridge.
The Green Moss Reef skirmish.
The Lightning Canyon infiltration.
The Third Raikage versus ten thousand men.
The Land of Rain—Gedo Statue massacre.
Kikyo Mountain.
Dozens of graves, hundreds of names, thousands of corpses.
An endless list of horrors and heroics alike—each one a guaranteed one-way ticket to the afterlife.
Uchiha Ci's mind raced with glee.
With so many places to die, how could he possibly miss?
Even if, by some absurd cosmic joke, he did survive through all of it, he wasn't worried.
After all, following the war came the Nine-Tails' rampage—and after that, the Uchiha Massacre itself!
If one battlefield didn't kill him, the next surely would.
---
Of course, Ci had once considered playing the hero's role properly.
After all, Naruto was full of tragedy. There was merit in wanting to change that.
But then, after careful evaluation…
He realized something painfully obvious.
To "rewrite history" and "save the world," one needed strength—
godlike, world-shaking strength.
Naruto himself had every cheat in the book—
ridiculous talent, parent buffs, reincarnated sage chakra, protagonist armor—and he still almost died a dozen times!
Meanwhile, Uchiha Ci…
was a nobody who couldn't even awaken his Sharingan.
He couldn't rely upward on some Ōtsutsuki bloodline or Rikudō inheritance.
He couldn't rely downward on technological genius to invent Gundams or chakra cannons.
What did he have?
A dream… and garbage-collecting missions.
Unless the Heavenly Will suddenly decided to give him the perks a bureaucratic cosmic agency supposed to give, which got delayed for one year now. He had no way to challenge fate.
And so, the moment he discovered that accidental death still triggered the payout, his perspective flipped completely.
---
"Five hundred million," he murmured dreamily.
His lips curved in bliss. "Isn't that… beautiful?"
As for saving the world?
"Well… let's leave that to Naruto."
He stretched, sunlight spilling across his face, and looked toward the Uchiha compound.
Now that war was on the horizon, the clan would surely begin a wartime mobilization.
Dangerous missions would be in short supply.
If he hesitated, someone else might grab the chance to die before him!
"I need to hurry!" he said, eyes sparkling with feverish determination. "This is the time to shed blood for Konoha! I can absolutely charge in!"
And with that heroic conviction, Uchiha Ci kicked off his muddy boots and sprinted toward the Police Force headquarters—
leaving behind the trash sack and fork without a second glance.
---
Above him, another young Uchiha was darting across the rooftops toward the same destination.
Uchiha Shisui.
As he passed overhead, he happened to catch Ci's voice rising passionately from below.
He nearly stumbled mid-leap.
For several stunned seconds, Shisui froze in place, his sandals scraping against a tiled edge.
Then a light flickered in his eyes.
"There's actually someone in the clan who thinks the same way I do…?"
He gazed down at Ci, who was racing forward under the fading sunset, his silhouette framed by the golden light.
Shisui's expression softened, but soon twisted with concern.
"…No. The task we're about to be assigned is far too dangerous."
He clenched his fists. As someone who loved the village dearly, Shisui understood that kind of passion—the desire to protect, to sacrifice, to prove yourself.
But such emotions often burned too bright.
They blinded good men.
They made them reckless.
How many promising young shinobi had thrown their lives away chasing glory they were never meant to grasp?
Shisui took a deep breath, resolve shining in his eyes.
"No… I can't let a young and devoted comrade die for nothing."
Because among the missions about to be announced tonight—two of them were practically suicide assignments.
And if he could help it…
he would not let Uchiha Ci's name be carved into the memorial stone.