Konoha Year Twelve—a legendary era recorded only briefly in the village archives…
"Tsuruta!"
Outside the nursery, a middle-aged man with a weathered face and heavy stubble stood smoking a cigarette, looking utterly exhausted.
"The Hanyu couple… they're dead."
Hearing this, the young man called Tsuruta visibly trembled. Disbelief filled his eyes as he asked in a shaking voice, "Both of them… dead?"
After receiving the man's confirmation, tears welled at the corners of Tsuruta's eyes. His voice caught as he spoke, "I never imagined… such a kind, loving couple like the Hanyus would end up like this…"
The middle-aged man exhaled a long stream of smoke and patted Tsuruta on the shoulder in consolation. "Tsuruta, everything you've done for the village won't be forgotten. When the war ends, the higher-ups will remember your contributions."
Those words made Tsuruta flush red, as if he had been insulted. "What are you saying? They entrusted their children to me because they trusted me. Even if they're gone, I'll raise those children to adulthood. That's my responsibility!"
After exchanging a few more polite words, the two slowly walked away.
Neither of them noticed that inside the nursery, from one of the cribs, a pair of eyes was fixed intently on the name card resting above the bedding—
Hanyu…
"So… I've really transmigrated into the Naruto world?"
Hatake Sora narrowed his eyes, glancing toward the calendar hanging not far away.
Konoha Year Twelve.
This was bad.
As a longtime Naruto fan, he knew almost every major event that would unfold in this world.
The three great Shinobi World Wars.The Nine-Tails' attack on Konoha.The annihilation of the Uchiha clan.Black Zetsu's centuries-long scheme.
But the problem was that most of those world-shaking events wouldn't happen for decades.
Konoha Year Twelve, however, was different.It was a cruel, blood-soaked era—recorded in history with only a few short lines, because it was nothing more than endless war and slaughter.
"Without power… I'll probably die very soon."
Hatake Sora closed his eyes.
At that moment, a strange line of text slowly appeared before him.
"Please claim your Beginner Gift Pack."
As the message flickered repeatedly, an ordinary-looking wooden treasure chest materialized in his vision, faintly glowing.
Character: Hatake SoraItems: NoneChakra: NoneNinjutsu: None
"A system…"
Hatake Sora let out a quiet sigh. He had discovered this system the moment he transmigrated.
Ninja Training System.
However, he didn't rashly open the chest. If it spat out something ridiculous—like a giant mecha—his current infant body would be completely helpless.
Reflected in the tall standing mirror, inside a warm and tidy crib, was a small, adorable baby squinting intently at his own reflection.
"I never thought I'd end up as a baby…"
Hatake Sora stroked his chin, surprisingly calm. Strictly speaking, this could even be considered a return to childhood.
"But now isn't the time to dwell on that."
His gaze dropped to the name written on the crib's tag.
Hatake Sora.
Frowning slightly, he muttered, "If I heard correctly… the parents of this body died in the war."
This nursery was clearly a business dedicated to fostering the children of Konoha's ninja. And the man named Tsuruta was likely its owner.
Just then, the nursery door suddenly opened again.
Tsuruta was back.
Hatake Sora immediately lay back down, but through half-lowered lashes, he caught sight of Tsuruta's expression—
It was ugly.
His gaunt face was twisted into a sinister, vulture-like sneer.
"Heh… you little brat. If I'd known your parents would die so early, I never would've let you waste so many days of my food."
As he spoke, Tsuruta strode straight to the crib and reached down.
His cold hands—like the jointed legs of a spider—wrapped around Hatake Sora's neck. As if lifting a sack of garbage, he dragged the infant toward the nursery's back door.
"Hey, kid. You sure sleep deeply."
With a cruel grin, Tsuruta flipped open the trash bin behind the shop and tossed Hatake Sora inside.
A minute later—only after confirming that Tsuruta had truly left—
Hatake Sora slowly pushed himself upright inside the trash can, helplessly staring at the tightly sealed metal lid above.
He let out a quiet sigh.
"So this is it… the true face of a ninja world."
Hatake Sora exhaled deeply.
"The Will of Fire may burn brightly—but beneath those raging flames lie nothing but rotten branches and decayed roots…"