Konoha Year 49.
Kiyohara's expression was grim.
He was a dead man walking.
He looked down at the mission scroll in his hand again, hoping the characters would rearrange themselves. They didn't. The objective was to reinforce Team Minato.
The location: Kannabi Bridge.
Kiyohara was a transmigrator. Ever since he had awakened his memories of a past life, he had been cautious, biding his time, desperate to survive in the meat-grinder that was the Third Shinobi World War. He never expected to be handed this guaranteed death sentence.
How could he possibly complete this mission? The battlefield was a place where life was cheap, but Kannabi Bridge was something else entirely. It was a graveyard waiting to happen.
The mission parameters reeked of strangeness and suicide.
The opposing force: Three battle-hardened Elite Jonin from Iwagakure. Their leader was Kakkō, a powerhouse of the Hidden Stone known for his cunning and brutality.
Konohagakure's force: A newly promoted Jonin, Kakashi Hatake, supported by two Chunin, Rin Nohara and Obito Uchiha.
And the worst part? Minato Namikaze—the Yellow Flash—would be splitting off to support the front lines against the main Iwa assault. That meant the defense of the bridge would fall to one young Jonin and two Chunin against three veteran killers.
Is this even reasonable? Kiyohara thought, his grip on the scroll tightening. Sending me there just adds one more corpse to the pile.
Even Kakashi, who had developed the A-rank Chidori at the age of twelve, didn't grasp the depth of the hell they were walking into. And Kiyohara? He was just a Genin.
The gap between humans was often wider than the gap between species. Some Genin, when they fought, could reshape maps and shatter the Valley of the End. Other Genin, like Kiyohara, were just mortar used to fill the cracks in the trench walls.
"What's wrong, Kiyohara-kun?"
Rin Nohara asked, her expression puzzled. A few strands of short black hair brushed against the purple clan markings on her cheeks. She couldn't understand why Kiyohara looked so pale after receiving a reinforcement mission. After all, Minato-sensei—the fastest man in the shinobi world—was leading them. It should have been a sure thing.
"No... it's nothing," Kiyohara lied, shaking his head.
He looked at the girl—kind, hopeful, wearing her light pink skirt and black top. She had no idea she was walking toward her doom.
"Don't worry! I'll protect everyone on this mission," a blonde youth said, walking over with a gentle, confident smile.
"I believe in Lord Minato," Kiyohara said, forcing a nod.
Could he say he didn't?
Minato Namikaze was at the peak of his fame. Shinobi from other villages were ordered to flee on sight rather than fight him. He was a legend.
But Kiyohara knew the cruel irony: The Yellow Flash, for all his godlike speed, was destined to spend his life being one step too late. He would be too late for Obito. Too late for Rin. Too late for Kushina.
"Exactly! Minato-sensei is here, so this mission definitely won't be a big deal," Obito chimed in, hands behind his head, grinning foolishly as he stood next to Rin.
Behind them, a white-haired boy adjusted his black mask, his eyes calm and uninterested in the chatter.
Kiyohara quietly watched the scene—the kind teacher and the devoted students. It was a picture-perfect tragedy. After this battle, Rin would be turned into the Three-Tails Jinchūriki by Kiri, and Obito would fall into darkness. The boy grinning right now would one day murder his teacher and casually gift Naruto an Explosive Tag as a wedding present.
The joys and sorrows of people are not interconnected, Kiyohara thought bitterly. To me, they are just noise.
After exchanging a few hollow pleasantries, Kiyohara walked away.
He needed to think. Should he write a will? Should he start planning where to hide his inheritance?
Suddenly, a mechanical voice shattered his thoughts.
[The 'Last Words' System has been activated.]
[System: Using you as a temporal anchor, countless possibilities will extend from the future.]
[Please retrieve your Last Words Letter and Urn, and properly bury your relics.]
The synthesized female voice echoed inside his skull. Kiyohara froze.
"Wait... I died in the future?"
Kiyohara instantly lost his composure. He knew he shouldn't go to Kannabi Bridge! The System had literally sent him an urn!
"An urn?"
As the thought crossed his mind, a phantom image materialized in his mental space. It was a simple ceramic urn bearing the Konoha leaf symbol—but the symbol was crossed out with a harsh, horizontal scratch.
Kiyohara felt a chill.
Isn't that... the mark of a Missing-nin?
"When you hear this, I am already dead. The following are my last words..."
A familiar voice echoed from the urn. Kiyohara started, watching as a ghostly spirit drifted out of the vessel in his mind.
The spirit looked like him—but older, perhaps middle-aged. His face was worn with the vicissitudes of a hard life. On his forehead, he wore a Hitai-ate (forehead protector) with that same horizontal scratch.
A Missing-nin (Nukenin).
"You are... my deceased self? And you defected?" Kiyohara asked, his mind racing back to the System's description.
Using him as a temporal anchor, countless possibilities extend from the future...
Was becoming a traitor one of his future possibilities?
"Something like that," the spirit—Missing-nin Kiyohara—said, tapping the slashed headband. "As you can see, I chose a different path."
"When did I... no, when did you defect?" Kiyohara corrected himself. This was just a possibility, not a prophecy.
"A few years after the war ended, I suppose," the spirit said, his voice carrying a trace of wistfulness.
"Why?"
"To advance, naturally. In this world, the clans rely on Kekkei Genkai, and the freaks rely on mutations. A commoner like me? I could only become stronger by joining Orochimaru."
Kiyohara fell silent.
That was the cold truth of the Shinobi World. Gold shines wherever it is, but a commoner ninja is just a block of rusted iron. True power is gatekept by lineage, Dōjutsu, and mentorship. If you have none of those, you can only pray to the Sage of Six Paths and hope you don't die young.
"Then how did you die?" Kiyohara asked the most pressing question.
"Explosive tag. Got careless."
"..."
A casual death. Kiyohara guessed half the shinobi in the war went out that way.
"At least it proves I survived the Kannabi Bridge mission," Kiyohara said, trying to find a silver lining. "Can you give me any intel?"
Although he knew the plot, the butterfly effect was terrifying. One wrong move and the history he knew would crumble.
"No," Missing-nin Kiyohara shook his head. "I never received that mission."
"What?"
"I spent most of the war in logistics. I was never at the bridge."
Kiyohara's eyes widened.
This meant his future wasn't just a straight line. It was like the Infinite Tsukuyomi—multiple divergent realities. If there was a Missing-nin Kiyohara who worked logistics... could there be an Anbu Kiyohara? A Hokage Kiyohara?
"Then what about your relics?" Kiyohara remembered the System mention burying relics. "Is it just your spirit?"
"As for the relics... I am the relic. I can exist for a little while longer to teach you some Ninjutsu," the spirit explained. "But I won't last long. I also had a 'Last Words' system, but I awakened it too late. After I died, my essence was packaged and sent to other versions of me across the timeline."
He looked at Kiyohara with dead, serious eyes.
"Listen closely. Fulfilling my dying wish is the price. My power is the reward."
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