Ever since I could remember, sickness had been my constant companion, an unshakable shadow looming over my existence, which forced me to hang up my career as a hitman.
I suffered from severe anemia, my blood lacking the strength to nourish me properly, leaving me exhausted. Desperate to save myself, I placed myself in one of the best hospitals in the country, hoping that modern medicine would grant me a future. But no matter how hard the doctors tried, there was nothing they could do. My fate had already been sealed.
Karma some will say.
That day, I felt it—my strength slipping away, my breath growing shallow, my eyelids heavy as lead. My anemia had worsened over time, draining what little vitality I had left. This was it. My end. There was no point in fighting anymore. With one last sigh, I let the darkness take me.
Or at least, that's what I thought.
Against all odds, my eyes fluttered open once more. But instead of the blinding fluorescent lights of the hospital, I was met with something different—something warm. A face, unfamiliar yet strangely comforting, came into view. A woman... She was holding me gently, her embrace radiating a kind of warmth I had never known. Her long, platinum blonde hair shimmered under the soft glow of the light, and her eyes, filled with an emotion I couldn't quite decipher, gazed at me.
Around us, several other figures moved hurriedly. Women dressed in traditional garments, their hands stained with the remnants of childbirth, bustled about, cleaning the space and tending to the woman holding me, I could only assume was the mother of the body I now inhabited. One of them, an older woman with streaks of gray in her hair, stepped closer and spoke in a gentle yet respectful tone.
"Lady Chinoike, your son is strong. His cries were loud and clear—it is a good omen."
Another younger midwife, kneeling nearby, added with a smile, "A child of the Chinoike Clan, through and through."
The woman, my mother, let out a soft chuckle, brushing a finger against my tiny cheek it felt so far from the cold sterility of the hospital bed I had once known.
Then, with quiet authority, she finally spoke, her voice laced with an undeniable sense of pride and determination.
"My son, you shall be Chinoike Chikami. This is the name you will bear."
The midwives exchanged glances, nodding in approval. The older one placed a comforting hand on my mother's shoulder. "A fine name. May he bring honor to our clan."
The name she had given me, Chinoike Chikami. The Chinoike Clan… That name. I know it.
Memories flooded my thoughts. The Ketsuryugan, the blood-red eyes of the Chinoike Clan. A dōjutsu. This alone meant I had value in this world, but whether that value would make me a target or a weapon remained to be seen.. It was unmistakable. I am in the world of Naruto.
The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying. A world governed by chakra, where strength dictates survival. A world where bloodlines determine one's fate. Born into the Chinoike Clan, then I was inheriting a lineage steeped in both power and tragedy. But where in the timeline am I? Is this before their exile? Before their downfall?
Before I could contemplate further, a new presence entered the room. The air shifted, tension rippled through the midwives as they immediately straightened, their casual chatter silencing in an instant. Even my mother's grip on me tightened slightly.
A man had stepped inside.
His figure commanded immediate respect. Long, flowing robes marked him as someone of high status. His gaze flickered to my mother, then down to me. His expression was unreadable.
I instinctively analyzed his posture, his stance, a shinobi, I concluded immediately. But I needed more information before making any assumptions.
The room remained silent for a long moment before the man finally spoke, his deep voice resonating through the space.
"So, this is my son?"
The silence stretched for a few moments before my mother finally spoke, her voice soft but firm despite the exhaustion of childbirth.
"Yes. He is our son."
She adjusted her grip on me, as if to shield me from the weight of the man's gaze. I remained still, feigning the helplessness of a newborn while my mind absorbed every detail.
The man stepped closer, his eyes scrutinizing me. There was no warmth in his gaze, only evaluation, as though he were measuring my worth before I had even taken my first breath in this world.
My mother, seemingly unaffected by his cold demeanor, continued, "I have chosen his name." She lifted her chin slightly, her voice steady. "Chinoike Chikami. That is what he will be called."
The man remained silent for a brief moment, as if turning the name over in his mind. Then, with a slow nod, he finally spoke.
"Chinoike Chikami… Yes. It is a good name."
Though his words were an acknowledgment, there was no affection in them only approval. I could already tell that he was a man of few words, someone who valued strength and pragmatism over sentimentality.
Satisfied, he straightened his posture and turned towards my mother. "I cannot stay long. The elders are expecting me."
She frowned slightly, adjusting her grip on me once more. "Even now? Can they not wait a few hours?"
His gaze flickered to her, impassive. "You know they cannot. Tensions are rising, and the clan must remain strong. There are matters to discuss, threats to prepare for. My presence is necessary."
I noted the subtle frustration in my mother's eyes, though she did not press the issue further. Instead, she let out a quiet sigh before speaking again.
"Very well. But at least look at him one last time before you go."
For the first time, the man's expression shifted, just slightly. He turned his gaze back to me, his piercing eyes locking onto mine. I met his stare, though to him, it must have appeared as nothing more than a newborn's innocent curiosity.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he gave a small nod. "Grow strong, Chikami."
With that, he turned and strode toward the door, his footsteps steady and purposeful. The midwives quickly stepped aside as he exited, leaving behind only the faint echo of his presence.
The room remained still after his departure. My mother, after watching him leave, let out a tired sigh and turned her attention back to me. Her expression, once steeled, softened once more as she cradled me closer.
"You will have a great deal expected of you, my son." she murmured.
'Indeed, that's what I thought I understood.'