Jogendra's POV:
The echoes of Hyderabad still clung to me like a stubborn memo stuck in the wrong file—faint whiffs of biryani, the creamy promise of kulfi, and the bone-rattling crunch of Truck-kun's "vacation crash." Those were the last threads of my old life, fraying fast in the face of this new, wild reality. I stood in a forest so ancient it felt like time itself had forgotten it, reborn into the body of a twelve-year-old boy—Madara Uchiha's son, no less—armed with a system, a Sharingan, and a destiny that made my old paperwork wars look like child's play. The air was thick with the musk of damp earth and the distant rumble of a storm, a far cry from the exhaust-choked streets I'd left behind. Truck-kun had yeeted me across dimensions, and I was still trying to figure out if this was a promotion or a cosmic prank.
"System," I called, my voice bouncing off the gnarled trees, "confirm. You're really here, right? Not some chai-fueled hallucination?"
The response came instantly, cool and mechanical, like a clerk reading off a form. *Yes, Host. I am here to assist you in fulfilling your destiny and altering the fate of the Uchiha clan.*
I blinked, then chuckled—a dry, incredulous sound. "Huh. That's… something." Back in Hyderabad, I'd been an anime nerd on the side, devouring Naruto episodes and fanfiction between tax audits. I knew the drill: Truck-kun flattens some poor sap, and boom, they're off to fight dragons or flirt with princesses. But me? Jogendra, the king of triplicate forms? Why had Truck-kun crossed oceans to plow into *me*? Was there an international isekai quota I'd unwittingly filled?
"Whatever," I sighed, shaking off the existential spiral. "No point filing a complaint now. Alright, System—what can you do?"
*My functions are designed to aid you in surviving and thriving in this world, Host. My primary function is to assist you in changing the fate of the Uchiha clan.*
"Fair enough," I said, my bureaucratic mind already ticking. "A mission statement. I can work with that. Hey, System—do I get a beginner's gift? You know, like a welcome package?"
*Yes, Host. Opening your Beginner's Gift now…*
A blinding light engulfed me, and a tidal wave of power slammed into my body. It was like someone had poured molten steel into my veins, searing and exhilarating all at once. My knees buckled as knowledge and skills flooded my mind—techniques, instincts, experiences that weren't mine but felt as natural as stamping a form. I gasped, clutching my chest as the torrent settled.
*Congratulations, Host. Your Beginner's Gift includes:*
*- Rocks D. Xebec's Fitness and Haki Mastery: Observation Haki (Kenbunshoku), Armament Haki (Busoshoku), and Conqueror's Haki (Haoshoku), along with Xebec's battle-hardened experience.*
*- Marine Six Styles: Techniques adapted to this world's chakra system, teachable to others:*
*- Soru (Shave): High-speed movement for evasion and strikes.*
*- Rankyaku (Tempest Kick): Kicks that unleash slicing air blades.*
*- Shigan (Finger Pistol): A piercing thrust attack.*
*- Geppo (Moonwalk): Mid-air leaps for mobility.*
*- Kami-e (Paper Art): Fluid dodging like paper in the wind.*
*- Tekkai (Iron Body): Hardened defense against blows.*
I hit the ground, breathless, my muscles thrumming with newfound strength. My senses sharpened—every rustle, every birdcall, every shift in the breeze was vivid, alive. I could feel the latent power coiled inside me, waiting to erupt.
"System," I wheezed, a grin splitting my face, "you're the best damn assistant I've ever had. As Madara Uchiha's son, I officially declare you my right-hand… uh, entity."
*Thank you, Host. Just doing my job.*
Before I could bask in the glow of my upgrade, the System chimed again. *Host, you have received a message… from Truck-kun.*
My grin morphed into a scowl. "Truck-kun? That hit-and-run joker?"
*Would you like me to open the message, Host?*
"Yeah," I said, crossing my arms. "Let's see what excuses he's got."
The System projected the message into my mind, Truck-kun's voice dripping with casual swagger:
*"Hey, buddy. Hope you landed okay in your new gig. Look, I didn't mean to flatten you—honest! I was on vacation, alright? India's roads are a nightmare, worse than Tokyo rush hour. But accidents happen, yeah? To make up for it, I've tossed you some apology goodies. First, the Flame Master Technique—think Azula's blue flames meets Amaterasu, with a healing twist. Get creative with it. Second, Gol D. Roger's cutlass, 'Ace.' Cuts through anything if you've got the guts to swing it. Take care of it, okay? Good luck in round two—try not to get squashed again too soon!"*
The message cut off, leaving me slack-jawed. Truck-kun, the cosmic courier who'd turned my kulfi break into a one-way ticket, was *apologizing*? With gifts no less? I pinched my arm—hard—just to check.
"System, am I dreaming this?"
*No, Host. The gifts have been added to your inventory.*
I clenched my fists, feeling the Flame Master Technique's warmth flicker in my palms and the weight of Ace materialize at my hip, sheathed and humming with power. "Well, if life hands you overpowered perks, you don't send them back," I said, resolve hardening. "System, got a map function?"
*Yes, Host.*
"Show me the fastest route to the Uchiha compound."
*Calculating… the fastest route will take approximately two hours.*
"Perfect. Let's roll."
I took a deep breath, activated *Soru*, and launched into motion. The forest blurred into streaks of green and brown, the wind roaring in my ears as I sped toward my father's stronghold. It was exhilarating—faster than any rickshaw I'd ever hailed, smoother than dodging a last-minute audit. For a moment, I was free, untethered from the red tape of my past.
Then my Observation Haki kicked in, a tingling sixth sense that stopped me cold. Multiple presences—hostile, chaotic—and a pulse of raw fear. Someone, or something, was in trouble. I skidded to a halt, my bureaucratic instincts flaring. "Emergency situation," I muttered. "Immediate action required."
I followed the sensation, weaving through dense undergrowth until I burst into a clearing. The sight ignited a fury I hadn't known I could feel. Five bandits—ragged, scarred, and reeking of cruelty—had cornered a baby elephant. The poor thing was trembling, its gray hide streaked with blood from a gash on its flank, its trunk curled protectively as it whimpered.
"This," I growled, my voice low and lethal, "is unacceptable."
The bandits whirled, startled by my arrival. Their leader, a grizzled brute with a notched axe and a sneer, stepped forward. "Beat it, kid. This ain't your fight."
"Oh, it's my fight now," I shot back, eyes narrowing. "You're looking at Jogendra, son of Madara Uchiha, and I don't tolerate sloppy fieldwork—or animal cruelty."
They laughed, a harsh, grating sound, then charged. I didn't hesitate. *Soru* propelled me forward, and I slammed a *Shigan*-enhanced fist into the leader's gut, sending him crashing into a tree with a crack that echoed like a felled branch. The others faltered, then rallied, swinging swords and spears.
I danced through their attacks with *Kami-e*, my body bending like paper in the wind, then struck back with *Rankyaku*. Blades of air sliced through the clearing, cutting down two bandits in a spray of dust and curses. The third lunged with a dagger, but I activated *Tekkai*, hardening my arm to block the strike, then countered with a flame-charged punch—*Flame Master Technique*. Neo-green fire flared, scorching his chest and dropping him in a heap.
The last bandit, a wiry man with wild eyes, screamed and swung a club. I ducked, summoned Ace with a thought, and slashed. The cutlass sang, cleaving his weapon in two and sending him sprawling, unconscious. The fight was over in seconds, the clearing silent save for the elephant's ragged breaths.
*Ding!*
*[Combat Encounter Cleared. Reward: +20 Chakra Control, +15 Agility, +10 Strength.]*
I ignored the System, kneeling beside the elephant. Its eyes were wide with terror, its trunk trembling as blood pooled beneath it. My heart twisted—Retsu's healer instincts, now mine, surged to the surface. "Hang on, little guy," I murmured, hands glowing with neo-green flames. The *Flame Master Technique* shifted, warm and gentle, washing over the wound. The gash knitted shut, the bleeding stopped, and the elephant's breathing steadied. It blinked up at me, fear giving way to something softer—trust, maybe even gratitude.
It raised its trunk, shaky but deliberate, and pressed two objects into my palm: a black bracelet and a matching ring, both etched with intricate patterns that shimmered in the fading light. I slipped them on—perfect fit, like they'd been waiting for me. A strange warmth spread through me, a whisper of connection I couldn't place.
"Thanks," I said, patting its head. "Consider this your official pardon from the Jogendra administration."
The elephant trumpeted softly, nuzzling my hand, and I laughed—a real, unguarded sound. For a moment, I wasn't just Madara's son or Hyderabad's paper warrior—I was Jogendra, protector of baby elephants, hero of the random forest encounter. But the moment passed, and my gaze drifted northeast, toward the Uchiha compound.
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