The Uchiha Family's Reincarnation
The moon shone over the towering Hokage Monument, and the wind rustled through the trees, whispering secrets in the stillness of the night.
It was the 35th year of the Hidden Leaf Village, three years since the outbreak of the Second Shinobi World War. Once thriving with life, Konoha now felt eerily silent under the weight of conflict. A strict curfew was in place to prevent enemy spies from infiltrating, leaving only the patrols of the Anbu and the Uchiha Police Force to disturb the night's stillness.
Within the Uchiha compound, inside a modest home, Uchiha Mingjing gazed into a mirror under the dim glow of a lantern.
His reflection revealed a pair of scarlet eyes—his single-tomoe Sharingan flickering in the dim light.
"Uchiha... Mingjing?" he murmured, his voice filled with disbelief.
Staring at his young, handsome face, he turned his attention to the watch strapped to his wrist. He had long entertained the idea of arriving in the world of Naruto, but not under these circumstances.
He was a reincarnator, a newcomer to the Samsara Space. Before he could even complete his first mission, an internal rebellion erupted, leading to the destruction of the space's world transmission device. Just as he stepped into the gate, everything collapsed, sending him hurtling into this world without warning.
And now, inexplicably, he had become an Uchiha.
His Sharingan remained active, heightening his perception of the world. Objects seemed to move in slow motion—not in reality, but as a result of his enhanced dynamic vision. With the sharp insight granted by his bloodline, he focused on his reincarnation watch, where flickering text barely remained legible:
[Reincarnation Number: 95277]
[Current Task:...@#...? Information incomplete. Connection to the main system lost.]**
Under normal circumstances, the watch should maintain a link with the Samsara Space, issuing missions across various dimensions. But now… it seemed the rebellion had succeeded. The higher-ups who orchestrated the coup must have won. The Samsara Space, as he had known it, likely no longer existed.
His watch was now nothing more than a timepiece.
Feeling the strain of maintaining his Sharingan, Mingjing blinked a few times before finally allowing the crimson glow to fade. His body, only ten years old, lacked the necessary chakra reserves to sustain its power for long.
This pair of single-tomoe Sharingan had awakened at the moment of his arrival—when his soul fused with the original owner's, their combined spiritual energy triggering its activation. Bloodline limits like the Sharingan would enhance both chakra reserves and quality over time, but for now, his limitations were clear.
Glancing at the clock, Mingjing noted there was still time before bed. He turned to his desk, switching on the lamp. His workspace was cluttered with ninja academy assignments, depleted ink pens, and various scattered tools.
He reached for a notebook, intending to record his knowledge of Naruto's future events. But as his pen hovered over the paper, he hesitated.
The intelligence-gathering capabilities of ninja in this world were terrifying. Any written records could easily be discovered.
Japanese was out of the question.
Though Chinese differed in structure, the similarities to kanji made deciphering feasible. Even English or pinyin would follow discernible linguistic patterns. Specialized units, such as the Anbu or the Intelligence Division, could crack even the most obscure ciphers given enough samples.
Even basic cryptography had been covered at the ninja academy. Any attempt at recording sensitive information was inherently dangerous.
The tip of his pen remained suspended for a long moment before he finally decided against writing altogether. Instead, he turned off the lamp, retreating to his bed to contemplate his next steps.
---
Mingjing's circumstances weren't entirely dire. Being an Uchiha granted him immense potential. His lineage traced back to the Six Paths bloodline, and his natural talent placed him at the top of his class at the Ninja Academy.
His parents, though only Chūnin, had activated their Sharingan—proof of their strength, even if they remained at a lower rank. Their guidance had given him an early advantage, but now...
He clenched his fists.
Yesterday, news from the front lines had arrived. Konoha's White Fang, Hatake Sakumo, had led an elite force on a daring assault, eliminating two high-ranking Sand Village officials and turning the tide of battle in Konoha's favor. His name resounded through the village, a beacon of hope amidst war.
But alongside the victory came the casualty reports.
His parents' names were listed.
It was their deaths that had shattered the original soul's will, leaving a vessel for Mingjing to take over.
Exhaling slowly, he steadied his emotions. Now wasn't the time for grief.
He deactivated his Sharingan, extinguished the lights, and settled into bed.
He was weak now, unable to influence much of anything. But the Uchiha Massacre was still over a decade away. He had time—time to grow, time to plan.
For now, he would take things one step at a time.
---
Morning
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the neatly folded bedding.
Mingjing was already up, dressed, and ready for the day. He made his way to a nearby Uchiha-run food stall, purchasing a simple breakfast before returning home.
The memories of his predecessor had solidified overnight, making his surroundings feel more familiar. He had spent the morning rummaging through his house, searching for anything useful.
By noon, after hastily eating a bowl of instant noodles, he had finally organized his findings.
The most pressing concern was money.
As a mere academy student, he had no means of earning an income. The Uchiha clan, ever prideful of their bloodline, provided stipends for orphans like him, ensuring they could survive until graduation. But the funds were barely sufficient for daily expenses.
If he wanted to secure his future, he needed to find a way to become independent.
And in this world of shinobi, strength was the key to everything.