The world swayed, and I gasped awake, my chest tight and my breathing shallow. It felt like I had just fallen from a great height, and now, I was here—wherever here was.
I looked down at my hands. Small. Chubby. Dirty fingernails. The hands of a child.
The room around me was unfamiliar—plain wooden walls, a cracked floor, and the stifling smell of sand. My heart pounded as I scrambled to my feet, stumbling over a mat and bumping into a rickety table. I caught my reflection in a small shard of polished metal hanging on the wall.
The face staring back at me was a child's: black hair sticking up in wild tufts, a small nose, and wide, frightened eyes. It wasn't the face I knew. My hands trembled as I touched my cheeks. This wasn't possible.
The memories came in pieces. My life as an engineer. A lifetime of building, creating, and solving problems. And now, this life—a jumble of vague impressions. A name. Hiroshi Kazetani. A village surrounded by endless sand. Parents who worked tirelessly.
I stumbled back, sinking onto the floor. My mind raced with questions: Where am I? What happened to me? How did I end up in this body?
"Are you okay?" a soft voice asked, breaking through my panic.
I turned to see a woman—short, thin, with weary eyes and rough hands. Her hair was tied back with a faded scarf, and she wore a patched tunic. She looked at me with concern. This must be… my mother?
"You look pale, Hiroshi," she said, crouching down beside me. "Did you have a bad dream?"
I wanted to tell her everything—that I wasn't her son, that I was someone else entirely. But the words caught in my throat. Even if I told her, would she believe me?
"I… I'm fine," I mumbled, my voice high-pitched and unsteady.
She frowned but didn't press. "Come on, it's a big day. You're starting at the academy today. Don't keep your father waiting."
The academy. The word sent a shiver through me. Slowly, I stood, following her out of the room.
---
The morning light was harsh, and the heat outside was oppressive. Our home was little more than a shack, nestled among others like it on the outskirts of the village. My father was waiting near the door, a tall, lean man with a weathered face and a permanent scowl.
"You ready, boy?" he asked, his tone gruff.
I nodded, unsure of what else to do.
"Hmph. You'd better be. We've worked hard to get you this chance, so don't waste it."
There was no warmth in his voice, but I sensed something underneath—pride, maybe, or hope. I wanted to reassure him, but I didn't know how.
"Go on, then," he said, gesturing toward the village center. "Your mother and I have work to do."
My mother patted my shoulder lightly before turning back to her sewing table. I stepped outside, feeling more alone than ever.
---
The academy was a modest building made of sandstone, its surface cracked and weathered by the desert winds. Children my age gathered near the entrance, chattering excitedly. I kept my head down, trying to calm the nervous flutter in my chest.
Inside, the classroom was simple: rows of wooden benches, a blackboard, and a small dais where a man in his thirties stood, arms crossed. He had a sharp face and piercing eyes that swept over us like a hawk.
"Take your seats," he barked, his voice cutting through the noise.
I found a spot near the back, sitting next to a girl with short brown hair and a boy with a round face and nervous smile.
The instructor introduced himself as Takeda. He wasted no time setting the tone. "This is not a playground," he said. "You are here to become shinobi of Sunagakure. That means discipline, dedication, and strength. Some of you will not make it. That is the reality of this world."
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words.
"Before we begin, I want each of you to stand and introduce yourselves," Takeda continued. "Tell us your name and why you're here."
One by one, the children stood.
"I'm Daiki. I want to become strong enough to protect my family."
"I'm Haruka! I'm going to be the next Kazekage!"
The girl next to me stood. "I'm Mina. My dad's a merchant, so I'm not very strong… but I want to learn how to fight!"
Finally, it was my turn. I stood slowly, my palms sweaty.
"I'm Hiroshi Kazetani," I said, my voice quieter than I intended. "I…"
What could I say? I didn't even know why I was here.
But then, as I looked around the room, it hit me. This world wasn't my own, but it had its own rules and opportunities. I remembered the stories I had read about Sunagakure—the legendary puppeteers who turned ordinary materials into deadly weapons. And I remembered who I had been: a creator, an innovator.
"I want to become the strongest puppeteer ninja," I said, the words surprising even me.
Takeda raised an eyebrow. "Ambitious. Let's see if you have the talent to back it up."
I sat down, my heart pounding. But for the first time since waking in this strange body, I felt a flicker of purpose.
---
That night, after classes ended, I sat outside my home, staring at the stars. The sand was cool beneath me, and the air was still. My mind was racing with possibilities.
If this world truly worked the way I thought it did, my knowledge could give me an edge. I didn't have much chakra, but I didn't need to. I could create something better—something that combined my old world's engineering with this one's puppetry techniques.
But first, I needed to learn the rules of this world.
And I needed to survive.