The last thing Toji Fushiguro expected to see was the radiant white of Satoru Gojo's Limitless technique glowing in his dying vision. He lay sprawled on the ground, blood pooling beneath him like an offering to the very universe he had spent his life defying. The crushing pain in his chest didn't even matter anymore—his body was giving up, refusing to fight back.
"Damn kid," Toji muttered through a cough that sent more blood spraying from his lips. "Should've charged you extra for this job."
Gojo's ever-present smirk only widened as he stood over him, impossibly alive, impossibly strong. It was ridiculous. The assassin who had lived his life facing monsters and legends, who had defied curses and sorcerers alike, was now meeting his end at the hands of a grinning teenager. It almost felt poetic. Almost.
"You should've known better than to mess with me," Gojo said, crouching down beside him, his voice infuriatingly casual. "But hey, thanks for the warm-up."
Toji couldn't help it. He laughed—a wet, raspy sound that rattled his broken ribcage. "Warm-up, huh? You're not half bad… for a brat."
The world began to blur as his vision faded. The smirk on Gojo's face was the last thing he saw before darkness swallowed him whole.
At first, there was nothing. Just the void—silent, empty, and cold. Toji thought this was it. The end. A fitting conclusion for someone who had spent his life walking on the edge of death. Yet, in that emptiness, there was a flicker. A thought.
"I did all right, didn't I?" he mused to no one. His memories played back like a cruel film: his struggles, his regrets, his son… Megumi. The boy deserved better than him, didn't he? But still, if there was one thing he was proud of, it was ensuring the kid would have a future.
He let out an imaginary sigh in the void. "Guess this is what I get for signing up for the one-way trip."
But just as he began to accept the eternal quiet, something shifted.
When Toji came to, he didn't expect to feel… anything. Certainly not warmth. Or the odd sensation of movement, like he was floating. He opened his eyes—or at least he tried to. His vision was hazy, his body felt strange, and worst of all, he couldn't move like he was used to.
"Okay… what the hell?" he thought. He tried to stretch, but all that came out was a weak wiggle. His arms—were those arms?—flopped awkwardly.
Then, he heard something. Voices. Muffled, but distinct. Someone was laughing, cooing, and speaking in a language he didn't recognize at first, though it soon made sense in his head.
Something was definitely wrong.
"Am I... dead? Reincarnated?" Toji thought, his brain scrambling to piece together his situation. The last thing he remembered was Gojo, and now he was—wait. Was he a baby?
The realization hit him like a curse to the gut. He was small, weak, and worst of all, helpless.
"Oh, this is rich," Toji groaned internally. Or rather, he tried to groan, but the only sound that escaped his lips was a high-pitched wail.
The laughing voices grew louder. He felt himself being lifted, cradled. Someone was looking down at him, smiling.
"You've got to be kidding me," Toji thought. "Is this karma? A second chance? Or some cosmic joke?"
He tried to focus, his blurry vision sharpening just enough to make out the outlines of a man and a woman. The man had jet-black hair and intense dark eyes that felt familiar—too familiar. The woman beside him leaned closer, her long hair framing her soft, smiling face.
"Look at him," the man said, his voice steady but warm. "He has my eyes already."
"That's not all he has," the woman replied, her voice melodic. "He's got the Uchiha blood running strong."
Uchiha? The name hit Toji like a brick. He'd been reborn, sure, but not just anywhere. He was in the Uchiha clan.
And if his fuzzy memories of anime served him right, that meant he was in for a world of trouble. Literally.
"Well, great," Toji thought sarcastically. "Go from battling curses to being in Ninja World's most doomed family. Love that for me."
Another wail escaped him, unintentional this time. The woman cooed, rocking him gently. "Don't cry, Itachi. You'll be strong. I know it."
Itachi?
Toji's brain nearly short-circuited. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he thought. "Not just any Uchiha—I'm Itachi freaking Uchiha?! The kid genius who's about to have the most tragic life ever? Where's the refund counter for reincarnation?"
But despite the absurdity of the situation, Toji couldn't help but smirk—well, as much as a baby could. "Guess I'll just have to rewrite the story, won't I?"
The woman leaned down to kiss his forehead, completely unaware of the inner turmoil of the man now trapped in the tiny body of her son.
"Let's see how these ninja handle a guy like me," Toji thought. "Bet they've never seen a baby with a sense of humor."
As the family fawned over their "little genius," Toji let out a small, unintentional giggle. "Step one: learn how to walk. Step two: make this world regret reincarnating me."
For now, though, Toji—now Itachi Uchiha—had to accept his fate. He was back to square one. A baby in the most infamous clan in ninja history.