The last thing he remembered was the screech of tires, the blinding glare of headlights, and the sickening crunch of metal. Then, nothing. Darkness. Silence.
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in his world. He was no longer himself.
He was a baby, swaddled in a blanket, staring up at a man with sharp eyes and a face lined with age. The man's voice was gruff but gentle as he spoke.
"You're all that's left, boy. Your parents… they didn't make it. But I'll make sure you survive. I'll make sure you thrive."
The man—Hayate Kurotsuchi—was his grandfather. And he was now Ren Kurotsuchi, the last heir of a fading clan.
For the first few years of my new life, I was trapped. Trapped in a body that couldn't walk, trapped in a world I didn't fully understand. I could barely move, barely speak, barely do anything except eat, sleep, and cry. It was frustrating, maddening even. I had the mind of an adult, but the body of a helpless child.
I tried to make sense of it all. I remembered my past life—the books, the anime, the endless debates about Naruto and his world. But this wasn't a story anymore. This was real. And I was living it.
My grandfather, Hayate, was my only constant. He was stern but kind, a man of few words but endless patience. He took care of me, fed me, and kept me safe. But I could see the sadness in his eyes, the weight of losing his son and daughter-in-law.
As the years passed, I grew stronger. By the time I turned four, I could finally walk and talk without stumbling over my own feet or words. It was a small victory, but it felt like freedom.
The Third Hokage's Office
A few weeks later, Hayate took Ren to Konoha downtown for the first time. The village was bustling with life—shinobi rushing to missions, merchants hawking their wares, children playing in the streets. It was everything Ren had imagined and more.
But Hayate didn't let him linger. He led Ren to the Hokage's office, where the Third Hokage sat behind his desk, puffing on his pipe.
"Hiruzen," Hayate said, his voice sharp and unyielding. "We need to talk."
The Third Hokage looked up, his expression calm but his eyes wary. "Hayate. It's been a long time. What brings you back to the village?"
Hayate crossed his arms, his gaze piercing. "Don't play dumb, old fart. You know why I'm here."
Hiruzen sighed, setting down his pipe. "If this is about your grandson—"
"Damn right it's about my grandson," Hayate interrupted. "You expect me to leave him in this shit village after everything that's happened? The Nine-Tails attack, the Uchiha mess, Danzo's scheming—this place is a powder keg, and I'm not leaving Ren here to get caught in the blast."
Hiruzen's expression hardened. "Konoha is his home. He'll be safe here, and he'll have the opportunity to grow into a fine shinobi."
"Safe?" Hayate barked a laugh. "Safe like his parents were? Safe like the Uchiha were? Don't make me laugh, Hiruzen. This village chews people up and spits them out, and I won't let that happen to Ren."
The Third Hokage leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled. "What do you propose, then?"
"I'm taking him with me," Hayate said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll train him myself, away from this mess. He'll learn what it means to be a shinobi without getting tangled in your politics."
Hiruzen studied Hayate for a long moment, his gaze thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. But on one condition."
Hayate raised an eyebrow. "What condition?"
"When the time comes, Ren must return to the village and pass the academy's final exam to become a genin," Hiruzen said. "If he can prove himself, he'll be recognized as a shinobi of Konoha. If not…"
"He'll pass," Hayate said, his voice firm. "I'll make sure of it."
Hiruzen nodded again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Then it's settled. I look forward to seeing what your grandson can do."