Darkness.
That was all Jarrod Stein knew in his final moments—an overwhelming, all-consuming void. The sharp screech of tires, the blaring of a horn, and the unmistakable impact of metal crushing bone.
It all happened too fast.
Yet, the pain lingered, stretching out endlessly as his body was thrown onto the cold asphalt.
"Why? Why should I die?"
Jarror had always believed in control, in the power of logic. As a British-American lawyer, he had spent his life dismantling arguments, ensuring every word he spoke was crafted with precision. He built cases with ruthless efficiency, leaving no room for doubt, no space for chaos.
And yet, chaos had found him anyway.
A truck—some reckless driver—had reduced his entire existence to a single moment of helplessness.
"This isn't fair. I had plans. I worked my ass off for this life!"
His vision blurred. He felt the warmth of his own blood pooling beneath him, his limbs growing cold. Years of hard work, ambition, and the desperate desire to prove himself—it all amounted to nothing.
It wasn't just about survival. It was about winning.
He had clawed his way out of mediocrity, sacrificed his youth for the grind, all because of her.
Sophia.
The half-Chinese, half-Japanese woman he had loved. The woman he had trusted.
He had spent years learning Mandarin and Japanese in secret, just to surprise her. Just to make her smile.
And in the end?
She left him for another man. A wealthier man.
"It's not you, Jarror... I just need more stability."
It was that moment that changed him. If love could be bought, then fine—he would be rich. He would never be discarded again.
He became a lawyer. Cold, calculating, relentless.
And yet, none of it mattered now.
His body refused to move, his breath shallow and erratic.
Then... darkness.
Yet, something stirred within that abyss.
A sensation—not of pain, but of warmth.
Then, a voice.
Soft. Weak.
"My dear... I hope you can live a good life."
The words barely registered before a cough wracked the woman's fragile frame. He felt warmth—a gentle, fleeting touch.
His mind struggled to process the situation. There was a scent in the air—metallic, thick, and unmistakable. Blood.
Then another voice—louder, desperate.
"Stay with me! Please, don't leave us!"
Through blurry vision, he saw a man kneeling beside the woman, his hands trembling, his expression carved with raw anguish. His robes, white and red, were soaked in crimson.
"Your name..." the man choked between sobs, his grip tightening on the tiny body in his arms.
"Your name will be Hirito... Hirito Senju."
The world outside trembled.
A deafening roar tore through the sky, shaking the very foundations of the hospital. Windows shattered, screams filled the air, and the oppressive presence of something vast and monstrous loomed in the distance.
A flicker of orange and black.
A powe—raw, wild, and overwhelming.
Then, understanding struck him like a hammer.
"No way... The Nine-Tails Rampage."
Memories of his past life clashed violently with the new reality. The stories, the battles, the Shinobi world—he had spent years immersed in them as fiction. But this? This was real.
The desperate cries, the crumbling village, the suffocating chakra that weighed down on his tiny form—this was no dream.
His breath hitched as his infant body tensed, overwhelmed by sensations he had never known.
Then, something even stranger happened.
A flickering light appeared before his eyes, forming words, clear and sharp, against the backdrop of chaos.
[Interface Detected]
Name: Hirito Senju (Hidden as Kawarama Senju for safety reasons)
Age: 1 Day
Sex: Male
Talent 1: Chakra Reserves (Enhanced due to Lineage)
Talent 2: Deeper Understanding (Accelerated Learning & Optimization)
His breath—if he could even control it—hitched.
An interface?
Like some kind of system? A game menu?
It made no sense.
Then, his gaze focused on the last talent.
[Deeper Understanding]
Information flooded his mind.
It wasn't just about intelligence—it was about comprehension.
Concepts, techniques, and knowledge would not only come to him faster, but he would also understand them at their very core. The structure, the mechanics, the essence—everything would optimize itself for maximum efficiency.
If he learned a jutsu, he wouldn't just copy it—he would refine it, optimize it, perfect it.
His heart—his tiny, infant heart—raced.
"This is it. This is my edge."
A shuddering breath from his father pulled him back to the moment.
The man held him close, his grief raw, his hands trembling as he whispered,
"For safety reasons, the Senju name must remain hidden."
The Nine-Tails' chakra surged again, its monstrous howls echoing through the village.
"From this day forward, your surname will be Kawarama."
Kawarama...
A name stripped of its legacy, yet burdened with its expectations.
"But one day, I hope you will reclaim the title of Senju."
His father wept, cradling him protectively as another explosion rocked the village.
Hirito—Jarrod—could do nothing.
He was an infant. Weak. Fragile.
But not for long.
The Aftermath
Days blurred together in a haze of confusion and survival. The Nine-Tails was sealed. The Fourth Hokage—Minato Namikaze—was gone.
The village mourned,With the Third becoming hokage again
Hirito—Kawarama—was taken to a small home on the outskirts of the village, cradled in his father's arms.
A retired medic-nin.
A man who had given up the battlefield for the quiet life of healing—only to lose the woman he loved on the night their son was born.
His father rarely spoke in those early days.
Grief weighed heavily on him, but he cared for Hirito with unwavering devotion.
Each feeding, each gentle touch, was filled with an unspoken promise.
"You will be safe."
Hirito could do nothing but observe, his infant body frustratingly incapable of doing anything more than eat, sleep, and cry.
But his mind was sharp.
Sharper than it should have been.
The thirst for knowledge was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Even as a lawyer, he had pursued knowledge with relentless drive, but this was something more.
It was instinctual, an insatiable hunger to understand everything around him.
And the interface—the system, if he could call it that—was a part of it.
It provided no guidance, no tutorials.
It was simply... information.
But that was enough.
His chakra reserves were higher than normal—far higher than any average newborn, even among the Senju. He could feel it, a quiet pulse beneath his skin, a warmth that had not been there before.
And with Deeper Understanding, he knew one thing for certain.
He would learn.
He would grow.
And one day... he would reclaim the Senju name.
End of the Chapter.
First try in Naruto fanfic criticism is always welcome i scribble some of my ideas for a chapter and use ai to make it perfect to an chapter so there may be an involvement of Ai hope you understand