Ugh!?
His head throbbed, like an invisible hammer pounding in every corner of his skull. His eyes opened slowly, focusing on a wooden ceiling that felt strangely familiar and yet completely unknown.
'Where... where am I?'
He tried to sit up, but his body protested with a wave of pain and stiffness. He looked down at his hands—small, with faint calluses he never had. These weren't his hands. These hands were... small.
Panic began to rise, fear of the unknown creeping into his mind.
He forced himself up despite the pain, taking in the room around him.
Simple furniture, a futon folded in the corner, a desk with scrolls and brushes. Nothing made sense. This wasn't his room. This wasn't his life.
"Who... who am I?" the question escaped his lips in a shaky whisper.
Suddenly, a flood of images crashed into his mind. Fragmented scenes, vibrant colors, unfamiliar faces that somehow felt intimate.
A man smiling with a pipe, a dark-haired woman hugging him, a crest he didn't recognize. Names echoed painfully in his head: Hiruzen, Biwako, Konohagakure… Sarutobi… Itsuki...
The pressure in his head intensified. The images became sharper, more real. The joy of training, the sorrow of a farewell... searing pain... emptiness...
A guttural scream tore from his throat, echoing through the silent room. The memories hit him like a tsunami, wiping away any remnants of his old life.
He had no idea who he was—and yet, somehow, he knew exactly who he was.
He was Itsuki Sarutobi.
An orphan and a ninja.
And somewhere in his memories, he realized this was a fantasy world from his previous life—and a very dangerous one.
"Calm down, breathe." He muttered to himself, trying to steady his nerves, but it didn't help much.
He walked to the bathroom, guided by the memories, and looked at his reflection in the mirror.
This body looked around twelve or thirteen years old, with spiky brown hair falling messily over his forehead, giving him a rebellious and determined look—but not careless.
His dark eyes were sharp and expressive, revealing a mind too mature for his age. After all, the soul in this body wasn't native to this world.
Itsuki took a step back, looking at his full reflection.
He wore a two-toned sleeveless ninja vest—white on top and black on the bottom—with a high collar that gave it a modern touch. Below, dark shinobi pants ended at the shin, with two white straps on his right leg and standard black ninja sandals.
He also had a fingerless glove on his left hand and a tool pouch strapped to the same leg.
"Sarutobi clan?" Itsuki whispered, digging through his memories. Apparently, a week after graduating from the academy and being assigned to a team with Sasuke and Sakura, he received a report that his parents had been killed on a mission. Since then, he locked himself inside his house and refused to come out.
Somehow, he died quietly—maybe from heartbreak, or something called depression.
'Guess we really were meant for each other. I don't know how I ended up here, and you probably don't know how you died. You could say we're a good match. Now you can meet your parents in the afterlife, and I'll keep living here.'
He didn't know why he said it, but somehow it made him feel a little lighter. Like a weight had been lifted off him.
Itsuki stepped away from the bathroom and stared out the window, eyes landing on the four Hokage faces carved into the mountain.
"That means I'm in Naruto's generation. So this is the start of the canon," he muttered.
"The first arc would be the Land of Waves, the encounter with Zabuza, then the Chunin Exams, and Orochimaru's attack. Sasuke leaves the village, and Naruto goes off to train with Jiraiya for three years. I need to find a way to get stronger before all that—strong enough to survive, at least."
Itsuki sighed and stepped away from the window.
According to what his parents used to say, he had a decent chakra reserve—enough to pull off some Rank-C ninjutsu without much trouble. Plus, his elemental affinity was surprisingly fire and lightning—but not just any lightning. It was purple lightning.
"Shiden? Isn't that the same style Kakashi developed in Boruto?" Itsuki wondered.
Feeling a bit more grounded, Itsuki formed a hand sign and—Pooof—he transformed into a girl with pink hair and a big forehead. He looked down at the small chest and fairer skin, chuckling a little before turning into Sasuke, then Naruto in his bright orange outfit, and finally back to himself.
"Even if this world is dangerous, according to my memories, I think I can enjoy life here. I don't even remember who I was in my old life, besides my name and the anime."
Resolving the dilemma of whose life he was living—whether he took over the body or the body took his soul—Itsuki decided both were him. No matter where he came from, he would live his life to the fullest.
Feeling more at peace, Itsuki freshened up—his body had been starting to smell—and changed into a clean set of clothes. His hitai-ate, which used to be tied around his forehead, was now fastened to his right arm. He also grabbed some money to visit some of Konoha's iconic spots, like Ichiraku Ramen and Yakiniku Q, where Shikamaru's team often hung out.
As a fan of the anime, he was beyond thrilled to see everything firsthand.
Looking up at the setting sun, Itsuki suddenly squinted when he saw, far in the distance, two giant "Pickles"—one big, one smaller—running over rooftops, moving on their hands and doing insane flips.
"A-are those... Might Guy and Rock Lee?" Itsuki whispered, dumbfounded.
"Yep, that's them. Full of energy no matter the hour," a voice answered next to him, making Itsuki jump and turn his head fast.
The girl who spoke looked about twelve, with long blonde hair tied in a ponytail. Light blue eyes. She wore a short, sleeveless purple top and a matching short skirt, with mesh arm protectors. Her Konoha headband was tied around her waist.
"Oh, it's you, Ino," Itsuki said with a smile, turning his eyes back to the pair disappearing in the distance.
"What, not happy to see me?" Ino teased, casually wrapping her arm around his and pressing it against her chest.
"It's not that." Itsuki shook his head and gently pulled his arm free. He started walking toward Ichiraku, and Ino smiled, following him like a shadow.
"Hey there, welcome!" Teuchi's voice came from inside.
"Is it because of your parents? I heard about it... I'm really sorry." Ino sat beside him, her voice softer now as she looked at his young face, already carrying so much weight.
Itsuki smiled, meeting her eyes. "I won't say I'm not sad, but I kinda expected it. They were special jōnin from Konoha, always on high-level missions... so..." he sighed.
Ino nodded, and that's when it hit her.
Itsuki wasn't the only orphan—not the only one she knew, anyway. Naruto and Sasuke were the same. Naruto had never even met his parents, and Sasuke's were killed by his own brother.
It was sad how common this kind of thing was in their world.