The Orphan

Near the lower reaches of the Naka River, in a secluded grove.

Two young men, the Uchiha clan's fan crest emblazoned on the backs of their garments, withdrew their katanas from the body of a man in his thirties dressed in coarse linen.

The middle-aged man collapsed, clutching his wounds as blood gushed through his fingers; it was clear he would not survive.

Yet, he crawled desperately across the ground, reaching toward the woman and child who had fallen just a few paces away.

This tragic scene failed to stir any sympathy in the two young men; instead, cruel smiles spread across their faces.

Two pairs of scarlet Sharingan glowed in the night air as one of them snarled at the dying man:

"Thinking you could take those precious Sharingan and defect from the Uchiha? This is your fate!"

The man, just one step away from touching his wife and child, fell short, closing his eyes forever halfway there.

"Hurry up and take the fool's corpse back. If we wait too long, the eyes will be harder to extract."

The Uchiha clan's current noble status was built upon the selfless contributions of every clansman.

However, there were always those who enjoyed the stability provided by the clan and accepted the sacrifices of others with peace of mind, only to try and run away when it was their turn to sacrifice.

The youngest son of this family of four had been dull and slow since birth, like a doll unresponsive to any external stimuli.

He had lived a muddled existence under his parents' protection until the age of eleven, never even learning to speak.

Unexpectedly, however, the news of the eldest son Qianshu's death on the battlefield had triggered the awakening of the Sharingan in the youngest son, Qiancao.

With the Senju and Uchiha clans locked in an increasingly bitter struggle for the title of the strongest, these Sharingan could certainly not be left to a fool.

Handing them over to the clan would at least justify the Uchiha's protection of a fool for over a decade.

It was a surprise that these foolish parents had refused to offer up their child's eyes, attempting instead to flee with him.

Such discordant elements that shook the hearts of the clan had to be erased.

Uchiha Ryuji and Uchiha Sawa were no strangers to such dirty work; they relished the thrill of selling their souls to the devil for the sake of the clan.

Just as Sawa prepared to use Fire Release to destroy the evidence, Ryuji shouted from the side, "Wait, is this fool still alive?"

It turned out that as Ryuji had hoisted the boy's body onto his back, the boy's eyes had suddenly snapped open, a flash of red Sharingan light flickering within them before they closed once more.

Ryuji inspected the boy's condition; the shuriken that had been embedded in his chest had fallen out, the wound had stopped bleeding, and miraculously, a faint heartbeat had returned.

Seeing that the boy was alive, Sawa was actually pleased; extracting the eyes while the host was still living was far better for the preservation of the Sharingan.

The two men hastily burned the parents' bodies and, carefully cradling their "trophy," made their way back to the Uchiha's Naka Shrine.

Neither of them noticed that as they departed, the boy in their arms opened his eyes once more to look at his parents' corpses. The pattern of the Sharingan in his eyes trembled with an unusual intensity, but he could not hold on any longer and slipped back into unconsciousness.

When Qiancao woke up again, the first thing he saw was a roaring brazier.

He could tell he was in a dark, damp cell; the straw beneath him was hard and coarse, pricking his back painfully.

In the biting cold, only the brazier before him offered any warmth, making him yearn to draw closer.

But as soon as he moved, a piercing pain shot through his chest, and his limbs went numb, rendering him unable to make a single movement.

Qiancao quickly pondered his situation in his mind:

He was Qiancao, a junior at a regular university. With the job market looking grim, he had resolved to prepare for graduate school and had gone to the library early to study.

Having spent the last two years playing around, he hadn't been used to settling down to study and had inadvertently fallen asleep on the desk.

That sleep had caused a problem; his soul seemed to have arrived in a dark, enclosed, and narrow space. Every day, he could only stare blankly at the empty black void, unable to control his body.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but just as the darkness had begun to drive him mad, the dark space had shattered, allowing his soul to regain control of his body.

Before he could even figure out the situation, he had seen two men with "red-eye disease" carrying him on their backs.

Watching the two corpses being set ablaze, though he couldn't see their faces clearly, he had felt an inexplicable ache in his eyes, as if tears were about to burst forth.

Then, exhausted, he had passed out again.

By the time he woke up, he was already lying here.

Footsteps approached from afar, and a man and a woman arrived at the cell door, looking down at Qiancao.

Ryuji, the man who saw Qiancao wake up, was delighted and said to the woman beside him:

"As expected of Lady Hiri, who understands the secret healing arts of the Senju! To think this brat would wake up so quickly after such heavy injuries!"

Qiancao listened to Ryuji's chatter, but aside from the word "sama," he understood nothing.

He only watched Japanese anime occasionally and was by no means a hardcore otaku; he knew absolutely nothing about the Japanese language.

Moreover, having just woken up, his throat was parched and dry. He wanted to say something but couldn't make a sound, so he could only stare blankly at Uchiha Hiri, his mind racing to understand his current situation.

Hiri wore a deep blue robe that set off her striking white hair, which looked completely out of place among the black-haired Uchiha.

Her white hair was tied into a neat ponytail behind her, shimmering in the light of the nearby fire.

This white hair had caused her to be the subject of whispers and pointing within the clan; despite her talent, she had never had a chance to prove herself.

It wasn't until the clan established a research group dedicated to the Sharingan that the leader, Uchiha Naoto, recognized her ability and invited her to join.

Her three-tomoe Sharingan watched the dull, foolish Qiancao lying on the ground, and a flicker of sympathy crossed her otherwise cold, scarlet eyes.

This trace of sympathy, combined with her delicate features, faintly radiated a glow of maternal warmth.

Hearing Ryuji praise her medical skills, Hiri gave a bitter smile in her heart: Saving them? Am I really saving them, or am I pushing them into a pit of fire?

Driven by some inexplicable intuition, Qiancao felt that the woman before him could be trusted, so he struggled to sit up and said to her in Chinese, "I... why..."

Before she could ponder the meaning of the strange language coming from Qiancao's mouth, Hiri was filled with astonishment.

Qiancao had clearly suffered a chest injury, so how had his intelligence suddenly returned to normal? Could it be that his Sharingan had healed his brain issues after awakening?

If he were still as foolish and incapable of caring for himself as before, then in this chaotic world, having him offer up his eyes for release might not have been a bad thing.

But now that he had regained consciousness, could she really just stand by and watch him die?

In the past, Hiri's research materials had always been traitors to the clan or dying individuals who had "voluntarily" offered their Sharingan after suffering incurable wounds.

The child before her was clearly an innocent little fool who had never harmed anyone, and his parents had already paid the price for betraying the clan; could she still find it in her heart to cruelly extract his Sharingan?

Surprised by her own weakness and fearing she might reveal more unnecessary emotions, Hiri composed herself and turned to leave, with Ryuji hurriedly following behind, paying no mind to Qiancao on the ground.

As the two turned away, Qiancao caught sight of the clan crest on their backs, and his heart was struck with shock:

"Sharingan? The Uchiha fan? Is this... Naruto?"

The pair left the cell and arrived in a spacious hall, where many people dressed in Uchiha clan attire were busy at work.

One wall of the hall was lined with countless labeled jars, and Uchiha Hiri always felt a complex mix of emotions whenever she looked at them.

Ryuji called over a staff member in a white lab coat and said to Hiri, "What is the condition of that brat's body? Can we extract his Sharingan yet?"

Hiri remained silent; she was truly weary of her work, but even if she refused, they would not let the boy go—they would simply have someone else perform the surgery.

Thinking of this, a wild idea suddenly flashed through her mind, so she said to Ryuji:

"There is no rush for this matter. I have thought of a brilliant plan; I will wait until I have reported it to Lord Naoto before making any further decisions."

Ryuji did not suspect anything; the task the clan had entrusted to him was merely to execute the Uchiha traitor and retrieve Qiancao's eyes to prevent the Sharingan from leaking out.

Now that the mission was complete, he had no need to worry about the rest.

Back in the cell, Qiancao was still working to mobilize his numb limbs. Although he had realized this was the world of Naruto, his knowledge of the series was limited to the TV anime, and he knew nothing about the various spin-offs.

In his memory, the Uchiha clan should have been wiped out by the time the manga began, and the few survivors were easily identifiable by their distinct appearances. How could there suddenly be so many Uchiha clansmen here?

Could this be a parallel world from some movie? Or had he arrived too early, before the story of Naruto had even begun?

He struggled to roll over, easing the numbness in the side of his body.

As he turned, he discovered a pair of small, fair, and crystalline feet in the corner of the cell, flawless in both shape and color.

Tracing them upward to find their owner, he saw a pair of rough, terrifying shackles clamped around the ankles, an sight that involuntarily stirred a sense of pity.

The rest of the lower legs were wrapped in bandages, and the patches of fair skin occasionally visible were covered in dense, black cursed seals.

All other parts were hidden in the darkness, which was why Qiancao hadn't noticed there was another person in the corner until now.

Although he understood she likely couldn't comprehend Chinese, Qiancao still struggled to speak up: "Hey there, could you give a brother a hand?"