Senju Nawaki on the Brink of Death

Brain maintenance center, all you big shots are welcome to store your brains here.

Year 34 of the Leaf.

The battlefield of the Land of Rain.

The Second Shinobi World War, a regional conflict that had dragged on for five years, was gradually entering a state of exhaustion.

Hanzo of the Salamander had risen to prominence with overwhelming strength. To declare that the Land of Rain was his home turf, he issued warnings to the elite ninja of other nations—including the Leaf, Sand, Kumogakure, and Iwagakure—who had entered his country.

The representative battle of this era was the one that bestowed the humiliating title of the "Legendary Sannin" upon the Leaf ninja.

This gave the Land of Rain, which had been on the verge of collapse, a chance to breathe, and earned Hanzo the recognition of his own people, with his title of "Demigod" spreading throughout the shinobi world.

Thirty kilometers north of the Leaf ninja encampment in the Land of Rain.

In a crater left by an explosion, a figure was writhing.

"Who am I?"

"I am Senju Nawaki!"

Senju Nawaki opened his eyes. A dull ache radiated through his body, and as the cold intensified, his head grew heavy, plunging his consciousness into further chaos.

"Where are my legs?"

He scanned his surroundings and his own body.

The area was a scene of devastation; rocks and trees had been shattered, with charred black and crimson blood painting the landscape. He was lying in a massive crater, his body covered in gore.

The lower halves of his legs were gone, reduced to bloody fragments smeared across the surrounding rubble.

At least the most precious thing was still intact.

The smell of blood and the pungent odor of burning flesh filled his nostrils.

He reached out to touch his legs, feeling a thick, viscous sensation. He found the reason for the cold: blood was still pouring steadily from his severed limbs.

The blinding crimson on his fingertips seemed to flip a switch.

The lethargy vanished, replaced by a surge of intense, violent pain that assaulted his mind.

"Hhh..."

His eyes widened, and as he spat blood, he let out a series of ragged, gasping breaths.

Memories collided in his mind like thousands of steel needles piercing his brain.

Fragmented memories began to fuse together.

His past life.

He had been a top-tier "workhorse" graduate student, stuck with a treacherous advisor in a joint program across eight universities. [Three years, eight colleges, nine cities. Now in his third year, he had completed plenty of research, yet the old geezer never gave him first authorship, while the advisor himself became a candidate for dean?]

As graduation approached, he was designated for a delayed degree. Who would willingly let go of a top-tier workhorse?

But that old geezer wouldn't give him a single scrap of support or resources, yet squeezed him to the absolute limit.

He had been worked from two hundred pounds down to one hundred, literally worked to death.

He recalled the final scene.

He was performing an experiment that required a PCR machine.

[A PCR machine is a device used to amplify specific DNA. It is primarily used for mapping genetic diseases, diagnosing infectious diseases, and gene replication!

Through precise temperature cycle control and reaction timing, it artificially intervenes in gene fragments to achieve rapid DNA amplification.

High-temperature denaturation, low-temperature annealing, and extension at the appropriate temperature.]

Unfortunately, the old geezer was too stingy to buy a PCR machine, so he had to bring in three induction cookers, using methods from the early days of the nation's founding as a substitute.

What he hadn't expected was that even the induction cookers were shoddy, counterfeit products.

An accident occurred, and the experimental equipment exploded.

His final memories were fixed on the dilapidated equipment in the lab—the pipettes were gifts from sales reps that needed calibration every week.

The graduated cylinders and beakers didn't have a single intact rim, and the measurement lines were blurred.

Every now and then, they would dig out reagents from 1948, older than the country itself.

Only the experimental materials proved that the old geezer's credentials were truly ancient.

"In my next life, I will never be a workhorse again, especially not a poor one!"

A flash of memory swept by, arriving at his current life.

He had transmigrated into the world of Naruto, becoming Senju Nawaki, and he was currently at death's door.

He lacked the strength of Senju Hashirama, yet he possessed all of Senju Hashirama's foolishness.

On top of that, there was the treacherous Senju Tobirama, who had disbanded the Senju Clan, leaving Senju Nawaki without any real privileges—[he was treated even worse than the Third Hokage's grandson, Konohamaru].

All under the guise of "training."

Relying on himself, he had struggled to graduate from the Ninja Academy and joined the Second Shinobi World War to gain some experience.

He was currently on the battlefield in the Land of Rain.

Just the day before yesterday, he had celebrated his twelfth birthday.

Tsunade had given him the heirloom necklace of the Senju Clan, marking his true ascension as the head of the Senju Clan.

This morning, his naive self had been hoodwinked into carrying out a so-called patrol mission, leading him into this forest fraught with peril.

Before he knew it, he had stepped into a trap, and a chain of explosions had blasted him into this wretched state.

Only one thought remained in his mind.

Was it really an accident?

Having replaced the original soul, Senju Nawaki was no longer as naive as his predecessor.

Countless inconsistencies surfaced in his mind.

First: given his status—whether as a newly graduated genin or the heir to the Senju Clan—he should never have been assigned to explore an unknown area on the battlefield, nor was this location part of any patrol route.

Second: the power of the explosive tags was far too great. Recalling it now, the blasts had originated from the companions patrolling with him, bearing a striking resemblance to the forbidden jutsu known as the Mutually Multiplying Explosive Tags.

[Haruno Sakura survived a point-blank explosive tag blast; there is no reason Senju Nawaki should have been killed by this.]

Third: in his memories, his body had been under some form of control, unable to dodge the damage and forced to endure nearly the full force of the explosions. Even stranger, why had no one come to his rescue even now?

Conflicting pieces of information intertwined in his mind, yet he could not find the answer he sought.

Through the haze, he reached a conclusion: someone wanted him dead.

"Heh!"

He let out a bitter laugh.

"What a way to screw over your grandson! Someone doesn't want the war to end right now. Is this person someone whose interests are being harmed, or someone whose greed remains unsatisfied?"

Conspiracy theories from his past life surfaced, and when combined with his current predicament, some secrets quickly came to light.

Konoha was undoubtedly involved in this.

When Senju Tobirama announced that the Senju Clan would abandon their surname and integrate into Konoha, the Senju Clan ceased to be the ones eating at the table and became a dish served upon it.

As the young master of the Senju Clan, he had become a thorn in their side.

Anyone who retained the Senju surname was treated as a heretic.

War is the continuation of politics, a means for interest groups to redistribute power.

What should have been a winning hand in his possession had been played into a losing one by his two grandfathers who had failed him.

He was like a Celestial Dragon who had abandoned his status in the world of pirates.

His situation was not as good as he had imagined, and the most pressing problem he faced now was how to survive and break the fate of dying here.

In an instant, he understood.

Hum~

His mind shook, a familiar sensation washed over him, and his body once again slipped out of his control.

It was the same feeling he had experienced when he walked into the trap.

His soul was stripped from his shell and locked in a cage, unable to control his own body.

"The secret jutsu of the Yamanaka Clan! Mind Transfer Jutsu!"

The answer was clear in Senju Nawaki's mind; someone truly wanted him dead.

This was the secret technique where the Yamanaka Clan used their powerful spiritual energy to enter a target's body and control their actions.

Within Senju Nawaki's mental world, everything was pitch black.

Swish~

A face appeared before his soul, wielding a short sword, and slashed at Senju Nawaki.

Unable to dodge in time, he had an arm severed.

"The Yamanaka Clan jonin who announced the mission this morning—Yamanaka Shuichi."

Senju Nawaki recognized the soul that had invaded his mental world, recalling the other two "companions" who had been on the mission with him: one from the Nara Clan and one from the Akimichi Clan.

Weren't these the three loyal clans of the Third Hokage?

The mastermind had finally revealed himself.

The [value] of the Third Hokage continued to rise.

Yamanaka Shuichi's eyes flickered with fear, but he suppressed it in an instant.

The secret he wanted to hide must not be exposed, but fortunately, everything was about to end.

He snatched the severed arm of Senju Nawaki's soul, black energy radiating from his body.

Senju Nawaki's soul fell into a state of chaos.

"What is he trying to do?"

The question had barely flashed through his mind.

As his soul space flickered incessantly, he immediately understood what the other party was doing.

This maneuver was an attempt to tamper with his memories.

The Yamanaka Clan was exceptionally skilled in secret mental arts, and their strongest members were even capable of altering a person's memories.

Right now, Yamanaka Shuichi was using the severed arm of Senju Nawaki's soul as a medium to rewrite Senju Nawaki's memories, turning his death into a mere accident.

He was erasing the traces of the mastermind behind the scenes.

Guard against everything, but you can't guard against a thief within your own house. Senju Tobirama, you deserve to go extinct, Senju Nawaki cursed, even including himself in the condemnation. Do you really think you can be this rampant in my soul world?

No sooner had he finished cursing than he witnessed a scene that left him stunned.

Within his soul space, three massive induction cookers appeared, emitting a low, humming drone.

Aren't these the three induction cookers that blew me up? No! These are PCR machines made by hand!

A screen of light flashed by.

[Bloodline Completion System (Mother Earth Loves Me Most Event)]

[Name: Senju Nawaki (...)]

[Attributes: Yang (Intermediate), Wind (Elementary), Earth (Elementary), Water (Elementary), Fire (Elementary), Lightning (Elementary)...]

[Rank: Genin]

[Chakra: 357]

[Bloodline: Incomplete Sage Body]

[Kekkei Genkai: Incomplete Primary Wood Release]

[Skills: Body Replacement/Transformation/Clone Techniques (Intermediate), Ninja Tool Throwing (Elementary), Basic Taijutsu (Elementary), Earth Release Ninjutsu (Beginner), Water Release Ninjutsu (Beginner), Wind Release Ninjutsu (Beginner)...]

[Passive: Scientific Research Acuity (High-tier)]

[Warning!!! Material for bloodline completion detected: Yin-attribute chakra]