Am I Naruto?

(Come on, hand over your brains!)

"Ow!"

"It hurts!"

That was Naruto's first sensation after regaining consciousness.

The pain was like thousands upon thousands of needles piercing his skin and muscles at once, reaching straight into his bones. It hurt so badly he nearly passed out again.

Wait?

Could the dead feel pain too?

The thought had barely surfaced when an immense, indescribable flood of memories came surging wildly into Naruto's mind.

He saw the enormous Konoha Village. He saw the four imposing faces on Hokage Rock. He saw a lonely blond boy sitting by himself on a swing, watching other children get picked up by their parents.

He saw the boy pulling pranks every day, graffitiing Hokage Rock and racing through the streets, all just to earn the slightest bit of attention.

He saw Iruka-sensei handing him a bowl of Ichiraku Ramen. He saw that goggle-wearing brat shouting, "I'm going to become Hokage!"

He saw himself desperately practicing the Clone Technique. He saw himself stealing the Scroll of Seals. He saw Mizuki's ferocious face and Iruka's bleeding back as he stood in front of him.

He saw Team 7's first gathering: the smug black-haired Sasuke, the love-struck pink-haired Sakura, and Kakashi holding a little orange book while saying, "I got lost on the road of life."

He saw himself tied to a wooden post, watching Kakashi give Sasuke and Sakura their lunchboxes while his stomach growled with hunger...

The memories continued pouring in.

The mission to the Land of Waves. The fight against the Demon Brothers. Kakashi being trapped by Zabuza's Water Prison Technique. Sasuke and him working together to put on an act, using the Shadow Clone Technique and a Fuma Shuriken to break the Water Prison Technique.

Then there was Momochi Zabuza, the Hidden Mist rogue ninja—the terrifying man carrying the Executioner's Blade.

At last, the memories froze within a field of Ice Crystal Magic Mirrors.

Senbon filled the sky. A youth wearing a Hidden Mist ANBU mask, his voice cold as ice...

"Wah—"

Naruto sharply sucked in a breath, wrenching himself free from the dizziness caused by the memories being forcibly crammed into his mind.

He opened his eyes. Above him was a gray, overcast sky, while a thin mist lingered all around.

The ground beneath him was cold and hard. The air carried the mingled scents of earth, blood, and moisture.

Naruto froze for three seconds, then slowly raised a hand before his eyes.

It was a young hand, its skin covered in a few scrapes. Yet without question, it belonged to a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy.

He clenched his fist, sensing a peculiar energy flowing through this body.

Chakra.

"I... transmigrated?"

Naruto muttered hoarsely, "And I transmigrated into Naruto Uzumaki?"

"The protagonist of Naruto... the guy who kept yelling that he'd become Hokage and actually became the Seventh Hokage in the end?"

"Did I become Naruto Uzumaki just because my nickname was Naruto?"

A scenario that only existed in web novels had actually happened to him.

Naruto closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Several seconds later, he opened them again. Much of the shock in his eyes had subsided, replaced by a complicated, bitter smile.

"Forget it. Being able to live again is already good enough."

Naruto sighed softly.

In his previous life, he had died at only thirty.

Not from cancer. Not from a terminal illness. Nor had he been hit by a truck.

He had simply gotten himself killed.

It was ridiculous when he thought about it.

He had originally been an ordinary person, until he suddenly awakened an ability at eighteen.

It was not some flashy power like breathing fire, controlling water, or shooting lightning. It was an exceptionally unusual gift: absolute bodily control.

This ability allowed him to precisely control every cell, every nerve, and every muscle in his body.

He could actively develop regions of his brain, making his thoughts extraordinarily clear and sharp. His memory and logical reasoning far surpassed those of ordinary people.

When injured, he could control the muscles around a wound to stop the bleeding and accelerate cell division for healing. Minor wounds would scab over in seconds, while even severe injuries could fully recover in minutes.

Under certain circumstances, he could even force his body onward, ignore fatigue, and keep fighting.

It sounded incredibly powerful.

And he had indeed used that ability to do quite a few good things. Whenever he saw an outrageously unjust incident online—unscrupulous bosses exploiting workers, thugs attacking people in the streets, well-connected scum walking free—his sense of justice would blaze.

So he acted.

Wearing a crude mask he had made himself, he used his bodily control to mimic entirely different builds and voices. In the middle of the night, he would sneak into those villains' homes, ensuring that when they woke the next day, posters exposing all their deeds were plastered throughout their neighborhoods, while neat, complete evidence sat at the doors of the public security bureau.

He had also dealt with several punks who beat people in the street, leaving them bedridden for a full three months. The hospital could find no cause, only saying, "Soft tissue contusions!"

In truth, he had used exquisitely controlled force to stimulate the targets' nerve nodes.

His methods were hidden, and the results were satisfying.

The internet was full of praise. Titles such as "Nighttime Hero" and "Modern Robin Hood" spread everywhere.

He had become somewhat intoxicated with it, believing himself to be an enforcer of justice, a righteous man beyond the rules.

But once or twice was one thing.

A third time. A fourth. A fifth...

If you walk by the river often enough, your shoes are bound to get wet.

During his fifth operation, the security authorities finally took notice of him.

That night, just after he had arranged a surprise in his target's home, hurried yet orderly footsteps suddenly flooded the hallway, and beams from flashlights swept past the windows.

He fled in panic through the rear window and was chased all the way to a cliff on a desolate mountain in the suburbs.

The mountain wind howled, and the pursuers behind him drew ever closer. Gritting his teeth, he tried to jump to a jutting rock across from him, but his foot slipped.

Then came a bottomless abyss, and his consciousness cut out.

"In this life, I absolutely can't make the same mistake again."

Naruto clenched those young hands and silently swore, Even if I see the greatest injustice in the world, I will never step forward before I have sufficient strength and absolute assurance of safety.

"Breaking the law is still breaking the law. Even if the motive is righteous, that doesn't mean the means are free from restraint."

He also wanted to warn everyone: never try to place your own standards above the law. Getting yourself killed really can get you killed.

He let out a long breath and began carefully sorting through the memories that belonged to Naruto Uzumaki.

At this point in the story...

Naruto's brows furrowed, then gradually relaxed.

The point he was currently at was midway through the Land of Waves mission. He had already passed Kakashi's genin test and become an official member of Team 7. He was escorting the bridge builder Tazuna to the Land of Waves with Kakashi, Sasuke, and Sakura, where they had fought the Hidden Mist rogue ninja Momochi Zabuza and his subordinate, Haku.

The injuries covering his body had been inflicted by Haku's senbon.

Those hair-thin needles had pierced his body. Although most had avoided vital points, the agony of ten thousand needles piercing him, followed by the state of suspended death, was an unavoidable scene from the original story.

"Thank goodness it's this point in time."

Naruto could not help feeling relieved.

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