Year 41 of Konoha, autumn.
The Hatake residence, living room.
A white-haired man wearing a green Konoha flak jacket knelt in the exact center of the floor, expressionless.
The man reversed his grip on a short blade with a snow-bright edge that reflected his calm eyes.
Then, he shoved the blade into his abdomen.
He slashed all the way from his left flank to his right.
Fresh blood gushed out like an opened faucet, rapidly dyeing the green flak jacket red.
Hatake Sakumo, a top-tier combat power of Konoha in the Land of Fire and the "Konoha White Fang" renowned throughout the Shinobi World, was ending his life right now in his own living room in the most traditional way.
No suicide note, no farewell.
Half an hour later, the corpse, which had completely lost its breath at some point and lay face down, suddenly moved.
Baishuo woke up from the pain.
The burning, stabbing pain in his abdomen felt like someone had lit a firework inside his stomach.
He groggily tried to open his eyes, but when his hands pushed against the ground, his whole body slipped in a pool of sticky stuff.
Hiss...
He sucked in a breath, his throat tight, and looked down.
Good grief, the ground was covered in blood, and the green flak jacket had soaked through to a blackish-red.
Mmm~ Baishuo's brain buzzed with a ring, and it took him a long time to process. "Wasn't I at home binge-watching shows? Where is this?"
His final memory remained stuck on staying up late binge-watching shows last night, enduring until past three in the morning when he couldn't hold on anymore and fell asleep hugging his phone.
And the moment he opened his eyes, he ended up like this?
Just as Baishuo's brain was crashing, a voice suddenly rang in his mind:
[Ding! Congratulations to the host for crossing over into the One Piece world and becoming the World's Strongest Swordsman, "Hawkeye" Dracule Mihawk!]
Baishuo: ???
Hawkeye? Mihawk?
He looked around the room-there was nothing special about the wooden furniture inside, but what was that hanging on the wall? A Forehead Protector?
Since when did the art style of One Piece turn out like this?
Before he could sort out his thoughts, a torrent of memories surged violently into his mind. The pain made his vision go dark, and he clutched his head.
Hatake Sakumo.
Kakashi Hatake.
Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Konohagakure.
Second Shinobi World War.
The memories flashed past like a revolving lantern. Although it felt long, it actually only took a few breaths.
With the memories fused, Baishuo opened his mouth, unable to utter a single word.
"Naruto... I crossed over into the Naruto world." He massaged his forehead. "And I'm Hatake Sakumo, Kakashi's dad, the Konoha White Fang."
"What was that damn system talking about? One Piece? Hawkeye Mihawk? Is its professional competence so terrible that it can even mistake the world?"
Complaints aside, however, there was a far more fatal issue right now.
His abdomen still hurt.
Excruciatingly.
Baishuo glanced down at the wound, and at just that look, the back of his neck instantly turned half-cold.
Although the flak jacket blocked a full view of the wound, just looking at the amount of blood loss-the green flak jacket had practically become a red flak jacket-he knew how ruthless that slash had been.
The original owner had struck with the absolute resolve to die, not holding back at all.
He didn't even dare to move, terrified that his intestines would spill out if he did.
[Ding! Detecting that the host is a good-for-nothing who, just after crossing over to become the World's Strongest Swordsman, got slashed by a blade from the left abdomen all the way to the right.]
[System emergency treatment in progress... wound healing...]
[Organ failure reversal in progress... wound healing... blood replenishment...]
[Congratulations to the host, your life has been preserved.]
A warm current dispersed through his abdomen, and the burning, excruciating pain rapidly receded. Baishuo clearly felt the wound wriggling and sealing shut, while the dizziness caused by blood loss also faded swiftly.
The breath in his chest finally released, and he collapsed sitting in the pool of blood, his back covered in cold sweat.
He survived.
[Beep! The system used up a great deal of energy saving its host's life. One of the two rewards in the Beginner's Gift Pack must be removed, so the host may choose only one. Please make your selection:]
[Option One: You transmigrated into the world's greatest swordsman, "Hawkeye" Mihawk, but didn't inherit his combat strength. How does that make any sense? Choose this option to obtain Hawkeye Mihawk's swordsmanship as the world's greatest swordsman.]
[Option Two: Obtain top-tier Armament Haki. Hawkeye Mihawk is one of only two men in the world to have forged a "Black Blade." Choose this option to obtain Hawkeye Mihawk's Armament Haki.]
Baishuo sat cross-legged in a pool of blood, rubbing his chin as he began to think.
To be honest, before transmigrating, he'd been an orphaned shut-in who lived alone with no one who cared about him. His daily routine consisted of watching TV shows and anime and playing video games.
That kind of life wasn't worth mentioning. He couldn't even be bothered to care about it himself, so he quickly accepted transmigrating into Hatake Sakumo.
Baishuo-no, he was Hatake Sakumo now. As a shut-in before transmigrating, he'd naturally watched One Piece and Naruto.
The world's greatest swordsman, "Hawkeye" Mihawk, from One Piece had truly powerful swordsmanship. His slashes alone were enough to split a mountain or cleave the sea.
But the first thing that flashed through Hatake Sakumo's mind was the wise saying of Kaido, the King of Beasts, "Kaido-sensei":
"Only Haki stands above all else!"
So Hatake Sakumo didn't hesitate. He chose immediately:
"Hawkeye's swordsmanship is strong, but I still want top-tier Armament Haki. Being able to attack and defend is the way to go."
"System, I want top-tier Armament Haki."
[Beep! The host has chosen top-tier Armament Haki. Good luck, host. I hope you won't disgrace the title of "the world's greatest swordsman."]
As the voice fell, an indescribable insight poured into his mind. The methods for wielding Armament Haki, the techniques for coating himself in it, and all kinds of tricks and principles became as clear as if they'd been etched into his muscles.
Hatake Sakumo curled his fingers into a fist.
A layer of black spread over his entire fist, gleaming with a cold, metallic sheen.
"So this is Armament Haki..." He felt the weighty strength within his fist and slowly tightened it.
Before he could properly savor this power, the system spoke again.
[Beep! It has been detected that the host's beloved sword, "Black Blade: Yoru," has been stained with the host's blood. Please pick up your beloved sword immediately and wipe it clean. As the world's greatest swordsman, how can you treat your beloved sword so carelessly?]
Hatake Sakumo still had his hand clenched in a fist. He turned his head and looked.
A sword did indeed lie at the edge of the pool of blood, but it was a short, straight blade.
With all of the original owner's memories, he recognized it at once. It was his own sword, sharing its name with the title "Konoha White Fang." The blade was called "White Fang."
Hatake Sakumo's mouth twitched.
"This damn system... This is Black Blade: Yoru? This is clearly White Blade: Fang!"
"You've got the sword wrong, the person wrong, even the world wrong. You're a pretty half-baked system."
He complained, but still got up and picked White Fang out of the pool of blood. He walked over to a nearby spot, took a piece of cloth, sat down, and slowly wiped it clean.
The blade reflected his face: thirty-five years old, with sharp features and graying temples. He was a handsome man who bore the marks of time.
As he wiped the blade, with nothing else to occupy him, memories of the past came flooding back.
Why had the original owner killed himself?
Before transmigrating, he'd read the original story and knew this part of the plot. Now that he'd merged with the memories, the details were even clearer-and more painful.
To put it simply, it came down to two words: bullying.
That's right. The renowned Konoha White Fang, the strongest man in the Land of Fire, a top-tier fighter who outclassed the Sannin, had actually been bullied in his own village.
It started with a major mission. During the mission, one of his comrades was in mortal danger. The original owner had to choose between "completing the mission" and "saving his comrade," and chose to save him.
The mission consequently failed, and the village and the Land of Fire suffered enormous losses.
After he returned to the village, public opinion turned against him overnight.
The people who had once put him on a pedestal began to point fingers at him. Even the comrade he'd saved failed to show gratitude afterward and actually joined in to condemn him.
From ANBU to ordinary people on the street, everyone talked about him. Everyone reviled him.
Two months.
Two whole months of ostracism, cold looks, and cruel words.
The original owner, deeply imbued with the Will of Fire, had valued the village and his comrades more than his own life. In the end, everything he'd protected had stabbed him in the back.
His faith shattered and his hopes utterly crushed, Hatake Sakumo ultimately chose to commit seppuku at home.
Even more ironically, the blade had already cut into him, and his blood had already run dry. Only in the final moment, as his life ebbed away, did he remember...
He still had a seven-year-old son.
Kakashi Hatake.
"Ugh..." Hatake Sakumo's hand paused as he wiped the blade. He shook his head.
"With strength like yours, you still let the Will of Fire brainwash you. They ostracized and cursed you, so why not let them find out whether White Fang was sharp? One stroke, and the world would have been at peace."
"But instead of cutting down someone else, you cut yourself."
He lowered his head and stared at the gleaming blade, at the eyes reflected in it. He looked for a long time.
"But it doesn't matter. From today on, this body belongs to me."
"I'll settle this score for you."
A soft click came from outside the door.
The door opened.
A young yet familiar voice came from the entryway:
"I'm home."