This is my first time writing Naruto fanfiction, so please point out any mistakes. Thank you!
Darkness. Suffocation. His heart felt as though an invisible hand had clenched around it.
Ye Zitong's last conscious moments were on the floor of his high school gym, with his classmates' terrified cries ringing in his ears.
Excessive high-intensity training and prolonged sleep deprivation had finally overwhelmed his seventeen-year-old body. The pain of sudden death was brief but searing.
Yet the eternal silence he expected never came.
Instead, he felt the world spin around him, as though he had been hurled into a frenzied vortex. At the edge of his clouded consciousness, he glimpsed the terrified face of an unfamiliar purple-haired boy-Shira from the world of Naruto.
An invisible bridge seemed to form between them in an instant, and their souls were forcibly torn free and swapped by an irresistible cosmic law.
No choice, no consent, only an exchange.
Ye Zitong-no, Shira-suddenly snapped his eyes open. Hot wind swept grains of sand against his face, each one stinging like a needle.
He narrowed his eyes and looked out at the boundless golden desert before him. Sunagakure glowed an earthy yellow beneath the blazing sun, its oval buildings like eggshells half-buried in the sand.
The memories belonging to this body surged through him like a tide, intertwining and merging with his own.
"Look, it's that loser who couldn't even get into the Ninja Academy!"
Three children, around six or seven years old, gathered around him. Their leader had the light brown skin common in Sunagakure, and two purple camouflage stripes were already painted on his face.
"My mom says you can't even use the most basic Ninjutsu!"
Another chubby child jeered and casually performed a simple Clone Technique. Though he could only produce a blurry shadow, it was enough to draw envious looks from his companions.
Shira-or rather, the seventeen-year-old high school sophomore occupying his body-stood silently in place.
His memories still ended with his final sprint across the court and the agony of his heart stopping. Then had come this desert and the children pointing and gesturing at him.
"A merchant's son really doesn't have any talent for being a ninja,"
The leader spat at him. The sand quickly absorbed the spit, leaving only a dark mark. "Are your mom and dad spies from outside the village? Is that why they had a loser like you?"
Shira clenched his fists. The body's memories rose to the surface: being shunned by his peers, being denied entry to the Ninja Academy because he couldn't use Ninjutsu or Genjutsu, and his parents, though local merchants, being viewed with deep suspicion because of their outsider backgrounds.
"Get lost," Shira said quietly, his voice so hoarse it surprised even him. This body was probably only about six years old, but years of living in the desert had long since stripped his voice of its childish clarity.
"Oh, you dare talk back?" The leader stepped forward and shoved him.
At that very instant, Shira's body reacted on instinct. He slipped sideways out of the way and stuck out a foot, sending the boy sprawling forward with a mouthful of sand.
The other two children froze, clearly not expecting the loser to fight back.
Shira was surprised himself. Though this body was young, it was unusually agile, and that move just now had been a complete reflex.
Was it an ability the boy had possessed all along, or some talent he had brought with him when he transmigrated?
"Just you wait! I'll get my big brother to teach you a lesson!" The fallen boy scrambled up, angrily hurled out his threat, and ran off with his two companions.
Shira brushed the sand off himself and slowly headed in the direction his memories told him was "home." As he walked, he sorted through the fragments of memory flooding his mind.
This was the world of Naruto, and the point in time he had arrived at should have been about ten years before the story began.
The Fourth Kazekage was still in power, and Gaara-the One-Tail Jinchuriki who would one day become Kazekage-should still have been a young child feared and shunned by the entire village.
"Luckily, I didn't have any family back on Blue Star, so I don't have anything holding me there..."
"That little boy called Shira swapped souls with me, right? Well, my world is safe... but here..."
At that point, he couldn't help shuddering. "Wait, no! This is the world of Naruto! Oh god, I could die for no reason at all..."
While his thoughts raced, he reached his front door without realizing it. Shira's home was a simple mud house on the edge of the village.
He pushed open the door to find his mother preparing dinner and his father counting the goods on the shelves. As small-time merchants, his family mainly sold everyday necessities to the villagers.
They sold everyday necessities during the day and food at night.
"You're back?" his mother asked without looking up. Then she caught sight of the sand covering him and sighed. "Did you get into another fight with them?"
"No, I just fell down," Shira replied softly. He still wasn't used to calling these two strangers his parents, even though the memories in this body held deep affection for them.
His father put down the goods in his hands, came over, and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't pay those words any mind. There's nothing wrong with not being a ninja. You can live a safe, peaceful life and take over this shop someday."
But Shira could see a trace of regret in his father's eyes. In this world where strength reigned supreme, being unable to become a ninja meant having far fewer opportunities than others, unless you had the means or the chance to become a daimyo, because that was also a good path in this world.
After dinner, Shira used tiredness as an excuse to return early to his tiny room. He lay on the hard wooden bed, staring at the earthen ceiling, his mind full of thoughts.
He remembered the character he had transmigrated into. He was his favorite character in Naruto, one of the original characters who appeared in the Chunin Ninja Exams in Sunagakure in the six-hundred-plus episodes of Shippuden.
He vaguely remembered Shira from the original story. The genius Taijutsu ninja who would later invent the Seven Heavens Breathing Method had, with an injured chest and only the third activation of the Seven Heavens Breathing Method, been able to contend with Rock Lee's fifth gate of the Eight Gates Released Formation.
And now, he had become Shira, a child deemed to have "no talent as a ninja."
"Extremely bad at Ninjutsu and Genjutsu. Does that mean I practically can't use them at all...?" Shira murmured, though the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "But that doesn't mean I can't get stronger."
His high school life in his previous world rose before his eyes: a five-kilometer run, two hundred push-ups, and two hundred sit-ups every single day without fail...
He had been a key player on his school's team, known for his astonishing physical fitness and endurance. Until that afternoon, when overtraining and lack of sleep had pushed his heart beyond what it could bear.
"This time, I won't make the same mistake," Shira vowed to himself. "Train scientifically and progress step by step. Since I have no talent for Ninjutsu, I'll follow the path of pure Taijutsu."
He recalled the Seven Heavens Breathing Method, the secret technique that used a special breathing method to increase the oxygen concentration in the blood, greatly enhancing physical ability.
Shira in the original story had taken several years to develop it, but he now had the sports science knowledge from his previous life as a foundation. Perhaps he could achieve a breakthrough sooner.
Early the next morning, Shira quietly got up before dawn. Avoiding the main streets, he made his way to a secluded patch of sand on the edge of the village. Several huge rocks formed a natural barrier there, making it an excellent place to train.
He started with a warm-up, then moved on to basic physical training. He carefully controlled the intensity; after all, this body was only six years old. But to his surprise, the child's physical condition was far better than that of his peers.
The hardships of desert life had forged a resilient body, and every breath carried the tenacity unique to Sunagakure.
"Huff... huff..." Shira adjusted the rhythm of his breathing, trying out the brief description of the Seven Heavens Breathing Method mentioned in the original story. But he soon grew dizzy and hurriedly stopped.
The technique absorbed large amounts of oxygen to increase lung capacity to four times its normal level, activating the entire body. Neji Hyuga had described it as "his very own Eight Gates Released Formation."
The Seven Heavens Breathing Method was regarded as Sunagakure's version of the Eight Gates Released Formation. Both increased combat power by drawing out the body's latent potential, but the former relied on a breathing method to regulate oxygen absorption, while the latter opened the gates that restricted Chakra.
"Too soon," Shira muttered to himself. "I need to build a solid foundation first."
The sun gradually climbed higher, and the desert temperature began to rise. Shira was soaked through, but he felt more exhilarated than ever.
In this world where Ninjutsu and Genjutsu reigned supreme, he might have found a path of his own.
"Who are you? Why are you training here?"
A faint voice came from behind the rocks. Shira turned warily and saw a red-haired child looking at him timidly.
The child had dark circles under his eyes, and his face seemed to bear traces of tears that had yet to dry.
His skin was pale, and his eyes were light green.
Gaara.
Shira's heart tightened. Gaara should have become Shukaku's Jinchūriki only recently. He was feared and shunned by the entire village, and even his own father had sent people to assassinate him.
"My name's Shira," he said, trying to make his voice sound friendly. "What about you?"
The red-haired child hesitated, then answered quietly, "My name is... Gaara."
Shira nodded, pretending not to know the significance behind the name. "Did you come here to train too?"
Gaara shook his head, then nodded. "I... have nowhere to go."
Shira remembered Gaara's lonely childhood in the original story, and his heart softened. They were both outcasts, one because of the monster inside him, the other because he lacked talent.
"Then do you want to train with me?" Shira regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Getting involved with Gaara was dangerous in Sunagakure, especially for a child like him who was already in a difficult position.
Oh no. If his dad finds out, it would be perfectly reasonable for me to disappear for no apparent reason one day.
But Gaara's eyes suddenly lit up with a rare radiance, like a flower suddenly blooming in the desert.
"Can I?" he asked quietly, his voice full of hope and uncertainty.
Shira smiled. "Emmm, of course. But I have to go home today. Tomorrow morning, at the same time, if you still want to come, I'll be here."
Gaara nodded vigorously, an expression resembling a smile appearing on his face for the first time.
On his way home, Shira's mind was full of thoughts. He had only planned to train alone, quietly grow stronger, and avoid attracting attention. But now, he seemed about to be drawn into a vortex...
When he got home, his mother told him, "Someone from the Ninja Academy came by just now. They said there's a special policy, and you can attend on a trial basis for a while."
Shira froze. This was different from the original story. The original Shira had never entered the Ninja Academy.
"Why?" he asked.
His mother hesitated. "They said... there might have been a mistake in the assessment, and they wanted to give you another chance."
But Shira could tell from his mother's shifty gaze that it wasn't that simple. He suddenly remembered meeting Gaara that morning, and the Anbu who might have been watching from a distance.
Perhaps his encounter with Gaara had been no accident. Perhaps someone wanted to see whether this child with little potential could become the Jinchūriki's first friend.
Shira looked out the window. Sunagakure glowed gold and red in the setting sun, beautiful and dangerous.
"Looking on the bright side, at least I wasn't unlucky enough to transmigrate to the Bloody Mist Village or one of those small countries. The former would be terrifying, and in the latter, if I were unlucky, I might end up as a speed bump in the great nations' struggle for interests."
"Luckily, luckily, it's Sunagakure. Even if it's a weakling among the great nations, it's still a great nation at least, right?" Shira thought optimistically.
He had a general idea of where this world was headed, but the path he was going to take was one most transmigrators had never imagined.