Konoha cat Breeder

Chapter 1: The Purest Malice from the World!

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Dark clouds covered the city, as if announcing the arrival of something ominous. The air was filled with thick moisture, heavy enough to make it difficult for people to breathe.

"Uh..." A young man lying on the ground rubbed his head gently, opened his confused eyes, and raised his head with effort.

As his consciousness slowly returned, three questions unconsciously popped up in his mind:

Who am I?  

Where am I?  

What am I doing?

Memory fragments flooded the boy's mind like a tide. To dispel the severe pain throbbing in his head, he slammed it back against the ground, the pain providing a brief distraction.

His pale lips and the blood flowing from his bitten teeth created a stark contrast against his gaunt features.

Slowly, two distinctly different memories began to reorganize in his mind: one, a lengthy and complicated memory of a young man in his twenties; the other, the simple recollections of a child no older than ten, perfectly mirroring his current state.

The two memories overlapped, making it difficult for the boy to ascertain which one represented his true self.

"My name is... Sheren? Or... Tonari?" he muttered.

After a long moment, he held his head with his mottled hands, and a hoarse voice struggled to escape his lips.

While the pain in his head began to dissipate, the pain in his body intensified, raging through him like waves, especially in his abdomen. He forced his eyes open, which had been shut due to the severity of the pain.

Focusing on the most agonizing part of his body, he slowly lifted the coarse linen shirt covering his belly.

"This is..."

His small, delicate abdomen was dry and yellow, ribs protruding starkly, a far cry from what a normal growing child should have. What surprised Tonari most was the series of symbols inscribed on his stomach, the word "封"—meaning "seal"—standing out prominently.

Surrounding that character was a circle of tiny, strange, tadpole-like symbols.

"Seal?!" Tonari felt a flicker of uncertainty.

At that moment, the only word that persisted in his mind was this one.

Suddenly, he jerked his head up.

The sudden movement sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through him, and for a moment, everything went dark.

After an intense struggle, his vision returned to normal, and he began to assess his surroundings. The space was a shabby and simple house; the only furniture was a bed constructed of weeds and rags.

On such a war-torn era, having a house to shelter from the elements was a rarity, and the emptiness of the space was disturbing.

Except for one startling detail.

An old man lay in a pool of blood by the door, his status uncertain—alive or dead. Though he was only a short distance away, he had not been within Tonari's line of sight moments prior.

The old man's hand, stained crimson, pointed toward Tonari, his eyes still open, staring intently at him, creating a chilling scene.

But what truly caught Tonari's attention was something on the old man's forehead: a forehead protector!

"Ninja!!" The word slipped from Tonari's lips, a reflex born from some deep-seated memory.

A cloud-like symbol was emblazoned on the forehead protector.

"Cloud Ninja!!" came the echo from the memories of the young man in his twenties.

This symbol represented the Hidden Cloud Village!

Tonari was suddenly engulfed by a bewildering mix of familiarity and confusion about his surroundings.

Another memory played out in his mind, taking him back half an hour prior.

Tonari, who had been sleeping on the only bed in the simple wooden house, heard the cries of a little girl and her parents comforting her from the next room. He recognized this sound—it belonged to a family living next door, their daughter barely two years old.

In times of war, was such a thing fortunate or unfortunate?

The crying eventually ceased.

Just as Tonari was about to succumb to hunger and drift off to sleep, his dilapidated wooden door was forcefully kicked in.

Then an old man, bloodied and battered, appeared in his view, clutching the doorframe for support.

Upon seeing the old man, Tonari felt an overwhelming sense of dread wash over him, as if he could not draw breath, his face flushing, suffocating him.

The old man scrutinized him closely, as though examining an object, a vessel, or maybe... a container?

Clutching his right chest with his left hand, blood spurted from beneath his fingers relentlessly, staining his clothes—a combat uniform of sorts, thin and tattered.

"Swallowing your pride, eh, Onoki, known as 'Two Scales?' The kekkai genkai dust style jutsu is still terrifying. If it weren't for the Two-Tails' vitality, I wouldn't have even made it back here...

But this is my limit. The Anbu retreated to protect me; they likely won't return."

His voice ebbed, sounding as though he were either explaining something to Tonari or delving into his own confused thoughts, possibly disoriented from blood loss.

"This place is a wreck. There's neither an infant nor an eight- or nine-year-old. No choices left!"

A painful, hoarse whisper escaped the old man, accompanied by another spurt of blood.

Tonari sensed an intricate web of emotions in those words but was too young to grasp their complexities.

"Forget it, there's nothing I can do. The older the vessel, the better it withstands damage. You cannot vanish with me, as the village's ultimate weapon. I hope this child can hold on until the Anbu arrive..." The old man's words felt like a final whisper, slipping into silence.

Tonari felt his body losing control!

With surprising strength for a dying man, the old man grabbed Tonari, yanked open his coarse linen shirt, exposing his emaciated belly.

A fleeting trace of pity flickered in the old man's eyes but was quickly replaced by grim resolution.

Releasing his grip on his chest, blood mingled from his wound, drawing strange symbols across Tonari's stomach.

With the final strokes, blue flames erupted from the old man's frame, enveloping him.

"Puff—"

A mouthful of blood erupted from the old man's mouth, splattering across Tonari's face, hot against his skin.

"Two Tails! Do you wish to leave with me?

Though you can be resurrected, can you endure three years in silence?! Lend me a little more strength in these final moments!!!"

As he shouted, the light-blue flames enveloping the old man began to diminish, drawing inward toward him.

Tonari couldn't witness the entirety of the scene but vaguely saw a similar symbol emblazoned on the old man's belly.

With pain, the old man pulled a creature that resembled a small blue beast, a curious mix between a cat and a tiger, from the symbol on his stomach.

He pressed it into Tonari's abdomen, the old man's strength surging one last time.

"Seal!" His left hand pressed down on Tonari's belly, while he raised his right hand like a sword, uttering those final words.

Bang——

The very moment he finished speaking, the old man collapsed to the ground.

Feeling as though his body was ablaze, Tonari writhed from the mixture of scorching pain, twisting and struggling, until at last, he lay motionless.

...

Time passed.

Half an hour later, Tonari woke up, an incredulous expression etched across his features. He touched the tattoo-like seal on his belly, the remnants of the old man's actions flooding into awareness.

He grasped the terrifying implications: he had not only landed in the chaotic world of Naruto but had inexplicably become a "glorious" vessel for a tailed beast!

The Two-Tails?

He was now the Two-Tailed Jinchūriki?!

Suddenly, the reality flooded him with the world's malice.

As the memories coalesced, merging seamlessly, the distinction between past identities evaporated. He now understood he was Tonari.

Memories of the Naruto world surged back—Matatabi, the Two-Tails, a living weapon for the Hidden Cloud Village. Oddly, in all his recollections, the Jinchūriki had always been a woman, not this old man.

"Is this the most chaotic time, during the First or Second Shinobi World War? Is this truly the darkest and bloodiest era?" Tonari pondered, a headache carving into his skull.

Logically, one would presume that becoming a Jinchūriki afforded a person a good status within the village.

However, the reality was clear; the old man had meant Tonari to be a transient vessel, ensuring the Two-Tails would not perish alongside him.

One push of fate had sealed Tonari from Earth into this boy's body…

And yet, he was now a Jinchūriki.

"Life in the Land of Lightning is not as comfortable as in the Land of Fire, but it is still a good place. The Land of Lightning wasn't a battlefield during the Second or Third World Wars," Tonari reassured himself, hoping for warmth amidst the chaos.

Despite the harsh realities, the Land of Lightning boasted strong combat prowess. In fact, the Cloud Village revered strength; possessing power dictated one's place in the community—exemplified by the future Eight-Tails Jinchūriki, Killer Bee.

Just as Tonari contemplated navigating his new life's complexities, a sudden clattering disrupted the silence of his thoughts.

A unique shackle within his mind crumbled, releasing fragments of pent-up memories. This one had eluded him during his earlier recollections.

His expression faltered—pale, beads of cold sweat mounted on his forehead, fear enveloping him.

He saw the figure he least wished to confront: a man with a fork-shaped scar on his chin and a hollow gaze.

Tonari's tongue went taut, fingers scrambling frantically as he strained to see the markings etched upon it. Though his vision was clouded, some words remained visible.

"The seal to eradicate the evil of the tongue!"

Tonari murmured, dread suffusing his being.

Bang——

He collapsed to the ground.

With dried blood staining the floor, Tonari felt the blatant malice of the Naruto world crashing down upon him once more.

What was originally a bewildering burden—becoming the Two-Tails Jinchūriki—transformed into a horror he dared not accept. With the Two-Tails granting him an additional layer of protection, he hoped to survive. However, the insidious presence of the Root's cursed mark cast a heavy shadow over his fate.

Having advanced through history only to find no means of survival seemed like nothing short of a cruel cosmic jest.

After half an hour of silent contemplation on the cold ground, Tonari's thoughts spiraled deeper into uncertainty.

"Nevermind! We need to get out of here!" He staggered to his feet, the numbing sensation in his legs a disquieting reminder of the urgency at hand.

"Should the Kumo Ninja discover their new Two-Tails Jinchūriki was a spy from Konoha, they would tear the beast from my body and torture me for the information!"

As he pushed through the door, the moon hung bright in the sky, identical to the one he knew from Earth.

"I can't go back..." The visages of lost comrades swirled in his mind.

He stifled the inappropriate emotions clawing at him, a cold wind brushing against him, sending a jolt through his spine. The beads of sweat on his back and forehead turned icy as he tightened his coarse linen shirt.

"No, we can't leave like this! Or we'll be in grave danger!"

Perhaps it was the chill of the wind that snapped his mind back into clarity.

A miserable existence was preferable to death. As long as he could endure, surrendering to fate wasn't an option.

Steeling himself, Tonari rushed back into the house, throwing himself upon the old man's lifeless body and desperately searching his belongings.

The old man was cold now, but Tonari's pursuit of valuables remained unyielding.

Soon, he'd gathered up everything of worth—an essential ninja tool bag, which might be small in capacity but was a necessary asset for any ninja.

The first item he retrieved from the bag was three shiny black kunai, which reassured him slightly. Even as a battlefield doctor, his own combat experience, albeit limited, began to awaken within him.

He quickly noticed five small, sharp shurikens. Among the remaining contents were three pieces of seemingly ghostly paper; he recognized one to be labeled "explosion"—a detonating tag popular in the ninja world.

Yet, even Tonari, untrained in ninjutsu and still lacking chakra, was uncertain how to utilize it.

At the furthest reach, he uncovered what he needed most: two banknotes worth one thousand taels and a small bag filled with… a repulsive, yellowish substance.

Three colour pill!

These were his lifelines.

Ignoring the foul smell rising from the bag, he hastily swallowed one of the pills, the bitter taste overwhelming his taste buds as he fought to keep it down.

The taste was akin to something even more distasteful, perhaps reminiscent of something far worse...

Within the tiny sack lay a few military-grade pills, each one crucial to Tonari's survival.

Though they tasted revolting, their efficacy was undeniable. Moments after ingestion, warmth blossomed within him, spreading to his limbs, providing strength just when he needed it most.

Tonari rose to his knees, the pulse of energy helping him slowly stand. The true malice of this world awaited him, demanding confrontation.

He turned to leave, the Cloud Ninja's forehead protector gripped tightly in hand, while behind him, the old man's dilapidated house succumbed to flames—symbolizing both his former self and his past life.

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