Naruto: I wake up as a uchiha during the massicar

Chapter 3: Shadows of the Past

Flashback

The faint hum of cicadas filled the warm summer air. In a modest little apartment, a small boy no older than five sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by colorful toy cars and action figures. His dark, round eyes sparkled with innocence as he pushed a red toy truck along an invisible road he'd drawn with chalk on the wooden floorboards.

The boy, Haru, wore a faded yellow t-shirt, a little too big for his small frame, and his jet-black hair was slightly messy. He didn't mind. He was too engrossed in his imaginative play until the sound of approaching footsteps pulled him from his world of make-believe.

"Haru, I'm back," came a gentle voice.

Haru looked up, his face lighting up with excitement. The man standing in the doorway was in his late twenties, with soft brown eyes and a warm smile. His casual attire—a white button-up shirt and dark jeans—made him look approachable, but there was an undeniable aura of resilience about him.

"Uncle Sai!" Haru exclaimed, his high-pitched voice echoing in the small room. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the man, wrapping his tiny arms around his leg.

Sai chuckled, placing a hand on the boy's head and ruffling his hair. "Did you miss me, little Haru?"

Haru nodded eagerly. "A lot! Where did you go?"

Sai crouched down to meet the boy at eye level, his smile softening. "I went to meet with the publishers. I showed them my manga."

Haru tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "What did they say?"

The smile faltered for a brief moment, but Sai quickly masked it. "They said it wasn't good enough." His tone was light, as if it didn't bother him, but the slight droop in his shoulders didn't escape Haru's notice.

Haru frowned. "But your manga is the best, Uncle Sai! I don't know why they'd say that!"

Sai's expression softened, and he pulled Haru into a hug. "You're too kind. You really think so?"

Haru nodded firmly, his eyes sparkling with conviction. "Yes! I want to be like you and make the best manga ever!"

Sai pulled back, chuckling. "You're quite determined, aren't you? Do you want me to teach you how to draw manga?"

The boy's face lit up like fireworks. "Really?! Yes! Yes!"

Sai laughed at the boy's enthusiasm. He retrieved a notebook, pencils, and a set of colored markers from his bag. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he gestured for Haru to sit beside him.

"Now, the first thing you need is creativity," Sai began, sketching as he spoke. "With creativity and imagination, you can create characters that feel alive. But to bring them to life on paper, you need to learn shapes, proportions, and details."

Haru watched in awe as Sai's pencil danced across the page, forming the outline of a character. He wasn't just drawing—he was breathing life into the figure.

"But remember," Sai continued, his tone taking on a more serious note, "a character isn't much without a good story. A story gives the character purpose. It's what makes them meaningful and relatable."

Haru's small hands clutched the edge of his shirt as he listened intently, absorbing every word like a sponge.

"And finally," Sai said, holding up the nearly finished drawing, "the most important thing an artist needs is time. With time, you can refine your skills, add depth to your characters, and craft a story that truly resonates."

He handed the drawing to Haru, who took it with reverence. It was a hero, clad in sleek armor with intricate designs—a character full of strength and hope.

"But, Uncle Sai," Haru asked hesitantly, "why can't we have more time?"

Sai paused, his gaze distant for a moment. Then he smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Because time is the one thing we can never control, little Haru."

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Present Day

Haruto jolted awake, his heart pounding as the remnants of his dream faded. His chest heaved, and a cold sweat clung to his skin. He sat up abruptly, his eyes scanning his surroundings.

The room was dimly lit, illuminated by a single lantern hanging from the wooden ceiling. The tatami mats beneath him creaked as he shifted. It was an old Japanese-style house, modest but cozy.

His ninja gear was gone, replaced by simple bandages wrapped around his torso and arm. Relief washed over him when he saw his new mechanical arm still intact.

He rubbed his face, his mind still clouded by the vivid memory of his past life. "Uncle Sai…" he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with sadness.

Before he could process his thoughts, the door slid open with a soft creak. An old man stepped inside, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of soup. The man's weathered face and kind eyes reminded Haruto of Grandpa Gohan from his past life.

"So, you're finally awake," the old man said, his voice calm and steady.

Haruto tensed, instinctively slipping into a taijutsu stance despite the soreness in his body. His eyes narrowed, studying the stranger.

The old man chuckled softly. "No need to be so wary, young man. If I wanted to harm you, I would've done it while you were unconscious."

Haruto didn't relax. His gaze remained fixed on the man as he slowly moved to a corner of the room.

The old man sighed, setting the tray down on the low table. "You were nearly dead when I found you. If not for my daughter's insistence, I would've left you to the river. Most people don't want to get involved with shinobi—too dangerous."

Haruto's stance wavered slightly, his mind racing. "Your daughter?"

The man nodded. "She saw you drifting down the river, barely clinging to life. I couldn't say no to her pleading. So here you are, alive and in my home."

"Where am I?" Haruto finally asked, his voice cautious.

"The Land of Rivers," the old man replied. "A small village, far from any major battles. You'll be safe here for now."

Haruto's shoulders relaxed marginally, though he remained wary. The Land of Rivers—a neutral territory nestled between the Land of Fire and the Land of Wind. He recalled from both his memories and the Naruto lore that it was a quiet region, often overlooked in the grand conflicts of the ninja world.

As he sat back down, his thoughts drifted to the ROOT agents and the danger that still loomed over him. He wasn't out of the woods yet—figuratively or literally.

For now, he decided, he would rest and recover. But he couldn't stay here long. The Land of Rivers might be neutral, but Danzo's reach was vast.

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To be continued…