Naruto: Strogest taijutsu specialist

Shinji sat under the shade of a large tree, his sword resting on the ground beside him. His body still buzzed with energy, a stark contrast to the pain and exhaustion he'd felt mere moments ago. The boy who had been fighting alongside him—Kenji, if he remembered correctly—was pacing nearby, casting nervous glances in his direction.

"That was insane," Kenji finally said, breaking the tense silence. "You took them out like it was nothing. But… that wasn't you, Shinji. I've seen you fight before, and you're good, but not that good."

Shinji didn't answer immediately. He was too busy grappling with his own confusion. The fight had been a blur, his body moving on instinct, faster and stronger than he'd ever thought possible. And then there was the pain—the rocks tearing through him, the blood pouring from his wounds—followed by the inexplicable surge of power.

"I don't know what's happening," Shinji admitted, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I don't even know if I'm… me anymore."

Kenji stopped pacing and knelt in front of him, his expression softening. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you, but you saved my life back there. Whatever this is, we need it if we're going to survive."

Survive. The word sent a chill down Shinji's spine. He wasn't just in the world of Naruto—he was in the Third Great Ninja War, one of the bloodiest eras in shinobi history. If the fight with those Iwa-nin was any indication, his life was now a constant battle.

Kenji stood and stretched, his youthful energy seemingly unshaken despite the ordeal. "We should head back to camp. The others will want to know what happened."

"Camp?" Shinji asked, rising to his feet and sheathing his sword.

"Yeah. The rest of our squad is waiting there—if they haven't been wiped out yet."

---

The trek through the forest was tense, every shadow and sound putting Shinji on edge. His senses felt heightened, every detail sharper than it had been in his previous life. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, but there was an undercurrent of something metallic—blood, lingering in the aftermath of battles.

Kenji led the way, chatting nervously to fill the silence. Shinji only half-listened, his thoughts a chaotic mess.

He tried to piece together his situation. Somehow, he'd been reincarnated into the body of a shinobi named Shinji, complete with the memories of countless battles. But those memories felt distant, like watching a movie through a fogged window. The ability he'd discovered—the strange power boost after each fight—was completely foreign, even in the context of this world.

Was it some kind of kekkei genkai? A blessing? A curse?

His thoughts were interrupted when they arrived at a small clearing. A makeshift camp was set up, with a handful of injured shinobi resting against trees or tending to wounds.

"Kenji! You're alive!" a girl with short brown hair and a medic-nin armband ran toward them. Her relieved expression quickly turned to concern when she saw Shinji. "And Shinji? We thought you were dead!"

"He almost was," Kenji said, grinning. "But you wouldn't believe what happened out there. He—"

"Later," Shinji interrupted, his tone sharper than he intended. "Is everyone accounted for?"

The girl hesitated, her expression darkening. "Not everyone. We lost Daichi and Akiko in the last ambush."

Kenji's grin faded. He muttered a curse under his breath, slamming his fist against a tree.

Shinji felt a pang of guilt, even though he barely knew these people. Their pain was real, their loss tangible. He clenched his fists. If he was going to survive in this world, he needed to do more than fight—he needed to protect those around him.

---

That night, as the others slept, Shinji sat by the dying embers of the campfire, staring into the flames. His thoughts turned inward, replaying the events of the day.

I can't use ninjutsu or genjutsu, he thought, frustration bubbling to the surface. And yet, I've been given this power. Why?

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, the only thing that felt familiar in this alien world. If his power came from fighting, then he would fight. He would grow stronger, not just for himself, but for the people who were depending on him.

A soft rustle behind him broke his concentration. He turned to see Kenji approaching, carrying a small bundle of food.

"Couldn't sleep?" Kenji asked, sitting down beside him and handing him a piece of bread.

"Too much on my mind," Shinji admitted, taking the food but not eating it.

Kenji nodded, staring into the fire. "You know, I always thought you were weird. Quiet, strong, but… different. Now, after what I saw today, I think you're more than that."

Shinji looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"I think you're meant for something big," Kenji continued. "This war… this world… Maybe you're here to change it."

Shinji scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't know about that. Right now, I'm just trying to survive."

Kenji grinned. "Survival's a good start."

As the two sat in silence, watching the flames flicker and dance, Shinji made a silent vow. No matter what this world threw at him, no matter how many battles he had to endure, he would become stronger. Strong enough to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, he allowed himself a moment of peace.