“My name is Uchiha Shingen.”
“I am thirteen years old this year.”
“My dream is to live a long life, free from illness and disaster, and then peacefully pass away on some quiet morning or afternoon, without any pain.”
Konohagakure.
The outskirts of the Uchiha Clan compound.
Dressed in the uniform of the Konoha Military Police Force, Uchiha Shingen stood in the genkan.
He adjusted his appearance in the mirror, muttering fragments of thoughts to himself.
“My…”
“Pfft!”
“My Ninja Academy grades were less than ideal.”
“But that doesn’t matter.
After all, my last name is Uchiha!”
“Even with mediocre talent, it was easy to secure this cushy, lifelong position at the Konoha Military Police Force.”
“An official government job, room and board included, and the salary isn’t low either.
It’s basically being a Konoha civil servant.”
“In my past life, to land a job like this, you’d have to fight tooth and nail against thousands of competitors.”
“And the most infuriating part?
You’d grind until you coughed up blood, overwork yourself until you passed out, only to find out the position was practically tailor-made for a nepotism hire.
They might as well have put the guy’s ID number in the job requirements.”
“But what about now?”
“Now, the nepotism is tailor-made for me?!”
“Well, that’s perfectly fine then.”
“As everyone knows, the Konoha Military Police Force operates on three core principles: fairness, fairness, and more fairness!”
“I landed this job entirely on my own merit, okay?”
“If you couldn’t get hired, you should really take a hard look at yourself.”
“This society is a beautiful place.
It’s not as dark as you think.
Everyone just has their own lives to live…”
“…”
Uchiha Shingen was not originally from this world.
Half a year ago.
A rainy night, an overpass, and definitely no luxury sports cars.
A runaway truck with its high beams blindingly bright had sent Uchiha Shingen straight into the shinobi world.
Initially, Shingen had been somewhat anxious about his situation.
After all, this was a world of extraordinary powers.
Mighty shinobi could soar through the skies and tunnel through the earth, slaughtering lives like cutting grass.
The lives of ordinary people were thinner than paper.
But soon enough, after analyzing his current reality, Shingen quickly calmed down.
He even felt a bit fortunate.
One part of that, naturally, was due to his surname: Uchiha.
Shingen was completely unfamiliar with the original plot of this world.
He had only casually heard his friends throw around joke titles like “The Legend of the Magic Eyes,” “The Otsutsuki Family Feud,” or “Black Zetsu’s Quest to Save His Mom.”
He had no idea what those last two meant for now, but when it came to “The Legend of the Magic Eyes,” he had plenty to say.
The Uchiha was a great clan in Konoha, and their pride and joy, their Kekkei Genkai, was the Sharingan.
Granted, the Uchiha clan of the past had made their fair share of mistakes.
For example, their former clan head, Uchiha Madara, had indirectly caused the death of the First Hokage.
And the clan elder, Uchiha Setsuna, had secretly plotted a coup d’état to assassinate the Konoha higher-ups.
Even after Setsuna was thrown into prison, his followers still occasionally clamored for a coup from within the clan.
But ultimately, that was all in the past.
The constant, unending wars had left Konoha exhausted.
Even knowing the dangers the Uchiha posed, the village had no choice but to rely on them.
With the Third Hokage in power, the current head of the Uchiha clan, Uchiha Fugaku, also held significant authority.
These two quintessential dove-faction leaders had a tacit understanding to begin easing the friction.
The conflict between Konoha and the Uchiha clan was slowly fading away.
Everything was developing in a positive direction!
What did this mean?
The future belonged to the Uchiha!
Shingen firmly believed that, barring any unforeseen accidents, in a few years—or a decade at most—both sides would highly likely achieve true mutual understanding.
And he had caught this early train at exactly the right time.
If he kept his head down and did his job quietly at the Police Force, even if he didn’t experience a meteoric rise to power, he would at least never have to worry about food or shelter.
He wouldn’t need to work himself to the bone on deadly missions like other shinobi, nor would he have to suffer through Konoha’s layers of exploitation.
We all have a bright future ahead!
Beep!
Beep!
Beep!
The alarm clock rang out with a frantic urgency.
Shingen turned his head, realizing it was already 7:45 AM.
He hurriedly tied on his forehead protector, rushed out the door, and headed straight for the Konoha Military Police Force precinct.
8:00 AM sharp.
Shingen arrived at the entrance of the Konoha Military Police Force.
He lowered his head and glanced at his watch.
Click!
The hour hand rested perfectly on the eight o’clock mark.
A translucent pop-up window materialized in Shingen’s line of sight:
[Today’s Check-In Complete!]
[Cumulative Check-Ins: 7 Days.
Attribute Point +1]
This was the other part of his fortunate situation.
He had a cheat code…
This sudden pop-up was precisely Uchiha Shingen’s “golden finger”—his cheat system.
He called it the Check-In Machine.
As long as he clocked in at the precinct entrance every morning at 8:00 AM for seven consecutive days without interruption, he would receive 1 Attribute Point.
These Attribute Points could be used to enhance his personal abilities, including his Kekkei Genkai.
Naturally, the more powerful the ability and the higher its level, the more points it required.
In other words, the longer he checked in, the stronger he became.
Once he fully understood his identity and the functions of his cheat, Shingen decided to just coast through life.
He had an official government job, and he got stronger just by clocking in.
With conditions like these, who in their right mind would live on the edge of a blade, scraping by for survival like those other shinobi?
Keep that nonsense away from me, alright?!
I, Uchiha Shingen, will dedicate my talents to the Konoha Military Police Force!
“Is it really another full seven days?”
Noticing the pop-up’s content, a gleam of joy flashed in Shingen’s eyes.
He immediately summoned his status panel:
[Uchiha Shingen]
[Rank: Chunin]
[Position: Captain of the 3rd Squad, South District 4, Konoha Military Police Force]
[Abilities:
— Chakra: Level 4
— Kekkei Genkai: Sharingan (Two Tomoe) – Level 4
— Fire Release Mastery: Level 3 (+)
— Taijutsu Mastery: Level 2 (+)
— Genjutsu Mastery: Level 2 (+)
— Shurikenjutsu Mastery: Level 1 (+)]
[Ninjutsu: Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique, Fire Release: Phoenix Sage Fire Nail Crimson, Body Flicker Technique…]
[Evaluation – B+: Outstanding among Chunin, an elite of the Konoha Military Police Force.]
[Remaining Attribute Points: 3]
…
“Still not enough?!”
Shingen was slightly taken aback.
On the panel, some abilities had a ‘+’ sign next to them.
This indicated that he had enough remaining Attribute Points to level up those specific skills.
At the moment, what Shingen wanted to upgrade the most was, undoubtedly, his Chakra or his Sharingan.
After all, according to the elders in the clan…
…battles between shinobi were, in most cases, battles of chakra.
The side with the larger chakra reserves held a massive advantage.
As for the latter, it was the very foundation of the Uchiha clan.
Any shinobi within the clan who awakened the three-tomoe Sharingan practically became a Konoha Jonin by default.
Its value went without saying.
Unfortunately, leveling up either of those two abilities required far more Attribute Points than Shingen had anticipated.
After a brief calculation, Shingen abandoned the idea of spending his points on other abilities.
After all, anyone who had ever played a video game knew the golden rule.
It was incredibly unwise to waste precious resources on skills that could just be grinded out with a little time and effort.
Conversely, things like Chakra and a Kekkei Genkai—abilities of immense value that were incredibly difficult to improve through conventional means—were the only things truly worth investing in.
He closed the panel.
Shingen grabbed an onigiri delivered by the precinct cafeteria, took a massive bite, and lowered his head to flip through the patrol logs left by the night shift squad.
Coasting through life was one thing, but he still had to do his actual job.
Shingen’s squad was primarily responsible for patrolling Konoha’s South District 4 between 9:00 AM and 5:00 PM, as well as handling any sudden emergencies.
His team members gradually arrived.
With some free time left before the official shift handover, the group gathered around to chat.
“Did you guys hear?!”
“A rookie joined the Police Force yesterday.
The Clan Head assigned him to our squad.
They say it’s for ‘experience,’ but honestly, it’s probably just to pad his resume.”
“You’re talking about Shisui, right?!”
“That kid is a famous genius.
The Third Hokage even made an exception to let him directly join the Anbu Black Ops under his direct command.”
“Rumor has it that Shisui could have graduated from the Ninja Academy ages ago, but he chose to stay in school for two extra years just to complete the Will of Fire curriculum.”
“Is that stuff even meant for humans to study?
Do you know how far it’s deviated from the original version compiled by Lord First?”
“Tch.”
“Still, don’t let Shisui’s age fool you.
His strength is terrifying.
An ordinary Chunin probably wouldn’t stand a chance against him.”
“Now that is what an Uchiha should look like!”
…
In the precinct lobby.
Leaning against the wall, Shingen listened to his colleagues’ gossip.
He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of curiosity about this boy named Shisui.
A young genius carrying the weight of his clan’s name, thrust into the middle of a hot-blooded shonen world…
That was a textbook protagonist template right there!
Even if a guy like that wasn’t the main character, he was absolutely a crucial supporting character who was guaranteed to survive until the grand finale.
Surely no manga author would kill off a character like that early on—and there was no way I’d be unlucky enough to run right into him if they did, right?!
A person can’t—or at least, absolutely shouldn’t—be that damn unlucky.