Konoha, Year 9.
The Senju compound in Konohagakure, Land of Fire, was packed with people.
Everyone’s eyes were fixed on one particular room, their faces tight with nerves.
Not that anyone could blame them.
The daughter-in-law of the First Hokage, the God of Shinobi himself, was giving birth.
In other words, the next heir of the Senju Clan was about to be born.
Among the crowd gathered outside, two red-haired figures stood out the most.
One was a woman who looked to be in her early twenties.
Her long red hair was pinned up neatly, held in place by a hairpin engraved with the Uzumaki clan crest.
A diamond-shaped mark rested in the center of her forehead.
The other was a little brat around five years old.
He had red hair as well, along with three claw-like scars over his left eye.
The boy paced back and forth outside the door, clutching the hem of his clothes so tightly his knuckles were turning white.
Every few steps, he would stop and glance toward the room.
“Shanks, stop walking in circles.
You’re making me dizzy.
Anyone who didn’t know better would think you were the one giving birth.
Even Mokuma isn’t as nervous as you.”
A long-haired middle-aged man crouched down and ruffled the boy’s hair, clearly enjoying himself.
“That’s your granddaughter and my niece!
How am I supposed to not be nervous?” the boy snapped.
“And stop rubbing my hair!
What if I start going bald?”
He jumped up and kicked the man in the knee.
The middle-aged man laughed instead of getting angry.
“All right, Hashirama, stop teasing Shanks.” The red-haired beauty gave the man a sidelong look, though her lips were also curled in amusement.
“You’re a grown man, yet you still act like a child.
If our Shanks goes bald and can’t find a wife in the future, I’m holding you responsible.”
“Auntie!
Are you helping me or not?”
The boy’s mouth twitched.
“All right, enough,” the white-haired middle-aged man beside Hashirama said with a helpless sigh.
“I can hear the baby crying.
They should be coming out soon.”
Sure enough, the cries from inside the room grew louder.
Hashirama immediately planted his hands on his hips and threw his head back in laughter.
“Hahaha!
My successor in the art of gambling has arrived!”
He stood there as if as if he owned the world.
“You lost to me all night yesterday and you still have the nerve to say that?” the red-haired boy shot back without hesitation.
“Shameless.”
“That’s enough.
They’re coming out.
Let’s go see Mie and the child.”
The red-haired woman rubbed the boy’s head, then entered the room first.
The others quickly followed.
“I already told you not to rub my head,” the boy muttered behind them.
“Seriously…”
My name is Uzumaki Shanks.
But originally, I wasn’t from this world.
About three years ago, I was still an ordinary person living an ordinary life.
Wake up, go to work, clock out, go home.
Repeat.
Then one day, heaven finally heard the cry of my soul.
I woke up and found that I was no longer ordinary.
Because I had turned into a two-year-old toddler.
At first, I thought I had been reborn into my own childhood.
Then I looked in a mirror.
Red hair.
Three scars over the left eye.
A toddler version of one of the Four Emperors?
As a One Piece fan, there was no way I wouldn’t recognize that image.
Red-Haired Shanks, the man who had developed the “Face-Face Fruit” to its absolute peak.
For a while, I was thrilled.
Then my dream shattered.
Because I saw that man.
Long black hair.
Dice in his hand.
And his name was Senju Hashirama.
What the hell?
Did I land in the wrong series?
The red-haired woman holding me back then had called me Shanks, hadn’t she?
Only later did I learn the truth.
I really was called Shanks, but my full name was Uzumaki Shanks.
The red-haired woman who had carried me was my aunt, Uzumaki Mito, wife of the First Hokage, the God of Shinobi.
Strictly speaking, based on age, I should probably have been in her grandchildren’s generation.
Unfortunately, my great father had chosen to respond early to the great policy of marrying late and having children late.
After I was born, he took our family on a journey to pursue the noble art of painting.
Halfway through, some wandering shinobi discovered that we were members of the Uzumaki Clan.
And that was that.
In this era, members of the Uzumaki Clan were valuable.
Ridiculously valuable.
Special physiques, powerful vitality, and sealing techniques capable of suppressing tailed beasts.
To certain people, we were practically walking treasures.
Those wandering shinobi followed us all the way to a deserted forest somewhere in the Land of Fire, and then the battle began.
My mother stayed behind to hold them off so my father and I could escape.
She went to meet the Sage of Six Paths first.
My father, badly wounded, carried me away and eventually found his elder sister, Uzumaki Mito.
But his injuries were too severe.
Not long after, my dear artist father also went to report to the Sage of Six Paths.
The scars over my left eye came from that time, left by a wandering shinobi with a black beard.
And today was the day my little niece was born.
The future legendary healer, Senju Tsunade.
To be honest, when I watched Naruto in my previous life, I had always liked Tsunade.
Absolutely not because of her figure.
Although, yes, I may have seen a few questionable fanbooks about her…
What I admired was her personality.
Bold, straightforward, careless about the little things, and probably responsible for feeding half the gamblers in the Land of Fire.
A true representative of the classic anime tomboy heroine..
“Shanks, what are you spacing out for?” Hashirama came over again and ruffled his hair.
“Weren’t you the one getting nervous just now?”
“You annoying old man,” Shanks said, giving up on resistance.
“If you keep rubbing my hair, I won’t gamble with you anymore.”
Hashirama froze.
Shanks walked to the bedside and looked at the baby.
“Whoa.
Why is she so ugly?
Aren’t babies supposed to be cute?”
The newborn’s skin was wrinkled, and she looked more like a tiny monkey than a cute little baby.
“Newborn babies are all like this,” Mito said, giving Shanks’s hair another casual rub.
“You were the same when you were born.
She’ll look better in a few days.”
My beautiful hair…
Please hang in there.
I don’t want to become the Bald Vulture of Konoha.
Seeing that little Tsunade and Mie had both fallen asleep, everyone quietly left the room.
Outside, the Second Hokage, Senju Tobirama, stood with an expressionless face, receiving guests and collecting gifts one by one.
Shanks’s mouth twitched.
He walked over.
“Second Uncle, can’t you smile a little?
They’re here to give gifts, not poison.”
Tobirama lightly smacked the little brat on the head.
“Second Uncle?
Is that really what you should be calling me?
Your aunt is my sister-in-law.”
“Then what am I supposed to call you?” Shanks asked seriously.
“Second Maternal Uncle?
Second Brother?”
He genuinely had no idea what the proper way to address Senju Tobirama was.
“Go play somewhere else.
Can’t you see I’m receiving guests?”
Even Tobirama was left speechless by him.
“Then give me the scroll for the Flying Thunder God Technique.
I’ll go draw circles by myself.”
Shanks silently gave himself a thumbs-up.
He had been eyeing the Flying Thunder God Technique for ages.
Flying Thunder God!
A divine technique for murder, arson, framing people, escaping disasters, and even family travel.
For the past half year, Shanks had tried everything.
Crying, making a scene, pretending to hang himself—every trick in the book.
But Tobirama refused to give in.
He wouldn’t even hand it over when his own elder brother asked for it.
There was no helping it.
That technique was far too dangerous.
It connected ninjutsu to space itself.
If the user made even the slightest mistake, they could be swept into chaotic space and never come back.
Tobirama would never dare give such a thing to this little troublemaker.
If something happened, his sister-in-law might really summon the Shinigami on him.
“That technique is too dangerous,” Tobirama said.
“I already promised you.
Once your ninjutsu reaches jōnin level, I’ll teach you the Flying Thunder God.”
“Tch.
So I have to wait until all nine planets align?” Shanks curled his lip.
“That only happens once every few thousand years.
By the next time, even the Sage of Six Paths might have crawled out of his grave.”
Shanks had serious doubts about that excuse.
For some reason, he had been born with clumsy hands.
His left hand was still manageable, but his right hand was a disaster.
When forming hand seals, his right hand moved five times slower than his left, and about ten times slower than a normal person’s.
Basically, it took him two or three seconds just to form one seal.
Was it because he had overused it in his previous life?
Wasn’t that supposed to give someone a legendary right arm?
How did it turn into a useless hand instead?
Damn it.
Even Senju Tobirama, the greatest genius of the past hundred years, had no solution for this.
He could only tell Shanks to slowly practice one-handed seals with his left hand.
There was no helping it.
Shanks’s chakra reserves were ridiculous.
Compared to a Senju of the same age, he was probably only missing the tiniest bit.
On top of that, his chakra nature was a pure, single water affinity.
He was practically the perfect successor prepared specifically for Tobirama.
Unfortunately, whenever heaven closed a titanium-alloy security door, it at least opened a window somewhere.
Hand seals were hopeless.
One-handed seals were too difficult for now.
But Shanks’s chakra control and taijutsu talent were nothing short of monstrous.
Hashirama had taught him the principles of chakra-enhanced strength.
Shanks listened to the explanation once, watched one demonstration, and learned it.
Tobirama’s Konoha-Style swordsmanship was the same.
Recently, Shanks had also started sensing something strange.
Sometimes, he could predict the flight path of birds in the sky.
Sometimes, when he gambled with Hashirama, the dice would still be spinning in the cup, but he could already feel their trajectory and know what number they would land on.
Shanks suspected that he might be awakening Observation Haki.
But…
This was Naruto, damn it!
Did I really transmigrate into the wrong world?
Was I supposed to go to the One Piece world and become the father of the Four Emperors, only for the transmigration machine to run out of funds halfway through?
“All right, Shanks,” Mito said, coming over and rubbing his hair again.
“If ninjutsu doesn’t work, you can learn the sealing techniques of our Uzumaki Clan instead.”
My beautiful hair…
You must survive.
“Auntie, please.
Sealing techniques need hand seals too, okay?”
Shanks looked up at the sky.
Was there even one normal person in this family?
“Your taijutsu talent is terrifying anyway,” Hashirama said, wandering over to tease him again.
“Worst case, you can just rely on chakra-enhanced strength and swordsmanship in the future.
Imagine it.
One day, even the Nine-Tails might be punched so hard by you that it spits milk.
What a beautiful scene.”
Inside Mito’s seal, the Nine-Tails rolled its eyes.
If you weren’t still alive, I would punch your granddaughter until she spat milk right now.
Mito sensed the Nine-Tails’ reaction and gave Hashirama a sharp look.
Other than Hashirama, no one dared joke about the Nine-Tails in front of the Nine-Tails.
Of course, Uchiha Madara never joked at all.
Shanks looked up at the sky.
Then looked up again.
Then kept looking up.
He began seriously considering whether he should draw a few embarrassing fanbooks about Hashirama’s granddaughter in the future.
After all, he was the son of a great artist from the Land of Whirlpools.
His artistic talent for drawing questionable little books had been inherited perfectly.
Was Hashirama scared yet?
Still, the old fool did have a point.
In the world of One Piece, apart from the legendary Face-Face Fruit, what was Shanks best known for?
Haki.
And after that, swordsmanship.
How many people in the One Piece world had sword skills strong enough that even Mihawk would keep comparing himself to them?
If Observation Haki was already close to awakening, then what about Armament Haki later?
And Conqueror’s Haki?
Armament Haki combined with chakra-enhanced strength…
The image was starting to get a little too ridiculous.