Year 49 of Konoha.
Kiyohara’s expression wasn’t looking too good.
He was probably going to die.
He looked over the mission request slip in his hands again and again—no matter how he examined it, the content was to reinforce Team Minato, at none other than Kannabi Bridge!
He was actually a transmigrant.
Ever since awakening his past-life memories upon arriving in this world, Kiyohara had been carefully lying low, hoping to live as long as possible.
He never expected to receive this “certain death” mission.
How was he supposed to complete the mission on this battlefield where all things thrived with fierce vitality?
The Battle of Kannabi Bridge was, for him, a dead end with no way out.
From start to finish, this mission reeked of something off.
The opposing lineup was three battle-hardened elite Jonin, one of whom—the Iwagakure Jonin Kakkō—was hailed as one of the finest and strongest of his kind.
Konoha’s side consisted of one newly promoted Jonin, Kakashi, alongside the Chunin Rin Nohara and Obito.
During this operation, Minato Namikaze would need to head to the frontline for support—meaning that afterward, it would be one Jonin and two Chunin versus three elite Jonin.
This…
was that reasonable?
Even if Kiyohara went, he’d just be one more piece of cannon fodder.
Kakashi, who had developed an S-rank Lightning Release ninjutsu at the age of twelve, couldn’t even grasp the depths of this situation.
And right now, he was merely a Genin.
As everyone knew, the gap between one person and another could sometimes be greater than the gap between a person and a dog.
Some Genin, just from the shockwaves of their battles, could shatter the Valley of the End.
And other Genin, like him, were nothing but cannon fodder sent to fill the lines on the battlefield.
“What’s wrong, Kiyohara?”
Rin Nohara spoke with a puzzled look.
A few strands of her black short hair brushed against the purple face paint on her cheeks as she talked.
Why did Kiyohara’s expression turn so sour the moment he received the mission to reinforce them?
This mission had the fastest ninja in the world, Minato-sensei, leading them—it was practically a sure thing.
“No, it’s nothing.”
Kiyohara shook his head.
He looked up at the girl with the fair features.
Her waist was tied with a light pink skirt, she wore a black top, and below were snug knee-high socks.
“Don’t worry.
I’ll protect everyone on this mission.”
A blond young man walked over with a gentle smile.
“I believe in Minato-sama.”
Kiyohara nodded.
Could he say he didn’t believe?
At this moment, Minato Namikaze was at the peak of his fame—even shinobi from other villages, upon seeing him, would choose to abandon their missions outright without any punishment.
But this Minato, hailed as the Fastest Ninja in the World, in all his life never managed to catch up to anything—he was always one step behind disaster.
“That’s right, Minato-sensei is here too.
This mission definitely won’t be a big deal.”
Obito walked over with his hands behind his head, standing beside Rin Nohara with a goofy grin.
Further back, there was a white-haired boy wearing a black mask, his indifferent gaze seeming uninterested in anything at all.
Kiyohara quietly watched this scene of a master’s kindness and disciples’ filial piety.
It was after this very battle that Rin Nohara would be captured by Kirigakure ninja, and eventually Obito would fall to darkness, going to Konoha to put on a show of great filial piety, personally gifting Naruto an explosive tag as a congratulatory present.
So now, how was he supposed to survive?
People’s joys and sorrows are never shared—Kiyohara merely found them noisy.
After exchanging a few pleasantries with the others, Kiyohara left the place.
But just as he was pondering whether he should write a will in advance and plan out his inheritance, a voice suddenly rang out in his mind.
[Last Will and Testament Book activated.]
[Last Will and Testament Book: Using you as an anchor, countless possibilities will branch forth from the future.]
[Please receive your will and your urn, and properly lay your remains to rest.]
An electronic, synthesized female voice echoed through Kiyohara’s mind.
“Wait, I die in the future?”
Kiyohara couldn’t hold it together on the spot.
He’d said all along that Kannabi Bridge was a place not to be gone to—and now they’d even sent him his urn!
“Urn?”
Just as Kiyohara was about to ask where the urn was, a phantom image of an urn suddenly materialized in his mind.
It bore a Konoha mark on it, with a single horizontal line slashed across.
Kiyohara had a bad feeling about this.
Wait, this…
how does this look a bit like a rogue ninja’s?
“When you hear this, I’m already dead.
What follows should all be my last words…”
Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded out.
Kiyohara’s heart jolted—he realized that from the urn in his mind, a translucent spirit had drifted out.
That spirit looked seven or eight parts similar to him, like a middle-aged version of himself.
His face was full of weathered hardship, and on his forehead he wore a ninja headband with a single horizontal line slashed across it.
A rogue ninja!
“You are…
a me who’s dead?
And you defected?”
Kiyohara thought of the description on the Last Will and Testament Book.
Using him as a temporal anchor, countless possibilities would branch forth from the future.
A rogue ninja was also one of his future possibilities?
“Pretty much, as you can see, I’m just a rogue ninja now.”
The rogue-ninja Kiyohara pointed at the ninja headband on his own head.
“When did I—no, when did you defect?”
Kiyohara asked.
This was only one possibility among his infinite futures; it didn’t mean he was bound to defect.
“A few years after this war ends.”
The rogue-ninja Kiyohara’s words carried a hint of wistfulness.
“Why?”
Kiyohara inquired.
“Naturally, to advance further.
In the shinobi world, clans rely on bloodlines and civilians rely on mutation.
My only option to grow stronger was to join Orochimaru.”
The rogue-ninja Kiyohara said.
Faced with the rogue-ninja Kiyohara’s words, Kiyohara fell silent.
That’s very shinobi-world.
In the shinobi world, gold will always shine—but unfortunately, as a civilian ninja, he was just a lump of scrap iron.
As everyone knows, in the shinobi world, formidable power only spreads through the womb, through mentorship, and through blood.
If you have none of that, then you can only pray for your own good fortune and burn some extra incense for the Sage of Six Paths on the daily.
“So how did you die?”
Kiyohara asked about the matter he cared about.
“Blown up by an explosive tag.”
“…”
A very hasty death.
Kiyohara figured quite a few people had died that way.
“At least that proves I survived the Kannabi Bridge mission successfully—can you share some intel?”
Kiyohara said.
Even though he had foreknowledge of the plot, any single butterfly effect could bring about a different turn of events.
“No, I never received that mission back then.”
The rogue-ninja Kiyohara said.
“At the time, I spent most of my time doing logistics.”
“?”
Kiyohara’s eyes went wide.
That would mean his future was just like the people in “Limited Tsukuyomi”—not only would he himself change, but other people and events might change too?
Could there also be an “Anbu Kiyohara” or “Hokage Kiyohara” in the future?
“Then what are your remains?”
Kiyohara remembered that the urn was supposed to contain personal effects, and he was curious what was inside.
Was it just a single spirit?
“As for the remains…
it’s probably me.
I can still linger for a while and teach you some ninjutsu.”
The rogue-ninja Kiyohara spoke.
“But I probably won’t last too long either.
I also have a “Book of Last Words,” but I awakened it far too late—after I died, I was packaged and sent off to another me.”
The rogue-ninja Kiyohara said.
He explained to Kiyohara his understanding of the “Book of Last Words”: it seemed that by fulfilling the deceased’s last wishes, one could receive a certain boost from the deceased.