Cold.
Soft.
Weak.
The first sensation Tanya experienced upon regaining consciousness was helplessness.
Her limbs refused to obey her commands.
Her vision was little more than a blur of shifting colors and indistinct shadows.
Voices echoed around her, speaking a language she didn’t yet understand.
The scent of fresh wood, grass, and clean linen lingered in the air.
Everything felt unfamiliar.
Everything felt wrong.
Tanya struggled to open her eyes wider.
The effort alone exhausted her.
A wave of horror slowly washed over her.
Her arms were tiny.
Her fingers barely obeyed her commands.
Her neck lacked the strength to support itself.
Even breathing felt different.
A terrible realization struck her.
…
She had become a baby.
Again.
Silence filled her mind.
Then—
An explosion of rage.
‘BEING X!!’
If souls could physically explode, Tanya’s would have detonated on the spot.
‘You hypocritical, manipulative, self-righteous parasite!’
‘I’ve already played your game!’
‘I fought your war!’
‘I survived your absurd world!’
‘I won!’
‘The Empire won!’
‘And this is my reward?!’
Her mind reeled with fury.
She had finally escaped the battlefield.
She had finally secured a safe position within the General Staff.
She had finally achieved the comfortable bureaucratic life she had spent two lifetimes pursuing.
Only for Being X to rip everything away yet again.
Not even death had been enough.
No.
The bastard had sent her back to infancy.
Again.
This wasn’t a trial.
This wasn’t divine guidance.
This was petty revenge.
Pure and simple.
Tanya attempted to voice her outrage.
Instead—
“Waaah!”
A baby’s cry escaped her mouth.
“Waaaah!”
The sound only made her angrier.
‘Unbelievable!’
‘I am a senior officer!’
‘I commanded entire aerial battalions!’
‘I directed military operations affecting millions!’
‘And now I can’t even curse properly!’
The humiliation was unbearable.
Footsteps approached.
A woman gently lifted her from the crib.
Warm arms surrounded her.
Instinctively, Tanya tensed.
The woman wore simple civilian clothing, but Tanya immediately noticed the metal forehead protector attached to her head.
A military identification symbol.
Interesting.
The woman smiled warmly.
“There, there.”
The language sounded strange.
Yet somehow Tanya could understand it.
Another gift from Being X, perhaps.
Or some phenomenon connected to reincarnation itself.
“Are you hungry?”
A bottle was placed before her.
Tanya stared at it.
Her expression darkened.
This was the lowest point of her existence.
The great Tanya von Degurechaff.
Hero of the Empire.
The Devil of the Rhine.
Reduced to drinking milk from a bottle.
She wanted to reject it.
Her pride demanded it.
Unfortunately, survival took precedence over pride.
A fundamental principle.
The woman chuckled softly as Tanya reluctantly began drinking.
“Such a cute child.”
Cute.
The word nearly caused psychological damage.
“We’ll call you Tanya.”
Tanya froze.
The bottle nearly slipped from her mouth.
Tanya?
Again?
They had given her the same name.
For a moment she wondered if Being X was personally responsible.
The level of mockery seemed appropriate.
Her tiny fist clenched.
Deep within her soul, hatred burned brighter than ever.
‘Just wait, Being X.’
‘No matter where you throw me.’
‘No matter what world this is.’
‘I will survive.’
‘I will find stability.’
‘I will build another safe life.’
‘I will not become your obedient believer.’
‘I will not become your puppet.’
‘I will win again.’
Her infant eyes slowly closed.
The fury remained.
But reason reclaimed control.
Emotion solved nothing.
Panic solved nothing.
Complaining solved nothing.
A capable employee adapted to circumstances.
The situation was simple.
Objective One:
Survive.
Objective Two:
Gather information.
Objective Three:
Identify the power structure of this world.
Objective Four:
Secure a stable future away from danger.
Simple.
Logical.
Efficient.
With her priorities reorganized, Tanya calmly resumed drinking her milk.
The woman holding her smiled.
From her perspective, the baby had finally settled down.
She never noticed the calculating intelligence hidden behind those blue eyes.
Nor could she have imagined that the infant in her arms possessed the memories of a veteran officer who had survived an entire world war.
…
Years passed.
Three years later.
The dining hall of Konoha Orphanage.
Tanya sat quietly at a long wooden table, mechanically eating breakfast.
By now she had accumulated a considerable amount of information.
And she hated most of it.
The world she had been reincarnated into was insane.
Absolutely insane.
The existence of chakra alone shattered nearly every law of warfare she had previously understood.
Humans could run across water.
Walk up walls.
Breathe fire.
Create clones.
Manipulate lightning.
Some individuals could even reshape terrain through sheer personal power.
Military doctrine practically cried in despair.
Worse still—
Children became soldiers.
Officially.
Legally.
Systematically.
Tanya nearly suffered an aneurysm when she first learned about ninja academies.
Children entered training from an extremely young age.
Graduates became active military personnel.
During wartime, casualties among adolescents were considered normal.
Normal.
The entire concept offended her managerial instincts.
From a resource allocation perspective, this was lunacy.
Human capital required years of investment.
Throwing children into warfare was catastrophically inefficient.
Even the Empire at its most desperate had not routinely deployed academy-age children into combat formations.
This world treated it as common practice.
Madness.
Pure madness.
Still, the true reason Tanya abandoned any thoughts of pursuing military glory came from historical research.
Specifically—
Senju Hashirama.
The First Hokage.
Tanya had initially assumed historical records were exaggerated.
Then she continued reading.
And reading.
And reading.
The conclusion was horrifying.
The man had apparently been capable of overwhelming entire armies through personal combat power.
His battles with Uchiha Madara had reshaped landscapes.
Entire nations had treated him as a strategic deterrent.
A single individual.
Tanya immediately discarded every plan involving rapid military promotion.
A battlefield where monsters like that existed was not a battlefield she wished to visit.
Not voluntarily.
Especially if Being X was watching.
“I’m finished, Headmistress.”
Tanya placed her bowl aside.
The orphanage caretaker smiled.
“Thank you, Tanya.”
The little girl stood up and carried her dishes toward the kitchen.
Three-year-olds normally didn’t do this.
Then again, Tanya had stopped pretending to be a normal child months ago.
There was little point.
Her behavior had already earned her a reputation as a gifted prodigy.
After cleaning the dishes, Tanya exited the orphanage.
The orphanage’s books had become largely useless.
Most of them were children’s stories or educational materials designed to promote loyalty toward the village.
Useful information required field observation.
As she walked through Konoha’s streets, Tanya carefully studied the civilians and shinobi moving through the village.
Every piece of information held value.
Economic activity.
Military deployment.
Civil infrastructure.
Population density.
Potential career paths.
Everything contributed to understanding the system.
Most of all, she observed shinobi.
They fascinated her.
From a military perspective, they resembled combat mages.
Yet unlike Imperial mages, they required no computation jewels.
No external amplifiers.
No specialized flight equipment.
The sheer versatility of chakra was astonishing.
Almost unfair.
Subconsciously, Tanya pressed a hand against her chest.
Beneath her skin rested something she knew all too well.
The Type 95.
The cursed computation jewel.
It had somehow followed her into this world.
Its presence alone filled her with unease.
Nothing connected to Being X could ever be trusted.
Nothing.
Her expression darkened.
A trace of old hatred surfaced.
Then—
“Little girl, are you feeling unwell?”
A calm voice interrupted her thoughts.
Tanya immediately composed herself.
Years of military professionalism erased every trace of emotion from her face.
She looked up.
A tall man stood before her.
Silver hair.
Strong build.
Forehead protector.
An experienced shinobi.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Years of battlefield experience screamed warnings inside her head.
This man was far stronger than the average ninja she had observed.
‘Interesting.’
Tanya immediately adopted the innocent demeanor expected of a child.
“No, sir.”
A bright smile appeared.
“I was just thinking.”
The man studied her quietly.
His visible eye seemed thoughtful.
Not suspicious.
Just curious.
Before he could continue, another voice called out.
“Father.”
A young boy approached.
Silver hair.
Dark clothing.
A miniature version of the man.
Hatake Kakashi.
Tanya recognized him instantly from orphanage gossip.
A famous prodigy.
The son of Konoha’s White Fang.
Hatake Sakumo smiled.
“We should get going.”
Kakashi nodded.
Then he glanced toward Tanya.
His eyes briefly examined her.
A child evaluating another child.
Nothing more.
At least outwardly.
Sakumo chuckled.
“It looks like your generation might have some interesting people in it.”
Kakashi looked at Tanya once more.
Then he shrugged.
“What?”
His tone remained indifferent.
“The person Father is talking about looks weak.”