What does death feel like?
Linbei didn’t know before.
Now he did—death was just a sudden darkness, followed by an absolute void of consciousness.
But here was the problem: the scene before his eyes was clearly neither hell nor heaven.
It was a dim little room.
The tatami mats gave off a stale scent of old straw, and pale, sickly light filtered through paper-pasted windows.
The world outside was unnervingly quiet.
Linbei looked down at himself: a pair of tiny hands with fingernails smaller than a clipper’s blade, wearing a black short-sleeved shirt that was clearly two sizes too large.
On the chest was printed a fan-shaped crest.
The Uchiha Clan.
It took Linbei three full days to digest this fact.
He had transmigrated.
He had crossed over into the world of *Naruto* and become an orphan of the Uchiha Clan.
“The good news is I’m alive.
The bad news is…” Linbei sat on the threshold, staring expressionlessly at the crooked tree in the yard as he calculated in his head.
“My surname is Uchiha.
It’s the 49th year of Konoha.
I’m four years old.
There are eight years left until the night of the Uchiha massacre.”
Eight years.
Less than three thousand days.
To a helpless four-year-old child, this eight-year countdown was like a guillotine suspended over his head, dropping notch by notch every single day.
It wasn’t that Linbei hadn’t thought about saving himself.
On the first day of his transmigration, he began chanting in his mind: “System?
Golden finger?
Old grandpa mentor?”
Nothing.
On the second day, he knelt in the courtyard and kowtowed three times to the sky: “Gods, Immortals, please bless me with a cheat code.”
Nothing.
The third day, the fourth day, the first week, the first month, the first year…
Absolutely nothing.
Two years passed.
Linbei grew from a tottering four-year-old into a six-year-old boy.
During these two years, he had replayed the plot of *Naruto* from his past life’s memory countless times.
He had even drawn out a timeline on paper with crooked handwriting—though the characters were so ugly even he could barely recognize them.
He knew the Uchiha Clan would be wiped out around the year 60 of Konoha.
He knew the ones who would do it were Itachi Uchiha and Obito Uchiha.
He knew the Konoha high command, Danzo, and the Third Hokage—everyone had Uchiha blood on their hands.
But what was the point of knowing?
A six-year-old orphan with no Kekkei Genkai, no clan resources, and who hadn’t even officially refined Chakra yet.
Forget changing fate; he hadn’t even graduated from the Academy.
If the night of the massacre truly arrived, Itachi killing him would likely be easier than crushing an ant.
“Linbei-kun?”
A crisp voice came from outside the courtyard gate, interrupting Linbei’s thoughts.
He looked up to see a girl with a ponytail standing outside the fence, holding a bento box wrapped in cloth.
She was half a head shorter than him, with a shy smile on her round face.
It was Izumi Uchiha.
“Izumi.” Linbei stood up and patted the dust off his pants.
“You haven’t eaten again today, have you?” Izumi jogged into the yard and stuffed the bento box into his hands.
“I made onigiri.
I’ll share half with you.”
Linbei paused for a moment, looking down at the bento box.
For two years, Izumi had been the only one to actively seek him out.
Izumi’s father had died during the Nine-Tails’ Rebellion; living only with her mother, she was more optimistic than him and knew better how to take care of others.
“Thanks.” Linbei took the box, not refusing.
Izumi sat down beside him, her legs swinging.
Her tone was light as she said, “Tomorrow is the first day at the Academy.
Are you nervous?”
The Academy.
Linbei’s gaze froze slightly.
Tomorrow, April 1st, Year 49 of Konoha, was the day the Academy opened.
He would be assigned to a first-grade class and, along with all the other ninja candidates of his age, begin a six-year academic career.
And among his classmates, there would be someone named Itachi Uchiha.
“Nervous?” Linbei took a bite of an onigiri and said expressionlessly, “I’m scared to death.”
Izumi was amused by his serious tone.
“You’re always like this, talking like an old man.”
“I just think a lot.”
“Then don’t think so much.” Izumi patted his shoulder and stood up to leave.
“See you tomorrow, Linbei-kun.
Remember to dress neatly.
Don’t embarrass the Uchiha.”
“Got it.”
Linbei watched Izumi’s silhouette disappear at the mouth of the alley.
He looked down and took another bite of the onigiri.
Too much salt; it was a bit savory.
The next morning, Linbei changed into the standard Academy uniform—a dark blue high-collared jacket with the Konoha swirl symbol on the back.
He had picked it up yesterday, and the size was half a size too big, making it look a bit loose on him.
He looked at himself in the only small mirror in the house.
Messy black hair, handsome features, and a gaze that held a calmness unbefitting a six-year-old child.
If he weren’t in this world, this face would truly be a gift from the heavens.
“Time to go.”
Linbei pushed open the door and stepped into the morning light of Konoha.
In April, the Hidden Leaf Village was dyed in fresh green, and the dew from last night still lingered on the rooftops lining the streets.
Children in groups of twos and threes, wearing the same uniform and carrying brand-new backpacks, walked in the same direction.
Some were accompanied by parents, while others walked together in small groups.
Linbei walked alone, pulling his backpack strap higher.
The Academy teaching building was older than what he had seen in the anime, but its aura remained grand.
The stone monument at the entrance was engraved with the maxims of the Will of Fire; Linbei glanced at it, in no mood for a close look.
Following the crowd into the building, he found his class assignment on the bulletin board.
“Class 1-3…
Linbei Uchiha…”
His gaze continued scanning down and found a name.
Itachi Uchiha.
Same class.
Linbei took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
“Fine.
Not entirely unexpected.”
He turned and headed toward the classroom.
Class 1-3 was at the far east end of the second floor, and many freshmen had already gathered at the door.
Linbei squeezed through the crowd, entered the classroom, and found his seat—third row by the window.
Then he saw the name card on the desk next to him: Itachi Uchiha.
“…”
Linbei sat down expressionlessly and stuffed his bag into the desk.
Just as he settled in, a figure walked through the classroom door.
It was an extremely beautiful boy.
His long black hair was tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his face was as exquisite as a porcelain doll.
His dark eyes were deep, unlike those of a typical six-year-old.
When he walked, his back was pin-straight, his steps steady and unhurried.
The noise in the classroom dropped by several levels in an instant.
Everyone’s gaze was drawn to this boy.
Itachi Uchiha.
He sat down beside Linbei, turned his head, and looked at Linbei with a calm gaze.
“Linbei Uchiha?” Itachi’s voice was very soft, carrying a steadiness that belied his age.
“That’s me.” Linbei tried to keep his tone as normal as possible.
“I am Itachi Uchiha.” Itachi nodded slightly.
“I look forward to working with you.”
“Same here.”
After the brief exchange, Itachi turned back, took a textbook out of his bag, and began reading quietly.
Sitting beside him, Linbei looked calm on the surface, but his mind was in a total uproar.
*Big brother, do you know you’re going to kill me later?*
*Do you know you’re going to slaughter the whole clan?*
*Do you know how many people’s blood will be on your hands?*
Naturally, Linbei wouldn’t say any of this out loud.
He just sighed silently in his heart and cast his gaze toward the sky outside the window.
The sky of Konoha was very blue—too blue for a world that would face a bloodbath at any moment.
But Linbei knew the storm would come sooner or later.
And the only thing he could do was become strong enough before that day arrived.
Strong enough to survive.
Strong enough to protect himself.
Strong enough—that fate could no longer easily crush him.
On the podium, a middle-aged man wearing a Jonin vest walked in, and the classroom finally fell silent.
“I am your homeroom teacher, Yamato Nakajima.” The man wrote his name on the blackboard.
“From today on, you are trainee ninja of the Hidden Leaf Village.
For our first lesson…”
Linbei opened his textbook.
His ears were listening to the teacher, but his peripheral vision remained fixed on Itachi beside him.
Itachi was listening intently, occasionally taking a few notes in his notebook.
There was no killing intent in those dark eyes, no violence—only a depth that didn’t belong to a six-year-old.
*Just when did you become like that?* Linbei asked in his heart.
No one answered him.
Outside the window, a cloud drifted by, obscuring the sun.
The light in the classroom dimmed a few shades.