Chapter 2: A New Life and Path

The days that followed were an agonizing blur. Itsuki had always considered himself resilient, able to deal with life's curveballs with a sense of calm detachment. But reincarnating into a fictional world—into the body of a child no less—was a reality far beyond anything he had ever imagined. The confusion, the fear, the crushing weight of loss—they haunted him relentlessly.

Every night, he lay on the thin, uncomfortable mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling of the orphanage, his thoughts returning again and again to the same bitter truth. He was no longer Itsuki Tanaka from Earth. The life he had known—his friends, his family—was gone, ripped from him in a single, senseless moment of fate. And no amount of wishing or hoping would bring it back.

For hours, he would sit in silence, lost in memories of his past life, unable to reconcile the cheerful laughter of his family with the cold, unfamiliar world he now found himself in. The boy he had become had no such warmth. No parents. No siblings. Just an orphan among many in a village full of faces he didn't recognize.

Yet, amidst the turmoil, one thing was clear: this world wasn't just fiction anymore. It was real. It was dangerous. And whether he liked it or not, he was a part of it now.

The village beyond the orphanage walls was unmistakable. The Hokage Monument loomed in the distance, casting long shadows over Konoha's winding streets. And as much as he tried to avoid thinking about it, Itsuki knew exactly where and when he was. The early days of Naruto's childhood. The start of an era that would plunge this world into chaos and war, just as the anime had depicted.

But he wasn't Naruto. He wasn't Sasuke or Kakashi. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't a villain. He was just… him. A boy with no destiny. No legacy to uphold. No grand fate pulling him toward some higher calling.

And maybe that was for the best.

Itsuki clenched his fist as he sat on the floor of his small room, the evening light casting long shadows over his form. He had to let go. Let go of the idea that he could return to his old life, that he could somehow find a way back to Earth. It was a foolish hope, and clinging to it would only tear him apart.

No, what he needed now was clarity. He needed a purpose, a reason to move forward. Not to become some cliché hero who saved the world, nor to turn into a twisted villain consumed by power. Those paths were meaningless to him. He wasn't interested in rewriting the story he knew so well.

What he wanted was far simpler.

"Strength," he muttered quietly to himself, the word echoing in the empty room. "I need strength."

Not power for the sake of dominance or fame. Not even the kind of strength that would make others bow to him. He needed the strength to survive in this world, to protect himself from the dangers that lay ahead. The strength to decide his own fate, no matter what the future held.

For someone like him, who knew the horrors this world would eventually face—the invasions, the wars, the betrayals—being powerless was not an option. He needed to carve out his own path, separate from the heroes and villains that this world revered. A path where he could move unseen, unburdened by the expectations of others. That was the kind of strength he sought.

His gaze drifted toward the window, where the Hokage Monument stood tall in the distance. The faces carved into the mountain seemed to watch over the village, a reminder of the expectations placed on those who lived within Konoha. But those faces didn't matter to him. He wasn't going to be the next Hokage. He wasn't going to be anyone's savior.

What he would be… was free.

Itsuki exhaled slowly, the weight of his decision settling in his chest. He didn't need to be the strongest, but he would be strong enough to protect what mattered. Strong enough to live on his terms. That would be his goal. His resolution.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. One of the caretakers from the orphanage opened the door, peeking inside. "Tanaka, dinner is ready."

Itsuki glanced up at her and nodded. "I'll be down in a moment," he said, his voice calm, controlled.

As the door closed behind her, he allowed himself one final moment of silence. He wasn't a child, not mentally. His memories, his experiences—they belonged to a much older version of himself. It would be easy to get swept up in the innocence of this body, to forget the world's harsh realities. But that wasn't him.

He stood, smoothing out his clothes, and walked toward the window. The world outside was full of people who saw him as just another child, another orphan. But he wasn't just anyone. He had knowledge—knowledge that could change everything if used correctly. He knew the hidden dangers that lurked in the shadows. He knew the future of this world.

But that knowledge alone wouldn't be enough. Not without the power to act on it. And that was what he would focus on. Not flashy techniques, not grand dreams of saving the world. Just practical, cold, and efficient survival.

In this world, the strong thrived. The weak were trampled. He didn't need to be a hero or a villain. He only needed to be strong enough to avoid being trampled.

As he turned to leave the room, a faint reflection caught his eye in the window's glass—his own face, with the striking contrast of his silver-white hair, not quite handsome and his eyes, a strange blend of icy blue and red. Like the Eyes of Gojo and Sharingan that have been fused into one.