Chapter 1

To the Anbu Captain, Kirie Suzaru, an order was given by the Hokage to check the area north of Konoha. Reports made it clear that bandits had become brazen and began attacking weak, isolated caravans, but due to the lack of information, the location of their hideouts was unknown. He was not a weak shinobi—a chunin, to be precise—and therefore was confident in the successful execution of his mission. — Captain, smoke has been spotted three hundred meters from us, — his partner, nicknamed 'Dog', with whom he had completed dozens of missions, reported. — What will your orders be?

"We head there to scout the situation. We'll act according to what we find. If bandits are spotted—proceed with immediate neutralization."

"Understood," his comrades simultaneously responded and followed him, quickly sprinting ahead. However, throughout his Anbu career, Kirie had to admit that he had never seen something like this before. A destroyed caravan and bloodstains were not unusual, but it was, to put it mildly, strange to see a teenager sitting near a small scorched pile of corpses. The captain silently ordered his men to approach from the flanks and be vigilant. He was still overwhelmed by a strange feeling of abnormality about the situation and the possibility that it could be a trap. The teenager was dressed in a plain white T-shirt and short dark pants. His spiky black hair with a long fringe fell to his shoulders. Upon closer inspection, Kirie noticed that the boy's left arm and torso were bandaged.

"And what am I supposed to do now?" the boy's voice was indifferent and empty, as his gaze fixed on the sky. It seemed he was so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed the observers. "You'd better start by telling us who you are and what you're doing here, and then we'll decide what to do with you," the boy flinched slightly, tensely standing up and visually assessing him. The Anbu captain felt slightly uneasy from the look that he emitted. Emotionless, empty, and cold. As if a doll that had lost its emotions. Such beings he had seen only once when he had to cooperate with Anbu from the Root. They were turned into real living weapons and stripped of emotions.

"I have no name."

After a heavy sigh, he nevertheless signaled his comrades to relax.

"Then tell me, boy, what happened here?"

"An attack. No one survived. I decided to strike them suddenly while they were busy with my mother. I avenged, buried my parents, and burned this trash."

All this sounded terribly implausible and vague. Although the captain had to admit that he noticed some fresh graves nearby as well. He had once heard long ago that people with nothing to lose are the most dangerous. Could this boy really have managed to do something like this alone?

"How did you kill them?"

"One by one. I lured each of them out and caught them in their mistakes. If they had acted more cohesively, I probably wouldn't have had a chance against them. Just lucky," the last phrase was with a hint of irony, "And you—are shinobi, right?"

"Yes, Konoha shinobi. Special Anbu squad. My name is Karasu."

"Sorry, that means nothing to me. So what do you want to do with me?"

"Normally, we send orphaned survivors to Konoha, to the orphanage, but..."

"I understand, I don't exactly look like a child, do I?"

The Anbu captain had to admit, the boy was quite perceptive and quickly grasped the situation.

"Did you use chakra in the fight?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm the son of an ordinary trader. I used only my head to survive..."

Ash remained silent about the fact that without combat experience, he would not have been able to win.

"So you're something of a 'genius'?"

"Who knows..."

"Well, I still can't leave you unattended. If you have things here that you want to take before leaving for the village, I'll give you half an hour to do so."

"Thank you, Anbu-san." He decided to add the respectful suffix 'san' out of respect for his elder, or at least so the memory of this absorbed soul suggested.

The nameless boy moved towards the wagon. Exactly thirty minutes later, he returned with a small sack of belongings, which he slung over his shoulder.

"And yes, I apologize for that time. Just after everything that happened, I stopped valuing my name. You can call me Takeshi."

He had almost just invented this name, based on memories, it meant two concepts: 'Cruel, Warrior'. He did not want to take the name of the boy whose body he had occupied, considering it wrong.

"Dog, you take him."

Takeshi was slightly surprised by how they decided to escort him to the village. He was seated behind one of the shinobi and, at a good speed, they moved quickly through the trees. In the corners of the memories of absorbed souls, he realized that this was just a small part of what shinobi are capable of.

After some time, they arrived at a high stone wall. They reached nearly fifty meters in height, stopping in front of equally tall gates at the meeting point. At the entrance stood two shinobi, distinguished by bandanas, belonging to the village and special green jackets. The guards apparently recognized some distinguishing feature and calmly let them through, just nodding affirmatively seriously. All the way to the orphanage, Takeshi was like... lost? Yes, that was the most suitable word. Where he came from, everything was in black and white. The atmosphere of death and despair pressed and made one always be on guard. Only in the Temple of Fire could one feel safe for a while. But this place was too... alive. As if his colorless world had taken on colors. It was an indescribable feeling. The feeling that you were among the living.

"Ah..." a sparse tear slid from his right eye. He did not understand the reason for this strange feeling that washed over him. As if he was glad simply because people here could just... live. It was beautiful and at the same time alien to him.

They stopped near an unremarkable two-story house, next to which a small metal mesh fence could be seen.

"As I said earlier, the orphanage will be your temporary shelter. Ultimately, who you want to become depends only on you."

Takeshi pondered. His gaze fell to the ground, and his hands clenched into fists. Who does he want to become? Funny. No family, no home, no friends. He had absolutely nothing. Besides being a successful and experienced assassin, he was also a pyromancer, a mage of dark and light arts. He could master any magic without going mad from the overwhelming knowledge, all because he was "The Chosen." He remembered how Irina from Karim went mad from just one volume of dark wonders and begged her "savior" for a desired death. Who was he to deny that? In the past, Takeshi managed to avoid such an outcome, passing the dark books of arts to Karla, a trader and, by coincidence, a dark mage, a woman in a dark robe whose body was touched by corruption. But now his thoughts were not of her. He wanted to understand whether it made sense to hope for a response from his "Gods." Each spell or "Enhancement" that could be applied to a weapon or directly to oneself was like a short "prayer" or "song." If your faith is strong enough and your spirit unshakable, then the Higher entity grants its servant a tiny part of its power. Why don't the Gods intervene in a world where death and destruction are at every step? He did not know. He could only assume that they took pleasure in watching people writhe and suffer. Yearning to end what is impossible to complete. Now, in broad daylight, he did not want to pray and ask the Light god for healing. From the outside, it would look too strange, so he decided to leave it for now.

As one of the options for his future life, he considered becoming a shinobi or a mercenary, but to become a shinobi, it was necessary to undergo a course that, apparently, started from early childhood. Most likely, it was too late for him to apply to the academy. That left the option with that Anbu, Kirie Suzaru. For some reason, he knew that he would return. He was the unaccounted factor that could at least pique the Hokage's interest. He stood out too much from the general picture.

The orphanage was peaceful but boring. He found it difficult to adjust to a peaceful and quiet sleep. The undead did not need sleep. And if he did manage to fall asleep, he always dreamed of nightmares and horrors experienced during his travels. Even in this new life, his paranoia did not leave him. He never left his back exposed and tried to avoid open spaces. These habits had clung too strongly to him to be easily shaken off in a few days. However, he was not idle in the orphanage. The first step he decided to take to regain his former power was to recreate from the "Soul Memory" legendary rings that could turn an ordinary person into a real monster. What exactly is Soul Memory? Originally, the main component in his world was his cursed soul. A true instrument that could store the memory of all the things he had absorbed, including the memory of legendary weapons created from the souls of Lords of Ash or Spells. The problem lay in the complexity of reproduction. It was necessary to literally tear a piece of his own soul to recreate something similar. He was not afraid of pain or suffering. After all, these feelings were an integral part of his life. Each night, he secretly went out to the orphanage's backyard and trained. Hissing and grinding his teeth, he silently endured, clasping his hands together. In his closed palms, one could see a faint orange light and the crackle of a spark. On the seventh day, he created two rings. Two rings that could increase his vitality, endurance, and create an invisible aura that made objects lighter to the touch. The Ring of Benevolence looked like a golden ring with a beautiful floral ornament, and the Chain of the Condemned, unlike its first ring, looked terrible and hardly resembled a ring at all. Rather, it looked like a rusty piece of steel chain. Wearing the Ring of Benevolence on his left hand, he felt as if his body became lighter and was enveloped in a soft warmth. Wearing the second, the ring pierced him with a second of pain, and after that, his body filled with a similar feeling to the Ring of Benevolence, but significantly stronger. The Chain of the Condemned had a slightly nasty side effect in that the ring secretly, or perhaps not, wished its owner to die. Any injury would be slightly enhanced. Such was the price of power. The feeling of power intoxicated and delighted him. A joyful smile appeared on his face, and his hands lifted slightly upward, but in the same instant, he regained his composure. He could not let others find out about them. He could not let anyone from this village, and especially the shinobi with that "Hokage," know about his abilities. He did not trust them yet. He could not predict their reaction. He was a complete paranoid and therefore would never boast about something like this to anyone. Takeshi knew what he could show and what he could not. Until he was sure that he could protect himself, or at least be ready to trust this village, he would not reveal himself. Takeshi had created them not without preparation. White bandages completely wrapped his palms. In case of another curious question, he could easily respond that it was for "style" or something similar. He noticed that everyone here had their quirks. Only his were much larger than the others...

As expected, the Anbu captain visited him. He asked him about his plans for the future.

"I want to become a shinobi."

"Commendable. I think with your abilities, you would definitely become a talented genius, but alas, you do not fit the age category, but there is another path for you..."

"It's starting..." the brunette thought to himself, covering his eyes with his fringe. A faint smile appeared on his face. They were recruiting him. "Do they want to tie me to the village and see if I am worth anything or am I just a lucky loser?" Despite these grim thoughts, there was no malice in them. Many would possibly do the same in their place. Talents cannot be simply ignored.

"Really? What kind of path?"

"Nothing special. Just conduct a few tests, standard training, and afterward, if you're lucky, you'll be assigned to a training squad of Anbu, answering only to the Hokage."

"Alright," there was not a trace of doubt or hesitation. It was a clear answer. After all, there was no other way. Although... there might have been, but circumstances suggested that it was better to agree to this offer. A negative response could only complicate things further. Without support or assistance from local authorities, one could not survive here alone.

Kirie Suzaru led him to an open training ground. The ground itself seemed to be covered by some kind of barrier, as after the brunette stepped onto its territory, his body was pierced by a momentary current.

"It's simple. First, touch this sphere," the captain produced a crystal sphere from behind. He performed the given action. The sphere lit up slightly, and a little later, in its depths, at the center, a weak blue light appeared.

"..." he distinctly heard a disappointed sigh from him, "Chakra below average. I don't want to lie, Takeshi, but you can't become stronger than a chunin. No matter how hard you try."

"And a chunin is...?"

"Ah, I completely forgot that you're not aware of all this. I'll explain now..."

In the villages, there was a ranking system. Each was divided into classes and subclasses. Academy student - genin - chunin - tokubetsu jonin - jonin, and finally, Kage. His instructor also briefly explained what chakra was. "A mixture of spiritual and physical energy? It seems I already guess why I have very little of it and why it is inaccessible to me..." he could assume that due to the huge predominance of spiritual energy, chakra could not properly transform in his body and his power simply used, as if automatically, the power of his spirit (i.e., "soul"). The body is what the undead valued least in itself because the soul was of utmost importance. For example, "The Chosen" could give all his souls to the Keeper of Fire to increase his physical strength, but externally he did not change. He was not a steel mountain of muscles or a giant. This was how his world worked. Next was a standard small physical training test.

"Run as much as you can around the training ground. When you tire, tell me."

Takeshi was able to run for ten hours at a moderate pace without stopping until his instructor gave him the command to stop.

"Hmm... endurance above average. Very good."

The rings did their job, but even with them, such a marathon clearly exhausted him. Sweat poured down his face.

"Here," he tossed a towel and a bottle of water towards him, "Clean yourself up and get ready for the next test." Shrugging, the brunette poured the entire contents of the bottle over his head and, after wiping his face, followed him. Next was simply throwing kunai. Takeshi slightly twirled the handle of this so-called "kunai," getting used to its shape and weight.

"Eastern daggers...?" he voiced his thought aloud, inaccurately.

"Never seen kunai before?" his instructor asked with slight suspicion.

"No. Just never had to use them. I was a merchant's son," he responded indifferently and made a throw at the target, hitting the small red circle ten meters away from him, "Is that all?"

"Hmm... you know, that's quite... strange. Can you repeat that trick?"

His instructor clearly considered it either a fluke or sheer luck. True, luck couldn't repeat itself five times in a row.

"How do you do that?"

Here, he could slightly embellish the truth.

"Hard to explain... It's like I just know on an instinctive level that I'll hit the target."

No matter how poor a warrior was at throwing sharp throwing knives, anyone, even the most talentless idiot, would learn to hit the target accurately after hundreds of thousands of throws. The body and brain remember every millimeter of movement needed for the throw.

"Talent...? Innate ability?" the Anbu captain voiced his thoughts aloud this time.

Ash decided to refrain from commenting on this matter. They might suspect something in the case of a pointless argument. After a few more insignificant tests and exercises, Kirie Suzaru decided to conclude his evaluation of abilities.

"You can rest tomorrow. The day after tomorrow, I expect you at the Hokage's residence at ten in the morning. Better not be late."

Kneeling in the Hokage's office, Kirie Suzaru personally delivered his observations report.

"I've read your written report, but I want to know personally what you think of him?"

"He's like a sharpened kunai. Always tense. As if he's waiting for an unexpected strike and often deprives himself of emotions to hide weakness. He doesn't ask unnecessary questions about the mission. I asked him to run as long as he could, and he silently ran for ten hours until I stopped him."

"Did you notice anything strange about him that doesn't sit right with you?"

"Yes... There's one thing that bothers me a bit. I didn't mention it in the report because I considered it too insignificant."

"And what is it?"

"He looked at the kunai as if he had never seen one in his life."

"And what's strange about that?"

"You misunderstood me, Lord Hokage. It's as if he didn't know what it was. Even an ordinary person, unrelated to the shinobi craft, has at least seen or heard of such a weapon as kunai, but he called it an 'Eastern dagger.'"

"Hmm..."

Sarutobi Hiruzen slightly slumped in his chair and filled his smoking pipe with tobacco.

"Hmm... alright, you're dismissed," nodding affirmatively, the Anbu vanished like a smeared shadow from the office. A thick cloud of smoke drifted through the office, and the Hokage's chair creaked as it turned towards the window, "And who are you really...?"

The next day, on his assigned "day off," Takeshi decided to take a stroll around Konoha. There was no specific hidden purpose to the walk, but even in his stroll, he found a small adventure. Around a corner, a blonde boy with spiky hair sticking out in all directions, about seven years old, dressed in a white t-shirt and blue shorts, darted out. In his left hand, he held a can of red paint, and in the other, a large brush. Parts of his clothes were stained with paint, as was his face in some areas.

"Stop, you little rascal, or it'll be worse for you!"

His nervous gaze darted from side to side looking for a hiding place. Out of curiosity, Takeshi intervened. He approached the boy from behind so stealthily that with a gentle motion, he covered the boy's mouth with his palm and pulled him into a dark alley.

"Shhh...!" the boy clearly got scared, his eyes darting anxiously, but he froze upon seeing the gesture of the stranger.

"Where did he go?! The paint and brush are here, but where did that little pest disappear to...?" judging by the angry look, he clearly didn't like how the shinobi had called him, but the brunette stood calmly, not moving, counting on a stroke of luck.

"Alright, to hell with it. The Hokage will deal with him anyway..."

"The Hokage? Such an important figure?" a fleeting thought crossed his mind. Despite his growing curiosity, which increased by the second, he absolutely did not want to ask anything of this boy. And it grew because, standing so close to him, he felt the presence of "Evil," but it was fleeting and barely perceptible. As if something was restraining it. If this presence had not been so heavily muted, he would have simply killed him due to his trained reflexes and monster killer instincts. Even his innocent appearance wouldn't have stopped him.

"Th-thank you."

Takeshi silently, with a slight smirk, tousled his unruly hair and continued on his way. He didn't need to ask him anything because...

"Hey! Wait!"

...the object of his curiosity became very interested in him too.