Transmigator? I don't need this!

The boy was stunned.

He looked at his hands as if he was meeting them for the first time.

In his opinion, his memory was very good, he remembered perfectly that the night before his eyes were not so "normal".

Living just over 17 years with astigmatism in the eyes was not an experience that could be easily forgotten.

He also didn't remember that his hands were so small but strong, after all, he was always a weakling, a weakling with rare luck and an inexplicable talent that helped him get along with strong people.

With his two hands he pinched both sides of his face, his cheeks had a certain fat that only children should have, he had rejuvenated or this body was not his.

Ignoring the burning in his cheeks, he rubbed his temples as he recalled this all too familiar scene.

Something in his mind activated, a forced transmigration!

This is how the most cliche novels that could exist began.

He didn't remember being run over, he didn't remember being killed by lightning, what's more, he didn't remember dying!

With chaotic thoughts, his eyes fixed on the lone sword, a slightly curved sword, it could be mistaken for a katana, but this sword was not that curved and not too long either.

Sheathed in her black scabbard she looked like the chaotic night, but she was just a normal ninja-ken.

Ignoring the deadly dangerous object, the boy tried to get up, only to fail miserably.

He tried a few more times until he realized that his movements were not coordinated as he wanted, his legs were shorter, his weight was unfamiliar, his center of gravity was different, getting up and walking was a mechanical movement that was learned unconsciously over time, an automatic act that this body did not want to perform.

The boy was on the floor, rolled up in his futon.

His mood was sour, with a sigh he crawled across the wooden floor.

At least his arms didn't leave him.

There was some sort of mirror on the only mahogany table a few feet from his.

The process was slow but he made it, his hands were hard despite his age and the ground didn't treat him so badly.

Maybe seeing his new face would ease his worries, or at least distract him from his fears.

'...'

It could be worse, the boy inwardly rejoiced.

His hair was still black, but his previously brown eyes were now red.

They had that particular glow that meant life hadn't yet given him its obligatory dose of reality and cruelty.

With his new traits there was at least a 50% chance of being handsome over the years.

The complexion of his face was pale, sickly but a little flushed with inexplicable weariness.

Ugh...

His pupils bulged and inhuman pain spread through his head.

A series of memories returned to where they belonged, like little animated bricks, moved and rebuilt that blank space in his brain.

Pah!

He fell sideways to the ground, but at least the mirror was saved.

The boy rubbed his temples again, selecting the most important information.

First, the correct way to walk with this body.

Second, his new name.

Hayabusa.

A young master of the Shadow Sect.

The father of him the current leader of the sect, and Hayabusa was his second son.

Hayabusa has an older brother whom he admires too much, whom he follows like a sticky bug, an imposing mountain that gave him security.

Hayabusa's mother had died a few years ago of a strange disease, his father never remarried and dedicated himself to raising his children.

The Shadow Sect is a sect of ninjas that focused on the study of ninjutsu.

There was also another rival sect called the Scarlet Sect, which focused on the use of ninja equipment, in the past when the founder came to this land and founded his teachings there was only one ninja path.

After his death, Scarlet Shadow split into two factions.

This ninja settlement was located in the middle of a forest within a canyon north of the Cadia Riverlands.

A dangerous area in the past, it has now become a symbol of beauty, a land surrounded by wind, waterfalls that flowed like fragile white silk, the treacherous fog never left these parts and the cherry blossoms that wandered in search of meaning.

A myriad just for ninjas... and others.

This time the boy got to his feet easily, but still with the fear of falling against the familiar ground.

Now he remembered him, a ninja? Hayabusa? Wasn't that his favorite character from Mobile Legends?

Yesterday after an exhausting day of compulsory studies he decided to play one of the few mobas that had lasted over time.

After getting angry about encountering too many trolls in games, he decided to go to sleep.

Today, he woke up in Hayabusa's body, he had not felt in this situation.

The boy or rather Hayabusa decided to go back to his futon, he rolled up and decided to go back to sleep... maybe dreaming he could return to his reality, to his true life.

Five minutes passed quickly, Hayabusa's complex look only worsened.

Dammit.

Hayabusa paid more attention to the sword.

He should try it? Maybe that can work...

With the sword in his hands, Hayabusa was trembling.

Doing Harakiri was not one of his preferences.

But there weren't many options.

Before holding the sword he tried to call out to his golden finger, but no one and nothing responded.

It was necessary to know that this land had more wars than living people, as a citizen of the Pacific era, it was not an option to stay here.

A coward has principles and must know when to back off.

Gritting his teeth, Hayabusa attempted to test the double transmigration theory, a trial and error test.

*Ding*

A miraculous sound, an angelic song ruined his experience.