Reborn In The World Of Naruto

The explosion was blinding, a supernova of light and sound that engulfed the battlefield. The shockwave ripped through the ground, creating a massive crater that swallowed the surrounding terrain. Dust and debris were hurled into the air, forming a towering cloud that obscured everything. The sheer force of the collision was felt miles away, shaking the earth like an earthquake.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the battlefield consumed in the aftermath of their devastating clash. The air crackled with residual energy, the remnants of their power still lingering as if the land itself refused to forget the chaos it had just witnessed.

BANG!

CRASH!

A figure shot through the air like a lightning bolt, colliding with the ground with such force that a crater formed beneath them. The earth trembled, cracks radiating outward from the impact zone, and a dense plume of dust and debris was kicked into the air.

*WHOOSH!*

As the dust began to settle, the figure's broken silhouette became visible. The harsh moonlight illuminated the bruised and battered form of the Third Raikage. His once-imposing figure was marred with injuries, the most prominent being a deep, fiery imprint of a fist on his left cheek.

He lay motionless, his body slumped in the center of the crater like a monument to defeat.

*Foosh!*

The masked figure landed nearby with the grace of a predator, the faint crackle of lightning still dancing around their frame. Their footsteps were slow, deliberate, as they approached the fallen warrior. Kneeling down, the figure extended two fingers and placed them beneath the Raikage's nose.

"Still breathing," the masked figure muttered, a trace of relief in their voice. They exhaled slowly, the tension leaving their frame. "Phew. He's alive."

The figure's gaze swept over the Raikage's battered body, noting the sheer extent of the damage. Burns, cuts, bruises—it was a canvas of pain, a testament to the ferocity of their battle. For a moment, they hesitated, their voice lowering into a murmur.

"Maybe I overdid it," they admitted to themselves.

They stood, taking a step back to survey the scene. The battlefield was in ruins—splintered trees, upturned earth, and shattered rocks littered the area. Turning their attention back to the unconscious Raikage, the masked figure tilted their head, as though trying to reconcile the reality before them.

"This guy was supposed to be the strongest Lightning Release user alive," they mused aloud. "And yet, he fell so... easily. Am I disappointed, or should I feel proud? If I defeated him, doesn't that make me the strongest Lightning Release user?"

Before the figure could fully process their thoughts, a sudden movement snapped them to attention.

GRAB!

The masked figure felt a jarring pressure on their mask, followed by a sharp CRACK!! The sound reverberated through the still air.

"Huh?" they blurted out, confusion etched into their voice.

From below, the Third Raikage—seemingly unconscious just moments ago—smirked through bloodied lips. His fingers, calloused and unyielding, clutched the broken remains of the masked figure's disguise.

"So, that's how you look." His voice was low and rasping, each word laced with defiant sarcasm. "Damn, you're ugly."

Before the masked figure could respond, the Raikage's eyes fluttered shut, his body finally succumbing to unconsciousness.

For a moment, the figure remained frozen, their breath caught in their chest. They reached up instinctively, their bare face now exposed to the cool night air. Slowly, their hand traced the edges of their broken mask, now shattered in the Raikage's unyielding grasp.

"What... in... the... world?"

It took a moment for reality to set in. Finally, the figure shook their head and exhaled sharply, breaking the tension that lingered in the air.

"Damn monster," they muttered. "Even after losing, he breaks my mask—the mask crafted by the best artisans from the Land of Crafts—with his bare hands... and deceives my senses while he's at it? You're not half bad, fatso."

Turning their gaze back to the Raikage, the figure's expression softened into something that resembled reluctant respect.

"But it doesn't matter if you've seen my face," they said, their tone shifting into one of calm confidence.

*POOF!*

A sudden cloud of smoke enveloped the figure, swirling around them like a shroud. As the haze dissipated, a different man stood in their place—a man with strikingly symmetrical features, dark, flowing hair that gleamed like polished onyx, and a presence that could captivate anyone who laid eyes on him.

"I'm not that ugly," he said with a sly smirk, adjusting his robes as he undid the Body Transformation Jutsu.

He rummaged through his belongings, eventually producing a replacement mask identical to the one that had just been shattered. "Good thing I always keep a spare." Sliding the new mask into place, the man—Uchiha Jima—turned his attention back to the unconscious Third Raikage.

"Well then," he said, his voice now light but resolute. "Time to go back."

Placing a hand on the Raikage's shoulder, Jima disappeared in a flash of light.

***

Jima's voice broke the stillness of the place, finishing his tale with a satisfied sigh. "And that's about it. Phew, my throat's dry after all that talking."

Across from him, Ryuuji stood rooted in place, his expression a mix of awe, disbelief, and utter chaos. His mind raced, thoughts colliding like raging storms.

'Grandpa fought the Third Raikage using only Lightning Release and Taijutsu?! And he held back?! He didn't even use his Sharingan!? And those techniques—Raijin Steps, Raijinken—those weren't even in the original Naruto story! What kind of monster is he?!'

Ryuuji's thoughts spiraled further. The Uchiha clan had always been known for their mastery of Fire Release and the unparalleled power of their Sharingan, yet here stood his grandfather—effortlessly wielding techniques in domains completely outside their clan's expertise. After all, the Uchiha Clan's specialty were their Fire Release Techniques and their Sharingan and yet his Grandfather used only Taijutsu and Lightning Release Techniques both of which were the specialties of the Third Raikage and still managed to defeat him. 

'It makes sense now,' Ryuuji thought. 'He refused to become the Second Hokage's disciple because he's already surpassed that level. He's a bigger genius than even the Second Hokage, the man who created the Flying Thunder God Technique and the Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu!'

His gaze hardened as realization struck him. 'Grandpa... just how strong are you? And will I ever reach your level? No... can I ever reach it?'

Another thought entered his mind, darker and more uncertain. 'But if Grandpa is this strong, what will happen on the night of the Uchiha Massacre? The System said Itachi will kill every Uchiha except Sasuke. But Grandpa is stronger than Itachi even without the Sharingan—far stronger. How can that be true? Does that mean Grandpa...'

"Ryuuji."

His grandfather's voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. Jima's eyes, sharp and unwavering, locked onto his.

"Back when I said you'd need to sacrifice your life to grow stronger," Jima began, his tone grave, "I wasn't joking."

Ryuuji's heart raced, but his resolve was unshaken. He met his grandfather's gaze and replied without hesitation. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Jima studied his grandson for a long moment before nodding, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he closed his eyes. "Very well. If you're this determined, then I will train you to become the strongest."

Right after he said that he opened his eyes which were now crimson, wide and looked at Ryuuji. 

The true training was about to begin.

***