Akihiro woke up in a lonely room.

  He looked around. It wasn't big or small—just austere. The furniture was minimal: a wooden bed, two chairs, and a small table.

  There was also a window letting in sunlight, and at that moment, several heads could be seen peeking in, crowding together. Boys and girls, watching one by one, whispering with curiosity.

  —Did he wake up? —a boy asked in a low voice.

  —I don’t know… it’s been several days already.

  —He didn’t come back with any wounds, and yet it’s taking him this long to wake up. Is he faking it?

  —I’m awake —Akihiro said, turning his head toward the window.

  The children reacted with surprise and quickly backed away, startled.

  Akihiro chuckled softly at their reactions. Then he raised his upper body and sat up in bed.

  —How many days have passed? —he asked.

  A boy, a bit embarrassed, answered:

  —Five days. Almost a week.

  Akihiro nodded.

  —Do you know what happened? I only remember being kidnapped —he said, taking the situation seriously.

  —The adults didn’t tell us much… just rumors that you were taken from your house by some kind of human trafficker or something —another child replied.

  Akihiro nodded again and slowly stood up. However, his body didn’t respond properly, and he ended up falling to the floor.

  —Damn it —he cursed, struggling to get up.

  —Are you okay? —a boy asked, stepping forward to help him.

  —I’m fine, thanks. Just a little exhausted.

  He sat back on the bed and patted down his body. There were no problems with his chakra pathways, nor any visible injuries. Just a mild muscur paralysis from inactivity while unconscious. Nothing a bit of training couldn’t fix.

  —Can you call a shinobi? —he asked the children.

  They nodded and ran out of the room, leaving him alone.

  Akihiro smiled faintly. He didn’t expect Uchiha kids to be so… unique?

  —Well, they’re civilian Uchiha. Untainted by hatred or the cn’s traditions —he muttered, closing his eyes, beginning to digest the memories of the clone and his current body.

  It would take him just over an hour to process everything. Not much, but enough to be tedious.

  —Let’s start with the clone’s memories and finish with this body’s. Worst-case scenario, we can pretend to have amnesia —he said, closing his eyes as he organized the mental information.

  It didn’t take him more than an hour. The memories were fairly simple. The most important thing was understanding why his clone took so long and what details emerged from researching which body to possess.

  That’s when he felt something didn’t add up, and his doubts grew as he reached the end—when he understood why the clone had chosen this particur body.

  —Piece of shit —he muttered angrily, restraining himself from using the mental clone jutsu just to beat up the original.

  The name of the body he now inhabited was Hirokazu Uchiha. There was nothing particurly notable about him—he just had a sister and a fairly normal life.

  But there was one detail. Hirokazu had a childhood friend… if you could even call her that. A girl with a minor role in the original story, but whose name rang loud:

  Mikoto Uchiha.The mother of Itachi and Sasuke Uchiha.

  —This is bullshit —he said, sighing.

  The retionship between Hirokazu and Mikoto was simir to that of an older sister looking after a younger brother. Mikoto was a few years older and used to protect and help him whenever she could.

  It wasn’t a particurly deep retionship, but it was clear they saw each other as family. Though technically, since they were both Uchiha, they already were.

  The worst part was that, upon assimiting this body, Akihiro realized something unsettling: Hirokazu didn’t see Mikoto just as a friend or family. There were deeper, more complicated feelings… and his clone had known that perfectly well.

  —Did that idiot really want to get into some kind of harem route or some other dumb idea? —he asked with frustration, cursing internally. Conveniently ignoring the fact that the clone was, of course, still him.

  That’s when someone arrived.

  —You’re pretty active for someone who just woke up —said a shinobi from the Uchiha cn as he stepped through the door, followed by a group of children.

  Akihiro opened his eyes and looked up slightly at the newcomer. He was a young man, maybe in his twenties, with the characteristic bck eyes of an inactive Sharingan.

  It only took Akihiro one gnce to know he was a Chunin.

  —Anyone would be full of energy after a five-day nap —Akihiro replied with a slight smile.

  The shinobi raised an eyebrow.

  —You’re lucky to be alive. According to the reports, you didn’t have any visible injuries, but your chakra was unstable when we found you.

  Akihiro shrugged. That didn’t surprise him in the slightest. From the start, he had carved his body with inscriptions precisely designed to conceal any anomalies. Aside from slight chakra instability—which could be perceived on the surface—there was no way to detect anything else.

  —And what did he want from me? The Sharingan? —Akihiro asked.

  The Uchiha observed him carefully, as if trying to read between the lines.

  —We don’t know for sure. According to the report, the pce where you were found was covered in a strange fuinjutsu with no clear function. The kidnapper was killed on the spot, so we couldn’t get any information from him.

  Akihiro nodded, showing no surprise. Whether they killed him or not, Rokuro only had a few minutes left to live. He had pced a seal directly on his heart; either way, he was doomed. After all, loose ends were unacceptable.

  —The elders want to speak with you when you’re ready. Mikoto asked about you too.

  Akihiro swallowed hard, holding back a more visible reaction.

  —Mikoto…? Sure. Tell them I’ll go as soon as I can move without looking like an eighty-year-old man.

  The shinobi nodded silently and left, leaving the door slightly open. Akihiro y back down and closed his eyes.

  —Perfect… just what I needed. Emotional drama with the mother of the future vengeful child. Thanks, idiot clone

  You’re welcome.

  Akihiro frowned.

  —Did I just hear a response…?

  …

  —I guess it was my imagination… or my schizophrenia —he muttered with resignation.

  I just want one damn peaceful day, he thought as he sighed and closed his eyes again.