Divine Tree - Prologue

Kojiro Uzarima—that's the name my two new parents gave me at birth.

As a man who lived in the 21st century, landing in a world as crazy as NARUTO was really... a disorienting experience.

It’s now been 16 years since I was reincarnated, and I’m not dead yet... I think that’s a good start.

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First of all, what you need to know about me is that I didn’t have the luck to be born into a family with a Kekkei Genkai.

Additionally, I’m a ninja from the village of Kusagakure, and for more than 16 years, I’ve been training for THIS moment.

I was born into this world during the era of Hashirama, in the village of Kusagakure.

Everyone was happy because, as a ninja village allied with Konoha, none of us had any worries during Hashirama’s reign.

For more than 10 long years, we lived happily and in peace.

No one dared to get on the bad side of two ninja gods like Madara and Hashirama, not to mention the countless masters from the Sengoku period who were still around.

It’s only now that I realize the power of Konoha at its inception.

It could have crushed the Ninja Alliance at the end of Naruto, and without breaking a sweat.

Over 20 Kage, hundreds of elite Jonin, more than 1,000 experienced Jonin, not to mention the Chūnin and Genin who were properly trained in a healthy and secure environment.

But all good things must come to an end, and the peace so easily maintained by the Two Ninja Gods of Konoha crumbled due to internal strife.

A few years earlier, the iron grip Konoha had on the world had slowly started to loosen, beginning with Madara’s "death," then the passing of many powers from the Sengoku era as they aged, significantly reducing the number of individuals with Kage-level strength.

And finally, two months ago, Hashirama Senju, the "last" living ninja god, passed away.

It didn’t take long for all that chaos to catch up to us and hit us right in the face, as the so-called era of peace, where everyone understood each other, abruptly ended with the death of its instigator, and the First Great Ninja War began.

I always knew that one day I would have to face the reality of surviving in this world, but now that the time has come to put into practice everything I’ve worked so hard to learn since I was young, I find myself both excited and terrified.

From a very young age, I always made sure to learn and retain as much knowledge as possible. Whether it was immediately useful to me or not didn’t matter much, but as long as it seemed useful to certain people, I pursued it.

At an early age, I quickly caught the attention of my teachers at school, who immediately sent me to the ninja academy. There too, I quickly distinguished myself from my classmates, who were just children enjoying the peacetime, preferring to play ninja rather than actually become one.

I wasn’t there to make friends, only to learn, with the fear of dying on the battlefield gnawing at my stomach every time I thought about taking a short break.

At that time, the village of Kusagakure only had around a thousand Genin, over a hundred Chūnin, and about twenty Jonin, plus the Kusakage, an elite Jonin who had fled the Land of Fire to establish a ninja village far from the monsters of the Sengoku period, where he could be the sole master.

Upon learning that a genius had been spotted at the ninja academy, the Kusakage, who was struggling to produce elites, quickly sought to meet me to observe my determination and talent.

I must admit that, even though I was happy back then that my plan to find and attract an excellent teacher had worked, I didn’t think it would work so well that the best ninja in the village would personally seek to teach me.

The Kusakage’s name was Kuro Yamata. He had three different chakra natures and knew little ninjutsu, but he had vast experience in taijutsu, espionage, assassinations, and poisons, all while being a sensory ninja—a rare talent that we both shared.

I don’t know if it’s because of my soul, but I had a pronounced talent for sensory ninjutsu.

At the age of 4, he took me under his wing and taught me everything, from the art of poisons to all the assassination techniques he knew.

He always asked me why I wanted so badly to be strong, but I never managed to give him a clear answer, because not only did I not want to, but I couldn’t.

He never forced me or interrogated me harshly on the subject, and I think it was more out of curiosity than suspicion.

I had no illusions; my master was no saint, and to some people, he was even the very definition of a demon.

But with me, he did more than anyone ever had, so I kept my secret well hidden deep inside me to never see his dark side.