"Yeah…" I muttered, leaning back from the monitor, rubbing my tired eyes as I sank into the chair. "If that's not a Mary Sue on the villains' side, then I don't even know what qualifies as one in this manga!"
I'd just finished reading the latest released chapter of Naruto, and all I could do was marvel at how the enemies kept getting stronger with every arc. Pain, who only lost because of his condition. Madara himself—with Mokuton, Rinnegan, Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan, and practically god mode. Then pseudo-Madara with the Gedo Mazo and a whole army of tailed beasts. And that's not even counting Kabuto, who achieved Sage Mode and unleashed mass Edo Tensei.
Against that backdrop, Naruto and his group looked frankly pale—even with the full power of the tailed beasts behind them. As for ordinary shinobi, they barely registered at all unless they were at least jonin.
Shutting down the computer, I got up and headed to the kitchen. It was four in the morning—the two-day marathon of nonstop manga reading was finally over. Considering I'd only paused for quick snacks, it was time for a proper meal. Lucky for me, there were still leftovers of stew in the fridge—about one and a half portions. That's what I'm going to dig into.
I set the pot on the stove, lit the burner, and waited about five minutes. Then, armed with a spoon, I began filling my stomach, my thoughts wandering as I ate.
If you take the manga's plot as actual history(rather than the clumsy writing and shortsightedness of the mangaka) where some things are embellished, many details glossed over, and others outright forgotten, then it turns out that most of what happened was the fault of the shortsightedness, overconfidence, and sheer stupidity of half the key characters.
Just like real life.
And I'm not talking about the younger generation that born after the Nine-Tails attack—though even they could've been trained far better, especially the blond one. No, I mean the older generation…
Take the Uchiha, for instance, who rose—or rather, were preparing to rise—in rebellion. Aside from the fact that this whole story smells fishy, it's hard to believe they started all this trouble for no reason. That means something must have pushed them to it. After all, they'd lived peacefully for over half a century before that.
And who had enough power to corner the strongest clan in the village?
That's right—the ruling elite: the Hokage and the council of elders.
Someone like Danzo, always scheming, could easily have orchestrated the purge just to seize the power of those crimson eyes capable of controlling people and tailed beasts—and eliminate the rest of their holders in the process.
Finishing the last spoonful, I licked the gravy off the plate and carried the dishes to the sink. I'd wash them later. Right now—sleep.
Living alone was pretty stressful, but it had its advantages too, especially when the kids had grown up and moved out, leaving you a bachelor for the rest of your days.
Stretching out on the couch and pulling the blanket over myself, I still couldn't get the story out of my head. Some people might call it childish nonsense, but the sheer quantity and quality of the illustrated plots could captivate readers of any age.
Actually, it was thanks to my son's recommendation that prompted me to read the original manga. The anime, which I'd forced myself to watch just to kill time—also at his suggestion—hadn't impressed me.
Well… except for Kushina. She looked more beautiful there.
But what a woman!
And she ended up with an idiot who simply got her killed, even though he could've prevented such an outcome by calculating the likely moves of potential opponents. Hell, even no need to calculate anything! Just take her to a hospital instead of dragging her into battle!
As if she could have survive after having the bijuu ripped out of her and then restraining it during the sealing ! It still made my blood boil!
Rolling onto my side, I let out a sigh and shifted into a more comfortable position. No point getting worked up over something you can't change.
Still… it stings.
Though—what if I were born a couple of years after the older Ino–Shika–Cho trio?.. Let's say, in the Nara clan. I've always liked them for their personalities and that lazy charisma. And besides, the theme of their clan techniques? Barely explored. What a vast field for imagination…
Let's say my mother comes from the clan head's family and is Shikaku father's sister. And the other parent?.. An Uzumaki! Why not? Considering the nature of their techniques, the child's chakra system would be suited for nearly any branch of shinobi arts—from genjutsu to taijutsu and sealing techniques.
Take the intelligence of the Nara and the vitality and longevity of the Uzumaki—and you get some pretty solid starting stats.
And let's not forget the Uzumaki's potential kekkei genkai.
Some might argue it's just heredity and therefore doesn't fall into this category, but the fact that both Mito and Kushina possess a special chakra gives one pause for thought. And then there's Karin Uzumaki, whose chakra is also unique, paired with powerful sensory abilities.
Nagato stands out even more with his dojutsu—and he's an Uzumaki too.
If that's not a kekkei genkai, then I don't know what is… Though Naruto didn't seem to have anything like that—but as a half-blood with his father's dominant genes clearly reflected in his appearance, maybe all he inherited was accelerated regeneration, boosted by Kurama, and an increased chakra pool, stacked on top of the already large reserves of any jinchuriki. That would explain how he can produce thousands of clones.
Unfortunately, nothing is known about the children of female jinchuriki—since, well, there aren't any, aside from the obvious example. And even there, it is impossible to discern what was hereditary and what came from the sealed beast.
Supposedly one of Tsunade's parents might have been one, but the manga says nothing about them.
I sighed.
Even adults are allowed to dream.
To be reborn into a world where almost anything is possible—including resurrecting the dead and a man creating a moon—that's worth a lot. More than what little time I have left here, and even the constant danger of a new life.
Without a doubt, it's far better than wasting away as a sick old man, reminiscing about best years and a heap of missed opportunities. And the women I've met…
Ah… and like a fool, I was searching for "the one."
Letting out one last sigh, I pushed the needless thoughts aside and began to sink into the depths of sleep.
And somewhere far away, in a faint whisper, words echoed: "Go on… try."
They failed to stir the mind of the man already slipping into dreams—on the verge of receiving what he desired.
***
The door flew open abruptly, and the loud cries of a newborn spilling into the corridor made the broad-shouldered man sitting nervously on the bench jump to his feet. The standard attire of a shinobi from the Hidden Whirlpool Village left no doubt about his origin. Just as his luxurious hair—deep red, almost burgundy—pulled into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck, clearly marked him as a member of the renowned Uzumaki clan.
"Congratulations! Your firstborn is strong and healthy!" announced the middle-aged woman who appeared in the doorway. Clad in the typical coat and cap of a medical shinobi, she belonged to the Nara clan.
Though, it was doubtful anyone else would have been entrusted with delivering the child of a relative of the clan head.
"May I…?" the newly made father rose hesitantly and stepped toward the doorway.
The dim lighting in the corridor had made it hard to judge his age, but near the room's entrance it became clear—he was quite young, around twenty-two or twenty-three.
"Of course, you may go in," the medic-nin replied, stepping aside. "But keep in mind that Saya-chan and the baby need rest. Don't stay too long."
Nodding in agreement, the Uzumaki slipped past her on tiptoe and, in an instant, was at the bedside. The exhausted mother lay there, while the baby busied himself with a task of utmost importance. Having stopped crying, he suckled contentedly, latched onto his mother's full breast.
"A true Uzumaki always finds time to eat," the man chuckled softly, his gaze warm with affection as he looked at the pair.
"He even got your hair color, not just your appetite," Saya smiled happily. "What shall we name him, Ryuta?"
"Mmm… not something that comes to mind right away," the Uzumaki narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, a hint of mischief in them. "But maybe if I hold him, I'll think of something!"
The Nara woman shook her head skeptically, but still gently pulled the child away from her breast and, despite his immediate protests, handed him over to his father.
Ryuta carefully took the wailing little bundle and lifted him above his head, which immediately put an end to the noisy assault. Сcuriosity overtaking distress as small eyes fixed on the strange red blur nearby. Tiny hands reached out and began patting his father's hair.
"My little curious dragon!" the Uzumaki laughed, hearing the soft grumbling sounds that accompanied the child's efforts. "Ryu Nara! A fitting name for our son, don't you think, Saya?"
"Ryu… that's a good name," the woman smiled, taking the baby back and allowing him to resume his interrupted meal. "But why don't you want to name him Ryu Uzumaki? Or Uzumaki-Nara?"
"Well, that wouldn't be fair to you," Ryuta said with a gentle smile, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "He's already inherited my red hair—and my kekkei genkai. And now I've named him too. Taking away his belonging to your clan would just be plain selfish."
"Thank you. But are you sure he inherited the Uzumaki kekkei genkai?" the Nara woman grew serious, gently stroking the head of the baby, who was fully absorbed in his meal.
"You know I'm a sensor," the Whirlpool shinobi shook his head. "Even at this age, children already have chakra that can be felt. And without a doubt, his is almost indistinguishable from that of a pureblood Uzumaki from our family. Most likely, my son will become a sensor like me, my father, and my grandfather. Even in Uzushiogakure, that's a rare gift—considered a true treasure for any shinobi."
"I can't say I'm upset," Saya smirked faintly, continuing to stroke the baby, who had fallen asleep right in the middle of eating—an unmistakable sign of kinship with the clan of lazy geniuses. "Every mother wants her son to live as long as possible."
"But it's better if no one knows about this," the Uzumaki added, shaking his head. "Your village has excellent sensors—the Hyuga and some of the Yamanaka—but none of them can cover a radius of dozens of kilometers without assistance."
He paused, his expression darkening slightly.
"Unfortunately, the tense political climate won't allow me to stay in the Leaf long enough to properly train Ryu. But I'll leave my scrolls with you."
"When do you have to return?" Saya asked quietly.
"I doubt I'll be able to stay with you for more than a year, maybe a year and a half," Ryuta sighed. "But I'm grateful we have even that much time."
"Well, let's not dwell on sad things," the Nara woman said, shaking off the mood. "You're here with Ryu, and that's all I need!"