Pain. That was the first thing I felt.
Not just a dull ache or a lingering soreness, but real pain—the kind that carved through the bones, seared the nerves, and throbbed behind the eyes like a war drum. It was the kind of pain that reminded you this was no dream. I tried to scream, but my throat was raw, as though it had been breathing fire for days.
Then came the silence.
Not peaceful, but eerie. Like the moment before a kunai hits its mark. The world was dark, and the only sound was my own heartbeat, thumping violently in my ears.
I opened my eyes slowly. Light pierced into my skull like senbon, and I had to blink a few times to adjust. I was lying on a stone floor. Cold. Rough. Unforgiving.
Where the hell was I?
I sat up too fast and immediately regretted it. My body screamed in protest—muscles tight, bones stiff. But there was something wrong. My arms were too lean, yet defined. My hands—calloused. Hardened.
These weren't my hands.
I scrambled toward a still puddle of water pooled in a corner. The reflection that stared back at me made my breath catch in my throat.
A man with sharp, weathered features. Thin scars etched into his cheek like faded ink. Long, black hair tied back. A strange mask rested beside me on the floor—a rebreather. An old memory sparked.
Hanzo.
No.
Hanzo of the Salamander.
Suddenly, my heart slammed in my chest. I knew this face. I knew this man. A shinobi feared across nations. A living legend in the Second Great Ninja War. A tyrant to some, a protector to others. I remembered reading about him, watching him in Naruto. He was powerful, yes—but he was also obsolete.
And now, I was him.
"No way..."
My voice was hoarse. Deeper. Aged. There was no mistaking it. This wasn't cosplay. This wasn't VR. I was in Hanzo's body. And I wasn't just watching from inside like a passenger. I was Hanzo.
"How... how the hell did this happen?"
My memories of my old life were patchy. Fragments of screens, novels, ramen cups, and the quiet hum of a lonely apartment. I had fallen asleep reading Naruto fanfics on some obscure site, bored and bitter about another rejection email. I remembered thinking, "If I were in that world, I wouldn't waste it."
Was this some cosmic joke?
No, this wasn't the time to panic. I stood slowly, testing my balance. Everything felt... sharper. My vision, my hearing, even the scent of damp stone and moss in the air.
I picked up the rebreather mask and strapped it on instinctively. It clicked into place like I'd done it a hundred times. Muscle memory.
Okay, I thought, if I'm Hanzo, then where am I in the timeline?
Was this during the war? Before his fall to Pain? After Edo Tensei?
No way to know yet.
Suddenly, a low growl echoed from deeper within the cave.
My spine stiffened.
The sound of something massive shifting in the dark.
And then I saw it—two glowing eyes, low to the ground but wide as lanterns. A slithering hiss followed, echoing off the stone walls like death incarnate.
Ibuse.
The giant salamander. Hanzo's summon.
And it was looking at me with wary recognition.
My breath caught. It tilted its head, then slowly crawled forward, massive claws tapping against the stone, tail dragging behind it like a living shadow.
I stood still.
Please don't eat me.
It stopped inches from my face. Its breath was warm, sulfuric. Poison. I didn't flinch. I couldn't flinch. Somehow, something inside me knew that showing fear would be a death sentence.
Ibuse stared for a long moment, then... nudged my shoulder with its snout.
Like an old friend greeting a long-lost companion.
Relief flooded me so hard I nearly dropped to my knees. The bond was still there. I might not have Hanzo's memories, but his connection to Ibuse ran deeper than chakra. It was instinctual. Spiritual.
"Looks like we're still cool," I whispered.
Ibuse rumbled in response, then turned and lumbered deeper into the cave.
I followed, not knowing where we were going, but understanding that I needed answers.
The tunnel twisted and opened into a massive underground chamber. Old wooden training dummies were scattered around. Rusted kunai stuck into pillars. Shelves filled with scrolls and vials.
A hideout.
Hanzo's lair.
I could work with this.
I had no idea how I got here, why I was given this chance, or how long I had until some ninja realized Hanzo was "alive." But one thing was certain:
This time, Hanzo wasn't going to be some relic of the past. Not a mid-tier boss with one gimmick. No.
This time, Hanzo was going to rise again.
And this time... he was going to be unstoppable.