The last thing Ash felt was the sharp pain of a technique tearing through his chest. Chakra exploded, darkness closed in and then… silence.
He didn't wake up in a hospital. Not in the afterlife either.
He woke up in a bed, under white sheets, with wooden ceilings overhead and the sounds of fists and shouting just outside. Not cries of pain training.
Ash slowly sat up. There was a strange weight to his body. He walked to a mirror on the wall and stared.
The reflection wasn't his.
A young man with dark hair, pale skin, and tired eyes looked back. And the moment Ash met those eyes, a flood of memories hit him: the name of this body Ash Aragon, heir to a prestigious martial arts family.
"So… I've reincarnated."
This wasn't the shinobi world anymore. It was modern cars, cities, technology. But here, everything was decided through combat. Martial arts reigned supreme. Politics, power, respect all earned through tournaments and the arena.
Ash Aragon, the body he now inhabited, was considered a disgrace. Born into greatness but lacking any real talent. Weak, ridiculed, ignored.
But they didn't know the truth.
Ash closed his eyes… and felt it.
When he opened them again, both eyes glowed red, each bearing three tomoe spinning slowly in a pattern of power and fate.
The Sharingan.
He hadn't left it behind. Even in a new world, the power had come with him.
" I'm not the weakling they think I am."
The door burst open.
"Ash!" shouted a silver-haired girl, tying her hair into a tight bun. "Still hiding? Everyone's already training
His cousin Iria Aragon. A prodigy, and one of his harshest critics.
Ash turned to her calmly, and for the first time… he saw it all her footstep before she took it, the shift in her weight, the tension in her shoulders.
"I'm coming" he said, voice steady.
She blinked, taken aback. Ash walked past her, eyes calm.
No longer prey. No longer forgotten.
A predator had just awakened.