It was night.
A cold breeze drifted through the mountaintop village. Torches flickered as villagers gathered silently outside the house of the village head—none other than Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki, the Sage of Six Paths.
Inside, screams of labor echoed through the walls. The village's finest midwives surrounded Hagoromo's wife as she gave birth. Tension hung thick in the air.
Outside, Hagoromo stood with arms crossed, his face tight with concern. Despite all his power, despite the divine chakra flowing through his veins… he was helpless here. This was something even he could not control.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity—
A baby's cry.
Then another.
And a third.
The door creaked open. The chief midwife stepped out, her face flushed with exhaustion and sorrow.
"…They're all healthy," she said quietly, "three boys."
A wave of relief washed over Hagoromo… but it was short-lived.
"She… didn't make it," the midwife added, her voice heavy. "She passed just after the third child was born. She gave everything she had."
Hagoromo's eyes widened, and for a brief moment, the Sage of Six Paths looked like nothing more than a grieving husband. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded.
He entered the room slowly.
Three newborns lay wrapped in soft white cloth, resting in a row. The eldest was already crying loudly, waving his tiny fists. The youngest wriggled in his wrap, hiccuping in between cries. The middle child, smaller than the others, cried just as any baby would—nothing strange, nothing unusual.
The midwife pointed gently. "The firstborn is Indra. The third is Asura. The one in the middle…?"
Hagoromo reached out and held the second child in his arms. The baby quieted for a moment, staring up at him with small but calm eyes.
"…Danava," Hagoromo said softly. "His name is Danava."
Danava's Perspective
"Huh? What the hell…?"
One moment, I was walking back from the store, half a bottle of cola in hand. The next, I saw headlights.
"Truck-kun?!"
Then… pain. And darkness.
But now?
Now I was crying. Loudly. My throat was sore, my body felt weird, and everything looked huge. The world was a blur of bright lights and muffled sounds—until I locked eyes with the man holding me.
He looked like an alien. Tall, stern face, short brown hair tied behind his back, and those eyes—purple with ripples. My brain screamed at me.
"Wait. Is that… the Rinnegan?!"
I tried to blink away the confusion, but something else caught my attention.
"The first will be Indra... second Danava... and the youngest Ashura," the woman beside him announced.
My baby heart skipped a beat.
Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Indra? Ashura?! Aren't they the sons of the Sage of Six Paths?
I turned my baby head—slowly—to the left. One of the babies beside me was already wailing like a little lion cub. That must be Indra. The other one on the right squirmed and cried softer—Ashura?
And I… was in the middle?
What kind of broken reincarnation is this?! I was supposed to go to some chill isekai with magic and waifus!
Instead, I'm reborn as the middle child of Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki—aka, the god of ninja Jesus.
"Okay… okay. Stay calm, Rayan. No. Danava. You're Danava now.
Just a baby. Born into one of the most powerful bloodlines ever. Totally normal stuff."
But deep inside, one thought wouldn't leave me.
And somewhere outside my crib, I heard the man—Hagoromo—murmur something in a voice that was firm but filled with sorrow.
"Oh no…"
I finally understood.
"My new mom… didn't make it."
"She gave her life for them. I will raise them well… all three of them."
Hagoromo's voice was heavy with grief, but I—Danava—just stared up at the wooden ceiling, still trying to piece everything together.
So… I died. Got trucked.
Woke up as a baby.
Found out I'm Hagoromo's middle son—Danava, apparently.
And my mom… she didn't survive.
I blinked slowly, trying to process the weight of that.
"She was bound to die anyways, I think. After all, even in the OG timeline, she didn't survive," I thought, a bit too casually for a newborn.
Dark? Maybe. But I was just stating facts.
In the original Naruto lore, Hagoromo's wife was never even mentioned. Which probably meant she passed away early—right after giving birth to Indra and Ashura. So even in this AU, it wasn't too surprising.
Still, knowing something's coming doesn't really make it hurt less.
I glanced sideways at the two babies beside me again. Indra was already kicking like he owned the place. Ashura drooled on his blanket.
"So this is it, huh? My new life."
No cheat system. No blue menu popping up in front of my eyes. Just me, the reincarnated middle brother between two of the most important characters in shinobi history.
Great.
"Guess I better start thinking ahead."
Five Years Later
Time passed. Five whole years.
Looking back now? Honestly, my baby years were… meh. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Crawl around, gurgle some nonsense, and try not to soil myself? Yeah, real riveting stuff.
As a baby, I couldn't do much. I didn't have control over my limbs, couldn't talk, and had to rely on the villagers for everything. The people of the mountain village took care of us—the triplets of the Sage—with the kind of awe and reverence you'd expect. We were the sons of Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki, after all.
I mostly just lay there, watching the world go by. I saw Indra throw tantrums when he didn't get food fast enough. Ashura cried when he fell on his butt trying to walk. Sometimes we laughed, other times we just sat in the sun while villagers cooed at us.
We played with sticks. We babbled nonsense. One time, Indra smacked Ashura with a wooden spoon and I laughed so hard I drooled.
It was chaos. Warm, weird, and simple chaos.
But now?
Now I was five.
And everything had changed.
Danava's Perspective
Five years in this world. Five years of adjusting, watching, learning.
Hagoromo didn't coddle us—he loved us, sure, but he made sure we grew up strong. He'd often sit with us by the river, explaining what chakra was, teaching us to breathe and feel the energy inside ourselves. Even though I already knew all this stuff from my past life, I had to play dumb. I was still a five-year-old.
Indra was sharp. Scary sharp. He understood everything Hagoromo said and picked things up like he'd done it all before. The kid was practically born a prodigy.
Ashura? A bit of a goof. He liked chasing bugs and falling in puddles. But he had this crazy energy about him—always laughing, always smiling. And somehow, people naturally gravitated to him.
And me? I was somewhere in between.
Not the genius like Indra. Not the golden-hearted whirlwind like Ashura.
But I was watching. Always watching.
And thinking.
I know how this story ends… or, at least, how it used to.
But this time?
I was here.
And I don't plan to be a background character.
As for my appearance? What can I say—I stood out.
While Indra and Ashura inherited Father's earthy brown hair, I ended up with jet black hair, thick and slightly messy, like a shadow dancing around my face. It gave me a kind of sharp, contrasting look that always made the villagers pause when they looked at me.
My eyes were darker too. Not like Father's Rinnegan or Indra's intense gaze—just deep black, calm but observant. Always watching. Always thinking.
I wore the same kind of white… what was that called again?
Oh right—kimono.
Yeah, the same white kimono Indra and Ashura wore in the canon as kids. Loose sleeves, tied at the waist, comfortable enough to move around but formal enough to make us look like miniature sages-in-training.
Sometimes I'd catch our reflections in the water.
Indra looked like he'd grow up to be a warrior-king. Ashura? More like a monk who'd make friends with everyone in the forest.
Me? I didn't know.
I didn't look as fierce as Indra or as bright as Ashura. But I looked different. And in this world, different could mean dangerous—or special.
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Can read up to 8 chapters ahead.(for now dont worry i will increase the chapter count soon and u can read chapters of tensura true dragon of sun aswell it has somewhere aroun 25 or so chapters ahead maybe? yea but not less that 25 so go ahead)