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Chapter 1 – Emiya Shihara
🕑 Added 2025-09-11 05:05:51 +0000 UTC
Konoha Village lay silent under a heavy sky. In the heart of the village, far beneath the bustling streets and neat rows of wooden houses, a hidden corridor stretched downward into a dim underground chamber. The smell of old stone and damp earth hung thick in the air, mingled with the faint metallic tang of chakra-infused seals etched into the walls.
At the center of this secret room stood a crystal coffin unlike anything in the world above. It was long and narrow, painstakingly carved with ancient sigils that glimmered faintly whenever a torch flickered. Yet the strangest thing about the coffin was its occupant. Inside rested only half a body — a human torso perfectly preserved, its organs visible through the transparent casing like a macabre medical specimen. The sight lent the chamber an aura of unease, as though time itself had been arrested here.
A silver-haired man stood in front of the coffin, his posture erect and his expression carved from stone. He had grown used to the oppressive atmosphere of this place. His crimson eyes, sharp and cold as a hawk’s, fixed on the coffin with a mixture of resolve and sorrow. This was Senju Tobirama, the Second Hokage of the village — strategist, innovator, and guardian of Konoha’s future.
“Lord Tobirama.”
A masked ANBU operative entered quietly, dragging a bound prisoner whose hands were tied behind his back. The prisoner’s forehead protector bore the emblem of the Sand Village, now smudged with dirt. The ANBU bowed and spoke in a low voice. “Over the past few days many enemy shinobi have infiltrated the village to steal information. We searched every cell. The Sand ninja caught last night has the strongest chakra signature in the entire prison…”
Tobirama’s brow furrowed. “And my elder brother’s condition?” He caught himself mid-sentence, realizing the formality of his surroundings, and corrected his wording. “How is Lord Hokage?”
“Still receiving treatment,” the ANBU answered, a note of worry in his tone. “No one has ever seen Lord Hashirama suffer such a grievous injury. Lady Mito says his life hangs by a thread…”
The Second Hokage’s face darkened. Silence stretched between them before he asked another question. “Has there been any unusual movement from the Uchiha clan?”
“Not at the moment,” the ANBU replied. “Since the news spread that Uchiha Madara was killed by the Hokage yesterday, the clan has shown nothing but fear. No overt abnormalities.”
“Maintain close surveillance,” Tobirama ordered. His gaze dropped to the bound Sand ninja, his voice turning grave. “Strengthen patrols throughout the village. Assign a squad to guard this chamber. No one is to approach this forbidden-technique room.”
“Yes, Lord Tobirama!” The ANBU saluted and vanished into the shadows.
The captured Sand ninja whimpered through the gag, eyes darting nervously around the chamber. “Mmm—” His muffled voice trembled with urgency.
“I know what you’re trying to say,” Tobirama interrupted without looking at him. “But I’m not interested in your excuses.” His eyes held the weight of a death sentence. “You crept into our village either to spy on my brother or to confirm rumors about Madara. Whatever your reason, it ends here.”
“Hmph.” The silver-haired Hokage straightened, his gaze returning to the crystal coffin. Its surface reflected the torchlight like liquid ice. “Let your curiosity die with you,” he muttered.
This coffin, he thought, was more than a relic. It was the cradle of medical ninjutsu itself.
“Emiya Shihara,” Tobirama said aloud, almost ceremonially. “You should have heard the name.”
The Sand ninja’s eyes widened. Of course he knew it. Everyone in the shinobi world had heard of the legendary healer who lived a thousand years ago. Emiya Shihara was the sage who had created the concept of medical ninjutsu, standardized its teachings, and given the fractured shinobi era a system of healing that transcended clan and nation. Tales said he treated any patient without bias and could cure illnesses thought impossible. He had saved more lives than some entire countries had people.
And the story of his death was just as extraordinary. To ensure that medical ninjutsu endured and to break the taboo against surgical dissection, he had ordered his own body separated into two crystal coffins upon death, leaving them to posterity. Even during the blood-soaked Warring States period, rival clans had tacitly agreed not to harm those coffins — a rare truce born of respect.
Yet here, in this hidden room, lay one of those fabled halves, a treasure most shinobi would never even glimpse. The Sand ninja stared at it with a mixture of awe and dread. How could a healer dead for a millennium help the First Hokage now? Could this coffin hide some secret technique?
Tobirama’s voice cut through the silence. “Our Senju clan has always excelled at chakra control and has long been the most suited to medical arts. Legend says this crystal coffin was personally entrusted by Shihara to our ancestors.” He brushed his fingers over the coffin’s intricate engravings. “Even though most of us chose combat over healing, this relic has always been our clan’s pride…”
His hand lingered on the glass. “I never imagined I would one day destroy it myself.”
The Sand ninja’s breath caught. “Destroy…?”
“For my brother…” Tobirama whispered. “Everything can be sacrificed.”
A pulse of chakra gathered in his palm. Without hesitation he struck the coffin.
CRASH.
The coffin splintered into glittering shards. The preserved half-body slipped out and thudded onto the stone floor. The bound Sand ninja recoiled in horror, eyes wide as the legendary remains lay exposed.
“Only my brother can guarantee the peace of Konoha,” Tobirama murmured.
His hands blurred through a sequence of seals. Chakra flared cold and dark. “Even if there’s only a one in ten-thousand chance of success,” he said evenly, “even if it means desecrating the souls of the dead—this must be done.”
He slammed his palm onto the floor. “Forbidden Art: Impure World Reincarnation!”
Pitch-black script radiated outward from his hand, racing across the floor like living ink. Two separate seals formed, one beneath the Sand ninja and one beneath Shihara’s half-body. Dust lifted in the swirling chakra. The ancient remains disintegrated into ash, threads of substance drawn toward the living sacrifice. The prisoner gasped, the air sucked from his lungs, as if the very underworld were swallowing him. Dust clouded his vision, and terror filled his eyes until he disappeared entirely within the spell.
Tobirama’s gaze fixed on the form emerging from the ashes. His heart beat fast. This was his first attempt at the forbidden jutsu; everything depended on it. Could he really pull back a soul a thousand years gone?
The body within the seal began to coalesce, reshaping into its original form. Flesh knit together. Eyes opened. For an instant a strange smile flickered across the incomplete face, then vanished as the transformation finished.
The figure now standing looked younger than legends suggested, but there was an unmistakable gentleness about him — a compassion etched into every feature. He blinked at his hands as if unsure they were real, confusion clouding his brow.
The technique had worked. The soul was conscious.
Tobirama exhaled slowly, relief loosening his shoulders. Against all odds, the gamble had paid off.
“Mister Emiya Shihara,” he said formally, stepping forward. “I am Senju Tobirama, the one who summoned you from the underworld.” His voice softened, tinged with genuine respect. “Forgive me for disturbing your peace. We need your help to save someone vital to the shinobi world. I had no choice but to call you back. I hope you can forgive my offense.”
“Your surname is Senju?” Shihara asked. When Tobirama nodded, the healer’s expression eased. “If it is to save a life, it is not unforgivable.” True to his reputation, he harbored no resentment. His eyes drifted around the room, then back to Tobirama. “Where is the patient?”
“In the village above,” Tobirama replied. “I will take you there.”
He relaxed his subtle control over the jutsu, trusting that Shihara’s character matched his legend. There would be no need for coercion.
But he missed one small detail. Though Shihara’s tone was mild, his eyes were devoid of warmth, clouded by the stillness of death. When he asked about the patient, there was no flicker of concern — only an unreadable calm. Perhaps saving countless lives had dulled his reactions. Perhaps the patient’s identity meant nothing. Or perhaps something else entirely occupied his mind.
Inside that borrowed body, an unseen system flickered back to life:
> [Ninja System Reconnecting…]
[Welcome back, Ninja Emiya Shihara.]
[Unfinished missions remain. You cannot leave this world.]
[Outstanding Requests: 2/3]
[SSSSS-Level Request: Defeat the immortal progenitor Kaguya Ōtsutsuki.]
[SSSSS-Level Request: Defeat the final protagonists — Uzumaki Naruto (Six Paths Mode) and Uchiha Sasuke (Rinne Sharingan).]
So the system still existed. The power he had once gained still lingered. A faint crimson gleam flickered in Shihara’s eyes. This plan, forged across time, had at last reached this era.
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