He had seen every scene in Naruto. Uchiha Itachi's tragic end on a rainy night, Jiraiya reaching out before sinking into the depths, and Neji Hyuga never getting to see the change he had hoped for: those scenes pierced his heart like thorns. Countless times, he had wondered: What would happen if I were there?
He thought about it too hard.
And so the secret realm known as Spiritwood Valley answered him. Standing in the forest of Konoha, breathing in the scent of grass and dew, he understood one thing: the power of wood was never meant for destruction. Compassion, resilience, connection, growth: these were the true nature of wood. A tree does not attack anyone. It simply puts down roots in silence, then grows until it is big enough to shelter everyone it wants to protect.
But this world would not patiently wait for a tree to grow. Every date on the calendar still to come held another farewell he had read about in the manga. He had to move faster, much faster: learn restraint under the gaze of the Sharingan, put down roots with every mission, and plant different seeds along the paths that once led to death.
He had transmigrated here not to be a bystander. In a script already written from beginning to end, he was a new sprout quietly falling from the Zhen position.
Author's note: Well, my writing really is terrible. The beginning is written in first person, and maybe I'll revise it later. I was just starting out and didn't know how to handle first-person narration. Anyway, it's really bad, so maybe don't read it for now. I'll revise it when I have time. If you really want to read it, you can start from Volume Three.
