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The first thing they noticed was the grass beneath their fingers. The sensation was oddly sharp, as if their body wasn’t used to it.It smelled like fresh earth.
(The way a battlefield did after a long night of rain.)
Familiar, yet wrong. They blinked up at the sky, squinting against the glare of the midday sun. A chorus of children’s laughter echoed in the air. It was too lighthearted, too… safe.
(The sounds lacked the edge of desperation that was so common in war-torn villages, in places where childhood was stolen too soon.)
Sitting up slowly, they examined their small hands, short arms. Their feet barely touched the ground where they sat on the edge of a park bench. Their body felt unfamiliar, lighter, and less burdened than it should have been.
(Something was off.)
Then the memories hit.A rush of experiences that weren’t theirs—except they were. Their body stiffened as the life of Nara Shikamaru unfolded in their mind. The lazy genius of the Hidden Leaf. The shadow-wielding strategist. The one who outlived so many friends and allies.Except they hadn’t. Not here.In another world, 🗌🗌🗌🗌🗌🗌 🗌🗌🗌🗌🗌🗌 had died.And now, Nara Shikashi was in a four-year-old body.Actually, it wasn’t just Shikamaru’s life.Shikashi remembered the other lives too.
All of them.
Seventeen? Eighteen? Maybe even twenty by now. The faces blurred, but the emotions clung to them. Kings, warriors, scholars, criminals. Each life a new role, a new set of skills, a new set of failures. And, like always, they were alone. Each life had left something behind—memories of languages long forgotten, battle styles that no longer existed, philosophies that had been crushed under the weight of history. And now, all of it was jammed into the tiny body of a four-year-old. Their head throbbed as flashes of old battles, moments of love and betrayal, of victories and losses, rushed through their mind.Their fingers curled against their small palms. This wasn’t the Shinobi World. They couldn’t sense the thick, heavy presence of chakra in the air. Instead, the energy here felt different, less refined, but still potent. Quirks. That’s what they called them, didn’t they?That realization clicked into place, and their breathing slowed. Right. They knew this world.
(The world of My Hero Academia.)
And this body— this version of Shikamaru —was an orphan.No Nara Clan. No father with a lazy drawl and a sharp mind. No mother with an iron will to keep them in check. No home waiting for them when they left this park.
(It figured. Most of their past lives had been like this.)
Shikashi sighed, rubbing their temples. This was a problem. The children played around them, utterly unaware of the existential crisis unfolding in their mind. Some were chasing each other, their tiny bodies glowing with the flickers of undeveloped quirks. A girl with soft pink skin giggled as she floated a few inches off the ground. A boy with spiky hair shot tiny sparks from his fingertips, looking pleased with himself.A world where power was given, not earned.
What a drag.
Shikashi stared at their hands again. If this was truly Shikamaru’s body, then there was one thing they needed to confirm.They pressed their fingers together in a familiar seal. Rat. Shadows curled under their feet, slow, sluggish. The darkness stretched unnaturally, forming jagged veins toward a nearby tree before snapping back to normal. Their quirk, they’d call it. But they knew the truth. It was chakra.They still had it.
(They remember once when they were the last Uchiha, other when they were the Senju Clan heir.)
That was both a relief and another complication. If chakra worked in this world, then they weren’t just some orphan with a rare quirk. They were something that shouldn’t exist.Leaning back against the bench, they exhaled slowly. Okay. First things first.
Figure out where they were living.
Test the limits of their chakra.
Stay under the radar.
Avoid unnecessary work.
That last one was more of an instinct than a strategy. Shikamaru’s laziness was already settling into their bones. But even if the urge to relax tugged at them, they knew better. This world was dangerous, unpredictable.
(Like Nar—)
And now, they were a four-year-old with a target on their back the moment someone realized how different they were.Unfortunately, fate had a way of making things troublesome.“Hi!”Shikashi turned their head slowly. A boy with unruly green hair and wide, curious eyes stood in front of them. His face was flushed like he had been running, and his small hands were clenched into excited fists.Izuku Midoriya.
Great.
Even at four years old, trouble had already found them.Shikashi sighed, bracing themself for what was sure to be an exhausting conversation.
(There was no escaping it now.)
Midoriya’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “You’re new, right? I haven’t seen you before! What’s your quirk?”Shikashi hesitated, their mind shifting into strategy mode. Admitting they had a shadow-based ability was one thing, but explaining that it was fueled by chakra rather than a quirk was another. They needed to blend in, not stand out.“…Shadow manipulation,” they finally said. It wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth.Midoriya gasped, bouncing on his heels. “That’s so cool! Can you use it to fight? Or move things? Can you—”The oldest (this 'Shikamaru' was born around February, making them older than Midoriya) groaned, already feeling the headache forming. This kid talked so much. Before they could reply, a new voice interrupted. “Hey, nerd, quit yappin’.”A small but fiery presence stomped up to them—Katsuki Bakugou.Shikashi barely held back another sigh. First Midoriya, now Bakugou? This day was only getting worse.The blond boy’s red eyes narrowed at them. “You. You got a quirk or what?”Shikashi met his glare with a flat look. “Yeah. Shadow stuff.”Bakugo scoffed. “Tch. Lame.” But there was something calculating in his gaze, like he was already sizing them up as competition.Shikashi shrugged. They didn’t care about impressing anyone. If anything, it was better if people underestimated them.Midoriya, however, looked even more excited. “That’s not lame at all! It’s super rare! I bet you could be an amazing hero!”Shikashi groaned internally.
(There was no way this was going to be easy.)
The afternoon sun hung lazily over the playground, casting long shadows across the dirt paths. Children darted around, their laughter mingling with the distant hum of city life. Shikashi leaned against a tree, arms crossed, watching as Bakugou stomped to the center of a small clearing, a cocky grin plastered across his face.“All right, losers, listen up!” Bakugou’s voice rang out, brimming with self-importance. “I got my quirk last week, an’ it’s awesome ! Way better than any of yours!”A few kids muttered in response, eyes flicking to him in curiosity. Most of them still hadn’t awakened their quirks, being just around four or five. A quirk was something expected—celebrated. The moment one manifested, it was like earning a badge of honor, a sign that you were special.A kid with ponytails gasped. “You got your quirk?! What is it?!”Bakugou’s grin widened. “Watch an’ learn!”He clenched his small fists, and— boom !Tiny explosions crackled from his palms, sending sparks through the air. The kids around him jumped back, gasping in awe. The sharp scent of burning lingered for a second before the wind carried it away. Bakugou laughed, flexing his fingers like he had just unveiled the greatest power in existence.Midoriya, eyes wide with wonder, practically vibrated with excitement. “That’s amazing , Kacchan! It’s so flashy! You’ll definitely be a strong hero!”“Damn right!” Bakugou crowed. “I bet I’ll be the strongest in the whole world!”Some kids clapped, others murmured their own admiration, but Midoriya was already shifting focus, his own hopes bubbling to the surface. “I can’t wait to get mine! My mom says it’ll happen any day now! Maybe I’ll have a strong one, too! I just know I’ll be a hero!”Shikashi, still leaning against the tree, tilted their head slightly. They knew Midoriya’s future. Knew what he’d go through, knew the pain that was waiting for him. A quiet sigh escaped their lips.“Even if ya don’t get one,” they muttered, voice slow, lazy. “Ya can still be a hero.”Midoriya blinked. “Huh?”Shikashi pushed off the tree, walking toward him with their hands shoved in their pockets. “It ain’t ‘bout the quirk. It’s ‘bout what’s inside ya.”The playground went silent for a beat.Bakugou scoffed, arms crossed. “What kinda dumb crap is that?”Shikashi shrugged. “Quirks ain’t make heroes. Heroes make themselves .”Another kid piped up, confusion in their voice. “But… heroes need quirks. How else are they supposed to fight villains?”Shikashi sat down on a bench, legs swinging lazily. “Ain’t always ‘bout fightin’. S’bout helpin’. S’bout standin’ up when it’s easier to sit down. Quirks don’t make ya brave. ”Midoriya frowned, clearly thinking hard. “But… all the big heroes have quirks. That’s why they can fight bad guys, right?”Shikashi exhaled slowly. This was gonna take some explaining.“A’ight, listen,” they said, rubbing the back of their neck. “Lemme ask ya this—if someone’s got a strong quirk but don’t care ‘bout nobody but ‘emself, are they a hero?”A few kids shook their heads.“What ‘bout if someone’s got no quirk, but they save a kid from a burnin’ buildin’? Are they a hero?”Some nodded.
(Others hesitated.)
Bakugou rolled his eyes. “That’s dumb. The strong ones win . That’s just how it is!”Shikashi snorted. “The strong ones think they win. Till someone stronger comes ‘round.”Bakugou bristled. “I am the strongest!”“Mm,” Shikashi hummed, unimpressed. “Says the four-year-old who ain’t even fought nobody yet.”A ripple of laughter ran through the gathered kids. Bakugou’s face turned red. “Shut up, shadow-freak!”Midoriya, still caught up in the conversation, leaned forward. “But… don’t you need power to be a hero? Like All Might?”Shikashi studied him, then pointed lazily at a nearby parent standing by the park’s entrance. “That lady over there, she’s watchin’ all y’all, right? Makin’ sure ya don’t get hurt. She got a quirk?”Midoriya followed their gaze. “Uh… I dunno.”Shikashi grinned. “Bet she don’t. But she’s protectin’ ya anyway.”A few adults had edged closer to the conversation now, some nodding slightly at Shikashi’s words. One man, scaly arms crossed, murmured, “Kid’s got a point.”Another child spoke up, eyes wide. “But if you do have a strong quirk, doesn’t that mean you should be a hero?”Shikashi leaned back. “Only if ya wanna be. Power don’t mean nothin’ if ya ain’t got the heart to use it right.”Bakugou, still fuming, stomped closer. “Tch. So what, you sayin’ quirks are useless ?”“Nah,” Shikashi said easily. “I’m sayin’ they don’t make ya better than nobody else.” Their dark eyes settled on him, steady and sharp. “ How ya use power’s what matters, not if ya got it.”Midoriya’s lips parted slightly, his mind clearly racing. The idea was new—foreign—but he was listening .Shikashi stretched lazily. “Somebody with a weak quirk but a strong heart? They could change the world.” Their gaze flicked to Midoriya meaningfully before they looked away. “Someone with all the power in the world an’ nothin’ inside ‘em? They ain’t worth a damn.”Another murmur ran through the kids and adults alike.Shikashi smirked. “So yeah. Quirks are neat. But bein’ a hero? That’s somethin’ different.”Midoriya clenched his tiny fists, eyes blazing with something deep—something real.Bakugou scoffed but said nothing.A spark had been lit.
(One that would one day set the whole world on fire.)
Shikashi smirked as they glanced at the faces around them. Confusion, curiosity, skepticism—all of it was written clearly for them to see. Some of the adults seemed thoughtful, perhaps reconsidering what they had always believed. The children, however, still held onto their ideas about quirks making heroes.It didn’t matter. They had said what they wanted to say.With a stretch, they turned and walked away, hands tucked into their pockets. They could feel some of the lingering stares on their back, but they ignored them. Let them think about it all they wanted.It wasn’t their problem.The city was alive as usual. The hum of cars, the distant wail of sirens, the chatter of people—it all blended together into background noise. The sky had begun shifting to orange, the sun dipping lower with every passing minute.As they walked, they caught their reflection in a store window. Jet-black eyes stared back at them. Deep, endless, like the very concept of darkness itself.Their smirk faded.People avoided looking them in the eye for too long. It unsettled them. Made them shift uncomfortably, as if something unnatural had fixed its gaze upon them. Over time, Shikashi had learned a trick—never meet someone's eyes directly. Instead, they looked just between their eyebrows. It was close enough to seem normal but far enough to avoid making anyone uncomfortable.Some people thought their eyes were beautiful.
(Shikashi didn’t see it.)
There were times they wished they had any other color—something ordinary. Something that didn’t make people react the way they did.
(Not that it really mattered.)
They sighed, kicking a loose pebble as they turned the last corner toward the orphanage.The building loomed ahead, gray and dull, with no effort put into making it feel welcoming. The front yard was mostly dirt with a few weeds managing to survive. Children ran around playing, but none of them acknowledged Shikashi.They were used to that.Inside, the dimly lit hall smelled of old wood and cheap soap. The staff barely spared them a glance. Not because they disliked them, but because they simply didn’t see them. They weren’t loud. They weren’t trouble.
(They weren’t worth noticing.)
That was fine.They were heading toward the stairs when a small voice called out."Hey, Shika!"For a moment, they considered ignoring it.But something made them glance over.A little girl stood there, hands behind her back, rocking slightly on her heels. She was small, no older than three, with deep blue hair streaked with white and warm brown skin. Her amber eyes were bright, sharp, and full of life.She was smiling at them like she wasn’t standing in a place where most people ignored them.Shikashi clicked their tongue. "Whaddya want, kid?"She giggled. "Nothing! Just saying hi!"They stared for a second, then turned and continued walking.She followed.Shikashi sighed."Ya got a name or am I s’posed t’ call ya ‘kid’ forever?"Her grin widened. "Mika!" "Great."They climbed the stairs. She climbed too.Shikashi glanced at her from the corner of their eye. "Ain’t got nothin’ better t’ do?""Nah." She swung her arms playfully. "You’re really cool!"They snorted. "I ain’t.""You are," she insisted, tilting her head. "Your eyes look like space."Shikashi paused for half a second.Mika didn’t seem to notice. "I like them. They look like stars could be inside them if you stare long enough."Shikashi huffed, shaking their head. "Ain’t no stars in a void, kid.""Maybe there are, and people just don’t see them yet."That made them pause. They turned slightly, watching her. She looked completely serious, like she genuinely believed what she was saying.Shikashi looked away first. "Yer weird."Mika giggled. "You talk funny.""No, I don’t.""Yeah, you do! The other kids say you sound like a street thug.""Good." Shikashi stuffed their hands further into their pockets. "Maybe they’ll leave me alone."Mika hummed. "I won’t."They shot her a dry look. "Figured."They reached their room, a small, plain space with a bed, a thin blanket, and not much else. Mika plopped down on the floor like she belonged there.Shikashi leaned against the wall. "Yer real determined, huh?"She nodded. "Yup. I decided we’re friends."They raised an eyebrow. "That how it works?""Uh-huh!""Troublesome."Mika giggled, then hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Hey, Shika?""What?"She rocked back and forth. "You ever think about the future?"Shikashi blinked.Their mind flooded with memories.
(Countless lives, endless choices, victories, failures, wars, peace, love, loss, and too many dea—)
They closed their eyes for a brief moment."Sometimes," they admitted.Mika smiled. "I wanna be a hero."Shikashi let out a short chuckle. "Figures."Mika pouted. "What about you?"They hesitated.Then—"...I wanna rest."Mika tilted her head. "Rest?"Shikashi stared at the ceiling. "Yeah. Just… exist. No trouble. No fights. Just quiet." Mika frowned slightly. "Sounds lonely."Shikashi smirked. "Don’t mind lonely."Mika studied them for a moment, then grinned again. "I think you do mind it. Just don’t wanna say it."Shikashi flicked her forehead lightly. "Think what ya want, kid."She just grinned wider.Outside, the sky darkened, streetlights flickering on, shadows stretching long across the ground.Shikashi let their head rest against the wall.Maybe Mika was right. Maybe they did mind being alone.But that didn’t mean they were going to do anything about it.
(Not yet, anyway.)
The night Shikashi turned ten had been calm. Cold, but calm.
(Though they barely acknowledged it.)
In this life, birthdays didn’t mean much. Just another year, another cycle, another reminder that time kept moving no matter how many lives they carried inside their head.But Mika had remembered.The nine-year-old had practically bounced when she saw them that morning, holding out a tiny, messily wrapped package. The paper was crinkled, the tape uneven, but she beamed like she was offering a treasure.“Happy birthday, Shika!”They raised a brow, accepting the gift. “Didn’t I tell ya not to waste money on me?”Mika pouted. “It ain’t a waste! Open it!”Inside was a bracelet—handwoven, the threads carefully braided in shades of black and deep green. Colors that mirrored the void-like darkness of their eyes.“Matches your eyes,” she said proudly.Shikashi stared at it for a long moment.They hadn’t worn jewelry before.
(Not as Shikamaru, at least.)
Crowns, rings, ceremonial beads weren’t things a shinobi would wear. But this—this was different. It was simple, imperfect, made with tiny hands that had taken the time to carefully craft it just for them.They ruffled Mika’s hair. “Troublesome kid.”She giggled, nudging their hand away, but Shikashi saw the way her grin widened when they tied the bracelet around their wrist without hesitation.Less than a day later, that same bracelet was smeared with soot and sweat as Shikashi sprinted through the burning hallways, trying to get every last kid out.Their lungs burned. The smoke stung their eyes. The fire had spread too fast, too violently— this wasn’t an accident. Villains.They didn’t know who or why, but someone had set this place on fire.And there was no time to think about it.They moved instinctively, shadows writhing beneath them as they guided terrified children toward the exits. Some were too scared to move, frozen in fear. Shikashi grabbed them, pushed them forward, barked orders in a voice that left no room for hesitation.“Keep goin’! Don’t stop ‘til ya reach the police!”Some of the kids were crying. Others were barely aware of what was happening, coughing as smoke filled the air. The wooden beams above groaned, threatening to collapse.
(Not yet. Just a little longer.)
Shikashi pressed their fingers together, forcing their quirk (no, their chakra) to spread farther. Their shadows stretched, wrapping around debris, lifting fallen beams just enough for small bodies to squeeze through.Too much.They felt it immediately— chakra depletion. But they didn’t stop.One more hallway. One more room.
(One more child to save.)
By the time they staggered out of the building, the cold night air hit them like a slap. Their body swayed, the world tilting for a moment before they forced themselves upright. The fire roared behind them, embers shooting into the sky like dying stars.The orphanage was nearly gone. Shikashi’s breath came fast, uneven. Their limbs felt like lead. They turned, eyes scanning the crowd of evacuated children, searching for familiar faces.And then—a sinking feeling.They hadn’t seen Mika.Their heart lurched.They whipped around, frantic.
No.
No, she was here. She had to be here.
(But she wasn’t.)
Their body moved before their mind caught up, shoving past the stunned crowd. A police officer turned toward them, sharp-eyed, dark-haired—Naomasa Tsukauchi.Shikashi knew him.
(Not personally, but by their memories of the anime they once saw.)
The man with the lie detection quirk.Didn’t matter.“Oi!” Shikashi’s voice cracked as they grabbed at his coat, panic overriding everything else. “There’s still a kid in there!”Tsukauchi barely had time to react. “What—?”“Mika!” Their chest ached. Their throat burned. “She’s nine! Short, blue hair—she’s my sister! She’s still in there!”They weren’t actually related.Didn’t matter.She was their little sister.Tsukauchi’s expression shifted. “Are you sure—”Shikashi’s body swayed. Their knees buckled.Too much chakra. Too much quirk use.
(Too much.)
They barely registered the shouts around them before the world blurred. Their last thought, before darkness swallowed them whole, was a desperate, repeating plea:
Don’t let her die.
They had lived through war before.
They had felt the weight of bloodstained battlefields under their feet, the heat of a village burning to the ground, the helplessness of watching people die. It didn’t matter how many lifetimes passed—fire still smelled the same.
Acrid. Suffocating. Merciless.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The world blurred.Shikashi drifted in and out of consciousness, their mind sluggish, their limbs heavy. Sometimes, they felt the rough texture of a blanket against their cheek, heard the hum of a car engine beneath them. Other times, there was only darkness.When they finally came to, the scent of disinfectant stung their nose. A sharp contrast to the thick smoke that still lingered in their memory.Mika.Their breath hitched, their chest tightening painfully.She was gone.The weight of it settled into their bones, pressing down like an ocean tide. They had seen death before—too much of it. They had watched comrades fall, had buried friends with their own hands, had faced the harsh reality that sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t save everyone.But this was different.This was Mika.The warmth in their hands, the light tug on their sleeve, the quiet giggles at their grumpy complaints—gone.A part of them whispered that they should have done more. Stayed awake. Forced themselves back inside. Found her before the flames did.But another part, buried deep beneath the self-blame, knew the truth. They had pushed their body to its limit. If they had gone back in, they would have died too.Didn’t make it any easier.Didn’t make it hurt any less.A soft knock at the door pulled them from their thoughts.Detective Tsukauchi stood at the entrance, his face unreadable. “We’re transferring you to a new facility,” he said, voice even. “A childcare center in Musutafu.”Shikashi barely processed the words, numbness settling over them like a second skin. Didn’t matter.Nowhere would feel like home.The ride to Musutafu was quiet.Tsukauchi had tried to ask a few questions—Are you feeling okay? Do you remember what happened? Do you want to talk about Mika?—but when Shikashi responded with nothing but blank stares and tired nods, he eventually fell silent.They stared out the window, watching the city pass in a blur of neon lights and towering buildings.It was different from what they were used to. Too bright. Too clean.This world wasn’t like the Shinobi World. Even though they had spent six years adjusting, there was still a disconnect—a feeling that no matter how much time passed, they would never fully belong.Musutafu was supposed to be a “safe city.” A place full of heroes and high-ranking Pro Agencies. Yet their orphanage had still burned.They scoffed under their breath. So much for safety.The car pulled up to a large, multi-story building with a high metal fence surrounding it. It didn’t look particularly welcoming. The walls were dull gray, and the windows were barred—not in a way that screamed “prison,” but enough to make it clear that once you were inside, you weren’t leaving unless the staff allowed it.Shikashi stepped out of the car, their body still feeling too light and too heavy all at once. The moment their feet touched the pavement, though, something in the air shifted.A presence.Their instincts flared, honed over countless lifetimes, and their head snapped toward the entrance just as the doors burst open.A man dressed in civilian clothes—tall, dark-haired, sharp-eyed—was hurrying out, carrying a small, fever-flushed child in his arms.Shikashi recognized him instantly.Eraserhead.Their mind whirred, memories of the anime slotting into place. Shouta Aizawa. Underground Pro Hero. Quirk: Erasure. Teacher at U.A. High School.The man’s usual lazy expression was replaced with something tense, his grip firm around the child he carried.But it was the boy in his arms that caught Shikashi’s attention.Silver hair. A black surgical mask.One eye a deep violet, the other a red Sharingan.Their breath stalled.The world narrowed, and for a fraction of a second—just before the boy turned his head—his gaze met theirs.Recognition.Shikashi saw it—brief, fleeting. The way the boy’s tired eyes widened, something sparking behind them.And then, just as quickly, it disappeared.His fevered body trembled, and he buried his face into Aizawa’s shoulder, exhaustion overtaking him.Shikashi stood frozen as Aizawa passed, barely sparing them a glance as he rushed toward a black van parked at the curb.The doors slammed shut. The engine roared.And then they were gone.The silence that followed felt too loud.Shikashi swallowed hard, heart pounding in their chest.Who was that boy?Why did he have a Sharingan?And why did he look at them like he knew them?“Come along.”Tsukauchi’s voice snapped them back to reality. He gestured toward the entrance of the facility.Shikashi hesitated for half a second, then followed.Inside, the air smelled like disinfectant and old carpet. The walls were lined with bulletin boards filled with schedules, rules, and cheap, colorful posters about “good behavior.” The floors were scuffed, the paint peeling in some places.It wasn’t the worst place they had ever been, but it wasn’t welcoming either.A woman was waiting for them at the front desk.“Fuji-san,” Tsukauchi addressed her with a polite nod.She was tall, in her late forties, with graying hair pulled into a tight bun. Her uniform was crisp, but her face was pinched, as if she had smelled something sour.Shikashi stared at her.Fuji-san stared back.And then—a grimace.It was quick, almost unnoticeable, but Shikashi caught it. The slight downturn of her lips, the flicker of something unpleasant in her eyes before she masked it with a forced, neutral expression.Shikashi had met people like her before.People who worked in childcare facilities because it was a job, not because they cared.A heavy weight settled in their stomach.“This is Nara Shikashi,” Tsukauchi introduced. “They’ll be staying here from now on.”Fuji-san’s expression didn’t change much. “Of course. We’ll get them settled.”Shikashi’s gaze didn’t waver. “Right.”Fuji-san’s eyebrow twitched. Maybe she wasn’t used to kids looking her straight in the face. Maybe she noticed something unsettling in Shikashi’s void-like eyes.Didn’t matter.This place wasn’t home.Nowhere was.Shikashi cast one last glance toward the entrance, where Aizawa had disappeared with the silver-haired boy.There was something wrong about all of this. Something bigger than them, bigger than this facility.They didn’t know what it was yet.But they would find out.So. Shikashi was sure of it.The moment their eyes locked with the silver-haired boy—just for that split second—they had known.Kakashi Hatake.The Sixth Hokage. The legendary Sharingan no Kakashi.
(A fucking hero.)
And yet, here he was. In this world. In the body of Shinsou Hitoshi.It wasn’t just a guess. It wasn’t just a random suspicion. Shikashi had seen that look before—the sharp glint of a man who had spent a lifetime on the battlefield. And, more importantly, they had read about it.In a past life—one of many—they had been obsessed with fanfiction. Among the thousands of stories they had devoured, one stuck out.
"Road to Nowhere."
A crossover fanfic where Kakashi Hatake died in the Naruto world and reincarnated as Shinsou Hitoshi in the BNHA universe. They remembered reading it, fascinated by the way the author had woven the two worlds together.And now it wasn’t just a story.It was real.
What the hell.
Shikashi wanted to find him, to get confirmation that they weren’t losing their mind. But for days after that first meeting, Katoshi was nowhere to be seen.Shikashi didn’t know if that meant something had gone wrong, or if their presence here had changed the plot.Not that it mattered. They would get their answers eventually.For now, they had to focus on surviving this facility.And that meant dealing with Fuji-san.The days following their arrival at the childcare facility were uneventful.Shikashi kept to themself, spending most of their time in the courtyard, watching. Observing the other kids, memorizing the layout of the building, testing the limits of their shadows.They weren’t stupid. They knew Fuji-san didn’t like them.It was in the way she barely acknowledged them unless necessary, the way her mouth tightened whenever she looked in their direction, the way she handed off their care to other staff members whenever possible.And Shikashi, in return, didn’t like her either.But it wasn’t just Fuji-san’s attitude that bothered them. It was something… deeper.
(Like the way Shikashi remembered that Katoshi was forced to wear a dog muzzle)
Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was just past experiences whispering in their ear, but they had learned to trust their instincts.And right now? Their instincts told them that Fuji-san wanted them gone.Shikashi was in the courtyard, crouched on the ground, fingers lazily playing with the edges of their own shadow.It was a simple test. Stretch. Compress. Flicker. Disappear.Chakra was different in this world, but they could still use it. If they focused, they could even sink into their own shadow and reappear somewhere else, something they couldn’t use when they were Shikamaru. It was risky, but useful.Still, they were careful. Fuji-san already looked at them like they were a cockroach she couldn’t quite crush. No need to make things worse.But then—voices.Two women entered the facility, their presence immediately standing out.Shikashi’s head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering in their dark eyes. In the few days they stayed in the facility, they understood one thing: visitors were rare. Without hesitation, they let their shadow curl under their feet, sinking into it and reappearing inside the building, hidden in the shadows of the hallway near the entrance.Fuji-san stood stiffly at the front desk, speaking to the newcomers.“We’re looking for a child,” one of the women said, her voice warm, confident. “We already have a son, and he’s been asking for a sibling. We figured we’d see if there was anyone here who…” She trailed off, glancing at her wife.“…anyone who resembles him,” the second woman—her wife, maybe?—finished. “Just to make the transition easier.”“A boy around ten years old,” the first woman added. “Dark hair, black eyes.”Shikashi froze but their eyes narrowed.Most people looking to adopt didn’t come with specific physical requirements. This was interesting.Fuji-san’s lips pursed, but her expression shifted into something sickly sweet. “Well, it just so happens that we do have a new child who matches that description.”Shikashi’s spine stiffened.Oh.
Oh no.
She was talking about them.Because Shikashi was sure that in the facility there wasn't a child like them.“Shikashi.” Fuji-san called out in a voice far too sharp to be inviting. “Come here.”Shikashi didn’t move from their hiding spot at first.Then, with a small smirk, they let their body sink into the shadows again—reappearing right behind Fuji-san.Fuji-san startled, her back going rigid.Shikashi stared at her.Held her gaze.Didn’t move.Fuji-san’s nostrils flared slightly. She hated when they did that. Hated their black void-like eyes that made people uncomfortable.But she also hated confrontation, so she simply stepped aside, forcing them forward.Shikashi shoved their hands into their pockets, their expression unreadable. “Ya called?”Fuji-san’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t scold them. Not in front of potential adopters. Instead, she shot them a vicious look before smoothing her features. She turned back to the women and muttered, “This is Nara Shikashi,” she said. “They’re ten years old and recently transferred here.”She didn’t mention why. Didn’t mention the fire. Didn’t mention Mika.Fine by them. Shikashi wouldn’t have told her a damn thing anyway. “This is them.”Shikashi eyed the two newcomers carefully.One had long brown hair tied into a ponytail, warm brown skin, and black eyes that gleamed with quiet amusement. Latina, probably. The other had shorter, straighter black hair, lighter skin, slanted purple eyes, and sharper features. They stood close together, comfortable in each other’s space.Married, then.The Latina woman—Valentina, Shikashi guessed—spoke first. “You’re… Shikashi?”Shikashi nodded.“I’m Sero Valentina. This is my wife, Kiyoko.”Kiyoko inclined her head, eyes sharp and assessing.Valentina smiled, then—surprisingly—asked, “Can I hold your hand?”Shikashi blinked.Consent. She asked for consent.Two points of gratitude.“…Sure.”Valentina’s smile widened as she took their small hand in hers, leading them toward the door.Fuji-san was already filling out the paperwork, barely paying attention.She didn’t care if they wanted this or not. She just wanted them gone.Shikashi said nothing.It didn’t matter.No place would ever be home.But as they stepped outside, Valentina pulled something from her pocket—a photo.“This is our son,” she said, passing it to Shikashi. “He’s the reason we’re here.”Shikashi took the photo.Looked down.Stopped breathing.The boy in the picture had spiky black hair and black eyes. His face was grinning—goofy, full of energy.Shikashi knew that face.Sero Hanta.Their new brother was Sero Hanta. What.The.
Fuck.
(Yeah, for now let’s forget about Katoshi.)
For the record, Shikashi didn’t panic. For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, they didn’t freeze, overthink, or break into an existential crisis.They just… smiled.A real, genuine smile. The kind they hadn’t worn in years.Because in their hands was a photo of their new brother.The drive to the Sero house was quiet, but comfortable.Valentina and Kiyoko asked a few casual questions—nothing too intrusive. Mostly, they just wanted to know who Shikashi was beyond the file Fuji-san had handed them.Shikashi answered what they could, offering short, to-the-point responses. They weren’t used to being wanted.But Valentina didn’t push. Kiyoko didn’t press.They just… let the silence be.That? That was new.Most adults filled silence with empty words, false promises. The Seros didn’t.It made Shikashi like them more than they wanted to admit.When they finally pulled up to the house, Shikashi took a slow breath, trying to prepare themselves.A new home. A new life.A new family.Did they deserve this?They weren’t sure.But they weren’t going to run from it, either.The Sero house was warm.Not just temperature-wise, but in the way that mattered.The outside was simple, a two-story home with a small front yard and a bright blue door. But inside?Inside, the walls were covered in photos.Candids of Valentina and Kiyoko laughing in what looked like a foreign city. Baby pictures of Hanta covered in paint. A tacky but endearing family Christmas photo where they all wore matching pajamas.It wasn’t a mansion. It wasn’t extravagant.But it was a home.Shikashi… liked it.“Alright,” Valentina called, kicking off her shoes and stretching. “Hanta! We’re home!”There was a loud thud from upstairs.Then the pounding of feet on the floor.Seconds later, a ten-year-old whirlwind of energy came flying down the hall.Sero Hanta skidded into view, socks sliding against the floor, his wide, toothy grin on full display. His spiky black hair was a mess, and his eyes were bright with curiosity.But what really sold the look?The giant gap where his front tooth should’ve been.Shikashi bit back a laugh.“Cool!” Hanta beamed. “You’re here!”They hadn’t expected that reaction.“…Yeah.”Valentina chuckled. “Hanta, this is your new sibling, Shikashi.”Hanta tilted his head. “Wait. Are ya a girl or a boy?”Shikashi blinked. Huh.Most kids would be embarrassed to ask.Most adults would be weird about it.But Hanta just genuinely wanted to know.They shrugged. “Either works for me.”“Cool,” Hanta said, all of ten years old, grinning with a missing front tooth.Shikashi stared at him for a moment, then snorted.Yeah. They liked this kid.Hanta wasted zero time before dragging them upstairs to show them their new room.“Okay, so it’s kinda small, but it’s cozy!” he chattered, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “We gotta share, but that’s cool, ‘cause I never had a sibling before, so I don’t mind! Oh! And we got bunk beds!”Shikashi raised an eyebrow. “Bunk beds, huh?”Hanta beamed and pointed at the set-up. “I call bottom!”Shikashi glanced at the beds.Hanta’s sheets were yellow and black. Theirs were green and black.For some reason, the color scheme reminded them of Hufflepuff and Slytherin.
Weird.
“…Nice,” they murmured, tossing their small bag onto the top bunk. “I don’t snore, by the way.”Hanta grinned. “Good. ‘Cause I do.”Shikashi snorted.Hanta gasped.“Wait! Do you like pranks?”Shikashi tilted their head, smirking. “Maybe.”Hanta’s face lit up. “Oh, man, you’re gonna love it here.”And just like that, Shikashi felt something in their chest loosen.The years passed in a blur, filled with laughter, training, and the quiet comfort of having a real family.For the first time in any of their lives, Shikashi had something constant—Hanta.It didn’t matter that they were polar opposites in personality. If anything, that made things more fun.Hanta was all energy and movement, constantly dragging them into something ridiculous. Shikashi, on the other hand, was the grounding force, the one who kept them from getting into too much trouble. Together, they made a balanced team.And yet, somehow, they worked.Hanta dragged Shikashi into fun, refusing to let them sit on the sidelines.Shikashi kept Hanta from being reckless, always there with a plan when things went sideways.They balanced each other.They were twins.And together, they became a team.Their time at Shizuoka Sports Academy, the junior high they attended, had only solidified their bond. The school specialized in physical conditioning, acrobatics, and competitive sports—the kind of place that trained kids with dreams of going pro, whether in heroics, athletics, or other high-demand careers.And that meant rigorous training.Hanta had thrived from day one. He was naturally athletic, flexible, and had a near-inhuman level of stamina. The constant movement suited him perfectly.Shikashi… not so much.It wasn’t that they were weak—far from it. They had spent their past lives in constant battle, honing their body and mind. But they weren’t the type to enjoy excessive physical effort. If given the choice, they’d rather observe, plan, and strike when necessary.Unfortunately, the school didn’t really do “minimum effort.”This was different. This was an environment that pushed physical conditioning every single day.No chakra. No quirks. Just raw, human strength.By the time their first year ended, They adapted quickly.They had developed an impressive level of strength, endurance, and agility, even if it wasn’t natural to them. The physical training had sharpened their control over their shadows, allowing them to incorporate movement in ways they hadn’t before.“C’mon, Shika! One more round!” Hanta grinned, gripping a climbing rope and swinging across the gym.Shikashi groaned from where they sat on the mat. “You’re insane. We just ran ten laps, did strength training, and climbed this thing, like, five times.”Hanta hung upside down from the rope, flashing a grin. “So? Heroes don’t quit!”Shikashi sighed. “Yeah, well, heroes gotta be alive to do their job, dumbass.”Hanta cackled, dropping down beside them. “Fair. But still, we’re almost at U.A. We gotta train harder!”Shikashi knew he was right.The U.A. entrance exam wasn’t just about quirks. It was about everything—strength, speed, endurance, intelligence, strategy.It was a battlefield.And if Hanta was going, then Shikashi was, too.Despite their relaxed personalities, both twins earned reputations in junior high.Hanta was the glue of any group.Friendly, always cracking jokes, and impossible to dislike.A natural team player, able to lift the spirits of even the most exhausted classmates.A hard worker—not a genius, but determined as hell.Shikashi was the quiet strategist.Always two steps ahead, solving problems before they even became problems.Mature, level-headed, and completely dependable.Blunt but fair. If someone was being stupid, they’d call them out. If someone needed help, they’d offer it—silently, without making a big deal out of it.Together, they were unstoppable.They didn’t lead, but people followed them anyway.But even after five years of being a Sero, there were things Hanta didn’t know about them.And with the U.A. entrance exam looming closer, Shikashi figured it was time to be honest.The night before the U.A. exam, both twins were in their room. Hanta was sprawled on the fluffy carpet with his feet on the bottom bunk, throwing a ball up and down, while Shikashi sat at the desk, with a small whiteboard.“Alright, listen,” Shikashi said, tapping the whiteboard with a red marker. “We gotta assume the robots they use—don’t ask how I know the practice exam is about robots—are fast and strong. Speed and power ain’t really our main strengths, so we focus on maneuverability.”Hanta hummed, still tossing the ball. “So, I swing around, tie ‘em up, while you…?”Shikashi smirked. “Shadows, bro. Gonna control ‘em from a distance.”“Sounds badass,” Hanta grinned, catching the ball. “It is.”“…We’re gonna get split up, aren’t we?”“Most likely,” Shikashi sighed.Hanta rolled onto his stomach, watching them. “Think you’ll be okay?”Shikashi hesitated. Not because they weren’t sure of their skills, but because Hanta still didn’t know the full picture.“…Hey,” they said, leaning back in their chair. “There’s somethin’ I should probably tell you.”Hanta raised an eyebrow. “Uh, okay? That’s not ominous at all.”Shikashi huffed a laugh, shaking their head. “It’s just… this whole hero thing? It ain’t really new to me.”Hanta sat up, confused. “Huh?”Shikashi glanced at him before looking back at their desk. “I had a life before this one.”Silence.Hanta blinked. “…What?”Shikashi exhaled. “Before I was Shikashi Sero, or even Shikashi Nara, I was… someone else. A ninja, actually.” They smirked faintly. “A pretty damn good one, too.”Hanta stared.Then he laughed.“Wait, wait, wait—hold up, hold up,” he wheezed, trying to breathe. “You’re tellin’ me you were a ninja? Like, full-on sneaky assassin, kunai-throwing, parkour-master ninja?” “Yeah.”Hanta stopped laughing. “Wait, you serious?”Shikashi nodded.Hanta blinked again. “Dude. What the hell.”Shikashi smirked. “Told ya.”“…Wait, does that mean you, like, remember all of it?”“Yup.”“Holy shit.”Hanta sat back, running a hand through his hair.Shikashi waited. They knew this was a lot to drop on him, but if there was anyone who’d roll with it, it was Hanta.And sure enough—“…Okay, that’s actually so cool.”Shikashi blinked. “What.”Hanta grinned. “Dude, my twin’s a badass reincarnated ninja—how is that not cool?!”Shikashi stared. “That’s your reaction?”Hanta shrugged. “What, did you expect me to freak out?”“…Kinda?”“Nah, bro, this is awesome.” Hanta nudged them. “So, like, what kinda ninja stuff did you do?”Shikashi groaned, covering their face. “God, why did I tell you?”“Because you love me,” Hanta said smugly. “Now spill.”Shikashi sighed dramatically. “Fine.”And just like that, they spent the next two hours talking about their past life—well, the parts they were willing to share.They told Hanta about the Shinobi World, about their old village, about shadow manipulation and battle tactics and the troublesome life they had lived before.And Hanta?He listened.Not just that, he believed them.
(And that meant more to Shikashi than they could put into words.)
The next morning, the twins woke up early, stretching out their muscles before heading outside for a final round of training before the exam.Hanta swung between trees, using his tape to increase his mobility and speed.Shikashi moved through the shadows, testing their range and reaction time.They were in sync, despite their different styles.And when they finally stopped, sitting side by side on the grass, sweaty and breathless, Hanta grinned at them.“You’re gonna crush this, Shika.”Shikashi snorted. “So are you, dumbass.”Hanta laughed. “Yeah, but still. This is big, y’know? We’re actually doing it.”Shikashi looked up at the sky, feeling something settle in their chest.Yeah.They were.