At seven sharp the next morning, Uchiha Gen woke naturally, his body already disciplined into routine.
With a smooth roll out of bed, he dressed, washed up, cooked, ate, and cleaned; all in one seamless motion.
It had been nearly a year since his arrival in this world. Looking back, Gen felt his greatest achievement wasn't his training or his growing power, but something simpler; under the constant pressure of life and death, he had finally broken his old habits of laziness and procrastination.
In his previous life, he could sleep past noon without guilt, lying in bed for nearly an hour after waking, as if trapped by the mattress. Here, such indulgence was a luxury he could no longer afford.
Today, after leaving the village under the cover of his police duties, Gen made his way into a snow-covered forest.
He found a hollow tree, summoned Shuryu and Shizukamaru to keep watch, then formed seals and activated the Spirit Transformation Technique.
Half of his soul peeled away from his body, rising from the crown of his head as a translucent form. It soared into the gray sky, dissolving into drifting snow as it cut through distance.
In an instant, it crossed forests, rivers, and mountains, arriving once more at Shiroishi Town.
Extending his perception, Gen quickly located his targets.
His soul split again, drifting into two separate inns on opposite ends of town.
Within moments, two wandering chūnin were seized, their wills shackled. The puppets met outside the village and began marching toward Konoha.
The previous hosts had long since collapsed into true corpses, their blood congealed, bodies stiff and unusable. Spirit Transformation required living vessels, and so, two new 'volunteers' had been chosen.
By mid-morning, Gen's puppets reached a hidden research base. He stripped the corpses of their black cloaks, draped them over the new hosts, and sent them into separate laboratories.
The noise drew the attention of Uchiha Yuichi and Uchiha Mori.
Bound to wooden crosses, their bodies were gaunt, their sclera shot red, and their eyes burned with the scarlet glow of twin-tomoe Sharingan. They glared at the approaching figures with seething hatred.
If not for Gen's orders that they be fed before, they would have starved by now.
The puppets ignored their resentment. With a swift blow, both captives were knocked unconscious, bound tightly with steel-threaded rope, and carried out.
Leaving the base behind, they leapt toward the Land of Whirlpools.
Moments later, Gen's real body emerged at the entrance of the lab.
Mokui and Mokuna knelt as one.
"Master."
"You've done well," Gen said calmly. With a wave of his hand, he released a ripple of power from the Soul-Soul Fruit, reinforcing the stability of their souls and even extending their lifespans.
"Thank you, Master!" the two replied, their wooden faces lighting up with relief.
"For now, you'll remain hidden near this base. When the time is right, you'll follow me openly and handle simple chores. Until then, keep quiet. And don't get reckless in the forest. No beast craves wood, but if provoked, they'll still tear you apart."
The clumsy newborn Homies bowed again, then scampered off into the snow, their curiosity stronger than their sense.
Watching their retreating figures, Gen smiled faintly.
When my Mangekyō awakens, they'll be ready. With the Sharingan, the Homies, and all I've built so far, my strength will leap to an entirely new level.
He wasn't hoping for an offensive Mangekyō ability. He had more than enough firepower already.
What he wanted was defense, something that could preserve his life no matter the odds. Ninja were assassins by trade; high attack, high speed, but fragile defense.
If his Mangekyō could break that mold, he would be unstoppable.
Satisfied, Gen sealed the research base, closed the entrances with Earth Release, and returned to the village for lunch.
He had no intention of drowning himself in research, Orochimaru could handle that obsession. Gen only needed to lend assistance and harvest the results.
Two days later, his puppets crossed the Fire Country's border. Familiarity with the defenses made the journey simple; he himself had helped Orochimaru design them.
Even after successors took over, large-scale changes were rare. Few dared alter a strategy drawn up by the man once closest to becoming Hokage.
The puppets brought their captives to one of Orochimaru's abandoned bases near the Land of Whirlpools.
Yuichi and Mori were secured again while the puppets split tasks; one cleaned and restored the base, the other purchased supplies in nearby towns.
It would have been far too suspicious if Konoha shinobi discovered a 'secret Kirigakure lab' right at their doorstep. No, the story had to be believable. The borderlands between Fire and Whirlpool were lawless, fertile ground for such shadows to take root.
There, the strong flourished, the weak suffered, and money could buy anything. A paradise for the rich, hell for the poor, and a gambler's table for adventurers.
Time blurred into routine. For Konoha, peace meant days slipping by unnoticed.
In the blink of an eye, a year passed.
The calendar turned to the 51st year of Konoha, New Year's Day.
Konoha was alive with color. Lanterns lined the streets, shops shouted their promotions, and from the Hokage to the humblest villager, nearly everyone paused to rest and celebrate.
The main commercial street overflowed with people, shoulder to shoulder in a living tide. The atmosphere was as crowded and chaotic as a train station during the Spring Festival of Gen's old world.
Gen, walking among them, let himself enjoy the rare festivity.
Soon, he would leave the village again, hunting for the soul power he needed to awaken the Mangekyō.
I don't know how much it will take, he thought, gaze flickering toward the Hokage Monument in the distance. Better to prepare early before the night of the Nine-Tails.