reborn as Sakumo Hatake

Darkness enveloped him like an endless ocean. No sound, no light, no sensation other than the oppressive weight of emptiness. He had no body, no breath—only a vague awareness that he still *was*. 

*So, this is what death feels like,* he thought, though the realization felt oddly distant. 

Flashes of memory began surfacing through the void. A busy street. The piercing honk of a horn. The scream of brakes too late to stop. Then the impact—a moment of pain followed by nothingness. It was his own fault, he realized bitterly. Checking his phone while crossing the road? How cliché could his death get? 

"Quite the predicament, isn't it?" a voice echoed, breaking the silence. 

Startled, he tried to turn towards the sound, only to realize he had no form to move. 

"Relax," the voice continued, smooth and confident. "I don't bite." 

Out of the darkness stepped a figure, or at least something resembling one. Their appearance shifted constantly, like a mirage caught between countless forms—a towering man, a cloaked woman, a radiant orb of light. 

"Who… are you?" he asked, his voice trembling in the void. 

"I go by many names," the figure said. "God, creator, overseer, cosmic referee—take your pick. For now, you can just call me… well, 'God' works fine." 

He blinked—or at least he thought he did, if blinking was even possible here. "God? Like, the God?" 

A soft laugh echoed. "Not quite. I'm more of a guide for souls like yours. Yours, in particular, caught my attention." 

The man hesitated, suspicion creeping in. "Why? I didn't exactly live a remarkable life. I was just an average guy." 

"True," God agreed with a shrug. "But I'm not here to judge your past. I'm here to offer you a future—a chance to start over." 

As if on cue, the void around them began to shift. Colors burst to life, swirling together to form images: a bustling village surrounded by towering walls, shinobi leaping through trees, battles with earth-shaking jutsu. 

His breath caught. "No way… Is that… *Naruto*?" 

"Sharp one," God said with a smirk. "Yes, the world you knew as fiction. I'm offering you a second life there. A new beginning, in a world of danger, adventure, and destiny." 

His mind raced, equal parts excitement and dread. The idea of living in the *Naruto* world was thrilling, but it wasn't exactly a place known for safety or happiness. 

"What's the catch?" he asked. 

"No catch," God replied. "But there is a condition. You won't be starting as some nameless extra. Instead, you'll live as someone whose life has already begun—someone with their own history, their own challenges." 

The swirling images settled, focusing on one man. Silver hair. Sharp eyes. A gleaming tanto in hand. 

"No…" he breathed, recognition dawning. 

"Yes," God confirmed. "You will live as Sakumo Hatake, the White Fang of Konoha." 

His heart sank. Sakumo. A legendary shinobi whose life ended in tragedy, his suicide leaving his young son Kakashi to grow up scarred and hardened. Of all the people he could be, why Sakumo? 

"Why him?" he asked, his voice trembling. 

"Because his story is one of wasted potential," God said, his tone suddenly serious. "A man broken by guilt, who never lived to see how deeply he impacted the world. But you—you have the chance to change that. To rewrite his story." 

He hesitated. The idea of being Sakumo was daunting. Could he really take on the life of a man destined for so much pain? 

"And what about power?" he asked, grasping for something to make the situation seem less dire. "Can I have… I don't know, some kind of ability to help me survive?" 

God's expression softened. "That's the fun part. I'll grant you one wish. Any ability, any power—so long as it doesn't break the fabric of the universe, it's yours." 

His mind whirred. The possibilities were endless. A Sharingan? Rinnegan? Perhaps even a Kekkei Genkai like wood release or lava release? But something about those options felt… wrong. They were tied to bloodlines, specific to the world's lore. He needed something more versatile. 

Then it hit him. 

"I want the ability to copy," he said, his voice steady. "Any skill, any jutsu, any talent—if I see it, I want to be able to learn it instantly." 

God raised an eyebrow. "Interesting choice. Ambitious, but not without merit." 

"It's practical," he argued. "If I'm going to survive as Sakumo, I need to be adaptable. And this way, I can build on what he already has instead of relying on some deus ex machina power-up." 

God chuckled. "A man of strategy, I see. Very well. Your wish is granted. But be warned—power like this comes with responsibility. The more you take, the more you risk losing yourself." 

He nodded, determination settling in his chest. "I understand." 

God stepped closer, their shifting form beginning to glow. "Then it's time. May you use this chance wisely, and may you find the redemption Sakumo never did." 

Before he could respond, the light around him intensified. The void dissolved into a cascade of sensations—heat, cold, the sound of rushing wind. 

When the light finally faded, he found himself standing in a modest home. Sunlight streamed through an open window, and the scent of fresh grass wafted in. 

He looked down at his hands—calloused and strong, unlike the ones he remembered. A mirror caught his eye, and he approached it hesitantly. 

The face staring back at him was unmistakable: silver hair, sharp features, and piercing eyes. 

*Sakumo Hatake.* 

For a moment, he felt the weight of this new life pressing down on him. But then he straightened, a small smile forming on his lips. 

"Alright," he murmured, his voice steady. "Let's do this." 

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