A/N: Had some free time on my hands and decided to give the old shameless OC/SI plug trope a try. This is a relatively easy frame of perspective to get behind. I should be able to pump out some semi-readable garbage for a few of you to enjoy and even more to hate.
Slow-burn to power, this OC will not be omnipotent or unfamiliar with failure. Don't expect ass-pull powerups that put him in contention with the monsters of the world after just contending with academy students.
Expect inappropriate humor, a touch of drama, plenty of action and perhaps a spell of romance or two. Enjoy ;)
-Second Wind-
A lone figure drifts through a boundless, suffocating void, where neither light nor shadow defines the horizon. There is no up, no down—only an infinite expanse of emptiness that presses against their senses like a deafening silence. Time has abandoned this place; seconds, minutes, and years blend into an indistinct blur, leaving no trace of their passage.
Their body floats without purpose, unanchored by gravity or will. They feel no wind, no warmth, no cold—only the faint, hollow echo of their own thoughts reverberating in the cavernous abyss of their mind. Memories unravel into fragments, their edges fraying until even the concept of "before" becomes alien.
Every movement, every attempt to orient themselves, dissolves into futility, as though the void swallows intention itself. Sound cannot exist here, yet the oppressive quiet hums with an unseen weight, filling the traveler with an indescribable unease. They do not walk, they do not fly; they simply exist, suspended in a liminal nothingness where the borders of their being seem to erode.
Eyes, or what felt like eyes, strain for a landmark, a point of reference, but the darkness yields nothing. They reach out—a desperate gesture—but their hand disappears into the void, its outline consumed by the infinite black. Perhaps they are moving forward; perhaps they are still. There is no way to know.
In this place, the traveler questions if they are still whole, or if the void has begun to claim them, piece by imperceptible piece. There is no pain, only an unshakable sensation of being unmade, as if their very essence is unraveling like threads pulled loose from a tapestry.
And yet, somewhere deep within, a faint ember persists—a memory, a yearning, a question. 'Why am I here? What lies beyond?' It is this whisper of thought that keeps them from surrendering completely to the endless dark, even as the void stretches on, infinite and indifferent.
In a brief but grand flurry, non-existence became the zenith of existence.
Sensations spread from a needlepoint to their whole form. Warmth, cold, pain, pleasure – the world explodes back to reality for the traveler.
His green eyes fluttered open, the soft morning light filtering through the window of a small, unfamiliar room. Groggily, he tried to sit up, but an overwhelming wave of disorientation washed over him, stopping his short effort before it began. His heart began to race as he realized everything was very wrong. The bed he lay in, the room around him, the very scent of the place—none of it was familiar.
"Where am I?" he muttered, his voice sounding younger and higher-pitched than he remembered. Panic began to rise in his chest. He glanced at his hands and gasped. They were small and round, lacking the calloused and scarred marks he had earned from a lifetime of injuries and use. If only to mention the obvious, they were not hands of an adult but that of a child.
He swung his much shorter legs over the side of the bed and stood up, the room spinning slightly as he did. The walls were adorned with a few scant posters of semi-familiar symbols and imagery. The floor was littered with scrolls, books, clothes and bladed weapons of all things. This wasn't his home, not even close.
"What is happening?" he muttered, his mind racing to piece together the last thing he could remember. Pain. A lot of pain. His final moments of memorable reality had been filled with agony. He tried to recall more details, but they remained frustratingly out of reach. He could seemingly remember what kind of person he was, things that had happened to him, achievements and skills gained alike, but not the actual person who achieved them. It was like reading an untitled book of an unnamed character. It was a mind warping experience to say the least.
Determined to understand his new setting, he stumbled to the window and looked outside. His breath was immediately caught in his throat as he saw a scene straight out of a disgustingly recognizable piece of media. Men and women of all ages were leaping gracefully from rooftop to rooftop, moving with speed and agility that defied logic. Down below hundreds of people went along their day in commerce, hues of clothing ranging from dull greys to bright yellows. In the distance, he spotted an iconic structure that left little doubt to where he had now found himself. The Hokage Monument, the faces of the village leaders, one through four, carved into the mountainside and staring at him in what felt like open mockery.
"Holy shit..." He whispered, realization dawning on him, "This... this is the Naruto universe." His initial panic refused to subside, but was joined by a mix of awe and disbelief. He was in a world he had only ever seen on screen, a world filled with danger and death. But how? And why him?
As more questions and panic raced through his mind, he caught sight of his own reflection in a standalone mirror that stood near a small closet. Dark green eyes, fair pale skin, blonde hair barely longer than a buzz cut, and pudgy cheeks wearing a dumb expression blinked owlishly back at him. His eyes scanned the reflection with a sense of dread, unable to tear his gaze from the...more than husky...youth the glass displayed. His doughy fingers drug his cheeks down like a bulldog as he laughed in utter exasperation, "I'm stuck in a genuine death world and I'm in the Pilsbury Dough Boy's body! Who did I piss off?"
Glancing around the room once more, he noticed a calendar pinned to the wall. It marked important dates and events, with today's date, December 23rd. circled in red ink. Next to it, a note in neat, shockingly English, handwriting read: "Break Over: Academy – 8 AM."
The nightstand clock read half past seven.
The calendar pointed him in the direction of the Ninja Academy, a place where he could hopefully find answers and begin to understand this new life. Swallowing all the apprehension he could manage, he recalled seeing the familiar building of the academy about a half mile away from the window, nestled right beneath the monument. He had an objective at the very least.
He scrummaged around the littered apartment for anything of value or importance, finding a thin and dingy wallet next to a bland set of keys. He glanced through the wallet's contents, revealing a few paper-banknotes and crude ID. The world transmigrator quirked an eyebrow as he read aloud, "Doro Baki...born the fourth of January, year...X797? Academy registry number – don't care to memorize that right now. Well, at least I have a name for this chunky ass face."
With a slight grumble of apprehension, the newly minted Baki set out of the confines of the apartment, making sure to keep a good track of his surroundings and path so he could find it again, and walked towards the academy. His efforts were reinforced to not look as if he was seeing this world for the first time and draw any unnecessary attention from the supernatural murders that could kill faster than any bullet ever could. A few people gave him greetings as he walked by, which he returned with his best attempt of a polite smile, but was mostly ignored as he continued down his chosen path.
A cold sweat broke down his brow as he neared the academy entrance, keenly aware that he had no idea of where he was going past the initial labyrinth of the building. Wracking his brain to find a plausible way to find out what class he was in, he was interrupted by a stampede of feet blitzing his way from behind. The blonde barely managed to step out of the way as two familiar girls raced past him with a pair of insults, "Out of the way Baki you fat cow!" - "MOVE UGLY!"
Baki barely registered the insults shot his way as he watched the pair round a corner and barge into a room at the end of the hallway. That was undoubtedly Sakura and Ino, and judging by their clothing, he now realized what era of Naruto he found himself in. Right before Canon Naruto begins; by his best estimation, a couple days to a few months before he would be thrown into a whacky world of super powered murders who were begging to butter his sweet biscuits. The cold sweat he had from before multiplied as he realized just how boned he was.
With a resigned expression tugging on his well-fed face, Baki trudged to where Ino and Sakura had raced and followed through the door. The classroom was mostly empty with only a few students being there. The pair of enraged fangirls were pushing each other trying to get the lone seat next to a brooding Sasuke who had taken the front row window seat. A few unrecognizable kids were scattered here and there, but Baki paid them little attention as he chose to sit down in the back row, directly behind Sasuke by a few seats.
His mind was abuzz with thought, racing through strategies and methods to gain enough strength to give himself a fighting shot of surviving this terrifying world. He was already at a huge disadvantage given his current physical status, but that was not what concerned him. He had been a very remarkable athlete in his teens and early twenties, a standout high school and college wrestler. Along with his decent knowledge of jiujitsu and rudimentary skill in striking, he was confident he could shape up to be a Taijutsu specialist. At the very least, he knew this body wouldn't hold him back long given his lack of reservation towards physical exertion and dieting.
In contrast, he was not at all confident in the other nuances of this world. Ninjutsu and Genjutsu, bladed weapons, chakra and subsequently control, were utter unknowns to him. He didn't particularly trust his ability to memorize hand seals outside of the few he already knew due to their popularity in the series. Or how to hone his visual and auditory senses to the inhuman degree most were known for. The absolute broken nature of kekkai genkai like the Sharingan or Rinnegan were testaments to how daunting that truly was. God forbid the tailed beast users; they were literal warheads walking around waiting to explode.
He refused to go down the honey hole that was the Ōtsutsuki and their bullshit, if only to preserve what shred of hope he still had left.
As his mind wandered down the million possibilities of things he was underestimating or forgetting about this world, the class had filled up with other students and someone had sat down next to him. Baki idlily noticed it was one Hinata Hyūga, the traditionally shy girl was looking at him with a less than friendly expression. Caught off guard, he opened his mouth to speak, but the girl beat him to the punch, whispering harshly, "You didn't come to see me once during the break! That was cruel of you, Baki."
The pudge laden blonde retracted whatever nonsense was about to come out of his mouth and carefully formulated a truly articulate response, one that would go down in annals of wisest words ever spoken, "I... wait, what?" Hinata's lilac eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at him. She crossed her arms and turned away, a pout clearly visible on her pursed lips, "Jerk..."
Before he could even begin to unravel the situation that he found himself in, the classroom door slid open, and Iruka-sensei walked in, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Alright, everyone, settle down," he said, his voice firm yet kind. The room fell silent as the students turned to face their teacher.
Iruka glanced around the room, a serious expression on his face. "I have an important announcement," he began. "In five months, you will all be taking your graduation test. This test will determine whether or not you are ready to become Genin and take the first step toward becoming full-fledged shinobi. Some of you have attempted it before, some have not, but this is the last chance you'll be given without being forced to take a remedial year."
A murmur of excitement and nervousness rippled through the class. Baki's heart raced. He knew this was a critical moment, a chance to prove himself and fully integrate into this world, and thankfully he had nearly half a year to prepare himself from a less than stellar start.
"The test will not be easy," Iruka continued. "It will challenge you physically, mentally, and emotionally. You must be prepared to give it your all. I have taught you the foundation of every skill you will need to begin your careers, so instead of new material, this last portion of your curriculum will be used to reinforce your repertoire. So, I think it is only fitting that we begin this last stretch of the year with some spars. Everyone to the courtyard, it's time to see where you stand!"
Baki felt a mix of determination and nerves as he followed Hinata out to the courtyard where the sparring sessions were set to take place. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the training grounds. He was no stranger to a fight, but he did not know the capabilities of this body yet. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter and jeers from his classmates.
"I hope I am the one who gets Baki! I could use a good warm up and that fatso can't fight for shit hahaha!" One student said, his voice filled with mockery and childish arrogance. "Ditto! I could use a good confidence boost!" Another added, snickering like fool with his friends.
Baki's expression turned stonelike as a cold feeling shot down his spine like lightning. He never cared much for trash talking or needlessly showing off. He was an overweight kid growing up, and bit shy to boot. Not hitting his physical and confident stride until middle school didn't do favors for his self-esteem back then. This fat body and their jaunty insults had stirred something in him that he hadn't felt or experienced in many years since climbing the top of social and athletic food-chain before adulthood.
Genuine anger.
Hinata, still visibly upset from before, turned to him with a mixture of concern and frustration. "Baki, don't let them get to you. They're just..." Hinata trailed off seeing the stoic expression on his face, something that was not supposed to be there apparently. Baki merely nodded at her and turned his attention to Iruka, stretching out his limbs idlily.
Iruka-sensei stood at the center of the courtyard, calling for their attention. "Alright, everyone, gather around! Today, we'll be sparring to test your skills and see how far you've come. Remember, this is a chance to learn and grow, so give it your best effort."
The students formed a circle around the sparring area, their excitement and anticipation palpable. Iruka's scarred visage scanned the academy students with an air of scrutiny before his gaze stopped on Baki of all people. The Chunin gave him a look over as if he didn't recognize him, before a small smirk tugged on his lips. Iruka announced loudly, "How about we start out with the heavyweight. Seeing as you haven't taken my advice of eating less to heart, let's see how much training you did over the break, Baki. Kiba you're up!"
The students' laughter and whispers grew loud upon Iruka's berating and apparent punishment of the class chunkster. Kiba, from across the circle, set his Ninken Akamaru down and swaggered to the center of the training ground. The Inuzuka clan hair barred his canines in a toothy grin and gestured flippantly to Baki, "Well, c'mon piggy, I don't have all day."
Baki took a shallow and calm breath as he slowly strode to the center, the familiar feeling of a fight looming ahead dragged his conscious thoughts away from him. Completely devoid of distraction and hyper focused, his changed presence caught the attention of a few watching. His posture relaxed into a loose stance as he stared Kiba down without a lick of emotion on his face.
Kiba frowned slightly, feeling there was something he couldn't discern was amiss, but readied himself regardless. There was nothing to worry about if it was Baki he was fighting. In all of their years at the academy, Baki had never won a single spar, not even against the other tub of lard Choji.
Iruka raised his arm and announced loudly, "BEGIN!"
Kiba dashed forward in a blitz of speed, his right hand balled for an overhand punch on the taller and much heavier boy, aiming to finish the brawl quickly and dramatically.
Baki recognized the speed coming at him was something he had never experienced before, but it was surprisingly manageable to track and react to. With an easy slip to the left, Kiba's punch whiffed Baki entirely leaving the Inuzuka overextended and exposed for a brief moment. Kiba's feral eyes went wide as every neuron in his body screamed that he was in danger. Feet dug into the ground and twisted as Baki's hips flipped toward Kiba, carrying massive momentum to launch a large and meaty counter left-hook.
Few words could give justice to the sound of padded flesh meeting bone that Baki's blow generated. Kiba's jaw nearly shattered as the counter took him off his feet and sent the boy rolling through the dirt like a ragdoll.
Nobody in the dozens gathered around uttered a word as Kiba rolled to a stop, his form prone and unmoving. Akamaru yipped and whined, desperately sprinting to his master.
Baki released his stance and shook out his mildly aching hand, a quizzical look on his face. While his gaze was on Kiba's limp form, a curious thought bounced around his mind, 'After all that shit talk, is he going to get up or...pfft!'
"WHAAAAAAT!?"
Baki couldn't help but let loose a laugh at the insanity of the situation, the shouts and astonishment of his newfound peers fueling his enjoyment. Apparently, this fat-ass could pack a punch!
Who would've guessed?
Flashing Iruka a sly grin, the two-ton bundle of fun, aspiring shinobi sauntered his way out of the fighting area, forgoing that lame ass handshake Kishimoto force fed everyone a hundred times. Reclaiming his spot next to Hinata, she was staring at him with wide eyes as if he had grown a second head. But Baki cared not, for he was a man on a mission. The bewildered stares of Konoha's academy students came second fiddle to his impending doom at the hands of whatever super powered Tom, Dick and Harry coming his way.
He had to carve his way out of this fat prison of a body and get to work, or this second chance at life would end just as quickly as it had begun.
End of prologue.