1. The Demon Shark Who Built the Great Dam

“Your life must have been difficult.”
“Itachi, in those final moments before you died, did you finally see yourself clearly?”
“I wish I could see it too, the Infinite Tsukuyomi... Only there is the world truly real, without a trace of deception.”
“Hoshigaki Kisame, I will remember you for the rest of my life.”
...
Fragments of memory surged like the tide.

On a dam somewhere at the border of the Land of Water, twelve-year-old Kisame jolted awake from his midday nap, his head splitting with pain and cold sweat beading on his brow.

It seemed this young shinobi had just woken from a nightmare.

Instinctively, he gripped his ninja blade and scanned his surroundings, but everything was as it should be—his fellow ninja patrolled or rested nearby, and a group of workers busied themselves repairing the dam that had been sabotaged by enemy hands.

Kisame’s expression shifted several times before he finally rose and made his way to the water’s edge, gazing down at the clear, tranquil surface.

Reflected in the water was the face of a boy, still tinged with innocence.

Bluish skin, short blue hair spiked upright. Those signature dead-fish eyes, and the gill-like markings on each cheek, reminiscent of a shark.

The first impression this face gave wasn’t exactly ugly—just unusual, distinctive. But there was no denying that this half-formed visage was not one destined for a leading role; you could almost see the words “villain” and “minion” written across it.

Staring at his reflection, Kisame suddenly laughed.

He would never have imagined that, as a man from the 21st century, he would awaken in the world of Naruto, reincarnated as the young Kisame he’d always admired.

He just happened to be his favorite villain.

The memories flooding his mind were all scenes from the Naruto anime.

So, to return to the question—

Had Kisame in his previous life truly seen himself clearly before death?

Hoshigaki Kisame, a shinobi.

He was always polite—addressing Itachi as “Mr. Itachi,” calling Jiraiya “Lord Jiraiya.” He followed the rules in battle, always forming seals properly, unfailingly obeying orders from above, executing every mission with perfect loyalty and efficiency.

Even when it meant killing his comrades again and again, or summoning sharks to devour himself, all to protect information with his life.

By the end of Naruto, compared to those who had practically ascended to divinity—Naruto, Sasuke, and the like—Kisame, already dead, was just another unremarkable shinobi.

As he once mocked himself, “After all, I’m just a sideshow character.”

Yet, this minor character was one of the series’ most authentic shinobi.

Because Kisame was a man who, from beginning to end, followed his own shinobi path unswervingly—no last-minute redemption, no regret, no change of heart from Naruto’s Talk no Jutsu.

Only a calm embrace of death, and those gentle parting words:

“Itachi, to call me irredeemable wouldn’t be entirely fair.”

Kisame was, beyond a doubt, a true man.

What a pity.

Kisame’s life was marred by two fatal flaws:

Weakness, and blind loyalty.

He saw through the falsehoods of the world long ago, yet lacked the power to change it. Thus, he fell prey to Obito’s manipulations, longing to see the world of Infinite Tsukuyomi—

A world of eternal peace and beauty.

Kisame believed in it with all his heart and gave everything for it, without regret.

But in the end, it was all for naught. Even Obito betrayed him.

“Weakness is a sin—and blind obedience to superiors is just as dangerous.”

Kisame sighed, his gaze drifting over the wide river toward the distant horizon.

No matter what, from this day forth, he was Hoshigaki Kisame.

Given a second life, this time he would live for himself.

He was Kisame—no one’s henchman, no one’s background ornament.

He took a moment to collect his thoughts.

Kisame then turned his attention to his current situation.

It was the 44th year of the Hidden Leaf, six or seven years since the end of the Second Great Ninja War. After a brief period of peace, tensions in the ninja world were once again on the rise.

Recently, the Hidden Mist Village, Kisame’s home, had clashed with the Hidden Sand Village—another of the Five Great Shinobi Villages—over iron ore resources on a southern peninsula, sparking small-scale conflict.

The two sides were deadlocked.

Amidst this, a group of unidentified shinobi infiltrated the Land of Water, destroying bridges and dams and causing massive devastation.

Anyone with half a brain could guess the culprits were Sand ninja.

Thus, young Kisame was dispatched on a mission, joining one of several squads tasked with hunting down and eliminating the intruders.

A day earlier, Kisame’s squad found this damaged dam and immediately summoned workers for emergency repairs.

As a genin with two years of field experience, Kisame’s and his companions’ temporary mission was to guard the site, ensure the repairs went smoothly, and stay alert for another enemy attack.

Their superior for this operation—one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, Black Hoe Raiga—had led a team of elite ninja in pursuit of the enemy, vowing to wipe them out within the Land of Water.

Kisame paced the dam with his ninja blade in hand, performing his patrol in earnest while acclimating to this new body.

Wait.

As he moved, his eyes lit up at the sight of a pile of blindingly white lime—clearly for dam repairs—heaped like a small mountain.

Feigning nonchalance, Kisame collected a handful, tucking it up his sleeve.

In his previous life, he’d been a martial arts enthusiast—naturally combative but kind-hearted—who practiced unrestricted street fighting to protect the innocent from criminals.

His most renowned exploit was seriously injuring three would-be attackers in a park with nothing but a small pair of scissors, earning him official commendation and a feature in the local newspaper.

When asked why he carried scissors while jogging, he’d replied honestly:

Because machetes weren’t allowed.

Scissors, not being classified as controlled weapons, could be carried legally.

What’s more, in a fight, scissors could inflict devastating wounds, while remaining inconspicuous—perfect for catching criminals off guard.

In the philosophy of unrestricted combat, everyday objects like scissors and lime were makeshift weapons, always within reach.

Truly essential for travel and for upholding justice.

With two pounds of lime stashed up his sleeve, Kisame left contented and resumed his patrol.

The day slipped by swiftly.

As the sun set, the water glimmered gold beneath the fiery evening sky. The emergency repairs to the dam were complete. The workers, tired but cheerful, packed their tools, ready to head to a nearby tavern for a drink.

Kisame and his companions prepared to move out as well, heading to the next area to continue the hunt for enemy traces.

But the tranquil harmony was suddenly shattered.

Boom.

A violent explosion erupted from the riverside woods, flames and thick black smoke billowing skyward.

Moments later, blue lightning flickered deep in the forest, dragon-shaped bolts tearing through the trees, splintering trunks and sending birds shrieking into the air over Kisame’s head.

Such powerful chakra.

Kisame’s pupils contracted—he sensed formidable shinobi clashing, and both sides were rapidly drawing toward the dam.

Sure enough,

A few seconds later, a battered figure burst from the woods—eyes wild with terror.

He was a man with long green hair, upper body swathed in bandages, gripping a pair of blades crackling with lightning.

This was Black Hoe Raiga, one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, master of the Thunder Swords: Fang, and leader of this mission—Kisame’s superior.

Yet now this elite Mist jonin was wounded and desperate, fleeing for his life.

“We’re under attack—Sand ninja!”
“Lord Raiga is injured!”

Seeing their commander in such a state, the defenders of the dam were thrown into chaos, rushing to his aid.

“Hold them off!”

Raiga bellowed at Kisame and the others before vanishing in a flash of lightning, fleeing downstream.

At their superior’s order, Kisame, ever the loyal subordinate, automatically seized his ninja blade, ready to die fighting.

But in the next instant, he snapped awake.

If even Raiga couldn’t handle the enemy, how could a bunch of genin hope to stand against them?

Though Kisame was already among the best of his age group—worthy of promotion to chunin—he was still young, his potential yet untapped, far from the “tailless tailed beast” he would one day become.

At that moment—

Screams erupted ahead.

Looking up, Kisame saw several companions who’d rushed forward struck by strange fireballs—their bodies instantly desiccated, reduced to shriveled corpses in moments, their deaths horrifying and tragic.

The fireballs, having claimed their lives, returned to orbit around a woman.

She was perhaps in her twenties, with striking features, green hair in a bun, and two orange bangs framing her face—her style bold and unique. Unlike the heavily clad Sand shinobi, she wore a daring backless outfit with a white bandage belt, unashamedly flaunting her figure.

Beautiful, yet deadly.

From the Sand Village—the Scorch Release user, Pakura.

From the memories of his past life, Kisame recognized her instantly.

With Pakura came a squad of Sand ANBU, more than ten in number. Methodically, they formed a perimeter, mercilessly slaughtering Mist ninja and workers alike, soon staining the dam crimson with blood.

Seeing this, Kisame didn’t hesitate; he turned and ran.

He was no longer the blindly obedient shinobi he’d once been.

But he was still a step too slow.

Whoosh.

A Sand jonin appeared like a phantom: cold-eyed, kunai in hand, launching a merciless assault.

Kisame’s eyes flashed with ferocity as he fought back desperately.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Their blades clashed, sparks flying, steel ringing in the air.

Hmm?

In the midst of battle, the Sand jonin realized with surprise that this kid was holding his own for far longer than expected.

But that was as far as he’d get.

A sudden feint.

Catching Kisame off guard, the jonin knocked his blade aside, leaving him off balance and exposed.

“Die, brat.”

The jonin sneered, driving his kunai at Kisame’s heart.

In that critical instant—

Kisame whipped his arm, flinging a large handful of quicklime from his sleeve, smothering the jonin’s face at point-blank range.

“Argh!”

The jonin screamed as the lime burned his eyes, blinding him.

Seizing the opportunity, Kisame broke away and fled at full speed.

But he’d barely gone a few steps before a searing heat surged behind him.

Looking back, he saw a Scorch Release fireball racing after him, exploding in a blazing inferno that consumed everything.

Though Kisame dodged with all his might, he was blasted off his feet, seriously injured.

But—

This was his escape route!