Cursed Uchiha - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Discharged, Destroyed, and Dad Jokes

The blue system screen remained stubbornly uncooperative. Dom, still perched on the edge of the too-high hospital bed, had tried every mental command he could think of.

‘System, explain yourself!’

‘System, provide tutorial!’

‘System, is there a customer service hotline for interdimensional reincarnation support?’

Nothing. Not a flicker, not a pop-up, not even an annoying error message. It just floated there, a silent, glowing testament to his bizarre predicament.

“Alright, playing hard to get, are we?” he muttered under his breath, the childish pitch still jarring. “Fine. I can deduce.” He tapped a small finger against his chin, mimicking a thoughtful anime character. “Cursed Energy equals Yin Chakra. Sharingan is an innate technique. Points via meditation. It’s a JJK system alright, but with Naruto flavor crystals mixed in. Or maybe Naruto is the base cereal, and JJK is the weird marshmallow surprise you find at the bottom.”

He swung his legs, which dangled a good foot above the floor. “So, the big question is, how do these worlds… mesh? Can I throw a Rasengan infused with Cursed Energy? Would that make it, like, a super-depressing Rasengan that gives people existential crises? Or will it just fizzle out because the power systems are fundamentally incompatible, like trying to run a Blu-ray player on a VCR?” He snorted. “Knowing my luck, it’ll probably just make the Rasengan extra gloomy and prone to brooding in corners.”

The thought of combining techniques was both exciting and terrifying. Jujutsu Sorcerers fought Curses. Shinobi fought… other shinobi, mostly, and the occasional giant rampaging demon and aliens. Would his Cursed Energy even work on a normal human shinobi? Or would it just give them a slight chill and a sudden craving for dango? So many questions, and his only source of information was apparently on a coffee break.

The door to his hospital room creaked open, interrupting his musings. Dom’s head snapped up, a flicker of anxiety – or was it anticipation? – fluttering in his chest.

A man and a woman stepped in. The man was tall, at least from a five-year-old’s perspective, with the characteristic black hair and dark eyes of the Uchiha clan. His face was stern, etched with lines of worry and exhaustion that hadn’t been there in the fragmented memories Dom possessed of him from before. Yet, beneath the severity, there was a kindness in his eyes, a weary warmth that softened his sharp features. This was Uchiha Hiroshi, his new father. He wore the dark blue standard attire of the Konoha Military Police Force, though it was singed in places and smudged with soot.

The woman beside him was shorter, her movements quick and anxious. Her dark hair was pulled back loosely, stray strands escaping to frame a face that was pale but animated with a potent mix of fear and overwhelming relief. Uchiha Hana, his mother. She clutched a small, slightly squashed bundle wrapped in cloth.

Hana’s eyes found Dom, and a small, choked sound escaped her. She rushed forward, dropping the bundle onto the small bedside table with a soft thud. “Dom-chan! Oh, Dom-chan, you’re awake!” She was at his side in an instant, her hands fluttering over him, checking his bandages, smoothing his hair. Her touch was gentle, hesitant, as if she were afraid he might break. “Are you alright? Does it hurt anywhere? The doctors said… they said you were lucky.”

Dom found himself leaning into her touch, a strange comfort blooming in his chest. These weren’t his parents, not really. And yet… there was an undeniable pull, a sense of belonging that resonated deep within him, a warmth that the original Dom’s soul had clearly imprinted. “I’m… I’m okay, Kaa-san,” he managed, the honorific feeling surprisingly natural on his tongue. “Head hurts a bit. Like a woodpecker’s trying to build a nest in there.”

Hana’s eyes welled up. “Oh, my poor baby. That terrible monster… when the house… I thought…” She couldn’t finish, her voice thick with emotion.

Hiroshi stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on Hana’s shoulder. He looked at Dom, his gaze intense. “The medics said you took a nasty blow to the head, Dom. Do you remember what happened?” His voice was deeper, calmer than Hana’s, but with an undercurrent of strain.

Dom hesitated. How much did this Dom remember? Fragmented images of chaos, the roar of the Kyuubi, the Uchiha compound in flames, the terror of falling. “Bits and pieces,” he said carefully. “The big fox… screaming… our house… it fell, didn’t it?”

Hiroshi nodded gravely. “It did. You were trapped for a short while. We were terrified.” He paused, then asked, a hint of professional shinobi curiosity in his tone, “Do you remember anything… unusual? Before you were found?”

Dom thought of the blue screen, still faintly visible if he focused. Definitely unusual. But not something he could explain. “Just… a lot of noise and shaking. And red. So much red.” That wasn’t a lie. The Kyuubi’s chakra, the fires, the blood…

A medic, a no-nonsense woman with tired eyes, entered then, giving them a brief nod. “He’s stable. Vitals are good. Some bruising, a mild concussion, but he’s a tough one. He can be discharged today, but take it easy with him for a few days. No strenuous activity, and if he complains of severe headaches or dizziness, bring him back immediately.”

Hana showered the medic with grateful words, while Hiroshi gave a more formal, curt nod of thanks. The discharge process was quick. Hana helped Dom change out of the oversized hospital gown and into the clothes she’d brought – simple, dark Uchiha-style pants and a loose-fitting shirt. They were a bit big on him, clearly belonging to a slightly older child, or perhaps the original Dom had been on the cusp of a growth spurt.

Stepping out of the hospital and into the sunlight of Konoha was a sobering experience. The air still carried a faint scent of smoke and damp ash. Everywhere Dom looked, there were signs of the Kyuubi’s rampage. Gaping holes in buildings, piles of rubble hastily cleared to the sides of roads, uprooted trees. Ninja, easily identifiable by their flak jackets and hitai-ate, moved with grim purpose, coordinating repairs, standing guard, or carrying supplies. Civilians hurried past, their faces drawn and anxious. The vibrant, bustling Konoha he vaguely remembered from the anime felt subdued, wounded.

“It’s… bad,” Dom murmured, clutching Hana’s hand tightly.

“Konoha is strong, Dom-chan,” Hana said, her voice a little too bright. “We will rebuild. We always do.” But her grip on his hand was just as tight.

Hiroshi walked beside them, his gaze sweeping their surroundings, alert and watchful. He was clearly on edge, even if he didn’t show it as openly as Hana. The Uchiha district was a little further out from the central part of the village where the hospital was located. As they drew closer, the atmosphere grew heavier. There were more Uchiha Police Force members visible, their expressions uniformly grim. Some villagers cast wary, even hostile glances towards them as they passed, looks that Dom, with his adult understanding in a child’s body, recognized all too well as suspicion and fear.

‘Yep, the seeds of distrust are already being sown, watered by a giant demon fox,’ Dom thought grimly.

They finally reached what had once been their street. It was almost unrecognizable. Several houses were completely flattened. Others, like theirs, were still standing but looked like they’d lost a very violent argument with a bulldozer.

Their home… or what was left of it. One entire section of the roof had caved in, exposing the sky. A large, jagged hole gaped in the front wall, like a monstrous, toothless mouth. Furniture, splintered and broken, was visible amidst the debris inside. The small garden Hana had been so proud of was a trampled, muddy mess.

Hana let out a soft, mournful sigh, her shoulders slumping.

Hiroshi cleared his throat, surveying the wreckage with a stoic expression. He then clapped a hand on Dom’s shoulder. “Well, on the bright side, son,” he said, a faint, almost invisible twitch at the corner of his lips, “you always wanted a more open-plan living space. More natural light now, too.”

Dom stared at the gaping hole in the roof, then back at his father. He couldn’t help it; a small, dry chuckle escaped him. He deadpanned, his childish voice full of mock seriousness, “I was thinking fewer holes in the ceiling, Dad. And maybe a door that doesn’t require a running jump to get through.”

Hiroshi actually cracked a small smile at that, a genuine, tired smile that briefly erased some of the lines of exhaustion from his face. “Fair point. The current draft is a bit excessive.”

Hana, despite her sorrow, managed a watery smile too, ruffling Dom’s hair. “Always the little comedian, even now.”

The clan had arranged temporary shelters for those whose homes were destroyed. Theirs was in a larger, communal Uchiha building that had thankfully survived the attack with only minor damage – meeting hall, now partitioned off with blankets and screens to create small, private alcoves. It was cramped, noisy, and smelled of too many people in too small a space, but it was safe, and it was warm.

They found their designated alcove, a small space with a few futons and their salvaged belongings piled in a corner – not much had survived. Dom noticed the bandages on his parents more clearly now. Hiroshi had a thick dressing on his left arm, and Hana limped slightly, favoring her right ankle. They were alive, though. That was the main thing. A wave of genuine warmth, a fierce, protective urge, washed over Dom. It wasn’t just him observing a fictional world anymore; these were his parents, and he felt an unexpected, powerful connection to them.

‘It’s like Dom’s original emotions are still here, hardwired into the brain,’ he mused, settling onto a futon. ‘Or maybe… maybe our souls kind of… merged? Two souls in one body, one from Earth with JJK knowledge, one from here with Uchiha memories and feelings. That would explain the hybrid system. A JJK system meets a Naruto body, and the universe just shrugs and says, ‘Eh, close enough, let’s mix ‘em up!’ It’s as good a theory as any.’ This strange fusion also meant their pain, their relief, their fear – he felt it all more keenly than a detached observer ever could.

He wanted to make them feel better, to lighten the oppressive mood that hung in the air, thick as the smoke that still clung to their clothes.

Later, as Hana was trying to organize their meager belongings, she sighed, “I don’t even know where to begin. So much is gone.”

Dom, who was trying to see if he could mentally will the system screen to display a game of Pong, piped up, “Well, look on the bright side, Mom. Less spring cleaning to do next year!”

Hana paused, then a small, surprised laugh escaped her. “Dom! That’s… not entirely wrong, I suppose.” She looked at him, a curious expression on her face. “You’ve been awfully talkative since you woke up, dear. And a bit… strange. Different from your usual quiet self. Did the Kyuubi knock some screws loose, or did it knock some sense in?”

Dom grinned, a flash of his old self peeking through the five-year-old facade. “Maybe a bit of both, Mom. I think one of the screws that came loose was the one that made me boring. Plus, you know, near-death experiences really give you a new perspective on the importance of good one-liners.”

Hiroshi, who had been quietly observing, raised an eyebrow. “One-liners, Dom?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Dom said with utmost seriousness. “Crucial for survival. If you can’t beat ‘em, at least confuse ‘em with unexpected wit.”

His parents exchanged a look – a mixture of amusement, bewilderment, and lingering worry. They probably chalked it up to trauma, the way kids sometimes coped with overwhelming events in unpredictable ways. And for now, Dom was happy to let them. It was easier than explaining interdimensional reincarnation and video game power systems.

That evening, as the communal shelter settled into a hushed murmur of weary families, Dom found a relatively quiet corner. His parents were talking in low tones nearby, the sound a comforting backdrop. He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and tried to meditate.

It was, to put it mildly, an exercise in utter futility at first.

‘Okay, focus. Inner peace. Empty mind. Be the leaf. No, wait, that’s for tree walking. Be… nothing. Just breathe.’ He took a deep breath.

His mind immediately supplied: ‘Did I leave the stove on back on Earth? Oh wait, phone explosion. No stove to worry about. Unless… does this temporary shelter have a stove? Smells like someone’s burning rice again. Focus, Dom, focus! Points! Shiny, survival-granting points!’

He tried to focus on his breathing, as he’d read in countless manga where characters achieved enlightenment in about five minutes. His breathing, however, seemed determined to be as uncooperative as possible, either too fast or too shallow. A mosquito buzzed past his ear. Someone in the next alcove started snoring – a deep, rumbling sound like a dysfuntional engine. Dom peeked an eye open.

‘Is that Uncle Fugaku? Sounds like him. Guy could probably scare off a Special Grade Curse with that snore alone. Okay, okay, Uchiha clan leader needs his beauty sleep, I guess. Back to… nothingness.’

He pictured a calm lake. His mind promptly populated it with rubber ducks wearing tiny hitai-ate. He tried picturing a black void. His mind projected the Jujutsu Kaisen opening theme onto it.

“This is harder than it looks,” he muttered under his breath. He could hear his mother shift nearby. Best not to look like he was talking to himself too much.

He forced himself to sit still, to try and block out the distractions. He focused on the sensation of the rough blanket beneath him, the cool air on his skin, the distant sounds of the village. Minutes stretched into an eternity. Just as he was about to give up, convinced he was congenitally incapable of meditation, a soft ding echoed in his mind, accompanied by a familiar blue shimmer behind his eyelids.

[+1 Point]

Dom’s eyes snapped open. He almost yelped but managed to stifle it into a weird cough-sneeze hybrid that earned him a concerned glance from Hana. He gave her a wobbly thumbs-up.

‘It worked! Holy crap, it actually worked!’ A grin stretched his face. One point! It wasn’t much, but it was something. It was proof.

He quickly closed his eyes again, a newfound determination surging through him. The first point had been the hardest. Now that he knew it was possible, it was… well, still hard, but not impossibly hard. He focused, chasing that feeling of quiet, that brief moment where his mind had actually shut up.

Another minute passed, feeling like an hour. Ding.

[+1 Point]

‘Yes!’

And so it went. Slowly, painstakingly, Dom eked out points. Each mental ding was a small victory, a tiny step away from becoming Itachi-fodder. He lost track of time, immersed in this strange new internal battle against his own restless mind. He was vaguely aware of his parents eventually settling down to sleep, their quiet breathing a steady rhythm in the dimness.

Finally, feeling a deep exhaustion settling into his small frame, he decided to call it a night. He mentally checked his point tally.

Sixty. Sixty points in what felt like several hours, but was probably closer to one.

‘Not bad for a first try,’ he thought, a surge of pride welling up. ‘Sixty points. Now, what to do with them?’

He called up the system panel in his mind’s eye.

—

Cursed Energy (Yin Chakra): Lv1 (0/3)

Status: Grade 4 Sorcerer (Ninja Academy Student)

CE Control: 5%

Skill: None

Innate Technique: Sharingan (Lv0 – Dormant)

—

[Points: 60]

—

“Okay, Cursed Energy (Yin Chakra): Lv1, costs 3 points to level up, presumably.” He mentally directed the points. ‘System, dump all 60 points into Cursed Energy.’

He felt a subtle shift within him, a cool, thrumming sensation that had been faint before now pulsed with a little more intensity. It wasn’t a dramatic power-up, no flashing lights or sudden muscle growth, just a deepening of that inherent cool energy. The system panel updated.

—
Cursed Energy (Yin Chakra): Lv6 (5/28)

Status: Grade 4 Sorcerer (Ninja Academy Student)

CE Control: 5%

Skill: None

Innate Technique: Sharingan (Lv0 – Dormant)

—

[Points: 0]

—

“Level 6 right off the bat, huh?” Dom mused. “The first few levels were cheap. 3 points for level 2, then it must have ramped up. And now it’s 28 points for level 7. Exponential increase, classic system move.” He noted his Cursed Energy pool had definitely increased; he could feel it, a denser, more substantial presence within him.

His gaze flicked to his Status. “Grade 4 Sorcerer… still Grade 4. Bummer. And CE Control still at a miserable 5%. So just having more energy doesn’t mean I can actually use it any better. Like having a giant water tank but only a leaky faucet.” He sighed. “Figures it wouldn’t be that easy.” He had 5 points left, not enough for anything significant.

“Well, that’s… something,” he murmured into the darkness, echoing his father’s earlier sentiment about their ruined house. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. A tiny, flickering candle in the vast darkness of his impending doom.

He snuggled deeper into the futon, the rough material surprisingly comforting. His small body ached with a weariness that was both physical and mental. As sleep began to claim him, his mind, no longer tethered by the demands of meditation or system analysis, began to race once more.

‘Seven years… Uchiha Itachi… Akatsuki… Madara… Kaguya… Holy hell, the power scaling in this world is insane. How am I supposed to survive all that with a system that gives points at a snail’s pace and a starting CE control that wouldn’t let me reliably swat a fly?’

He thought of Naruto, currently a newborn, probably crying his lungs out somewhere in an orphanage, carrying the other half of the Kyuubi. He thought of Sasuke, also a baby, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that would define his entire existence.

‘Maybe I can teach Shadow Clones to meditate for me? Double the points? Or get them to do my future academy homework so I have more time for Cursed Energy shenanigans? Ooh, can Cursed Energy be used for Genjutsu? Imagine, a Genjutsu powered by the dark, brooding angst of Cursed Energy. People wouldn’t just see illusions; they’d feel an overwhelming urge to listen to sad indie music and write bad poetry.’

A small, sleepy smile touched his lips. It was a terrifying, almost impossible situation. But for a kid who’d just died via exploding phone and got reincarnated into his favorite anime with a cheat system, however uncooperative, it was also… kind of exciting. In a pants-wettingly horrifying sort of way.

His last conscious thought before drifting off was, ‘Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I figure out how to make this 5% CE control slightly less abysmal. And maybe find some better jokes. Dad jokes are a good start, but I need to up my game if I’m going to be the Uchiha clan’s resident trauma comedian.’