Chapter 1 – Rebirth
Samantha Blake — elite special forces of the United States of America.
When the call came, they were already at the base. No time to prepare — just orders and weapons. Samantha fastened her armor automatically. No words. No emotions. That was the nature of their job.
Terrorist assault.A school was taken. Over a hundred hostages, including children. The situation — critical. Negotiations had failed. The terrorists' demands — unrealistic, ultimatum-like.
Time was running out.
Unit "Fox-6," twenty soldiers, elite. All had seen hot zones — Afghanistan, Somalia, Colombia. And yet... anxiety hung in the air, even through radio silence.
They entered through a maintenance tunnel. Recon drones confirmed the presence of fifteen hostiles spread across three floors.Mission — clear: infiltrate, neutralize, rescue.
At first, everything went by the book.
Entry — clean.Hallways — under control.The first group of hostages — evacuated.The enemy — well-armed, but the squad's coordination quickly gave them the advantage.
But on the second floor, everything changed.
"Contact! Multiple targets!""Repeat: not fifteen — much more!"
Thirty.At least thirty men — and all armed as well as the operatives themselves.
The terrorists knew the building. Ambushes. Barricades.And most importantly — psychological edge. They weren't afraid to die.
With each room, the fight grew fiercer. Bullets whizzed past ears, walls shattered. Samantha moved with precision — short bursts, cover, explosives, hand signals. She had taken down five already, including a sniper in the gym.
But everything ground to a halt in the cafeteria.
A wide-open space. Little cover.The terrorists were hiding behind a group of hostages — not women or children, but teachers and teenagers.Any shot could be fatal.And the enemy knew that.
"Do not fire without my command!" — the squad captain hissed."They're bleeding us out..."
The squad's position was bad.Ammunition — almost gone.Only five left out of twenty.
Samantha looked at the coordinates on her tablet.There was no way out. Only a choice.
She raised her eyes — and met the gaze of a child pressed to the floor. He wasn't crying. He just stared.
I can't let them die here.
She took a breath.
"I'll take the right flank," she said calmly."Move to the hostages as soon as I draw their fire."
The captain wanted to object. But didn't.Everyone knew — there was no other option.
Samantha moved first.
Through the kitchen, across the slick tiles, she flanked them from behind.Fast. Silent.
First shot — to the head. Second — to the chest.One enemy turned — too late.Three more — taken down.Then she stepped into the open, under crossfire.
Bullets slammed into walls around her.Metal screeched overhead.Someone shouted over the radio. One of the terrorists threw a grenade — too early.
Samantha covered her head and dove forward.A lunge — two more shots.Six down.
And then — a shot from behind.She hadn't seen him. One of the hostiles crawled out of the ventilation shaft.The bullet hit under her ribs, pierced a lung.
Everything went quiet.
She dropped to her knees, breath ragged. Blood in her mouth.But her hand lifted — one last shot. Straight to the enemy's forehead.
He fell.And so did she.
Her vision blurred. A ringing in her ears.Her heart beating somewhere far away.
That's it…
She smiled through the blood.
If I saved even one life — it was worth it.
Darkness.
No pain. No light. No sound.No body. No time. Just silence.
A spark.A microscopic signal, somewhere in the void. A trace of will. Not thought. Not feeling. Just... a remnant.
Then came a cry.Thin, strained, unnaturally high.It burst out on its own, as if lungs filled with air for the first time.
She was alive. But in another body.
Small. Helpless. Unresponsive.
Warm hands. A woman's voice.A lullaby — soft, unfamiliar.
No… familiar.
Why do I understand this language?..
Images — hazy.Walls. Faces of other infants. Someone laughing. Someone crying.But her mind... remained.Adult. Clear. A soldier's.
Months passed. Maybe half a year. No calendars, no clocks. Just day and night.
And then one day, she opened her eyes — and saw.
A simple room. Wooden walls. Straw mats on the floor.A woman in a white coat held a baby, humming softly.Behind her — a window.And outside — rooftops with green tiles. Stone streets.
And…
On her sleeve — an emblem.A circular symbol with a leaf.
She froze.
This… was Konoha.
And in that second — everything became clear.
In her past life, she rarely had free time.Missions. Training. Deployments.But in the rare quiet moments before sleep… she would turn on her tablet.
Anime.Not childish. Not out of naivety. Just a way to escape reality.Only the screen and silence.
And among all of them — Naruto.
At first — just a show.Then — a habit.She watched it again and again. She knew the names. The clans. The techniques. The dangers.She had even wondered — would she survive in that world?
Now — the answer was before her.
The shock faded.What remained — cold analysis.
This is not an illusion. Not the afterlife.I… am in another world. And I know it.
A world of war. Clans. Chakra.Darkness behind the mask of a village.
She didn't know why she ended up here.But she knew one thing:
She had a second chance.And she wouldn't repeat her mistakes.
The caretakers didn't understand why one child barely cried, didn't seek attention, didn't fear anything.
But she wasn't a child. Not in her mind.She was — a soldier. An observer. An analyst.
And now — a future shinobi.
"Samantha Blake is dead," she thought, staring at the ceiling.
"Now... I have a new life. And memory is my strength. I won't forget.I won't break.I'll become stronger than I ever was."
She closed her eyes.Not out of fear.
But because she knew:
The real war… is still ahead.