My Life Across The Multiverse With Mangekyo Sharingan

"...You've gotta be kidding me." The words left my mouth in no more than a whisper. For several long seconds, I simply stood there. I mean ... Surely... Surely there had to be an explanation.

My first guess was maybe a movie set. Maybe Hershell had finally snapped and somehow convinced a dedicated cast to participate in the most elaborate prank ever conceived by mankind.

".."

'Yeah, there's no way.' My poker face lasted for five seconds before finally cracking. Even he wasn't rich enough for this. The metallic scent hanging in the air was far too real. The silence just made it worse by compounding on my unease.

There was nothing but the faint rustling of the night breeze as it drifted through streets stained crimson.

"...Okay."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Let's not panic."

Step one.

Confirm this isn't a dream.

Smack!

"...Ow." That hurt.

Step two.

Forget everything you thought was reality, and assume the worst case scenario.

I took another cautious step forward. The wooden walkway creaked beneath my feet as the nearest body came into clearer view. It was a middle aged man with a clean cut across his chest. The blood was still pooling out like no man's business.

I touched the wound, felt it clearer and my heart dropped to an ice cave. It was fucking real. Not just that. There was also no heartbeat. 'Fuck! This is an actual corpse.'

It was official. If this was all just a prank I had fallen for, then I would gladly call Hershell dad for the rest of my life because fuck did this look authentic. Just as I was contemplating what to do next, a surge of memories flooded into my head.

My face paled instantly. 'No! No! If everything so far could be explained as an overly elaborate prank, this was the final nail in the coffin. I had just watched the life perspective of an Uchiha civilian living his life from birth to death. My head spun dizzily as I stumbled to the side, kneeling on the floor.

A sense of coolness spread through my eyes, and my rapidly churning emotions seemed to be plunged into an ice cellar. When I opened them again, everything changed. The world had become ...unbearably slow.

Everything I focused on was clearly outlined the moment I had the thought of zooming in on them. Startled, my eyes moved rapidly, finally landing on a bucket in the distance. Running over, I saw it full of water and my reflection within it.

My breath caught in my throat.

No other reason besides the fact that the face staring back at me wasn't mine. Well...

It technically was now. Young. Pale. Black hair framing a face that would've made my old self irrationally jealous.

There was no trace of the sleep-deprived content creator who practically lived off instant noodles.

Instead... A pair of crimson eyes stared back at me. One. Two. Three tomoe. I stared at them, completely transfixed, watching the little black commas swirl in the reflection of the bucket. And then, they didn’t just spin. They bled together.

Until they completely dissolved into a swirling pattern I had never seen before. 

??? "...No..." I was stunned. "...No fucking wa—" What followed that night was a long period of fear, anxiety and an existential crisis before finally coming to terms with my situation.

Looking at the dark sky that had settled over the imperial capital now, I could boldly say that it was singlehandedly the best decision of ....

'... Huh?' Just then, a surge of memories hit me again, drawing me from my memories and imparting new ones.

It was from one of my shadow clones I had sent to watch over the locations I had marked. In an instant, everything it had seen flowed into my consciousness. A group moving across the rooftops.

A young brown-haired swordsman splitting away from his companion, being led away by am ugly, and very burly middle aged man. "Speak of the devil..." I closed the notebook in my hand and placed it in the space within my open Kimono.

So this was where the story started .. or where I planned to interrupt it. If my memories of the Akame Ga Kill storyline were right, this was probably the point where Tatsumi was fooled by an illusion of his dead childhood friend. The poor kid hadn't even hesitated before chasing after it. Figures. If I suddenly saw someone I thought was dead standing in front of me, I'd probably react the same way.

Clank!

Adjusting the sword on my waist, I placed a mask on my face and reviewed the plan I had in my mind. Well, there wasn't really much of a plan to speak of. After all, Tatsumi was of no use in weakening Zanku before Akame showed up.

'Alright.' Chakra flowed through every area of my body. Following which, my figure vanished into thin air. Building after building blurred past beneath my feet as I crossed the Capital in a matter of moments, spamming body flicker without much concern.

Finally, 

Clang! The sound of colliding metal fell into my senses. I slowed down, stopping as I reached the edge of a rooftop overlooking a wide, abandoned courtyard. At its center, a young man staggered backward, clutching the deep wound carved across his chest.

Clang!

A heavy, metallic ring echoed through the deserted stone courtyard.

Tatsumi stumbled backward, his boots skidding across the pavement as his sword vibrated violently from the impact. Blood dripped down his sleeve, seeping from a fresh gash across his shoulder. He pressed a hand against the wound, his breathing ragged and shallow as he stared up at the towering figure standing across the square.

Opposite him was a towering, broad shouldered man whose grotesque grin seemed permanently carved into his face. Even from this distance, the bloodlust rolling off him was almost tangible. "Ahahaha! It’s useless!"

His opponent cackled. "I can see your muscles twitch before you even think about moving! Have you forgotten so quickly?"

'Yep, this is the scene.' My brows relaxed, watching as I once again experienced the joy of watching what were previously fictional scenes come to life. In every world I jumped into, this was by far the best part of the experience. It was like having front row seats to the behind the scenes filming session and I got to join in the fun to dictate how things would turn out in the subsequent new scenes with my involvement.

Honestly, the animation quality was phenomenal. "...Bit excessive on the blood budget though." My gaze drifted toward Tatsumi.

The clear idealistic, naive, and hopeful protagonist archetype. Then I turned to Zanku who was currently babbling about all the functions of his imperial arm. What a waste of good equipment.

I rested my chin against my fist.

'So... do I jump in now?' My gleaming eyes flicked between the two.

Tatsumi was injured and Zank was barely warmed up.

Canonically, Akame should arrive ...

'...Any second now.'

Which meant my window was actually pretty small.

And while I wanted to see Akame, I wanted Zanku dead before that.

Looking at the ugly Ex executioner, I reviewed what methods to use to send this guy on his way and settled and the most interesting one.

'In that case ..'

Clasping my hands and touching the seals by the side of my wrists, a puff of smoke erupted. Revealing a large number of Shuriken and throwing ninja tools.

'... Time to show off a bit.' With a subtle mental will, my eyes changed. The standard black iris bled into a vivid crimson, three dark tomoe spinning replacing it.

The dark world before me instantly sharpened, transforming into a hyper-detailed grid where every drifting speck of fog, and body movement of both targets down below were laid completely bare. My hands blurred, plucking a dozen shuriken from the fading white smoke.

Fwip!

'Taste my Shuriken Shadow Clone Jutsu.' With a familiar snap of my wrists, the iron stars tore through the night.

The movement didn't go unnoticed

"...Hm?"

Down below, Zanku's grin finally faltered as his Imperial Arm immediately screamed a warning.

He twisted his neck to see a barrage of spinning shuriken already inches from his face.

"Tch!"

He twisted his neck to dodge one, leaving a scratch across his cheek, then raised his weapons to block.

Clang!

The earth beneath his feet cracked as he adjusted his stance, hands moving at rapid speeds to deflect the attacks. "Hahaha! An ambush? Is that all—"

Clang!

Just then, several projectiles suddenly clashed against each other, leading to an abrupt change in trajectory.

"What the .." Zanku's pupils contracted. He quickly attempted to adjust, pushing off against the ground. It was too late by then

SQUELCH!

The remaining shuriken buried themselves into the stone courtyard like a rain of iron.

Zanku landed in a rough slide nearly ten meters away, boots carving grooves through the pavement before he finally stopped.

"..."

Meanwhile. 'Not bad.' I thought, perched atop a distant rooftop, half-hidden by the darkness. My Shurikenjutsu hadn't gotten rusty. Of course, I was aiming for the head on those ricochet Shuriken.

Killing him with that would have been the best scenario, but I never really banked much hope on it. Besides, where's the fun in that?

Down below,

For a heartbeat, the courtyard fell silent.

Then...

The man chuckled.

"Hehehe..."

He reached toward his shoulder and casually ripped a shuriken free.

Blood followed.

Another was lodged through the meat of his left arm.

A third had punched clean through his side.

He looked down at them with genuine surprise.

"...Interesting."

Instead of anger, his grin only widened.

"Very interesting." His blue eyes slowly lifted from the embedded weapons.

"To think someone in this city could actually wound me..." The Imperial Arm resting over his eyes shimmered slightly.

His pupils darted across rooftops, chimneys, and narrow alleys.

Searching.

Searching.

Searching—

His grotesque smile stretched nearly ear to ear.

"There you are."

Kilometers of city meant nothing before his imperial arm, so there was no surprise when our eyes made contact.

I could see him just as clearly as he could see me.

"...Ho?"

Zanku's grin returned, followed by full blown laughter.

"How interesting!"

His eyes shone with a crazy gleam. Tatsumi watched all this, failing to understand what was going on.

Then...

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The quiet sound of footsteps echoed into the courtyard.

Zanku's grin remained at the entrance into the square. Barely a moment later, my lone figure emerged from the shadows.

'Hmm, so young.'

The Headhunter thought, examining me from head to toe. 'Dark clothing and weaponry. Clearly coming after me ... An experienced assassin?'

He watched as I stopped several meters away.

Neither of us said a word.

"..."

"..."

Tatsumi frowned.

'Who...?'

He'd never seen this person before.

The newcomer was dressed in a high-collared, short-sleeved dark shirt that hung open at the chest, secured by a thick, brown rope belt around his waist over dark pants—an attire that looked strikingly exotic compared to the typical garb of the Capital

The lower half of his face was completely obscured by a dark mask, leaving only a pair of unnaturally glowing crimson eyes exposed and a straight-hilted sword rested silently at his hip.

'Those eyes...'

Was he another assassin?

An Imperial soldier?

'He certainly isn't one of Night raid.'

"Good evening, visitor?" Zanku uttered "How fortunate for you to join us." His hand rested affectionately upon the Spectator.

"Tell me..."

"...who might you be?"

There was no reply.

"It's rude not to introduce yourself you know. What's the matter? Left your tongue at home?" Zank scoffed. The giant green eye on his forehead focusing entirely on the teenager. "Let’s see what’s rattling around in that quiet little head of yours..."

The Imperial Arm, Spectator, flared brightly as Zank forced his way into the newcomer's mind, eager to feast on the fear, the panic, or the soon to be strategies of his next victim.

One second passed.

Then two.

The silence stretched, becoming agonizingly long.

Slowly, the mocking grin on Zank’s face began to falter.

Not because there were no thoughts this time.

Quite the opposite.

'God... he's even uglier in person.'

There were far too many.

"..."

Zanku was stunned at the thoughts before him. Before he could say anything ...

'The posters didn't do this guy enough justice. His neck looks like someone stacked three potatoes together. And what's with that hair?'

'Forget executioner. Somebody should've executed his barber.'

"..."

'Seriously though... imagine waking up every morning and seeing that in the mirror.'

A vein appeared on Zanku's forehead as his expression slowly darkened.

'I guess I shouldn't have expected much from an ex government worker. The headgear isn't helping either.'

'Actually... maybe it is.'

'Imagine how much worse he'd look without it.'

"..."

"YOU—!"

Zanku's roar exploded across the courtyard. A low, guttural growl escaping his throat. The veins around his temples bulged, turning a dark, dangerous violet.

"HOW DARE YOU .... HOW DARE YOU HAVE SUCH DISGUSTING, ENTIRELY DISRESPECTFUL THOUGHTS ABOUT ME?!"

He took a heavy, frantic step forward, pointing one of his massive arm-blades directly at my face. Tatsumi, still clutching his bleeding shoulder, stared in absolute bewilderment.

'What the hell is he thinking about to make Zanku lose his cool like that?'

Meanwhile, I on the other end, watched Zanku's reaction, my lips curling up behind my mask.

'Yep, just another edgy loser with a mental syndrome. This won't take long.' Didn't this pervert like to read inner thoughts? Then I was more than happy to let him get as much as he wanted.

However ... "Shut your mouth. I'll take that head of yours and add it to my collection!" Zanku roared, his sanity finally snapping under the weight of the disrespect as he lunged forward.

The flagstones cracking beneath his boots as he closed the distance with terrifying speed, his twin blades whistling through to cleave me in two. 'He doesn't have any more hidden weapons on him. Now, will you dodge? Block? Or pull a finishing move?'

Zanku thought while using Spectator to read my body movements, fully expecting to discern my actions.

My thoughts however ... Were surprisingly simple.

'Well, playtime's over.'