Tamamo was imprisoned.
Not in a cell, not in a dungeon, but in something far more humiliating:
A baby's body.
She couldn't speak, walk, or even feed herself. Couldn't even take a shit without assistance.
It was, to put it mildly, humiliating.
This is the worst kind of reincarnation, she thought bitterly, staring up at the wooden ceiling of the Uchiha estate's nursery like it had personally wronged her. No cheat powers. No badass summon scroll in my crib. Just diapers, drool, and whatever that weird mashed rice paste was.
Every day was a fresh new low. She had gone from living alone with microwave meals and full independence to being cradled, rocked, burped, and cooed at like a glorified houseplant.
Her brothers weren't much help either. Sasuke just drooled on her, and Itachi—while frighteningly competent—looked at her like she was some ancient riddle wrapped in a swaddle blanket.
The only one who treated her somewhat normally was Mikoto, who had the patience of a saint and eyes that somehow made Tamamo forget that she couldn't even hold her own bottle without dropping it.
But still. Dignity? Gone.
Freedom? Gone.
Hot chicken nuggets? Vaporized.
This wasn't a second chance at life.
This was baby jail.
And Tamamo was ready to riot—just as soon as her neck muscles stopped feeling like overcooked ramen.
—-
It was later that evening when the world began to shift.
Fugaku and Mikoto had left the estate for a clan meeting, entrusting their eldest son with watching over his siblings. Itachi—ever reliable—had taken the responsibility with the kind of stoic calm that made most adults seem like amateurs.
Tamamo found herself nestled in his arms, wrapped in a soft blanket beside her equally cocooned twin, Sasuke. They were outside in the courtyard, the chill of the evening kept at bay by layers of warmth and Itachi's steady presence.
The moon hung low, casting pale light through the trees. It was peaceful—almost too peaceful.
Then Itachi's expression changed.
His body stiffened.
His gaze lifted toward the sky.
"…Something's wrong," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Tamamo's baby brain may not have been equipped to fully process it, but she felt it too. A shift in the air. A weight pressing down on the silence. Like the sky was holding its breath.
Itachi stood, arms tightening protectively around his siblings.
Then came the rumble. Distant, thunderous. Followed by a roar.
Tamamo's heart leapt in her chest. She didn't know what it was. But something inside her—some ancient instinct—screamed danger.
The Nine-Tails had arrived.
The earth shook violently.
Tamamo let out a startled, involuntary squeak as the tremor rocked the courtyard. Cracks formed in the tiles beneath them. Sasuke wailed.
And then, Mikoto appeared.
She darted into the courtyard with speed and grace that defied panic, her eyes sharp as kunai.
"Itachi!"
"Mother!" he called back. "Something's happening. We need to evacuate. Now."
Without hesitation, he handed Sasuke and Tamamo to her.
Mikoto's expression darkened as another roar tore through the night, closer this time.
Tamamo saw it first—something massive crashing through the rooftops in the far distance. The silhouette of a beast, taller than buildings, its tails lashing like whips of destruction. Fires bloomed in its wake. Screams followed.
But then—
A shadow above.
Tamamo's eyes widened. A massive chunk of debris—an entire boulder—was tumbling through the air, aimed directly at them. It blocked out the moon, a jagged monolith of death.
She froze. Unable to do anything.
.
And then—
Itachi moved.
With a sharp breath and a burst of speed, he launched into the air, chakra exploding from his limbs. His arm shimmered with energy.
BOOM!
He punched the boulder mid-air. It shattered into dust and gravel, the shockwave shaking the courtyard.
Tamamo's baby mouth hung slightly open. Her brain—what little of it wasn't occupied by being swaddled—was screaming.
Okay. Okay. Time out. What the actual hell was THAT?!
She didn't know what it was—it wasn't fire, it wasn't lightning, it wasn't normal—but something had exploded from Itachi's arm, and the freaking sky rock had exploded like a confetti bomb.
Was that… energy? Ki? Jedi force powers?! What kind of toddler ninja Hogwarts have I been dropped into?!
Her whole body tingled, not from fear, but from whatever weird invisible pressure was now humming in the air. It was like static electricity had gained sentience and gone Super Saiyan.
Forget baby jail. I'm in magical death battle world?! Nobody told me reincarnation came with shonen anime rules!
They ran.
As they fled through the outer district, the devastation only worsened. People lay crushed under rubble, their limbs twisted unnaturally. A man's body was cleaved in half, intestines spilling into the dirt. One woman's head had been smashed into the side of a wall—her lifeless eyes staring directly at Tamamo as they passed. Blood painted the streets.
Tamamo's stomach twisted.
Oh my god. Oh my god. This isn't TV. This isn't anime.
This is real. This is actual, honest-to-god war.
Flames devoured homes. Shinobi corpses hung in alleyways, limbs torn, armor cracked. Someone screamed for help and was silenced a moment later by a sickening crunch.
The air reeked of smoke, iron, and rot.
Tamamo whimpered, burying her face against Mikoto's chest—but her eyes kept flicking open, unable to look away.
I don't want to see this. I don't want to remember this.
Suddenly, the sky lit up.
A blinding sphere of crackling red chakra gathered in the Nine-Tails' jaws.
Itachi stopped, wide-eyed. "That… it's targeting the Hokage Monument."
The massive beast reared back, then fired the ball of destruction. The blast lit up the night like a second sun.
Tamamo screamed—though she didn't even realize it—and Mikoto threw herself over both babies, shielding them.
But just before impact, the air bent.
The chakra sphere—nearly the size of the entire cliff—vanished.
Gone. In the blink of an eye.
Tamamo blinked in confusion.
A figure had appeared.
Blonde. Cloaked. Marked with the flames of the Fourth Hokage.
Mikoto's lips parted in awe. "Minato…"
"He teleported it," Itachi breathed, stunned. "He actually—he saved the village."
"We don't have time to watch," Mikoto said urgently. "We need to get to the shelter. Now."
With renewed speed, they ran through the smoke and blood, past the broken, the dead, and the dying.
Tamamo's wide eyes stared into the horror around her.
Her mind was unraveling. Her thoughts scattered.
This isn't how I thought this life would go. This isn't adventure. This isn't fun. This is hell.
People are dying. Screaming. Their homes—gone. Their families—
She shook, barely aware of her own tears.
I thought I'd been dropped into a fantasy story. But this isn't a story.
This is a nightmare.
They finally reached the shelter.
The air was thick with tension. Dozens of villagers huddled in the cramped underground space—some injured, others sobbing. The cries of children filled the silence between distant rumbling booms.
Mikoto moved with practiced speed, laying Tamamo and Sasuke down onto a padded bench. She stroked both their heads, murmuring soft reassurances, though her own hands trembled.
Itachi remained by the entrance, eyes fixed upward, waiting for further danger, his small frame taut like a drawn bow.
Tamamo lay there silently. She didn't cry. She didn't scream.
She stared blankly at the flickering torchlight dancing on the wall.
So this is what power looks like, she thought. What it can do.
I used to dream about magic. About reincarnation. About living in a story.
But stories don't prepare you for the smell of burned flesh or the sound of mothers wailing over bloodied bundles.
She clenched her tiny fists.
If I'm stuck here… if this is real… then I need to survive it.