Memoirs of an Isekai in Naruto

I am doing a lot of lore research for my story and I am running into a bit of a snage on ages and time lines as you can expect with a story like Naruto.

An example Kakashi Hatake was 5 when he graduated same year he started one website mentions he took part in the third great ninja war as a thirteen year old. However the wiki says he four years late he teamed up with his classmates four years later graduating early due to the war. What the hell was he doing for those at least four years. And is the thirteen number just the age when the war finished?

Enough of my issues with the background research I have the first 16688 words typed but I all my typing on my phone and I fat finger everything. I also have ADHD so any form of editing is soul sucking j believe I only have a third edited and I just keep pushing back the editing to write more. If anyone wants to edit my grammar and leave comments on improvment than you you can read ahead, I will create faster, and I will take you suggests as gospel for the direction I take the story.

If you choose to accept this mission send a message to [email protected] and I will allow you access to my work document.

Ok here is the prologue if helping with this story interests you. I hope whoever helps me has a good sense of humor and is willing to help me introduce subtle jokes in my story.

Prologue "MIA"

"Huuuffff." With a slow long exhale Doug slowly emptied his lungs before whispering to his spotter.

"Hey Harry, do you hear a humming?" The quiet wirl of tiny motors spinning small plastic fans slowly began to rise.

Head completely still Harry's eyes quickly scanned for the drone. Moving his head would reduce his stealth and that was needed more than anything else right now. Unable to find where the humming was coming from Harry began to slowly move his head up to find the drone. 

The slow movements along with the ghillie suit might protect them from the drone's detection but if the drone already had them dead to rights they needed to know. 

It was a race, if Harry was too fast the drone would detect him. If Harry was too slow then the drone could reach them before they could prepare. 

Hearts hammering in their chests all their instincts told them to get up and run.

None of their briefs before mentioned the bogies having the capability of thermal vision on their disposable suicide drones. 

Plans never survive first contact and even if drones were meant to be cheap if they cared enough for this position then increasing the investment in drones would work. How the intelligence missed this kind of investment seemed impossible.

"Fuck it's coming right at us 4:00 80 yards."

With a shouted warning, Harry and Doug quickly broke cover and attempted to make distance from one another. Sprinting back and laterally from each other and their original nest they quickly attempted to sight down the drone. 

The separation of the two should give pause to the pilot as they reprioritize and decide their next target. 

The diagonal strafing was to reduce the chance of indirect fire and fratricide giving a better angle for crossfire meaning higher chances to tag the unidentified drone.

The only issue is the operator chose his target before they even separated and honed in on Doug. 

Doug knew there was no time to sight his MCMillan TAC338A and tag the drone so he left it behind as he drew his Sig Sauer P220.

They were lucky within the first few shots they hit one of its rotors, but not lucky enough as even though Doug managed to strike the back left rotor the operator had enough control of his falling death machine to lock onto Doug like a white semi-truck aiming for a generic Japanese boy.

With a flash of bright light and a loud concussive burst, Doug found himself falling heavily onto his back in a bright forest with giant trees. 

Trees, unlike any he has seen in the two years since he was voluntold into the military and has been trapped in the Middle East defending unneeded oil fields just to deprive others of its black bounty.

He couldn't let the momentary daze of his survival get him killed. A new dose of adrenaline pumped through his veins as Doug quickly took a quick breath to check if his ribs were still in one piece. The fresh clean crisp air was refreshing but also meant he still had his lungs and the fact it didn't hurt meant he was either too high on adrenaline to feel it or he was ok. 

Either way he needed to get moving and being out in the open wouldn't help him in any way. Rolling over Doug Quickly shot to his feet before moving to the nearest tree while racking his SIG one-handed to check if he still had one in the chamber as he was too concussed to remember how many rounds he fired.

His other hand investigated his vest. As he ducked behind the tree his sandy yellow ghillie suit did him no favors in blending in the bright green silent forest.

What he found was there was one in the chamber and his chest plate was in perfect condition. 

Scanning his environment noticed the forest Doug was horrified but that was a future Doug's problem. Currently, Doug needs to do a threat analysis and an inventory to make a sitrep.

Patting down every pocket then releasing his current magazine to check his ammunition. 2 in the mag, one in the chamber, and two additional magazines. That means 23 rounds of .45 ACP and 15 rounds of .338 Lapua Magnum but no rifle.

Swapping his nearly empty magazine for a full one he holstered his P220. Next was a quick snap of his hand to his radio all that could be heard was a hiss of static.

"Alpha team its bravo copy?"

"Alpha team this is Bravo team do you copy?"

"Alpha team, this is Bravo team we were engaged by a bogey. It was a Charlie Foxtrot. I am in the shit I believe I am FUBAR. I have no clue where I am. I believe that it's SNAFU do you Copy? I am in a forest with no indication of my heading on arrival."

A radio with no signal or at least not picking up any response. Across his chest and pockets, he has a working compass, two tourniquets, and a working digital watch with a heart monitor. In his bag, he has his rations, a full canteen of water, a useless map, a untouched black and white composition notebook book, baby wipes, a thermal insulating blanket, a gun cleaning kit, a broken signaling mirror, a first aid kit, a small cheap translucent blue plastic lighter, a flashlight, a folding shovel for digging fox holes, and a used set of fatigues.

On his helmet, he had a set of night-vision goggles and that seemed to be it.

Completing his sitrep with no bogeys in sight Doug compared his Ghillie suit and weighed his options. 

It would make him a sitting duck in the forest with no camouflage but this camo would only make things worse and additional weight and material to catch small branches wouldn't help. Should he bury it? Just leave it?

It would cost him time and energy. Both are limited, with only a few rations, and surrounded by the unknown Hostiles in an unknown environment time was not a resource he could waste freaking out. However, leaving such obvious evidence of his passage would be idiotic. 

Deciding caution was the better part of valor and hiding evidence of his presence was the smartest move. Much smarter than attracting unnecessary attention from the locals which could end up being suicidal looking for any preexisting holes near the roots of the surrounding tree to start digging.