The first thing Ethan noticed was that his ceiling was wrong.
Not metaphorically. Literally wrong.
His ceiling was not supposed to have a water stain shaped like Ohio.
"…Huh."
He blinked.
The second thing he noticed was that his body felt… amazing.
Not "well-rested" amazing.
More like "I could absolutely sprint up a mountain right now" amazing.
"…Okay," he murmured. "Either I died, or I finally got eight hours of sleep."
He sat up.
The room was small. Cheap. Bare walls. A single bed. A fold-out table. One chair. A narrow window letting in New York sunlight.
"…That's also not my apartment."
He looked down at himself.
Longer arms. Leaner body. Callused hands.
"Oh no."
He rushed to the mirror.
And froze.
White hair.
Not gray. Not platinum.
White. Wild, slightly spiky, like it had never agreed with gravity a day in its life.
His face was sharper than his old one. Younger. Fit. Lightly scarred.
And his eyes—
His eyes were red.
Both of them.
With a distinct circular pattern in each iris.
"…No."
He leaned closer.
"…No way."
He focused.
The world snapped into ultra-definition.
He could see dust on the mirror. Fibers in the towel. Reflections in reflections.
"…Those are Sharingan."
He blinked.
The red vanished.
Brown eyes again.
"…I can turn them off."
He stared at himself for three full seconds.
Then he grinned.
"…I got isekai'd."
He started laughing.
Like, actually laughing.
"I DIED and got reincarnated with Kakashi's powers in—"
He rushed to the window, looked out, and saw the skyline.
"—New York."
He slapped his hands on the glass.
He walked over to the TV and turned on the local news channel.
"…Stark Industries stock surges as Tony Stark returns to the company…"
Ethan's jaw dropped.
"I'm in the MCU! I'm in 2008! Right after Iron Man 1!"
He laughed again.
"Okay. Okay. This is the best afterlife ever."
He took a breath.
"Alright, Ethan. Calm down. Step one: whose body are we in?"
He checked the wallet.
Name: Ethan Mercer
Address: Queens
Cash: $1,386
"…Daniel," he said solemnly. "I promise to use your body responsibly."
He checked the phone.
No family contacts.
No old messages.
No photos.
He searched the apartment.
One small folder.
Inside: legal documents.
Orphan.
No parents listed.
No next of kin.
Grew up in the system.
"…Oh," Ethan said quietly.
He sat on the bed.
"…You were alone."
The memories came slowly.
Not his.
Moving from place to place. Learning to fight. Security work. Some illegal jobs. No attachments. No roots.
"…You built yourself from nothing," Ethan murmured. "Respect."
He nodded once.
"Alright, Daniel. I'll do better with what you left."
Then he stood.
"Okay. Moment of truth."
He focused inward.
Something vast, calm, and powerful answered.
Energy.
He raised a hand.
Lightning exploded into existence.
"—WHOAH!"
"…That is Chidori. That is amazing."
He tried a hand sign.
A shadow clone appeared.
It looked at him.
"…Wow. I'm hot."
It vanished.
He stared.
"…Okay. This is broken. This is extremely broken."
He tested wall-walking.
Substitution.
The body flicker technique.
Then the Sharingan again.
Two eyes.
No pain.
No strain.
"…They're fully integrated," he whispered. "No stamina drain. No downside."
He laughed.
"I didn't get Kakashi's powers."
"I got Kakashi's powers without the nerfs."
He studied himself again in the mirror.
White hair.
Lean, fast build.
Scars on hands and arms.
Eyes that could become something out of an anime at will.
"…I look like I mugged an anime character and won."
That night, he sat by the window, looking at the city.
No Avengers yet.
No aliens yet.
The world thought it was normal.
"…Okay," he said softly. "Game plan."
He held up a finger.
"Rule one: do not touch the plot."
Another finger.
"Rule two: get money, training, and backups."
Another finger.
"Rule three: stay invisible."
He smiled.
"But man…"
He looked at his hands, then at the skyline.
"…This is going to be fun."
Somewhere, far away, gears were already turning.
But for now—
No one noticed the white-haired man in Queens.
And that was exactly how he wanted it.