After a wild evening of ninja-style games, from the three-legged race, where we stumbled around the obstacle course like baby deer on a caffeine high, to shuriken target practice, where my aim was almost the star of the tournament. (Outshined by Chikamatsu again!)

Genki and I strolled toward our parents, victorious and slightly exhausted.

I hugged my mom, feeling like a ninja prodigy returning home after conquering the nations. I held up the teddy bear I won at the shuriken contest.

Genki, on the other hand, greeted his parents with a ninja salute and a hearty "Ninja reporting for duty!" His baby sister, snug in his dad's arms, was peacefully snoozing, blissfully unaware of our adventures.

"How were the games?" His dad asked, ruffling his hair.

"It was so cool. We did a ninja battle with water balloons." Genki began regaling our small audience with tales of our adventures. (Exaggerated of course.)

As the sun dipped below the horizon, our parents decided to cap off our day with a puppet show.

Strolling through the festival grounds, we were faced with a smorgasbord of choices, like a menu at ichirakus. (Was it Canon or fanon that they had a variety of noodles?)

Each pavilion stood colorfully, promising a unique adventure. "Is it ninja puppets?" I asked out of the blue.

"Yeah." Mum smiled down at me.

"Cool," Genki and I shared a grin.

We stood in a small clearing surrounded by three pavilions.

There it was. The moment of truth. The options loomed before us like forbidden scrolls "Batman and the Moon, Daimyo's Love," Genki's dad squinted, reading the names of the plays each pavilion would be showcasing. "And Tale of the Tailed beasts."

"Daimyo's love is out. It's a bit… too much for the kids." Mom said. A bit too much? It has to be some kind of shit not suitable for children.

I already knew the story of Batman and the moon. That dude's crazy. "Tale of the Tailed beasts." I spoke up. Everyone took two seconds to think it through before nodding.

We paid at the door and entered the red pavilion, the interior filled with people. Dark but cozy, with paper lanterns casting a warm glow, the place was alive with the hushed murmur of anticipation. People milled around, sharing tales of their festival conquests, like seasoned warriors swapping war stories.

The stage was covered in a rich red curtain. The atmosphere crackled with excitement, like chakra swirling in the air before a jutsu.

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We quickly found our seats which offered a clear view of the stage. After a few minutes of the adults exchanging festival gossip, the time arrived.

A few paper lanterns dimmed, focusing the attention on the stage. The pavilion hushed into silence, as if every person, big and small, held their breath.

Then, like a pint-sized sensei ready to drop some knowledge bombs, a short man strolled confidently onto the stage. The crowd's collective gaze locked onto him.

With a deep breath, he bellowed. "Welcome! Welcome to the Tale of the Tailed beasts. Our tale is a retelling of the true story of the Jinchurikis. Our story begins years ago with the founding of the hidden village of Konoha. Hold on to your seats and witness a tale of power, fuinjutsu and betrayal."

He bowed and walked off the stage to the applause of the crowd.

Wait a minute, the story was a true story. I don't think the general population ever knew that the tailed beasts were created by the Sage of six Paths, did they? Or did Batman blab to everyone? I sat, feeling a pit of dread growing in my gut.

The curtains opened and the stage had been transformed into a life-sized replica of the Konoha Hokage tower, meticulously crafted down to the finest details. Wooden walls and miniature scrolls adorned the backdrop as the puppets of Hashirama and Madara took their places on the stage.

The audience marveled at the intricacy of the wooden figures, capturing Hashirama's dignified presence and Madara's angry glare. Hashirama sat behind the desk while Madara stood rigidly with his arms crossed.

"This is foolishness." Madara growled. "There's nothing to be gained from giving the other villages the tailed beasts. Weapons they can use against us."

"Come on Madara," Hashirama smiled. "That's going too far. My plan will work. The other villages fear us. They're still settling down while we've gathered our strength. It won't take much for them to band together against us. There's a war on the horizon. Giving them tailed beasts can stop that war."

"We're no strangers to war. We can gather the tailed beasts for ourselves."

"That won't stop the war and you know it. This will-" Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in."

A puppet dressed in the green Konoha flak jacket walked in. "Shodai-sama. Someone's here to see you. He said his name is Gojo Satoru."

Gojo Satoru? From Jujutsu kaisen? Fuck. He's another crazy transmigration isn't he? Fuck it. I'm not doing anything anymore. Whatever dude sent me here, get me out of here. I want a refund. Someone already messed up this place. First Batman now Gojo? What's this guy going to do now?

"Gojo my old friend!" Hashirama stood up with open arms. "Send him in."

A man walked in with a confident stride. Dressed in a blue cloak decorated with white clouds, he looked like a cross between an akatsuki cosplayer and a summer sky.

"Gojo!" Hashirama moved out from behind his desk to give Gojo a hug. "How are you? What brings you here?"

"Hashirama my friend! I heard about your plan to share the tailed beasts," said Gojo's puppet, the wooden eyes locked onto Hashirama's puppet. "I came to offer my sealing knowledge to aid in your endeavor."

"In exchange for what?" Madara asked, suspicion etched across its wooden face. How did they manage that?

"I want nothing." Gojo exclaimed grandly. "All I want is to assist my friend in his bid for peace." The unseen puppeteer deftly manipulated the strings to convey the tension between the puppet characters.

Hashirama laughed, breaking the tension. "I accept your offer." He shared a grin with Gojo and the curtains fell. This was the first scene and I could already tell something was going to go wrong. The big question is: how far will the consequences reach?