Izuna remained unhurried.
He opened his Sharingan, the tomoe in his eyes spinning rapidly.
His figure flashed, avoiding the water dragon’s attack, followed by several leaps.
Tajima and Butsuma were not idle either.
On the riverbanks, the two exchanged attacks back and forth for several rounds.
Seeing this, Madara and Hashirama hurriedly shouted, “Stop!”
Both sides had already fought until their eyes were red with killing intent and did not listen to their warnings at all, continuing their fierce battle.
In this evenly matched situation, resolve flashed through Tajima’s and Butsuma’s eyes.
They knew deeply that on the battlefield, a wavering state of mind often decided victory or defeat.
And so, almost at the same moment, Tajima threw the kunai in his hand toward Tobirama, while Butsuma also threw his kunai toward Izuna.
At the critical moment, Madara and Hashirama both reacted extremely quickly.
Madara swiftly picked up a stone from the ground and hurled it forcefully at the kunai Butsuma had thrown.
The stone struck the kunai precisely, knocking it away.
Hashirama likewise threw a stone, knocking down Tajima’s kunai.
To protect their own younger brothers, they had no other choice but to stand on opposite sides.
Madara’s heart was full of helplessness and disappointment.
Looking at the chaotic scene before him, he could not help lamenting inwardly: was the ideal of peace ultimately nothing more than a bubble?
Butsuma panted heavily, looking at Madara and Hashirama while secretly weighing the strength of both sides.
He turned and asked Hashirama, “If it is three against three now, do we have a chance of winning?”
Hashirama’s gaze had never left Madara.
After a moment of silence, he slowly said, “When I usually spar with him, he has never used the power of the Sharingan, yet he can still fight me to a draw.”
The Senju Clan’s intelligence showed that Madara had already awakened the Mangekyo Sharingan.
Hashirama understood in his heart that Madara had feared exposing his identity, so in their previous spars, he had never used the Sharingan’s power.
If Madara truly used the Sharingan’s power, Hashirama knew he might not be Madara’s match.
Hearing Hashirama’s words, Tajima smiled.
“Butsuma, you are still so competitive.
Do not forget, you have a child named Itama still with the Uchiha!”
The moment these words came out, Hashirama’s and Tobirama’s faces turned deathly pale.
They knew clearly that Itama’s current situation was extremely dangerous.
“Everyone, do not be nervous.
What I want to say is that continuing to fight like this is not a solution.
Why can the two clans not sit down peacefully and negotiate properly?” Uchiha Tajima’s eyes revealed a trace of exhaustion and emotion.
Years of war had made him lose too many clan members.
He knew deeply that such fighting would only wound both sides.
“Sit down and negotiate?
Tajima, the older you get, the more muddled you become.
How could the hatred between the Senju and Uchiha be put down so easily!” Butsuma said with a face full of disdain.
In his view, the hatred between the Uchiha and Senju was deep-rooted.
How could it be put down just because someone said so?
But just as his words fell, Hashirama and Tobirama shouted at the same time, “We agree.” Their eyes were full of firmness and resolve.
They clearly knew that as major clans in the ninja world, if the Uchiha and Senju continued warring like this, both sides would suffer enormous losses and countless clan members would die because of it.
Peace was the true goal they should pursue.
Facing their father’s questioning gaze, Hashirama and Tobirama straightened their backs and did not retreat at all.
They understood what their choice meant, but they were willing to try and work hard for peace.
“It seems your children are more suited than you to lead the Senju.” After leaving these words, Tajima planned to take Madara and Izuna away.
At the final moment, Butsuma seemed to age greatly all at once, his eyes revealing a trace of struggle and helplessness.
Suddenly, he spoke and called Tajima to stop.
“Allow me three days to consider the matter of negotiation.”
Tajima looked at Butsuma with some surprise.
As an opponent of many years, he naturally knew how difficult it was to make Butsuma change his mind.
“I look forward to good news from the Senju.” After saying this, the three Uchiha turned and left, leaving the three Senju standing where they were.
“You two brats, do you know what you are doing?
Negotiating with the Uchiha is simply a fool’s dream!”
Hashirama raised his head and looked straight into Senju Butsuma’s eyes.
“Father, we cannot continue like this.
The clan members are all suffering.”
Tobirama also said, “Big Brother is right.
Continuing war is not a solution.”
Butsuma stood in place and sank into thought.
Had he truly been wrong?
You and Uchiha Yasumichi led a portion of elite ninja and quietly hid in the shadows near the riverbank.
Everyone’s breathing was light and steady, yet faintly carried tension and expectation.
Time slowly passed.
Every minute and second seemed incomparably long.
Finally, three familiar figures appeared in the distance.
“Lord Clan Head, what happened?” Seeing Tajima return, Uchiha Yasumichi hurriedly went forward.
Uchiha Tajima panted slightly, his face carrying a trace of fatigue.
“I proposed negotiations to Senju Butsuma.”
Hearing Tajima’s words, ripples rose in everyone’s hearts.
Negotiations meant there might be a possibility of peace between the two great ninja clans, but at the same time, they were filled with unknown risks.
Madara seemed to casually approach you, but his gaze carried unconcealable love.
“By the way, what was the situation on the Senju side?”
You lowered your eyes, your long lashes trembling slightly.
“As expected, Senju Toka and Senju Kashiwagi also brought a portion of people to lie in ambush nearby.”
Izuna frowned, arms folded before his chest, still worried.
“It seems the Senju’s thoughts matched ours before this.”
His eyes revealed shrewdness and vigilance.
Years of fighting had made him always maintain high alert toward the Senju Clan.
Looking at his third son like this, Tajima lightly patted his shoulder, his eyes full of fatherly love and reassurance.
“Izuna, there is no need to overthink it.”
Feeling the warmth of his father’s palm, Izuna’s heart warmed, and he nodded lightly.
Seeing Madara’s relaxed appearance, doubt could not help rising in your heart.
“You trust that the Senju will agree to negotiations that much?”
Your gaze looked directly into Madara’s eyes, carrying some inquiry.
The corners of Uchiha Madara’s mouth lifted slightly, revealing a confident smile.
Under the glow of sunset, that smile looked especially dazzling.
“I only trust my own strength, and also…”
He suddenly moved close to you, so close your breaths intertwined.
“You seem a little different today.”
“What?” Not understanding, you met his gaze.
Your heartbeat suddenly sped up, and you did not know whether it was because of Madara’s closeness or his inexplicable words.
“I won’t tell you.” Madara folded his arms, deliberately keeping you in suspense, his eyes flashing with teasing light.
Seeing that Madara was teasing you, you forced yourself to shift your gaze away and softly said two words: “Childish.”
“Want to know?
You only need to kiss me once.” Madara tempted you, the smile on his face growing increasingly unrestrained.
Hearing Madara’s shameless words, you quickened your pace, unwilling to pay attention to this “scoundrel” anymore.
Madara followed unhurriedly behind you, a satisfied smile on his face, as if he had just won an important battle.
After returning to the clan grounds, you stopped.
“Madara.”
Madara stood not far away, waiting for your next words.
His eyes were full of expectation, guessing what you wanted to say.
“I think I know what is different.”
Madara felt a kiss fall on his face, and he froze in place.
His mind went completely blank, as if time had stopped, while you had already vanished, leaving Madara standing there alone, savoring that kiss just now.
“To Linu, my foster father, respectfully:
Kazewatari City’s camel bells have once again swept through the streets wrapped in sand and dust.
Every clear chime sounds so much like the crisp sound of ninja tools colliding at your waist.
Rin has been well lately.
I can now independently complete advanced shuriken disassembly and reassembly.
Sensei says my chakra control has become increasingly delicate, only I always think of the warmth of you teaching me hand by hand the Boar-Dog-Bird seals whenever I form seals.
The heavy rain the day before yesterday destroyed the old residence.
I rushed through the rain to rescue half a secret ninjutsu scroll you left behind.
The water-stained page happened to be the section where you used cinnabar to annotate the key points for improving the Body Flicker Technique.
The red marks under candlelight looked like dried bloodstains, and in a trance, they made me remember your blood-stained lapels from five years ago—back then, you were covered in blood, yet still protected me beneath you.
The warmth of your palm burned hotter than a campfire.
The rainy season came earlier than in past years.
At night, listening to the rain, I always remember those nights when you taught me to identify the stars.
I have read the “Chronicle of the Ninja World” you left behind seven times over and can now recite the shortest route from the Land of Wind to the Land of Fire.
I wonder whether everything is going smoothly for you in the Land of Fire?
The desert wind runs east every day, asking about your return for me.
Your loyal Shikaga Rin.”
Your fingertips rubbed tiny sparks across the letter paper, and the edges of the parchment began to curl and blacken.
Staring at the words licked by tongues of flame, you seemed in a trance to see Shikaga Rin lowering his lashes as he wrote.
He always loved to embroider star tracks onto the paper with silver thread, saying that this way, the letter would drift along the Milky Way into your hands.
Now was not yet the time to leave the Uchiha.
Wait a little longer…
The night was deep.
Uchiha Reikei’s consciousness gradually blurred, and moonlight soaked the stone steps of Naka Shrine into a pale blue.
The mottled ink marks on the pages were like dried blood.
The broken words “clan rules,” “glory,” and “Sharingan” were being swept by the night wind toward the depths of the shrine.
“You are five years late.” The youth raised his hands to form seals, and the surrounding broken walls and ruins suddenly reconstructed into a magnificent palace with carved beams and painted rafters.
Wind chimes at the eaves rang softly.
Reikei’s Sharingan began to sting.
This was the “secret base” they had built by the Naka River as children, yet at this moment, it was covered with remains of corpses.
Uchiha Asuku was sitting on the branch of a hundred-year divine cherry tree, carving the clan crest with a kunai.
He swung his legs, and cherry blossoms fell rustling into his open collar.
Only then did Reikei realize those were not cherry blossoms at all, but congealed blood beads seeping from cracks in the trunk, refracting under the moonlight into the triple scythe pattern of an activated Sharingan.
Asuku suddenly leapt down from the branch, his sawdust-covered finger pressing between Reikei’s brows.
“Look.
Back then, Big Sister and I also swore under this tree to change the Uchiha’s future.”
“They turned me into shackles to monitor Big Sister.” Asuku’s genjutsu abruptly twisted.
In the image, each time the young him formed seals, the curse mark below Nagi’s collarbone would burn into charred scars.
“Until Big Sister discovered that my chakra was mixed with the elders’ binding talismans…”
The three tomoe in Reikei’s pupils spun madly, trying to analyze the shape of Nagi’s moving lips within the illusion.
It was lip-reading he had been familiar with since childhood—Run!
The shrine suddenly shook violently.
The blood cherry’s roots pierced through the ground, and countless puppet-like broken limbs surged out.
Asuku’s voice in the collapsing dream drifted near and far.
“Big Sister always says love is the most twisted curse…” Asuku’s right eye began to bleed, and behind him appeared illusory shadows of old faction elders sneering.
“They said Big Sister’s eyes could see rifts in space-time, so she became a weapon.
The Great Elder’s tin staff pierced through her collarbone, and twelve tomoe-shaped curse marks spread along her meridians.”
The illusion abruptly twisted into a dungeon scene.
Reikei saw Nagi suspended by chains in the center of an altar, while Uchiha Yoshio carved sealing formulas onto her face.
Each time she convulsed from pain, the Uchiha clan crests around her absorbed the splashing blood beads, projecting afterimages of future wars onto the stone walls.
“I will use the method they fear most to let all ninja witness how a weapon raised in captivity devours its master.” Asuku tore open his collar, revealing the shikigami runes on his chest.
That pattern was actually identical to Uchiha Nagi’s Mangekyo Sharingan.
The moment his words fell, his figure was suddenly soaked in blood-red, and countless chains appeared behind him, dragging him into bottomless darkness.
“Asuku!” Reikei sat up in shock, cold sweat soaking his back.
The moonlight outside the window remained cold, while that youth who had once talked with him about ideals had long since become a silent stone tablet in the Uchiha cemetery.
Reikei tremblingly reached toward the Kusanagi Sword beside his pillow.
The warmth remaining on the hilt seemed still to carry Asuku’s final vow.
You were leaning by the window, reading an ancient medical scroll.
The oil lamp’s halo flickered over your tired face.
Suddenly, urgent knocking broke the night’s silence.
You frowned slightly.
There should not be visitors at this hour.
Putting down the scroll, your fingers unconsciously brushed over the ninja tool pouch at your waist, and you slowly walked toward the door.
The wooden door gave a faint creak.
When you pulled it open, a tall figure stood against the moonlight outside.
Uchiha Madara held a lacquered food box.
His black hair was stirred slightly by the night wind.
His scarlet Sharingan glowed faintly in the darkness, and his sleeves were stained with suspicious scorch marks, as if he had just experienced a small explosion.
“Eat.” Madara spoke briefly, placing the food box heavily on the low table by the door, with enough force that several drops of liquid sloshed out from inside.
You raised a brow and lifted the lid.
A steaming bowl of red bean tangyuan entered your eyes.
Three plump white tangyuan floated on the dark red soup surface, two of them already split open, red bean filling seeping out and dyeing the surrounding soup a muddy brown-red.
“The young clan head cooked personally?” Your voice carried obvious teasing, and your fingers lightly tapped the edge of the food box.
Madara folded his arms and leaned against the wall, looking elsewhere.
“Leftovers from the kitchen.”
But you noticed his Sharingan quietly turning, his peripheral vision closely observing your reaction.
You held back your laughter, picked up the matching wooden spoon, and scooped up the only intact tangyuan.
The instant you bit through the outer skin, sweet red bean filling melted in your mouth, yet it was mixed with a trace of bitterness—sure enough, he had forgotten to remove the lotus seed cores.