It's nearly been two years since this story was last updated! So sorry about that! I have decided to move on with this story by myself in the mean time. :) I'm sorry if my writing isn't all that great. Aha. I need to polish it up more. Bear with me. I swear I'll get better!
Anyways, thank you for every favourite, follow and review! It is greatly appreciated!
Rising from the Ashes I
Crinkles of golden embers' wrath imprinted itself in the golden pools of Tsunade's eyes, reminding her just how cruel battles are. She wanted to avert her eyes from the horror in front of her, but she stood in her spot, absorbing every ghastly detail there was that painted this catastrophe in front of her.
The bittersweet beauty of the flames' wrath reflected off from the pools of water that accumulated from the pelts of raindrops, illuminating the area around her with the shade of ember from the puddles of water that stained the asphalt, subsequently clothing the grim reality – the corpses that littered behind the waves of flames that engulfed the terrain the Uchiha once claimed theirs.
The visage was hauntingly beautiful.
Her bloodied hand clenched around her katana, with her resolution fortified by the new-found strength she found amidst the fallen ones. After witnessing everything, after being able to look from the inside in, she cannot turn a blind eye from the Uchiha. She must remain focused, just as she was in front of the blaze, and help deter the warring wars from prolonging and resulting into the wars she had familiarised herself with.
She already knew that there were dire consequences lying behind the flames, just for her disobedience in obeying the laws of time and what the events represent. She was playing the role of God, she knew, and that it demanded the greatest punishment for mortals who dared to seek higher attribution.
But she was ready to walk among the fire, to see what laid behind it; to forge an alternative path for the future of shinobi, even if that meant carving it with her own two hands.
She has not only inherited her ancestor's Will of Fire, but she had her grandfather's strength within her fibres. He, who was revered as the God of Shinobi, lived inside of the coils of her DNA. Forcing things to her way was not a foreign thing for her to do. It was in her nature, if she'd say so.
Sploshes of water alerted her, prompting her to spin around with her katana tilted for a clean slash. She halted. "Madara…" she whispered, hushed. She hasn't spoken since the incident, had decided to detach herself from the clan, so her voice was coarser than she had expected. Her grip loosened around her weapon, and she eased from her stance. "What are you doing here?"
His sharingan. She didn't notice it then, but it had evolved since she had last seen him. And with the evolution of his sharingan came a harrowing reminder of the destruction he would lay in the future. With those same damn eyes.
He looked fatigued, with him purposely leaning his weight onto his sword that was embedded into the ground. "I had to see it," he confessed. "I had to see this with my sharingan. I wanted to imprint this memory into these damned eyes, so I will never forget what those bastards did to my family… and what they took from us."
"Judging by the looks of things, they had retreated West. Probably to the farmer fields, to evade possible collisions with other clans. Livelihood in that valley is honest, with a low percent of shinobi, so it would be a likely hideout for foreigners such as them." Tsunade deduced, finally averting her gaze from the wreckage.
"Father has already informed our other clansmen about what had happened. It won't take long until we will prepare a counterattack." Again, there was flicker of fire behind those scarlet orbs of his. A flicker of ambition and hate. "Until then, we need our strength. Father informed me that we will be on the move when light breaks out."
"Where will we go? We can't venture out far for too long, especially with wounded soldiers and scarce resources."
"Towards the mountains, close to the farmer fields. Father said there will be a clan who will be willing to help us." He huffed, completely dejected from the situation. "I'm quite sceptical about it. But I trust Father. There's nothing else I can do, really…" His voice became softer at the end, exposing his insecurity of feeling helpless in the situation. His power was insufficient to guide the clan, that he knew. But still – he felt bitter towards the act of neglect he felt from his older clansmen; they purposely shunned him from any decision making because of his inadequacy.
His lack of power.
"Well, then…" Tsunade hooked his arm around her neck and pulled him against her body, letting him rest his weight against her. "Let's head back. We have a couple more hours of rest until we have to travel."
"You must trust Father, huh?"
"No…" she replied. "I trust my instinct. And my instinct is telling me to trust you. And since you trust your Father, then I will stupidly do the same. Like you, there is nothing else I can do. Not when I am this powerless." Her eyes met the ground for the millionth time that night, as if the pain of guilt was weighing her gaze down, preventing her from seeing what was ahead, and hindering her vision of seeing the strength that will surely aide her in the future. The warm ache in her heart was unforgettable, scarring, and it vexed her muscles in wanting to attain what Madara also desired.
Power.
The power to protect.
"Powerless?" Madara retorted. "You are beyond powerless, Tsunade. You have saved dozens of lives tonight. Being able to save lives is the most powerful thing I've ever seen. Taking a life is simple; it only takes one swift move to do so. But saving a life, going against the powers of God… now, that is powerful." His thinned lips curled into a sincere smile of gratitude. "You have become essential for the clan, Tsunade. Without you…" He shook his head; even with his sharingan, he couldn't foresee how they could have coped without her prowess aiding them. "I don't even want to know what we'll do without you…"
"I wouldn't have so much trust in my abilities, if I were you. I would hate to sorely disappoint you in the future."
"Hn. I hate to break it to you, but I've placed my trust in you a long time ago." He continued to limp beside her, barely able to stand on his own now. He was struggling to hide his difficulty in manoeuvring, especially in a heavily wooded terrain like this, but he couldn't let his pride be wounded further by letting her see him at his worst.
But he underestimated her skills as a medic – she was already aware of his dilemma ever since she supported his weight against her body. She was a veteran, one who revolutionised the field of medical ninjas. During her prime, she was the only one in the front lines who had the capacity and efficiency to heal wounded soldiers in the midst of battle. It had almost become second nature to her to be able to engage in combat and heal at the same time. Of course, that task became easier when she was able to link her chakra with Katsuyuu.
So being able to deduce that Madara was in no condition to walk, let alone embark on this long trek, was as simple as breathing for her. And yet, she gambled with her mind, and placed her bets with her heart, by allowing the Uchiha to keep his pride. She played her part and feigned ignorance of his growing discomfort.
He must have realized that she was keeping an ignorant façade halfway through their journey, because he huffed.
"What?" she asked, stopping suddenly.
"You're something else, Tsunade." His weary eyes gazed up to meet her hazel pair. The grey hue in his eyes reminded her of crumbled up charcoal, cracked under pressure, looking to be beyond repair. Useless. But with the fire behind her eyes, fuelled by her personal conviction, she was able to kindle a small fire in his charcoal eyes. One that needed assistance to brew into wildfire, but she knew, that after his flame has blazed into its fullest potential, he would be close to unstoppable.
"As are you, Madara."
While the clan's energy faded under the underwhelming dose of fatigue and grief, Tajima remained awake. He saved the majority of his energy by leaning against a trunk of a tree, mind in deep contemplation of what appropriate measures should be taken to remedy the fresh wound his people felt. Cutting down those foreigner pigs will be satisfying, no doubt, but that would not be enough. He craved for a better revenge, one that will echo to the ears of those who will harken about the Uchiha.
They were a clan of pride. One that dominated the lands of Fire. They are not lambs that are put up for slaughter, killed for sport or profit. Their eyes are not jewels meant to be a part of a collection; they are for battle, for carnage. Those who fail to comprehend that deserve the greatest damnation.
As the adumbral vastness that stretched across the cavity where their quarters used to reside in began to fade, with the golden streaks of morning light singing their salvation for his clan peeking through, his eyes flicked back to his remaining children.
They were still sound asleep, faces completely ridden of hurt that this cruel world inflicted on them. They were just children, he understood, and yet they wielded a sword like a swordsman who has had years to hone his skill. They knew how to efficiently kill a foe, inflicting as much or as little pain as they wanted. But they failed to grasp the finer things in life. The things their mother would have taught them had she been alive. Had the Senju not ruthlessly taken her away. They bartered with her life before ultimately putting her under intense torture regimes when he couldn't meet their demands.
That night still left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't even obtain the body of their mother. Of his wife. The only woman he had let himself love.
"Madara. Izuna." He whispered with uncharacterised softness. It was during times like this, when the world was still at peace, that he treasured the most. His fondest memories of his children were not of them during combat (albeit their victory has, indeed, made him proud), but when they were at peace.
As expected, Madara slept next to Izuna. He had always taken it upon himself to protect him. There was something about having pride in being the older brother that geared Madara's protectiveness over Izuna. Without fail, he was there for him. Ready to protect him from anything this world threw at them.
But something was different.
Yes.
The presence of that girl was what made the picture different. She was asleep beside Madara, with her back towards the brothers, as a way to detach herself from the duo. Nevertheless, she remained in Madara's scope of care, as he clothed her with his kimino, shielding her from the fangs of the night, as he shared a thin blanket with Izuna.
She was an outsider. And yet she understood their pain like she was one of them. He saw her seething that night, absolutely thrown off course by the emotions she felt for the clan. He had never wanted sympathy from the likes of her, but he appreciated her unfiltered series of emotions, especially when it came to Madara. She cared for his son, and his son cared for her. Even if Tajima didn't outwardly acknowledge this fact, he truly did believe that her presence has impacted Madara.
He was his oldest child now. So, he has had to bear things he shouldn't have to at this age. Everything he has endured has resulted in his jaded personality towards war and battles in general. He walked ahead of everyone, with his head held up high, but with his eyes clouded with intense sorrow. Still, he continued to pave a new future for everyone, as their future leader, without looking back.
While Tajima was proud of having a son as loyal and devoted as him, there was a dull ache in his consciousness that he couldn't numb. It was the knowledge that Madara was his son, that made him weak. As his father, he is the one who should be walking ahead of him. The one who should be shouldering his son's personal burdens.
But Madara was so far ahead, and he has been so fixated on the past, that he couldn't catch up to him now. Even if he started sprinting now, Madara would remain ahead of him. He has the same fiery personality as his mother, one that's powerful enough to burn the likes of Tajima Uchiha. Him. The strongest Uchiha to have ever graced the Land of Fire, as records have told him so.
But now, with Tsunade in this picture, he could see Madara's footsteps become quicker and heavier with resolve. She was there with him, providing him with the support he could not give.
Tajima smirked. Her strength was unlike he has ever seen from anyone. She was strong with her punches but, at the same time, she was gentle with her touches. A woman with such polarising qualities was certainly a rare sight to see.
She complemented Madara so well, he now realised. She has the means to rein in his son's dangerous ambitions, while also giving him the support he needs to move forward, even if it is not in the path he wished to walk in.
Dawn was firmly settling in now. Tajima wielded his sword beside him and breathed out into the icy morning. A few of his clansmen were already waking up, including his two sons. It was time to move. To regroup and plot their revenge on the clan that did them wrong.
His peace has ended.
Each step. Each weight sunk into the mud. Each breath. Came with immense energy over the fatigued clan. They all shuffled in twos, leaning against each other as a way to lessen their exertion, as they gained support from each other. Madara and Izuna walked alongside each other, with Tsunade leading ahead of them.
They wordlessly followed Tajima through the wooded terrain for hours on end. They had left when dawn had come. It was now close to the evening. They hadn't had a decent break to regain their strength since the embarked on this journey. While it was pivotal for them to field a stable shelter before nightfall, it was clear that some members of the clan were in inadequate shape to keep up with the soldiers' pace. The elderly, the women, the untrained children, were greatly lacking in stamina to sustain their pace. They were growing weary per step they took. Their complexions were now grey with exhaustion, and their expressions were strained with pain. But they continued to follow the crowd without any complaints, because they understood the reason of Tajima's urgency of receiving shelter.
They were in no shape to camp out in the open. Not in their current condition. By staying out in the wilderness in the dark, they were essentially handing themselves off to the wolves who reigned this unfamiliar terrain. Since the Uchiha often distanced themselves from the mountains, having no desires to conquer such land, they were not familiar with the geography of the mountains.
Since the altitudes are low up in mountains, the temperatures are much lower than it is below at sea level. And if there's anything the Uchiha are not adapted to, it's the freezing weather that the mountains brought during winter. Not only that, the uneven ground the mountains provided meant that growing crops was difficult. And if crops were scarce, there would not be enough food to fuel the entire clan, which may then lead to increased mortality rates (as morbid as that sounds). Even super soldiers such as them need nutrients to sustain their strengths and immune systems.
"Are you alright, Izuna?" Madara asked.
"I'm fine," he sharply insisted as he continued to stutter in his footsteps.
It seemed to be a family trait for the Uchiha to be stubborn, Madara realised then. His gaze continued to linger at the bandaged injury Izuna had sustained from the previous night. He was impressed that he even had the strength to make it out of there alive. But as Madara's eyes wandered upwards to see the grief in his brother's face, his smile waned.
Izuna may have made it out alive, but a part of him died with the child he had failed to save. His heart must be in pieces, but he was adamant in keeping an impenetrable front that Madara couldn't fully comprehend on what was going on in his mind.
"Izuna—"
"Brother." He stopped for a moment to give him a stone-cold glare. "I don't need your pity."
"Pity? I'm not—"
"You are. You have been looking at me with those saddened eyes ever since last night! You must be thinking 'Oh poor little Izuna, that must have been tough for him, being too weak to fight those foreigner bastards'. Well, I'm fine! I'm alive, aren't I? You should be sympathizing for those who didn't make it!" He clicked his tongue and doubled his pace, breaking synchronization with Madara, even overtaking Tsunade in the process.
Before the blonde could say anything, he had already brushed past her and left her to walk beside Madara, instead. His injured leg was ebbing now, but he was insistent on trudging through the muddy terrain until they reach their destination. He cannot bear to look at the softened face his brother wore for him. The look of despair for him. He didn't need it. Nor did he want it.
He didn't want to be reminded of his shortage in skill and power. Especially not from Madara. If anything, he should be reassuring him that they were going to kill those bastards without fail. He should be beckoning for him to come and join him to train later. To get stronger together. But instead, he received that look he hated the most.
It was the look someone would give to another who was too weak to make an impact. That look of sympathy was nothing but a mocking gesture of his inadequacy in his eyes. It was just a constant reminder that he wasn't powerful enough to protect one of those children. Not even the one who was right in his arms.
And that was because he was a weak coward.
Izuna hung his head low and gritted his teeth. Damn it, he internally snarled. What has his training accounted for, if he couldn't even save the ones he wanted to save? He thought that if he had constantly trained then he would be strong enough to protect others besides himself. But he wasn't even able to do either – he didn't save anyone and he was barely able to save himself.
His hand curled into a tight fist fuelled with fury. This feeling was frustrating; it was slowly chewing at his heart. The pain sharply stung. He thought that if he had just shut his eyes that everything was going to be okay. That the feeling he was experiencing would be numbed with the help of sleep. But that wasn't the case. The hurt he was feeling still felt as fresh as it did the night before. And this was because he was lacking a quality, a prerequisite in being a capable shinobi.
Strength.
He was devoid of such thing, and he didn't even know it. Until last night. That night was now a reminder in his mind that all of his beliefs of his abilities were but a delusion of an ambitious boy. He was nothing like his older brother; he was neither a prodigy nor was he smart. He was just enough to get by. But that wasn't good enough, he realised.
He needed to be better.
"Stop."
The sudden order from his father made him briskly freeze in his spot. He looked on ahead and witnessed his father's fingers already clasping for his sheathed sword. Was there an enemy close by that he could sense?
Izuna looked around him and his breath stopped. A shadowed man was perched on a branch of a tree, just looking down at them. Specifically, at his father.
"Nobody interfere." Tajima pulled out his katana and hunched down into his fighting position.
The man jumped down onto the ground, keeping a hold on his straw hat. He was donned in a tardy kimono gear, with gauntlets protecting his forearms. Was he a samurai? That would explain his lack of presence in chakra. If that was the case, then he was biting more than he can chew. Tajima was not only an extraordinary swordsman, but he was competent with his use of chakra. Even if that man was on par with his father in swordmanship, his inept ability to harness chakra would put him at a big disadvantage.
But, still, Izuna swallowed thickly. Something about that man unsettled him.
Words were not exchanged between the two fighters. It happened so suddenly, so swiftly, that without the aide of a sharingan, Izuna was unable to comprehend their lightning-quick movements. One moment they were just gauging the other one out, but the next, their swords were clashing left and right.
Tajima made a calculated swerve to the right when the man lunged at him, smoothly creating an opening to strike. In one fell swoop, he slashed his sword down to cut through the man's torso, but he had underestimated his agility. Within a second, in the process of his blade meeting flesh, the man had flickered behind him.
Izuna gasped. So, this man can use chakra, too?!
He twisted his blade and thrusted it at Tajima, prompting him to swing his blade to intercept his attack. However, his attack was a feint, thus eliciting an opening from Tajima. The man smirked. Instead of slashing into Tajima's body, he used the butt of his sword to smack him backwards.
"You're as careless as before, Tajima."
The Uchiha spat out his spit that was covered in blood before his wiped his bloodied mouth with his sleeve. "We'll see about that." Almost instantly, his dark eyes shone in a sharp scarlet-hue, with three black tomoes swirling into position. He adjusted his sword in his hand and exhaled sharply. His stance was different now. And his presence was more potent than before.
He was getting serious.
But, through a series of blinks and desperation to keep his concentration on the man, he felt a haze in his battle instincts. He was worn down. Physically exhausted and sleep deprived. He was too handicapped for a fight like this. But he couldn't back out now.
The man chuckled as he stepped closer, playfully twirling his sword around as he did so. "Alright, then."
Izuna winced as he heard a quick series of executions of metals clashing into metal. And upon looking back, he saw how enthralled Madara was in the fight. His sharingan was darting left and right as he intricately followed the combatant's movements. And with each clash of heavy metal that echoed through the forest, he saw Madara's hand twitch at the handle of his sword. He also wanted to intervene, but his abilities were overshadowed by the two adults, that he couldn't even find an opening.
Tajima jumped back from his opponent before he launched himself up into the air, using his accelerated momentum to break through his defence. But to his surprise, his attack was forcibly parried back when the man coated his sword with chakra, pushing him a few meters back before he gained enough traction to stand still.
His scarlet eyes narrowed at the man's figure; he wasn't exerting as much chakra as he was, but he was easily on par with him even with his sharingan. He clicked his teeth before his body instinctively moved in for another barrage of attacks. This time, he used his chakra in the muscles of his legs to catapult himself to his opponent in speed that he – without the gift of a sharingan – wouldn't be able to read.
In the last second, when the man had slashed his blade downwards, Tajima manoeuvred his body away from his interception and had spun around to his unguarded side. From there, he accelerated his sword forward for a clean cleave of his upper torso.
"Naïve!" The man snarled, quickly parrying his attack with his gauntlet.
"You're the one to talk!" Tajima released his grip from his weapon before he ducked down to dodge the man's blade. By a hairline, he was able to escape certain death. And judging by the wide swing he had just done, he was wide open for a counterattack. With enough momentum and strength fuelling his dominant arm, Tajima swiftly brought his hand up for a clean uppercut.
His knuckles connected with his jaw, sending him up into the air. In a swift execution, utilised the man's helpless position in mid-air and executed a brutal side-kick on his face. He watched him double over onto the ground with a heavy thud following his impact.
Weary, and distorted, the man tried to regain his poise. As he lost of his balance on the ground, Tajima quickly completed the handseals of a fire jutsu. "Fire style: Fireball jutsu!" A majestic ball of scorching flames engorged the landscape before it set off an explosion that shook the ground they stood on.
Crows were now flooding the sky, fleeing from the desolated part of the mountain.
Izuna beamed. "Father, you—"
"I know that wasn't enough to kill you," he said matter-of-factly, as he picked up his sword. "Come out."
As expected, he came out of the shadows, but was not unscathed. The left side of his clothes were burned off, showing the second degree burns his arm was inflicted by. The man sharply inhaled as he tried to flex the fingers of his dominant hand. They were still functional, but they have sustained a lot of damage that he could not rely on them.
He threw his sword onto his other hand, and he sighed. "That jutsu of yours is more powerful than before."
Tajima gave a lopsided grin. "The years have only made us stronger."
Izuna's ears perked. They know each other?!
The mysterious man rolled his shoulders back and assumed his fighting stance again. "Well, then, shall we decide the winner of this match?"
"Come!"
Within a millisecond, he was right in front of him, surprising even his sharingan. He was even quicker than before! However, instead of colliding with his adversary, Tajima angled his sword in a way to discourse his enemy's sword's trajectory. Much to his surprise, his sword did not scrape against the hilt of his opponent's katana. It had cleanly cut through air.
His throat dried up as he realised his mistake. An afterimage?! He moved quickly and slapped out his kunai to deflect the series of hacks and slashes he was relentless faced off with. His sharingan was beginning to stagger against the overwhelming stimuli it was receiving. His eyes darted all around, desperate to keep up with the movements of his blade, but it proved to be futile when a dozen executions pierced through his skin.
Every time he moved to block his strike, his kunai met a phantom image of his sword as it sliced through nothingness. It was as if he was in a genjutsu! The fight had taken him dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, with only weakened soil holding his weight up. He had to move out of the way, he knew.
In that moment, when adrenaline was the only chemical surging through his body, he saw the look of distraught in both of his sons' faces. Their eyes were wide with horror at how he was being overwhelmed by a swordsman who was only using one hand.
In that moment of madness, of potent testosterone between the two combatants, Tajima's eyes glowed with his ultimatum – he wasn't going to let his honour as their father be sullied so easily. Even if that meant he had to take extra measures. His eyes tightened as he predicted the next wave of attack. Instead of dodging it or trying to deflect it, Tajima allowed it to pierce through his hand.
Upon feeling the steel break through his bones, he grabbed onto it and brought his sword upwards to cut cleanly through his damaged arm. But as expected, his attack was too slow and it lacked enough power to surprise him. However, the hilt of his sword did manage to lightly slice through the skin of his cheek before it split his straw hat open.
The man jumped back and allowed for his identity to be revealed. His long silver hair flowed out as his hat came apart on the ground. His parted bangs framed his intense, narrow purple eyes and slender face. His feminine features, however, juxtaposed his lean and tall build, as well as his masculine stance when he rested his sword on his shoulder. His expression was not filled with scorn or bloodlust, but it was muted and unreadable. He was just stood there, watching the exhausted Uchiha struggle to stay up on his feet, completely laxed and without his guard.
In a split second, the distance between them was filled by two Uchiha younglings. Madara was ready to unsheathe his blade while Izuna had already held his blade in an undaunted horizon; levelled with his nose just as he was taught. They were ready to fight in their father's stead.
A collective sound of unsheathing swords could then be heard as the rest of the Uchiha clan pointed their weapons at him. They were seething with bloodlust.
"Stand down, all of you." Tajima firmly instructed as he pulled out the sword that was still embedded in his palm.
"But father—" Izuna was about to insist.
"Unless you want to kill the only hope we have, I'm ordering you to stand down. I'm not going to ask again." His tone asserted his dominance over the clan, placing them into complete complacency.
"You're as ruthless as ever, Ayakashi…" Tajima muttered with a bloodied smirk, walking past his sons to give his sword back. "You could have killed me."
"And what about your risky fireball technique? Being grazed by that was enough to cause this much damage to my body." His pale lips softened into a small smile as the rest of his features eased up into a look of admiration for the dark-featured shinobi. "You have gotten stronger, Tajima. Although, I must say, fatigue doesn't suit you."
"I haven't had the opportunity to rest well."
"And why are you here, in the mountains? I thought the Uchiha hated it up here."
"I need your help, Ayakashi." He cradled his blooded hand and sharply inhaled, stalling for a second so he could gather his thoughts. "We were attacked by a group of mercenaries from the Land of Lightning. As things stand, since most of my clansmen had embarked on gathering supplies for the long haul of winter, we are greatly outnumbered. We need—"
Ayakashi placed his hand on his shoulder. "Don't overexert yourself now. We can go back to my compound to rest our wounds, before we discuss our common enemy."
"There's no need for that. We have a gifted medic; our wounds will be healed more efficiently by her hands."
He cocked one eyebrow in interest as he watched a petite blonde girl take that as her cue to promptly heal Tajima's hand. Her features were not of an Uchiha, and her abilities did not belong to the clan, either. Was she a prisoner of theirs?
Tajima gestured for him to sit down as well. "Tsunade can heal your wound within a second," he reassured. "She's the best medic I know, even rivalling those in the Senju clan."
Tsunade tried to brush over his comment as she worked to patch up his minor cuts. During her healing process, she could feel Ayakashi's gaze linger on her with deadly precision. It was as if he analysing her every move.
"She's truly a gifted young girl," Ayakashi finally said, keeping a keen eye on how Tajima's flesh and bones were reconstructed by the blonde.
"Tell me, have the Senju past through your compound these past few weeks?"
"We both know that I am cannot tell you that. We are neutral to your warfare with the Senju clan; while we are open to providing hospitality to any native clan, we do not wish to take sides in any war. Even yours, Tajima."
Tsunade slowly moved over next to Ayakashi, purposefully avoiding meeting his sharp eyes. She concentrated her emerald chakra in the middle of her hands before she isolated his burns with it. As she worked to repair his damaged skin tissue, she became nerved at how his attention was glued on her. It may have been due to fascination or suspicion, she didn't know. But she had somehow piqued his interest.
"How old are you, Tsunade-san?" He finally asked.
Madara and Izuna hardened their glare at the silver-haired man, perturbed with what his ulterior motives were.
Honestly, she didn't know how old she was, but if she were to hazard a guess: "Fourteen years old."
"Hm. A prodigy in the healing arts. You're a rare gem, Tsunade-san. Medics are not only difficult to train, but proficient medics are even harder to find. Who would have thought that a girl like you could heal such a complex wound like this."
For the first time, her hazel eyes met his tantalising purple eyes. An odd feeling of familiarity immediately sunk into the pit of her stomach. It was as if she had been in his presence before. His pale skin and his half-smile expression scrambled her mind, urging her to mentally scavenge for the schema she had stored away in her mind.
He greatly resembled someone she knew. Someone she had met before.
Looking back, even his fighting style was familiar. His innate prowess with the sword and his quick calculations in battle, it reminded her of –
Her eyes met the slash that was made on his cheek earlier, and she almost gasped. Kakashi. He was just like Kakashi! But was he a direct ancestor of Kakashi? His features were not as masculine as Kakashi, nor was it as rugged as Sakumo's. He even possessed a feature both father and son lacked – purple eyes.
Was this man not from the main branch of the family?
"Is there something you'd like to ask me?" he inquired.
Tsunade shook her head. "N-No…"
He touched her hand that was healing the cut on his cheek. "Save your chakra for something more important, Tsunade. This wound will heal on its own." He swiftly pulled her up on her feet along with him before he bowed his head slightly. "Thank you for tending to my burns." He skimmed his hand over his new patch of skin, almost in disbelief and then looked back at Tajima. "You better look after this girl, Tajima. She is a priceless piece to your arsenal."
Tajima agreed with a soft nod. "I'm aware."
"Good. Now, it's best if we get going. There are bandits around this region; we don't want to hassle ourselves in killing weaklings."
As Ayakashi trudged on forward, both of the Uchiha boys rushed over to their father's side. "Who is that guy, Father?" Izuna was the first to ask.
"A skilled assassin. His swordsmanship is unrivalled in this country, and his skills as a shinobi is among the likes of Butsuma Senju. He is the perfect ninja by all accounts. Even I can't help but respect him."
"But what kind of kenjutsu did he use to corner you like that, Father?" Madara then asked. "I've never seen anything like it before. He only had one sword, but it looked like it multiplied to a hundred!"
"It's my first time seeing that move," he confessed. "Even my sharingan couldn't read it."
"What?! But I thought the sharingan could read every movement!" Izuna professed. "There's just no way…"
"You should know that you shouldn't rely solely on the sharingan's powers. While these eyes are, indeed, powerful, they have their limitations. Putting your entire trust in these eyes can cloud your other judgements, which may inevitably lead to your downfall, Izuna.
"There are foes that you will encounter in the future who can out manoeuvre the sharingan. While these shinobi are scarce, they still do exist. Tajima looked straight ahead, at Ayakashi's tall and broad back, with a hint of intimidation. "He is one of the few who can overpower the sharingan. Ayakashi Hatake, the leader of the Hatake clan."
"Wait… Ayakashi Hatake?" Madara repeated, almost in disbelief. "Isn't he…?"
"Ah. He's also known as Gilgamesh to the people in the foreign lands. It has been said that he has claimed over ten thousand lives with one blade, his chosen weapon – the masamune. He's a prominent silver-haired shinobi who has now become synonymous with Death.
Both boys looked up at their father in confusion. They have never witnessed him speak about someone else so highly, especially about someone who was not from the clan. If that man has earned the respect from the likes of their father, then that must mean that he is truly a formidable ninja.
Tsunade gazed back at the man. The way he carried his presence was very reminiscent of Kakashi, but there was something dark about him that she couldn't fully unravel. Something dangerous under his resolute exterior. He was yet another silver-haired enigma in her life.
xox