— Ashira Uzumaki —

As soon as she regained consciousness, she tried her best not to panic. She was clearly underground, as indicated by the dim light, which suggested the usage of an Earth Technique. She didn't feel anything wrong with her body, which made her slump with relief. She was still unfortunately tied, and the seal to restrict her chakra was still in place.

As such, she could do nothing but wait for the Iwa-nin who had knocked her out to enter.

She had always been a skilled fighter, she reminisced, her eyes gazing into the past. At the tender age of sixteen, she had become a Jōnin, and her ego had swelled with pride at being labeled a 'prodigy', a title she had worn like a badge of honor.

A mixture of hatred and self-loathing prompted a bitter chuckle as she recalled her past mistakes, the memories still fresh in her mind. Why hadn't she fled when ambushed by a group of fifteen Chūnin? Her past self had been arrogant, thinking she was invincible, like Hashirama Senju himself, the founder of the Hidden Leaf.

The mere thought of the Hidden Leaf made her seethe with anger, her fists clenched in frustration. How could they have been so oblivious to the threat of three Great Villages uniting against them? Their over-reliance on their alliance with Konohagakure had led to a false sense of security, a complacency that had proved disastrous. They should have erected stronger barriers, not just a detection barrier, and they shouldn't have relied on the Whirlpool Seal, for Sage's sake, to protect their people from harm.

Uzushio was far smaller than any other village, a tiny place compared to the Great Villages, which had forces in the thousands. In comparison, their population was roughly around twelve-hundred, with a mere six hundred shinobi, making every shinobi count. This resulted in their Genin, Chunin, and Jonin being stronger than average.

The Village Hidden in the Whirlpool was just that a couple of decades ago when several Fuinjutsu Masters created a seal that controlled the sea around Uzushio, violently destroying any attempts to invade their home. This ingenious seal was the origin of their moniker. She'd heard that the Kiri-shinobi were responsible for the Whirlpool Seal's destruction, a feat that certainly wasn't easy, as they'd lost over a hundred shinobi in the process of targeting the seal. The promises of Konoha's protection, backed by the might of Hashirama Senju during the First War, had led to Uzushio's complacency, and now they were paying the price.

Ashira worried for the rest of her clan. Uzushio was one of the first 'villages', a distinction that often got lost in the annals of history. People may say that Konoha was the first Village, and they would be correct - but only partially. Uzushio was still a 'clan', a tight-knit community of shinobi and civilians bound by blood and their knowledge. A Village, on the other hand, was one that had allied itself with the Civilians and Daimyo, forming a symbiotic relationship that benefited both parties. The mainland Shinobi weren't good at anything other than fighting and wouldn't be able to handle anything related to management. That is where the Daimyo and the Nobles came in; they provided all the resources necessary to run the Village while getting discounts for themselves alongside a cut of every mission.

In Uzushio's case, their isolationist policies had kept them separate from the mainland's politics, allowing them to maintain their independence. But this independence came at a cost - they lacked the resources and manpower that larger villages like Konoha took for granted. Ashira's thoughts were interrupted as she felt a pulse of chakra spread through the ground, softening it. She mentally prepared herself for any torture she would have to endure. There was one thing clear to her: she wouldn't fold.

Though, as she saw the person who dropped in, she felt hatred bubble up in her.

The reaction that I got from my arrival wasn't expected at all. I didn't think that she would bare her teeth and snarl at me with such intense hatred burning in her eyes. "You think this is funny!?" she yelled, her voice shrill and accusing. "You must think I'm an idiot if you think that even for a single moment I'll believe that you're actually an Uzumaki. Drop your fucking transformation right now, you miserable son of a whore!"

I winced visibly at her ear-piercing, angry tone, flinching slightly. "I'm not the Iwa-nin," I protested, trying to reason with her. She must think that I had transformed myself into an Uzu-nin using the Transformation Technique in order to psychologically torture and manipulate her.

Just as she opened her mouth to let out another furious yell, I swiftly formed the tiger hand seal. "Kai!" I called out firmly, bursting my chakra outwards in a controlled wave which, if I were truly under a henge transformation, would have immediately dispelled it.

Her eyes widened in surprise and her jaw dropped slightly as the realization hit her. "I-," she stuttered, clearly flustered. "If you're really a true clan member, then prove it - unseal a scroll!" I sighed deeply and went over to the corner, retrieving one of my own secure storage scrolls. Our Uzumaki clan's scrolls could only be opened by those with Uzumaki blood and chakra flowing through their veins. I grumbled under my breath as I lightly nicked my finger, allowing a single drop of blood to fall onto the scroll's seal as a couple of plain kunai burst out in a poof of smoke.

"That's enough proof for you now?" I drawled lazily, unable to hide my annoyed tone. I was glad to have safely recovered one of my own clan-members who was even a powerful Jōnin, but the reason I felt so irritated was that the lingering memories of this life clearly knew of Ashira's reputation. Ashira Uzumaki was an arrogant, self-centered bitch, as simple as that. She often strutted around preening at her own accomplishments, thinking herself a gift bestowed by the Kami themselves.

She didn't speak up after that, leaving an awkward, tense silence hanging in the air between us. I moved closer to her position as I grasped one of the kunai I had unsealed from my clan's storage scroll, using its sharp edge to carefully cut through the sturdy ropes binding her wrists.

"I apologize for not immediately untying you and freeing you from those restraints earlier," I said, a satisfied smirk tugging at my lips as I imagined the utter chaos and confusion this unexpected turn of events would undoubtedly cause among their alliance. "I had to first ensure that none of those enemy shinobi managed to escape and get away to potentially report what had transpired here."

She stood up, still looking visibly shaken and in shock over the events. "I- Thank you for saving me," she said, her voice hesitant and stuttering with evident disbelief. "I'm afraid I won't be able to contribute much or be of use with my chakra sealed off like this. Without being able to mold chakra, I'll just end up being nothing but a liability to you," she continued, tears of frustration and helplessness prickling at the corners of her eyes.

I frowned, my expression turning serious. As much as I wanted to try and comfort her, we both knew any reassuring words would likely ring hollow given the circumstances. The truth was, in her current chakra-sealed state, she was indeed a liability to have around if a fight broke out. If combat did occur, I would have no choice but to divert my efforts to try and protect her rather than being able to focus solely on the enemy.

"I will attempt my best to work on removing the seal that is binding your chakra," I said. "I've actually had thoughts of creating a similar seal before, but designed to be ranged and capable of remote application. Even if it is carved directly into your flesh, there is no seal that is truly foolproof, as our own clan's seals have shown." I let out a bitter chuckle.

"Which sealing grade are you currently at?" I questioned her. In Uzushio, the art of fuinjutsu was considered mandatory learning that all shinobi had to learn. As such, skill levels had been officially assigned to it, ranging from D being the lowest basic level - on par with other villages' standard fuinjutsu knowledge - all the way up to the vaunted S-Rank sealing mastery. There have only been a couple known S-Rank sealers in our clan's history, one of which I knew from my original memories was Mito Uzumaki who married into the Senju clan.

"I'm currently at B-Grade level, as is standard for most Jōnin," she answered. Then she gave me a quizzical look. "Are you not also a Jōnin yourself?"

I hummed thoughtfully. With her B-Grade sealing skills, she could certainly be useful for assisting in drawing and creating more advanced seals while incapacitated. I myself was at the C-Grade level, considered adept but not truly masterful at the art of fuinjutsu. I would have her teach and instruct me, using her knowledge while she is unable to utilize chakra herself to defend against threats as if she dies in battle, I wouldn't want to lose the knowledge.

"I'm actually only a Chunin," I replied. "But I was able to design and create an effective seal trap that allowed me to take the enemy camp by surprise. After that, I discovered a scroll detailing that the camp was meant to be used as a staging point in a couple days' time. So I rigged the entire place with meticulously planted explosive seals. Needless to say, that camp obviously doesn't exist anymore." A savage, satisfied grin spread across my face at the recounting.

"Clever, using explosions will imply that Iwa betrayed the alliance," she said with an approving nod and a small smile on her face. "If I heard correctly, the camp was erected by Iwa forces as well, giving further credence to the idea that they turned on their allies through that attack. Framing it to look like internal conflict will sow confusion and mistrust in their ranks."

"I understand your concern about being a potential burden, but you can actually help out by assisting me in designing more advanced seals. I plan to expand this underground cave system as a base of operations while I work on retrieving as many more of our clan members as possible," I said to her.

Her prideful attitude seemed to resurface as she questioned, "Who put you in charge? You're just a Chunin, no offense."

I thinned my lips, giving her a stern look. "Do I have to remind you that I single-handedly took out an entire camp of fifteen enemy shinobi? Do I need to point out the fact that you were captured and imprisoned by them?" I said coldly. "Do not be foolish. You currently don't have access to your chakra, rendering you unable to use your specialties in ninjutsu. For the time being, you are in a vulnerable state."

I would not tolerate any insubordination or disobedience from her, at least until I could work on removing that chakra-suppression seal. Her skills would be better utilized in supporting roles like seal design and instruction for now. Inappropriate pride had no place in our precarious situation.

"I-" She visibly deflated, the defiant spark leaving her eyes as she slumped her shoulders. "You're correct, I apologize," she whispered, suitably chastised. Seeing her concede proved she could still be reasoned with despite her overinflated ego. I gave a small nod of acknowledgment. For now, maintaining a clear chain of command was crucial until we were in a more secure position.

After that, we took a chance to rest. She herself was still feeling exhausted, even if only emotionally. Meanwhile, I needed to allow my chakra reserves to recover from the usage of the Shadow Clone Technique. Next, I would have to focus on creating several more sealing arrays while having Ashira meticulously write down and record everything she knows about the art of Fuinjutsu. We would also need to brainstorm together and create various supportive seals to gradually make this underground place more habitable and secure - a task that I planned to leave mostly under her guidance, given her expertise. The more time that I spent idling or dilly-dallying around, the more unthinkable atrocities could potentially be committed against my people in the meantime.

Well, that's that. I feel like the more I write this particular story, the easier it feels.

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Word Count: 2089