3RD POV

The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning earth, a mixture of scorched soil and the faint metallic tang of blood. The screams of the wounded and the distant roars of jutsus clashing echoed across the battlefield, their intensity muffled but unrelenting. Ryuichi pressed his back against the cold, damp trench wall, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His hands trembled as they clutched a kunai, the blade slick with dirt and blood that wasn't his own.

The sky above was a sickly gray, choked by smoke from explosions that had reduced entire sections of the battlefield to scorched craters. He could barely see more than a few feet ahead; everything was a chaotic blur of motion—shinobi darting across no-man's land, kunai slicing through the air, and flashes of elemental jutsu lighting up the haze like macabre fireworks.

Ryuichi's mind raced. This wasn't a battle. This was chaos, pure and unbridled.

A kunai flew overhead, embedding itself in the trench wall with a sharp thunk. Dirt and stone rained down on Ryuichi's head, and he flinched, his heart pounding in his chest. He risked a glance over the trench's edge, his Sharingan activating instinctively to assess the battlefield. What he saw made his stomach churn.

A Konoha shinobi—barely older than himself—collapsed to the ground just a few meters away, clutching his abdomen where a jagged piece of shrapnel protruded. Blood pooled around him, his lips moving soundlessly as if he were pleading for help. Ryuichi froze, the sight rooting him in place.

"Why isn't anyone helping him? Why can't I move?"

A shadow darted past the dying shinobi, and Ryuichi's stomach dropped. An enemy soldier loomed over the wounded boy, a blade glinting ominously in the dim light.

"No—" The word barely escaped Ryuichi's lips before the blade came down.

He jerked back down into the trench, squeezing his eyes shut, his breath coming in ragged gasps. This isn't real. This can't be real.

"Ryuichi!"

A hand grabbed his shoulder, shaking him violently. Ryuichi's eyes flew open, and he found himself staring into Haru's face. His teammate's normally calm demeanor was gone, replaced by wide, panicked eyes and a tense jaw.

"Pull yourself together!" Haru shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of the battlefield. "We don't have time for this! They're pushing through the left flank, and if we don't hold it, we're done!"

Ryuichi blinked at him, his mind struggling to process the words. Haru's grip tightened, shaking him again.

"You hear me? We don't have time for this! Get up!"

Haru's urgency cut through the haze in Ryuichi's mind, and he nodded shakily, pushing himself to his feet. His legs felt like lead, but he forced them to move, following Haru as they scrambled through the trenches toward the left flank.

Ryuichi and Haru reached the left flank in a sprint, their feet sliding in the mud as they rounded a bend in the trenches. The stench of death was overpowering now, mingled with the acrid smoke of lightning-charged jutsus and the coppery tang of blood. Bodies lay crumpled in the narrow pathways, their lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

They found Kushina standing among a group of battle-worn shinobi. Her red hair was damp with sweat, and her uniform bore cuts and burns from near misses, but her posture was firm, and her eyes burned with resolve. She turned as they approached, her gaze flickering over them with a mixture of relief and concern.

"Kushina-sensei!" Haru called out as they skidded to a halt. "What's the situation?"

Kushina opened her mouth to respond, but a frantic shout cut her off.

"They've surrounded us!"

A chunin stumbled into view, clutching his side where blood seeped through his flak jacket. His eyes were wide with panic as he addressed Kushina.

"Captain Uzumaki, they're coming from every direction! We're pinned down!"

For a moment, the air in the trench grew heavy with fear. Whispers and murmurs spread like wildfire among the shinobi. Some clutched their weapons tighter; others looked as though they might bolt.

Kushina's expression hardened. Without a word, she climbed onto a large boulder protruding from the ground, raising herself above the chaos. Her chakra flared briefly, bright and fierce, as she gathered the attention of everyone around her.

"Listen up!" her voice rang out, cutting through the noise like a blade.

All eyes turned to her. Even the most panicked shinobi seemed to pause, drawn by the commanding presence of their leader.

"I know you're scared," Kushina began, her tone firm but laced with understanding. "You'd be crazy not to be. We're surrounded, and it feels like the walls are closing in. But I want you to stop and think for a second. Why are you here?"

She let the question hang in the air for a moment, her sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd.

"We're here because if we lose this flank, Konoha will face a devastating blow. The entire army will be pushed back, outposts will fall, and the people we love—our families, our friends, everyone we've sworn to protect—will be left vulnerable."

Her words hit like a hammer. Ryuichi swallowed hard, his grip on his kunai tightening.

"We shinobi don't fight because we hate the people in front of us," Kushina continued, her voice rising with passion. "We fight because we love the people behind us. Every jutsu you cast, every kunai you throw—it's not just for you. It's for them."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. Ryuichi felt a spark of determination igniting in his chest despite the fear clawing at his mind.

"And as for being surrounded?" Kushina smirked, her fierce energy radiating like a flame. "That just means we can attack in every direction. No matter where they come from, we'll meet them head-on and send them running back to Kumo with their tails between their legs!"

Cheers erupted, small at first but quickly growing louder as her words sank in. The fear that had gripped the trench began to loosen its hold, replaced by a fiery determination.

"Now get ready!" Kushina shouted, raising her arm. "We hold this line, no matter what! For Konoha!"

The Kumo nin came at them from all sides, a tide of shinobi surging over the trenches and through the smoke-filled battlefield. Ryuichi barely had time to process Kushina's orders before the first enemy was upon him.

His Sharingan activated automatically, his vision sharpening as he dodged a kunai aimed at his throat. He countered with a fireball jutsu, the flames illuminating the chaos around him for a brief instant before swallowing his attacker whole.

All around him, shinobi clashed in brutal combat. The air was filled with the sharp clang of steel meeting steel, the crackle of lightning jutsu, and the screams of the wounded.

Ryuichi caught sight of Haru a few meters away, fending off two Kumo nin with swift strikes of his kunai. To Haru's left, Kushina was a crimson blur, her chakra chains lashing out with deadly precision.

Despite their efforts, the losses mounted. Ryuichi's Sharingan cursed him to see it all in perfect, horrifying detail.

A Konoha chunin fell nearby, his body crumpling as a kunai pierced his chest. Ryuichi's gaze snapped to him, unable to look away as the life drained from his eyes.

Another shinobi—a woman Ryuichi recognized from the camp—was caught in the blast of a lightning jutsu. Her scream echoed in his ears as her body convulsed before crumpling to the ground, smoke rising from her charred flesh.

Ryuichi's stomach churned, bile rising in his throat. His limbs felt heavy, his movements sluggish. This isn't a battle. It's a massacre.

"Ryuichi, behind you!"

Haru's voice snapped him out of his daze just in time to dodge a kunai aimed at his back. He spun around, his Sharingan catching the attacker's movements. With a quick one-handed seal, he unleashed a torrent of flames, consuming the enemy in an instant.

By the time the battle ended, the trenches were littered with bodies—friends and enemies alike. The ground was slick with mud and blood, and the air was thick with smoke and the stench of death.

Ryuichi stumbled back to the camp, his legs barely supporting him. His vision blurred, the images of the fallen replaying in his mind over and over. He couldn't escape them.

As he entered the camp, he spotted Fuyumi sitting near a makeshift medical station. Her red hair was disheveled, her face streaked with soot and tears. Burn marks marred her left cheek, and her uniform was torn and bloodstained.

Ryuichi's chest tightened. Without thinking, he ran to her and dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around her.

"I can't do this anymore," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Fuyumi stiffened for a moment before relaxing into the embrace, her hands clutching the back of his torn flak jacket.

"We'll get through this," she said softly, though her voice wavered.

Haru appeared beside them, his expression grim but calm. He placed a reassuring hand on Ryuichi's shoulder, grounding him.

The three of them sat there in silence, their small forms huddled together in the middle of a warzone. They were just children—three traumatized eight-year-olds trying to find solace in each other amidst the horrors of war.

-{0}-

Two weeks ago (The day Ryuichi was leaving Konoha)

The morning sun peeked over the horizon, casting a golden glow over Konoha's village gates. The towering wooden structure, usually a symbol of protection and safety, now stood as a threshold to the unknown. A cool breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees, carrying with it a palpable tension that hung in the air.

Ryuichi adjusted the straps of his pack, his movements deliberate and slow as if stalling for time. Haru, standing to his right, tapped his foot impatiently on the cobblestone path, his face scrunched in an attempt to mask his nervousness. Fuyumi, ever composed, stood a few steps away with her arms crossed, her crimson hair swaying slightly in the breeze.

Kushina Uzumaki, their jonin sensei, was leaning casually against the gatepost, her fiery red hair and confident stance a stark contrast to the mood of her young genin. Despite her outward appearance, her sharp eyes scanned the horizon with the vigilance of a seasoned warrior. She was the anchor for her team, the unyielding force they relied on, but even she couldn't fully suppress the tension in her jaw.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Ryuichi noticed a figure approaching. His heart skipped a beat when he recognized her.

Tsunade.

Even from a distance, her commanding presence was undeniable. Her long blond hair glinted in the sunlight, and her intense, golden-brown eyes bore into Ryuichi as she closed the gap between them. The click of her sandals against the stone path was measured, deliberate, and each step seemed to echo louder in Ryuichi's ears.

When she finally stopped in front of him, her piercing gaze didn't waver.

"Ryuichi," she began, her voice low and firm, like the calm before a storm, "why didn't you tell me?"

The question wasn't unexpected, but the weight of her words hit him harder than he anticipated. He looked down briefly, gathering his thoughts, before meeting her eyes again.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to make things harder for you, Sensei," he admitted, his voice soft but steady.

"Harder for me?" Tsunade's tone sharpened, a mixture of anger and disbelief coloring her words. She crossed her arms, her fingers digging slightly into her sleeves. "Do you even hear yourself right now? You think sparing me the truth would make this any easier?"

"It's not that," Ryuichi said quickly, shaking his head. "I just... I know how much this war has taken from you already. I didn't want you to—"

"To what?" Tsunade interrupted, her voice rising. "To care? To worry? Damn it, Ryuichi, I'm your teacher. I'm supposed to care!"

Kushina shifted uncomfortably from her position by the gate, glancing away to give them some semblance of privacy. Haru and Fuyumi exchanged awkward looks but wisely stayed silent.

Ryuichi took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "I didn't want you to relive everything you've been through," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know how much it hurts you, Sensei. I didn't want to be another reason for that pain."

Tsunade's expression softened, though her frustration didn't entirely fade. She looked at him closely, her eyes searching his face for something—an answer, an explanation, or maybe just reassurance. For a moment, the fiery Sannin seemed vulnerable, her usual unshakable demeanor cracking under the weight of her emotions.

"Ryuichi," she said, her voice quieter now, "do you think I'd hurt less by not knowing? Do you think I wouldn't find out?"

Ryuichi looked down again, guilt gnawing at him. "I just thought... if you didn't know until later, it would give you some peace."

"Peace?" Tsunade laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "You don't get it, do you? You're my student. I've trained you, watched you grow, and for the first time in a long time, I actually feel... hope. And now you're leaving for that battlefield, and I can't do a damn thing about it."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and Ryuichi's chest tightened. He had always known how deeply Tsunade cared for her students, but seeing her like this—vulnerable, raw—only deepened his resolve.

"Sensei," he said softly, taking a step closer. "You've taught me everything I need to survive out there. You've done more for me than anyone else could. That's why I need you to trust me."

Tsunade's eyes narrowed slightly, her protective instincts still warring with her logical mind. She didn't reply immediately, and the silence stretched between them.

"Then... bet on me," Ryuichi said suddenly, his tone shifting.

Tsunade blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"You've told me before that you've never won a single bet," Ryuichi continued, his voice growing steadier. "I want you to bet on me coming back alive. I want to break your streak."

Her mouth opened slightly, then closed again as she processed his words. "That's a dangerous bet, brat," she said finally, her tone laced with both caution and disbelief. "Do you have any idea what you're asking for? My luck is cursed. You don't just break a curse."

"I don't believe in curses," Ryuichi said firmly. "I believe in changing fate. If I can't even change your fate, how am I supposed to protect this village?"

Tsunade stared at him, her expression unreadable. The silence between them was thick, charged with unspoken emotions. Finally, she sighed deeply, reaching into her pouch and pulling out a single ryō coin.

"You're insane, you know that?" she muttered, holding the coin up between her fingers. "Fine. I'll bet this single ryō that you'll come back safe."

Ryuichi's lips curled into a small smile, relief and determination washing over him. "Thank you, Sensei."

"But," Tsunade added sharply, her voice regaining its usual edge, "don't think I'm doing this lightly. If you win, there'll be a reward."

She reached up and touched the green crystal pendant around her neck, the one she always wore. The light caught the edges of the stone, making it shimmer like liquid emerald.

"This necklace was given to me by my grandfather, Hashirama Senju," she said, her voice quieter now. "It means more to me than almost anything else. If you come back, it's yours."

Ryuichi's eyes widened. "Sensei, I—"

"Don't argue," Tsunade interrupted, her tone brooking no dissent. "This is your reward if you win. But you'd better earn it."

As the team prepared to leave, Kushina finally stepped forward, breaking the tension with her confident, no-nonsense attitude. She clapped a hand on Ryuichi's shoulder.

"Let's go, kid," she said, her voice soft but firm. "It's time."

Ryuichi nodded, slinging his pack over his shoulder. But before he took a step, Tsunade reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"You better come back in one piece, brat," she said, her voice trembling slightly despite the teasing tone.

"I will, Sensei," Ryuichi replied with a small smile. "I promise."

As the team walked through the gates, Ryuichi glanced back one last time. Tsunade stood there, her hand resting on the necklace around her neck, her lips moving in a silent prayer.

Kushina placed a hand on Ryuichi's shoulder, drawing his attention forward. "Come on, Ryuichi," she said softly. "We've got a long road ahead."

Ryuichi nodded, steeling himself for the journey. In his heart, he carried Tsunade's faith—and the weight of the bet they'd made.

For her, for the village, and for himself, he would come back alive.

-{0}-

Back to the present

The camp was dimly lit by a scattering of lanterns, their warm glow barely cutting through the oppressive darkness of the forest. The faint rustling of leaves in the night breeze was drowned out by the groans and cries of injured shinobi sprawled across makeshift cots. The scent of blood and charred earth lingered heavily in the air, a grim reminder of the day's brutal battles.

Ryuichi sat hunched over, his fingers trembling slightly as he tied a final knot on the bandages wrapping the stump of a shinobi's leg. The man had screamed himself hoarse earlier, but now he simply stared blankly into the distance, his face pale and drawn. A deep gash across his temple suggested he might have passed out from blood loss earlier, sparing him from the full agony of the injury.

"All done," Ryuichi muttered, his voice barely audible. He leaned back, his arms falling limply to his sides. His chakra reserves were nearly empty, the telltale dull ache radiating through his entire body.

Nearby, Haru sat cross-legged with his back to a tree, absently tossing pebbles into a nearby patch of dirt. Fuyumi was curled up against the trunk, her head resting on her knees, her crimson hair falling in tangled strands over her face. Both of them looked just as exhausted as Ryuichi felt. The three of them were only eight years old, but war had stolen the carefree innocence of their childhood.

Ryuichi let himself fall onto his back, staring up at the canopy of trees overhead. The stars twinkled faintly between the branches, but even their beauty seemed distant, cold, and indifferent.

Kushina Uzumaki strode into the camp, her presence commanding despite her tired expression. She was checking on the injured, her sharp eyes scanning the faces of each shinobi with care. Even in the dim light, her bright red hair made her stand out—a beacon of strength and determination in the chaos.

She paused when she reached her team, her gaze softening slightly as she took in the sight of her students. Haru gave her a weak wave but said nothing, his usual cocky demeanor subdued. Fuyumi merely looked up briefly before burying her face in her arms again.

Ryuichi, too exhausted to sit up, raised his voice weakly. "Sensei," he called out.

Kushina walked over and crouched down next to him, her hands resting on her knees. "What is it, kid?"

He turned his head slightly to look at her, his eyes heavy with fatigue. "What's the purpose of this war?"

The question hung in the air like a shuriken poised to strike.

Before Kushina could respond, the shinobi Ryuichi had just finished treating barked out, "Of course it's to protect the Hidden Leaf from the Hidden Stone! Isn't that obvious?"

The man's voice was hoarse, but the conviction in his tone was clear. Yet, despite the sharpness of his answer, Kushina didn't acknowledge him. She remained focused on Ryuichi, her expression thoughtful and calm.

Kushina took a deep breath and sat down cross-legged next to Ryuichi. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees as she fixed her gaze on her students. The injured shinobi grumbled under his breath but didn't press the issue, sinking back into his cot.

"Ryuichi," Kushina began, her tone measured and steady, "that's a question you'll probably keep asking yourself as long as you live. And the truth is, the purpose of a war depends on who you ask."

Her eyes flickered to Haru and Fuyumi, who were both listening now, their tired faces turned toward her.

"Some will tell you it's about land, or resources, or revenge. Others will say it's about honor or duty. And maybe, for some, it's just about survival."

She straightened slightly, her fiery red hair catching the faint glow of the lanterns. "But you, my students—you're not here just to follow orders or repeat the mistakes of the past. You're here to learn something important, something that most people only figure out after it's too late."

The weight of her words silenced the camp around them, her voice carrying a quiet authority that demanded attention.

"I want you to engrain the suffering you see here into your hearts," she said, her gaze moving from Ryuichi to Haru to Fuyumi. "I want you to remember the pain of these soldiers, the sacrifices they make, and the horrors they endure. Because wars don't determine who is right—just who is left."

Ryuichi blinked, her words striking a chord deep within him.

Kushina leaned back slightly, resting her hands on her knees. "You three," she said, her voice softer now, "you're my students. And that means something. I chose you because I saw potential—not just as shinobi, but as people who can make a difference."

She looked at each of them in turn, her expression equal parts pride and sorrow. "One day, you're going to find yourselves in positions of power, whether you want it or not. And when that day comes, I need you to remember this. This suffering. This chaos. These lives lost for reasons most of us don't even understand."

Her voice hardened slightly, taking on a fierce edge. "Your duty isn't to the council members or the daimyo or the elders—not even to the Hokage. Your duty is to the innocent people who can't protect themselves. The farmers, the merchants, the children sleeping in their beds while we fight out here."

Kushina's eyes burned with determination as she spoke, her passion cutting through the despair that had settled over the camp.

"If you grow up to be leaders who can protect them—really protect them—then maybe, just maybe, this war won't have been for nothing."

The camp was silent except for the occasional groan from the injured and the distant crackle of campfires. Kushina sighed, brushing the hair from her face as she looked over her team with a protective gaze.

"But for today," she said, her tone softening again, "you've done enough. You all have."

She stood up and pulled a sleeping bag from her pack, spreading it out on the ground. Then, with surprising gentleness, she lifted Ryuichi and placed him inside, tucking the edges around him like a mother might for her child.

"You need rest," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "All of you do."

Haru and Fuyumi exchanged a glance before settling into their own makeshift beds. Kushina stood over them for a moment, her hands on her hips, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness.

"Good night, brats," she said finally, a small smile tugging at her lips.

As Ryuichi sank into the sleeping bag, the exhaustion of the day weighed heavily on him. His body ached, his chakra reserves were depleted, and his mind felt like it was on the brink of collapse. But even as sleep began to pull him under, his thoughts refused to quiet.

The first image that came to him was of his family. His mother's worried eyes and her soft hands brushing against his face as she bid him farewell. His father's stoic but reassuring presence as he handed him the genjutsu scroll, a silent promise that he believed in his son's abilities.

And then there was the memory of the little kicks he had felt against his mother's belly when he had leaned close to her. "My little brother…" The thought stirred something deep inside him. He remembered the day he had hugged Mikoto and asked if they could name the baby Itachi. The memory brought a pang of sadness but also a fierce resolve.

"I have to survive," Ryuichi thought, his jaw tightening. "I promised them I would. I promised I'd come home to him."

He imagined what it would be like to meet his brother for the first time. To teach him how to walk, how to throw his first kunai, how to grow into the kind of shinobi who could live in a world without this kind of violence.

"I want him to grow up safe. I want him to live in a world where he never has to see what I've seen today."

Ryuichi's thoughts then turned to Tsunade. Her angry glare as she demanded to know why he hadn't told her about the mission, her sharp words softened by the undeniable care she had for him. She had promised to bet on him—something she'd never done for anyone else.

He clutched the edge of the sleeping bag tightly, his chest tightening at the memory. "I need to come back. Not just for her, but for myself. If I can't even prove her wrong about one bet, how can I hope to change anything else?"

The weight of his vision pressed against his mind. The nightmare of the Kyūbi attack, the destruction of Konoha, the lives that would be lost. He didn't know how or when it would come, but he was determined to be ready.

"If I can survive this, I'll be one step closer," he told himself. "I'll prove that fate isn't unchangeable."

Ryuichi's breathing began to even out as exhaustion took over. But even as his body succumbed to sleep, his mind remained steadfast. Thoughts of his family, his team, and the bet with Tsunade swirled in his dreams, intertwining with the faces of the injured and the cries of the battlefield.

For now, his world was war. But somewhere deep inside, a spark of hope burned. A hope for a future where he could protect those he loved and prove that even in the darkest moments, there was a way to make things better.

And with that final thought, Ryuichi drifted off into a restless, yet determined, sleep.

=Chapter End=