Chapter 4 – The Shadow of the Uchiha
The days slipped by in a strange routine: exhausting Jūken training in the morning, chores at the compound in the afternoon, and solitary reflections at night. Yet, a muted tension was slowly taking hold in the air.
Within the clan, the adults spoke in hushed voices. The jōnin left for missions more often. Some didn't return. The grim, closed expressions of the families were enough for me to understand that the Hyūga were once again engaged in open war.
One evening, as I was helping carry scrolls to the archive room, I overheard two men speaking behind a partition.
"The Uchiha… them again. They attacked a patrol near the river. Two dead, one missing."
"They're growing bolder. Even the Senju can't contain them anymore."
I froze, my heart pounding. The Uchiha. It was the first time I had heard their name spoken so clearly.
I already knew the whispers: shinobi with crimson eyes, able to read every movement, to trap their enemies in deadly illusions. But to hear them named like this, as a real threat, stirred in me a mix of fear and curiosity.
The men went on:
"If the Uchiha ally with the eastern clans, we'll be in serious trouble."
— "Hn… then we'll have to harden the discipline of the young ones. Even the children must learn to hate the Uchiha."
A chill ran down my spine. Hate? They wanted this hatred to become an inheritance, passed on like a fighting technique.
The next day, during training, the instructor changed his methods. He no longer spoke only of precision or chakra control, but also of vigilance against the "red-eyed enemies."
— "Remember," he repeated in a harsh voice, "an Uchiha must never be underestimated. Their pupils can see beyond movement. If you ever face a Sharingan, never look into its eyes directly."
Kenshiro, beside me, clenched his fists.
"They're exaggerating, don't you think?" he whispered.
I shook my head.
"No… I think they're preparing us."
I didn't admit to him that, in my heart, I felt something other than fear. A strange fascination. These Uchiha, sworn enemies of so many clans, seemed to embody the same tragedy as us: born to fight, to hate without understanding.
And what if… behind this hatred, there was something else?
A few days later, the chance to find out came sooner than expected.
A new mission was organized. This time, we were to escort a supply convoy to an outpost. Rumors of enemy ambushes spread, and each of us knew this would be no simple walk.
The group was made up of two jōnin, five older genin… and us, the younger ones. Kenshiro and I were included, despite our meager skills.
We marched in silence, eyes fixed on the dense forest surrounding us. Every crack of a branch made my nerves quiver.
Then, like a thunderclap, kunai flew out of the shadows, whistling through the air.
"Ambush!" shouted a jōnin.
Everything exploded around us.
I rolled behind a rock, breath knocked out of me. My Byakugan activated instinctively. And there… I saw them.
Their chakra blazed, powerful and controlled. But most of all… their eyes. Scarlet red, crossed by a black pupil. The Sharingan.
It was the first time I had ever seen those eyes in real life. And I immediately understood why they were so feared. Their movements were fluid, nearly impossible to predict. They read every gesture, every strike, as if they already knew the outcome of the fight.
The Hyūga jōnin fought with fierce determination, the Jūken cracking against the chakra-saturated air. But the Uchiha countered blow for blow, their kunai deflecting palms, their genjutsu warping perception.
An elite battle was unfolding before my eyes.
But it wasn't this duel that struck me the most. No. It was the expression of one of the young Uchiha who, for a moment, locked eyes with me.
He couldn't have been more than fifteen. His eyes blazed, but his face… his face showed neither hatred nor cruelty. Only… weariness.
A weariness I knew all too well. That of a child forced to fight in a war that wasn't his.
Our eyes met for a second. And in that second, I knew: this enemy wasn't so different from me.
A jōnin roared:
"Fall back! Protect the convoy!"
I broke the gaze and retreated with the others. The battle dragged on for a few more minutes before the Uchiha withdrew, leaving behind a few bodies and a burning tension.
On the way back, no one spoke. But in my mind, a single thought spun in a relentless loop:
"What if the Hyūga, the Senju, the Uchiha… weren't meant to hate one another? What if we were being forced to believe it was inevitable?"
That night, lying under the starry sky, I made a silent vow.
If one day I gained the strength, I would break this cycle. I would unite these clans, not through fear, but through conviction.
Because deep down, I already knew: it wasn't the Uchiha or the Senju who were the true enemies. The real enemy was this hatred that had devoured the world for generations.
And I, a simple Hyūga, had sworn to put an end to it.