Age Sixteen
The invasion came on a spring morning.
I was on the eastern wall, watching the sunrise, when I saw them. Ships. Dozens of them. Kiri flags flying from every mast.
"Sound the alarm!" I shouted.
The horns blared. The village erupted into chaos—shinobi running to their posts, civilians rushing to the safe rooms, children crying.
I activated my Sharingan. Three tomoe in both eyes. My chains erupted from my back—all twelve of them, golden and blazing.
The first wave of Kiri shinobi hit the wall. My chains cut them down. But there were too many. For every one I killed, three more took its place.
"Ren!" Tsunade appeared beside me, her hands glowing green. "The barriers are failing!"
"I know!"
"We need to evacuate!"
"I know!"
The three-tails jinchuriki appeared on the deck of the lead ship. Her purple chakra blazed like a second sun.
"I told you I would return," she said. Her voice carried across the water. "And I told you I would burn this village to the ground."
"You can try," I shouted back.
She laughed. "Oh, I will."
She raised her hand. A sphere of purple chakra gathered in her palm—a tailed beast bomb, condensed and deadly.
"Everyone get down!" I screamed.
The bomb hit the eastern wall.
The explosion was blinding. The heat was unbearable. I was thrown backward, my chains shattering, my body crashing through buildings and rubble.
When I woke, I was buried in debris. My left arm was broken. My ribs were cracked. My Mangekyo had activated on its own—the golden spiral spinning, showing me threads of consequence.
Uzushio was burning.
Kushina was in the compound.
Tsunade was on the wall.
I had to choose.