Flames * Doubt

After stepping down, Senju Yūki's unusual behavior became more apparent to many.

His face was paler than any foundation could conceal, fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead, and his breathing was more rapid than usual.

Although he was trying his best to adjust, lingering fear and confusion remained in his usually clear and determined eyes.

"Yūki, are you really alright?" The Household General had helped him earlier, also a member of the Senju Clan, asked in a worried whisper, "Just now on stage, you..."

Several young Ninjas playing Taira henchmen gathered around, their faces showing concern. They all sensed that the cowering and panic shown by Koremori on stage just now wasn't entirely an act.

"I'm fine." Yūki interrupted him, her voice a little dry, but her tone carrying an almost stubborn insistence, "It's just... I got a little too into character. I still have scenes to film, I'll adjust myself."

He didn't believe it, he didn't want to believe it.

I never imagined that I would become like this simply because I acted out a simulated war scene.

He's the son of Hashirama Senju, Ninja who grew up amidst battles. How could he be frightened by a mere drama?

Something must be wrong. Maybe the armor is too heavy and it's affecting my breathing, or maybe the river water is too cold...

He tried to attribute the thick, cold fear he had felt on stage to external factors, attempting to convince himself otherwise.

After a short break, the stage setting changed again.

The Taira army pressed their advantage and marched straight towards Onjōji, where Prince Mochihito and his men had retreated.

This time, Yūki doesn't have many scenes; he mainly serves as part of the background, following the army. He forces himself to concentrate, not to recall the feeling of crossing the river, and simply moves mechanically, trying to keep his gaze as blank as possible.

An arrow, seemingly from nowhere, flew by, accompanied by a short cry of alarm, Prince Mochihito fell to the ground, struck by the arrow.

The banner of resistance was broken in such an abrupt and absurd way before it could truly be raised.

Immediately afterwards, the army surrounded Onjōji.

Shigehira, the young man from the Uzumaki Clan with fiery red hair, stood in front of the temple gate.

He gazed at the raging flames before him, his crimson hair billowing in the heat, almost merging into the exploding golden-red blaze.

In that instant, Uzumaki Sōsuke, who was playing the role of Shigehira, suddenly understood what Izuna meant when he said that "red suits him".

He clearly remembered the script; later on, Shigehira was ordered to burn down a temple in Southern Capital Nara.

Neither of the two temple fires was his intention, but the sin, like this flame, entangled the increasingly declining Taira.

But the fire at Onjōji was just the beginning.

Yūki, standing not far behind him, was also gazing at the towering flames.

The leaping flames seemed to lick his retina, and the scorching air rushed towards him, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

The light, so bright it was almost blinding, seemed to penetrate the boundaries of the stage and burn directly into his heart.

He couldn't tear his eyes away, as if he were rooted to the spot by the devastating beauty and horror.

As Kiyomori his victory with laughter, praising his sons for their excellent work, Shigehira lowered his eyes and explained in a low voice, "The fierce battle lasted for a day and a night, and it was so dark that it was difficult to see. To avoid accidental injury, we had no choice but to light torches for illumination... But we didn't expect them to burn so badly..."

His voice carried a hint of difficulty.

Tomomori understood his younger brother's reluctance and insincerity, but he simply patted Shigehira's back forcefully and praised him loudly, "As my brother, you did a truly wonderful job! Now, those villains should know to be afraid!"

The clamor subsided, and the celebratory laughter was absorbed by the night.

The stage lights softened and cooled, focusing on two figures standing side by side in the corridor.

Koremori and Shigehira, uncle and nephew, are actually about the same age, and their Yūki is similar to that of Sōsuke.

At this moment, both of them took off their military uniforms, which were stained with smoke and blood, and changed into lighter civilian clothes, gazing up at the clear night sky.

The silence lasted for a moment.

Koremori's voice was soft. "Uncle... burning down the temple was a last resort, wasn't it?"

Shigehira did not answer immediately. He continued to gaze at the night sky, his profile clearly defined in the dim light, his fiery red hair appearing as if it had turned pitch black in the darkness.

After a long pause, he finally spoke.

"Fighting is Samurai's duty. If we must fight, we cannot afford to be defeated."

Yūki blinked slightly.

--Fighting is Ninja's duty. If you're going to fight, you can't afford to lose.

The same logic was ingrained in his very being, along with the glory and responsibility of the Senju Clan, and the towering figure of his father.

At this moment, the Yūki to play the role of Koremori suddenly made a crystal-clear understanding of where the fear he had been feeling since crossing the river came from.

That was not only the first time that the character of Koremori experienced the impact of a brutal war.

That was the first time that Senju Yūki, as "Hashirama Senju's son," realized so profoundly that the towering tree that had always sheltered him, his clan, and the village of Konoha was not eternal.

My father is so great, so great that all these years he has subconsciously endured and ignored the admiration, expectations, and even invisible pressure that comes with being the "son of Hashirama Senju".

He always felt that his father's continued strength was as natural as the rising and setting of the sun.

He believed it.

But what if?

What if my father... disappeared one day, passed away?

Just like Taira no Shigemori's sudden death, leaving behind young children and a family business in dire straits.

What will happen to the Senju Clan if their father is gone? What will happen to the village they've worked so hard to build? And what about him, Yūki?

Could he lead his troops into battle as decisively as Shigehira? Could he, like Tomomori, execute ruthless orders for "victory" and "family," even if it was against his conscience?

Can he shoulder a responsibility a thousand times heavier than the armor before him, a responsibility more profound than the waters of the Uji River?

The mere thought of that possibility sent a chilling, bone-deep fear surging up his spine and freezing him instantly.

He suddenly lowered his head, clenched his teeth tightly, and stretched his jawline taut.

A surge of emotions welled up in his throat, making it ache and feel sore. He had to use all his strength to prevent himself from breaking down in tears on the spot.

Their fingers were clasped together, trembling slightly.

Sōsuke's warm hand, with a soothing touch, gently landed on his shoulder.

This young man, who was in a sense his cousin, keenly sensed the sudden, almost tangible, intense emotional outburst from the boy beside him.

He didn't point it out, but simply used his character's identity to deliver his lines, his voice much softer than before. "... But after this battle, the Minamoto will also be fearful. After this... there shouldn't be another war."

Below the stage, Hashirama Senju withdrew the smile that had appeared on his face because of his son's wonderful performance.

He frowned slightly, and for the first time, worry flickered in his eyes, which were always full of sunshine and tolerance.

He realized that Yūki's reaction just now was not simply a matter of acting well.

Hashirama leaned forward slightly, clasped his hands on his knees, and his usually straight, broad shoulders tensed up unconsciously.

His gaze swept across the dimly lit audience seats, trying to catch a glimpse of his son backstage, but he only saw other actors hurrying to and fro, packing up their props.

"Yūki... what's wrong with him?" he muttered to himself, his brow furrowing slightly. "The way he acted just now... it didn't seem like an act."

As a father, he instinctively felt that something was wrong with his son.

The trembling and pallor of Yūki on stage, and the final moment of almost collapsing yet forcibly suppressing his head as he bowed his head, all conveyed a sense of authenticity.

This goes beyond the scope of theatrical performance.

Ban crossed his arms and remained silent, but he was lost in thought. He had witnessed every detail on stage, including every subtle change in Yūki's expression.

He's been under Genjutsu, yet Madara is so certain.

It's not the kind of Genjutsu used to create effects in the surrounding environment; it's a genuine Suggestion of psychological aggression.

The manipulation of the Genjutsu was cleverly concealed within this space, so subtle that it went unnoticed.

It's unclear who set the trap, but Madara couldn't help but cast his gaze towards Uchiha Izuna, who was playing the zither with his eyes lowered, on the side of the stage.

Why did Izuna choose Hashirama's son to play Taira no Koremori?

Taira no Koremori, the noble young man who was expected to succeed by his family but yearned for elegance and peace, was ultimately pushed onto the battlefield and witnessed the collapse of everything.

His fear, his helplessness, his longing for the abyss ahead after losing his protection...

How did Senju Yūki achieve empathy?

Is Izuna trying to represent something?

Could it be that in his world...

Is Hashirama dead?