Return and Undercurrent

The retreating squad moved through the forest in silence. They had set out like a drawn blade, but returned bearing heavy casualties and an oppressive weight that refused to dissipate. The stench of blood and charred flesh seemed to have soaked into everyone's clothes, lingering stubbornly.

Uchiha Sou was carried on the back of a clansman. Every jolt tugged at the wound on his chest, sending waves of sharp pain that left him drenched in cold sweat and his face deathly pale. Yet, he gritted his teeth, refusing to utter a single groan, and instead used his weary but unnervingly clear Sharingan to observe his surroundings.

Most of the clansmen wore heavy, icy expressions. The joy of victory—if the crushing of the Hagaromo could even be called that—had long since been scattered by the losses and humiliation brought about by the Senju's abrupt intervention. They watched the surrounding darkness with vigilance, as if new enemies might pounce from the shadows at any moment. Having endured such a brutal encounter, everyone's nerves remained frayed.

Izuna walked at the very front of the squad. His back was straight, yet it radiated an indescribable aura of slaughter. He would occasionally glance back at the squad, pausing for a moment whenever his gaze fell on Uchiha Sou to confirm his condition. Those three-tomoe Sharingan eyes flickered in the darkness like burning embers, revealing the turbulent state of their master's heart.

"Lord Izuna," a jonin responsible for the rear guard accelerated to catch up, reporting in a low voice, "There are no signs of pursuit from behind. The Senju seem to have truly withdrawn."

Izuna let out a cold snort through his nose. "Hmph, that mad dog Tobirama naturally crawled back to his kennel once his goal was achieved." His fingers unconsciously traced the hilt of his blade. "His appearance this time was anything but ordinary."

He spoke as if to himself, yet also as if analyzing the situation for his trusted subordinates: "It was far too coincidental. We had only just finished clearing out the Hagaromo riffraff when he appeared with such precision. His objective was clear: first to silence witnesses, and then..." His gaze swept over Tsang once more, "...to attempt to assassinate a promising junior. Does that look like a spur-of-the-moment decision to you?"

The trusted ninja beside him wore a grave expression. "Are you implying... that our operation might have been leaked? Or that the Hagaromo themselves were merely bait?"

"Unlikely to be bait; the Hagaromo aren't worth the Senju sacrificing a key stronghold." Izuna's eyes were sharp. "It is more likely that our movements were tracked by Tobirama using some method unknown to us. Perhaps... he had anticipated our reaction ever since that conflict in the northwest and had been waiting for this very opportunity."

His analysis was cold and terrifying, sending a chill down the spines of those who heard it. If this were true, Senju Tobirama's schemes and calculations were far too profound.

Lying on the clansman's back, Uchiha Sou heard every word clearly, his heart accelerating uncontrollably once more.

The conflict in the northwest... that skirmish "accidentally" triggered because of him... could it truly be the origin of everything? Had Tobirama captured the Uchiha's movements and potential for retaliation from that, thereby predicting this raid? Had he perhaps been watching from the shadows all along, waiting for the Uchiha to mobilize so he could execute his plan to silence them and strike at their future?

If so, had his own unintentional shuriken throw, without him even realizing it, become a link in Tobirama's grand scheme against the entire Uchiha clan?

The thought filled him with a bone-deep chill, more agonizing than the wound on his chest. He felt as though he had fallen into an invisible web, and the cold, ruthless eyes of the weaver were watching him silently from the darkness.

"Pick up the pace!" Izuna ordered coldly, cutting off further discussion. "Return to the compound as quickly as possible. This incident must be reported to Big Brother immediately!"

The squad's speed increased, but the atmosphere grew even heavier.

Finally, the familiar silhouette of the Uchiha compound and the figures of the patrolling ninja appeared in view. Seeing the battered state of the returning squad, the guards immediately grew alert and rushed forward to assist.

"Lord Izuna! This is..."

"Notify Big Brother at once; we are heading to the council hall." Izuna cut off the inquiry, his tone brooking no argument. "Send the wounded to the medical unit—prioritize their treatment!"

The compound was soon in an uproar. The remaining clansmen saw the corpses and the many wounded being carried in, and upon seeing Uchiha Sou being brought back with his chest soaked in blood, they reacted with shock, fury, and grief.

"It's the Senju! It must have been the Senju!" "Damn that white-haired bastard! This debt must be repaid!" Suppressed discussions and curses spread through the crowd.

Uchiha Sou was carefully placed on a stretcher and sent toward the medical unit. Before leaving, he took one last look at Izuna. Izuna gave him a slight nod, his eyes complex—filled with concern and encouragement, but deep within, there was a settled, bone-chilling intent to kill.

"Focus on healing." That was all Izuna said before turning away, striding toward the largest building in the center of the compound—the clan leader's council hall—with his body still radiating blood and malice. He needed to report everything from tonight to Uchiha Madara immediately, especially Senju Tobirama's abnormal behavior and the conspiracy that might lie behind it.

The medical unit was filled with the heavy scent of herbs mixed with the smell of blood. There were many injured ninja, and the medical-nin were working in a tense frenzy.

Uchiha Sou's wound was cleaned, medicated, and carefully bandaged again. The intense pain nearly caused him to collapse, but he gritted his teeth, struggling to remain conscious.

The medical-nin treating him was an older man. He stared at the vicious wound with furrowed brows. "That was close... any deeper or slightly to the side, and it would have hit your internal organs. This technique... was it Senju Tobirama?"

Uchiha Sou nodded in silence.

The medical-nin sighed, his hands moving skillfully as he finished the bandaging. "You're lucky to have kept your life after crossing paths with him. Rest easy; the wound is deep, but it didn't hit anything vital. With our Uchiha constitution and the medicine, you should be able to move again in half a month."

Uchiha Sou lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling, the muffled groans of other wounded and the low whispers of the medical-nin filling his ears. His body was exhausted to the extreme, but his mind was unnervingly alert.

The night's events replayed in his mind like a flickering lantern: the flames at the Hagaromo stronghold, the slaughter between his clansmen and the Senju, the earth-shattering duel between Izuna and Tobirama, and that cold kunai piercing toward his throat...

And that unsettling conjecture regarding "causality."

He slowly raised his hand, watching his still-trembling fingers. Under the dim candlelight, these hands seemed no different from before he had transmigrated, yet they were already stained with the blood and dust of this world.

The desire to become stronger had never been as intense or as urgent as it was now.

Not just for self-preservation, or to survive on the battlefield.

But to... understand what kind of vortex he had been dragged into, and to have the power to face those cold, calculating eyes hidden behind the scenes.

He closed his eyes, focusing his spirit inward. The sharp pain in his chest remained clear, but the slight heat and restless sensation in his eyes were equally distinct.

The single-tomoe Sharingan manifested in the darkness, rotating slowly.

The barrier to the two-tomoe, after being tempered by blood and fire and stimulated by the edge of life and death, seemed to have truly become as thin as a cicada's wing.

Perhaps, the next time he opened his eyes, the world would be different.

Deep within the compound, the lights in the council hall burned all night long.