Renjiro stood near the edge of the room, his red hair catching the low light filtering in from the tall paper windows that lined the right wall of the hall. His arms crossed, his back leaned against a support pillar, and his eyes were closed, giving him the air of someone disinterested—aloof even. But in truth, he was straining to drown out the ambient noise, trying to bury his mind beneath the low tide of murmurs and half-whispered gossip that always seemed to trail in his wake.
It didn't help.
Then—thud.
Something slid across the wooden floor with a scraping skid that cut through the gentle hum of conversation. Renjiro opened one eye.
A blur of black hair and orange-tinted goggles skidded to an awkward stop in front of him, limbs tangled like a rag doll, the corner of his blue sleeve caught beneath a sandaled foot. Obito Uchiha looked up with a sheepish grin, his face flushed and his hair mussed from impact. His goggles were slightly askew.
"Heh… fancy meeting you here Renjiro!" Obito chuckled nervously, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. "Nice shoes, Renjiro-san."
Renjiro's gaze sharpened. He didn't need to ask what had happened—the faint snickers behind Obito, the way the boy clutched his arm as if it had been twisted, and the distinct look of embarrassment masked as humour told him everything. Three younger boys a few paces behind Obito were failing to suppress their laughter. One nudged the other with an elbow. The other made a mock "trip" gesture with his leg.
Renjiro sighed quietly and stepped forward.
"Here," he said, offering Obito his hand.
The younger boy blinked in surprise. "Eh?"
Renjiro didn't repeat himself. With a calm, firm grip, he grasped Obito's forearm and lifted him up with ease. Obito stumbled to his feet, brushing off the dust clinging to his knees and adjusting his goggles again with an embarrassed grin.
"Thanks…" he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. His voice dipped, barely audible. "Sorry about that."
Renjiro gave him a faint nod before his gaze shifted to the boys behind.
They were younger, barely out of the academy judging from their build and the uncertain way they stood—cocky but unsure. One of them flinched as Renjiro's crimson eyes focused on them. The room seemed to tilt for a moment.
Then—flick.
A ripple passed over Renjiro's eyes as his Sharingan activated. The tomoe spun lazily, reflecting in the eyes of the boys like a predator's glare.
The boys stopped laughing.
The tallest one, who had clearly been the ringleader, took a step back. "W-what the hell's he looking at us like that for?"
Renjiro said nothing. He just stared.
And the world changed.
To the three boys, the floor beneath their feet suddenly gave a wooden groan—then cracked.
"Crrrk…"
They jerked in surprise, looking down to see the polished surface of the Uchiha hall splinter open like rotten wood. From the shadows below, thick black chains erupted—CLANG! CLANK!—slithering and writhing like serpents, slick with oil and smoke, the links pulsing as if alive.
The room warped.
The wooden beams supporting the ceiling twisted overhead like crooked bones. The walls bled dark ink, melting like wax under flame, revealing grotesque murals of screaming faces with hollow, staring eyes. The lanterns hanging in the corners flickered—fshhhk—then flared with deep violet fire, casting the room in an eerie, ghost-lit hue.
Renjiro still hadn't moved an inch. His eyes, aglow with the Sharingan, locked onto the boys with the unyielding focus of a hawk preparing to dive.
"What's happening!?" the second boy yelped, voice cracking with panic.
One of the chains lashed toward him—SHHHHCLANK!
He screamed, stumbling backwards and landing hard on his rear, only to find more chains crawling toward him like centipedes made of steel. Another one whipped across the air, slicing just inches in front of the smallest boy's face.
"NOPE NOPE NOPE!" the smallest one shrieked, turning tail and running—only to find the door behind him missing, replaced by a wall covered in eyes. Dozens of them. All blinking in sync. All staring directly at him.
The ringleader let out a strangled shout. "Make it stop! Make it—!"
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the melting wall. A silhouette cloaked in black flames, taller than any of them, bearing Renjiro's face—expressionless, cold, and cloaked in malice. His form flickered and twitched like a flame fighting against the wind, and when he raised a hand, chains burst forth from the ground around the boys.
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" the leader howled.
The illusion cracked.
Reality snapped back like a rubber band.
GASP—
The three boys staggered in place, cold sweat pouring down their faces, their eyes wide and dilated. Their breath came in quick, ragged bursts as though they'd been drowning seconds before. One of them actually fell to his knees, dry-heaving in panic.
Renjiro tilted his head ever so slightly. He wasn't smiling. He didn't need to. His silence alone made the terror linger longer than any words.
"W-we're sorry!" one of the boys cried out, grabbing his friend by the collar. "Please! We didn't mean it! We—we didn't know!"
The other two were already scrambling toward the door like animals trying to escape a burning cage. They shoved it open—SLAM!—and nearly tripped over each other as they fled, yelping like scalded dogs, their footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Then, stillness.
Renjiro exhaled slowly, letting the illusion fully dissolve. The glow of his Sharingan dimmed as the tomoes faded back into his irises. His expression remained impassive, but a quiet flicker of emotion—disappointment? Fatigue?—flitted through his eyes.
A beat of silence passed.
"…That was kind of awesome," Obito said at last, voice filled with awe and maybe a little fear. His wide eyes were visible behind his slightly crooked orange goggles. "Like, scary awesome. But definitely awesome."
Renjiro turned toward him, brushing a strand of red hair from his brow. "You alright?"
Obito straightened his collar. "Yeah, yeah. Been through worse." He chuckled, but his fingers rubbed his side where he'd hit the floor earlier. "Though… they're getting better at the 'accidental trip' thing. Almost cracked my tailbone that time."
Renjiro gave him a slow, deliberate look. "You always let them get away with that?"
Obito laughed, then sighed. "I mean… I try to ignore it. They're just idiots. Not worth getting worked up over." He tried to wave it off, but the drop in his tone said more than his words.
"You shouldn't let people walk all over you," Renjiro said quietly, his voice almost too calm.
Obito scratched his head awkwardly. "I try not to… but, y'know, it's not that easy when everyone thinks you're the loser who barely scraped through the academy."
Renjiro didn't respond immediately. He simply crossed his arms and leaned against the wall again, letting the quiet speak for him. Obito fidgeted with his goggles.
"…Kakashi passed with top marks. Again," he mumbled. "Minato-sensei's always talking about how amazing he is. And he is, I guess. He never messes up. He never even gets dirty in a fight. Meanwhile, I'm tripping over my own feet and trying not to light my hair on fire."
"You'll get there," Renjiro said flatly.
Obito blinked. "Wait—you think so?"
"You've got heart." Renjiro's voice was even, but there was something sincere beneath it. "More than most."
Obito looked down at his hands, fidgeting with a string on his sleeve.
"That'll take you farther than raw talent," Renjiro continued, "if you survive long enough to learn from it."
Obito gave a soft laugh, almost disbelieving. "That's… kinda comforting. Thanks."
The quiet that followed felt a little lighter than before, though it didn't last long. Obito's expression shifted again. His shoulders dropped a bit as something deeper crept into his gaze.
"…Hey. Um, speaking of stuff… have you heard anything about my dad?"
Renjiro's brow furrowed. "Hmm?"
Obito nodded, eyes cast downward. "He's… not doing so good. Mom says he's been sick for a while now. Keeps coughing, sometimes blood. Can barely sleep. But she just tells me not to worry."
Renjiro felt a weight settle in his chest.
Obito's father. His former team leader. A man with a steel spine and a bark that trained even the cockiest shinobi into proper enforcers of the law. He remembered Takeo standing on rainy rooftops during patrols, refusing to carry an umbrella because "a shinobi should welcome the elements." He'd been sharp, meticulous, and quietly kind beneath his stoic veneer.
A man like that—crumbling under sickness?
"Has he seen a medic-nin?"
"Yeah. Two, actually. But they just keep saying it's 'chakra imbalance' or 'early-stage degeneration.' Nothing concrete. I even heard Mom whispering to Aunt Izumi the other night about... about maybe preparing for the worst."
Renjiro's jaw tensed.
He nodded once, his voice low. "I'll visit him soon. See what I can do."
Obito looked up, visibly relieved. "Thanks. I just… I hate feeling useless, you know?"
Renjiro placed a hand on the younger boy's shoulder.
"You're not," he said quietly.
Before more could be said, a sound interrupted them.
"Clack… Clack… Clack."
The sharp echo of polished wooden geta striking the floor announced the arrival of authority. The doors to the clan hall slid open with a controlled grace—shhhk—and the murmuring that had begun to swell across the room was immediately snuffed out, as though the very presence of the newcomers had stolen the air.
Three figures entered.
At their centre stood Daichi Uchiha, head of the clan. A man carved from discipline, his tall frame wrapped in deep grey and black robes that bore the Uchiha fan in shimmering red. His dark hair was tied in a warrior's topknot, and his eyes—cool, unreadable—swept across the room like a blade drawn across silk.
To his left and right, two elders accompanied him—bent slightly with age but no less intimidating. Their faces were maps of time, their gazes sharp as hawks as they studied the gathered clan with wordless judgment.
The clan meeting had begun.
=====
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