Naruto Immersive Replay, The Curse of the Sharingan

"Don't even think about escaping!" You instinctively clasp your hands together, and that unfamiliar energy within you surges once more.

A metallic sheen burst forth from his palm, transforming into dozens of golden needles that shot towards the ground, but they only pierced the soft soil before the creature vanished without a trace.

You knelt on the ground, panting heavily. The onset of the cold poison gradually subsided, but the illusion of the red moon still occasionally flashed by.

Upon closer inspection of the area where the shadowy figure had disappeared, the soil was found to have an unnatural grayish-white color, as if it had been corroded by some kind of acidic substance.

"What exactly is that..." you murmured to yourself, your fingers lightly touching the spoiled soil before immediately withdrawing them. Even through your gloves, you could feel the biting cold, just like the cold poison within your body.

You hear a muffled thud from afar as something falls to the ground. You look up alertly and discover that the three attackers have already collapsed to the ground.

Upon closer inspection, it was discovered that all three had black blood seeping from the corners of their mouths, clearly indicating that they had bitten open the poison sacs hidden in their mouths.

You lift the mask off one of them, revealing an unfamiliar middle-aged face.

Removing the other person's headband, the place that should have been the symbol of the Land of Rain was roughly scraped, but the Sharingan's keenness still detected subtle traces. What was originally engraved there might not have been the Rain Village's ripples, but a symbol that had never been seen before: a circle with nine small dots inside.

"A third party disguised as a Rain Ninja..." you pondered, then suddenly felt a wave of dizziness.

The Metal Release technique he had just used had consumed a lot of his chakra, and now the side effects were starting to show. He took one last look at the scene, took a few key pieces of evidence, and turned back towards the negotiation location.

Somewhere underground in the forest, Black Zetsu was moving away at top speed, and an unusual look of anxiety appeared on its pale face.

"Gold Release...it's definitely the reincarnation of Hannya!" Black Zetsu muttered through gritted teeth. "It just so happens that she awakened at this crucial moment, disrupting my plans. I must reassess the danger posed by Uchiha Nagi..."

Madara Uchiha pressed his back against the cold wall, his eyes closed in deep concentration.

The damp smell unique to the enclosed room, mixed with the acrid smell of pine resin and torches, could not mask the faint stench of blood in the air.

His fingers unconsciously traced the dent on the kunai, and the images from the daytime kept flashing through Madara's mind: Hashirama Senju's face, which always wore a foolish smile, and the expression that froze the moment he heard the news.

"Itama is your younger brother, right?" Sparks flew as kunai collided, and in the metallic glint, Madara saw a fleeting, inappropriate wavering in his Sharingan.

Hashirama's pupils suddenly contracted, and his attack paused for half a second.

"Rei-xi sent him to the Naga River." Madara lowered his voice, making sure only Hashirama could hear him.

These words were like a blunt knife, slowly and precisely inserted between the two people.

Hashirama's lips trembled, "Madara! I..."

“Next time we’ll be opponents.” Madara dodged a horizontal slash and retreated into the shadows of the trees.

The shadow perfectly concealed his expression, hiding the expectation in his eyes that even he himself was unwilling to admit.

Hashirama ultimately chose family. Madara watched the figure rushing towards the river, his broad shoulders seeming a bit more hunched than usual.

He clenched his fist, his nails digging deep into his palm.

This should have been a perfect plan, but when he actually saw the pain in his best friend's eyes, a long-lost emotion surged in his chest.

"Onii-chan!"

Madara opened his eyes, his Mangekyou Sharingan gleaming faintly. "I made this judgment in my capacity as the young clan leader."

“But the elders won’t accept that explanation.” Izuna stopped in front of Madara, his three-tomoe eyes slowly swirling as he looked up. “They’ve begun to question your decisiveness, saying that you…”

"Soft-hearted?" Ban sneered, reaching out to ruffle his younger brother's black hair.

This habitual action, ingrained since childhood, made Izuna subconsciously shrink his neck, and a crack appeared in his serious expression.

"What right do those old guys have to judge decisions made on the battlefield when they're hiding in the rear?"

Izuna grabbed Madara's wrist, the boy's slender fingers possessing an unexpected strength. "But this is indeed a good opportunity for us to take down the Senju!"

"And then?" Madara interrupted him. "Let the Uchiha children continue to die in endless wars? Let new names be added to the memorial stones at the Naka Shrine?"

Before he could finish speaking, Madara himself was stunned—this was clearly something Hashirama often said.

Izuna keenly sensed his brother's wavering, and a hint of hurt flashed in his eyes.

“I will accept the punishment myself and go tell my father and the elders that I voluntarily confine myself for three days.”

Izuna opened his mouth, but in the end he only bowed deeply: "...Yes."

The stone wall was covered with hand seal diagrams of Fire Release techniques passed down through generations of the Uchiha clan, which flickered in the firelight.

"I heard you released the Senju captives, you soft-hearted young clan leader?"

A slightly hoarse female voice sounded from behind, and Ban's pupils suddenly contracted.

You lean against the doorframe with your arms crossed, watching Ban with a half-smile.

"Why are you here?" Ban's voice was drier than expected.

You didn't answer immediately, but slowly walked in and stopped in front of Ban. "Tell me the truth, is it for strategic reasons, or..."

"This is the last time." Madara turned his head away, avoiding your insightful gaze.

The candlelight danced across his sharply defined profile, casting shadows of varying depths.

You suddenly reach out and press your hand against Ban's chest, feeling his strong heartbeat through his clothes. "You've got too much stuff inside you. It'll kill you one day."

Your voice softened, a rare occurrence. "The future of the Uchiha clan doesn't need a sentimental clan leader."

Madara grabbed your wrist and pulled away, but not forcefully. "So what do you think the Uchiha need?"

“Power,” you answered without hesitation, “pure power, enough to crush everything, like…” A flash of golden light suddenly appeared in your left eye, so fast it was like an illusion.

Ban keenly noticed this change, "Your eyes..."

"I should go on patrol." You took a step back, the strange look in your eyes gone.

"Three days before the full moon, the elders planned to launch a surprise attack on the Senju clan's territory on that day." You turned and walked towards the door, then paused for a moment. "By the way, that Senju brat who challenged the others... is at the hunter's hut downstream of the Naka River."

Ban suddenly looked up. "How did you know?"

You waved your hand with your back to him, "Because I was the one who rescued him from Leng Xi. The child had a high fever, and if it had been half a day later, he would have been beyond saving."

You turned your head slightly to the side at the doorway, a meaningful smile playing on your lips. "Tell me," you said, "wouldn't you say this also count as having a soft heart?"

Suddenly, the torch burst into a burst of sparks, causing the two shadows to sway violently on the wall.

When the light and shadow stabilized again, the doorway was empty, with only Uchiha Nagi's last words still lingering in the air.

Ban stood alone in the center of the dark room, his right hand unconsciously touching his heart.

There lay a heavy burden: the promise to his dearest friend, the expectations for his younger brother, the weight of the entire clan, and... a ridiculous dream about peace that he himself was unwilling to admit.

The flames on the wall cast his shadow long, twisted, and deformed, like a black eagle about to spread its wings.

The night dew was heavy, and the gates of the Senju clan's territory slowly opened before Hashira and Itama.

The clansmen on night watch held torches, their orange-red light dancing on the two men's tired faces. Itama instinctively hid behind his brother. He had left home in early spring, and now he returned in late autumn. His thin clothes were already tattered, and Hashirama's outer robe looked too big on his shoulders.

"Young Clan Leader, you're finally back." Senju Momoka leaped down from the watchtower, her gaze sweeping over the small, thin figure behind Hashirama with some surprise. "Young Master Itama?"

Hashirama gripped his younger brother's cold hand tightly. "Momoka, where is Father?"

"The clan leader and all the elders are in the council hall," Tao Hua said in a low voice. "We've been waiting since evening, and no one has dared to go and rest."

She hesitated for a moment, then added, "We received news from the Uchiha clan that Madara released a group of our prisoners... The clan is discussing countermeasures."

Hashirama's lips curled up almost imperceptibly, but he quickly pursed them into a straight line.

He glanced down at the partitioned room—the boy's dirty face was full of anxiety, and his lips were chapped from prolonged dehydration.

Itama barely spoke the entire way, only repeatedly asking one question, "Will Father be angry?"

"Come with me." Hashirama tightened his grip on his younger brother's hand and strode toward the largest Japanese-style building in the center of the clan's territory.

The tribespeople along the way stopped and whispered among themselves, their voices spreading like ripples on water behind them.

"That's...Young Master Itama?"

"Wasn't it said he died at the hands of the Uchiha?"

"Where did the young clan leader come from...?"

The discussion abruptly ceased under the sharp gaze of the pillars, and bright light shone through the paper doors of the council chamber, carrying with it the heated debate of the elders.

Hashirama took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door.

More than twenty pairs of eyes shot over like sharp arrows. At the head of the long table sat Thousand-Handed Buddha, the clan leader known for his sternness. His hands were folded and rested on his chin, and a flicker of emotion flashed in his sharp eyes the moment he saw the board.

The man sitting on the right, Tomoma, suddenly stood up, the chair scraping loudly on the floor.

"Itama!" The usually calm and composed white-haired boy's voice trembled, and he didn't even notice the scroll in his hand falling to the ground.

"Second Brother..." Banjian took half a step forward and then stopped timidly.

The elders' scrutinizing gazes made him tremble involuntarily; surprise, suspicion, and calculation flashed across their wrinkled faces.

Butsuma gestured for Tobirama to sit down, his voice calm and unwavering, "What's going on here?"

Hashirama gently nudged Itama forward: "It was Madara who had Itama brought to the Naka River. Father, the Uchiha aren't as cruel and ruthless as we think; they could easily..."

"Absurd!" The elder of the third seat on the left slammed his fist on the table, his white beard trembling with anger. "Does the young clan leader really think that Uchiha Madara is merciful? There must be a conspiracy behind this!"

"That's not it!" Hashirama stepped forward, his broad shoulders blocking the gaze directed at his younger brother. "Itama has no seals or curses on him, they just..."

"Just what?" another elder sneered. "Just a sudden act of kindness? The Senju and Uchiha have been fighting for a thousand years. Every time they meet, it's a fight to the death. Has the young clan leader fallen for the Sharingan's genjutsu?!"

The temperature inside the council chamber plummeted. Hashirama felt Itama's little hand gripping the hem of his clothes tightly, and he could feel his brother's rapid breathing through the fabric.

Buddha remained in that posture, only his slightly taut jawline betraying his emotions.

"As the young patriarch of the Senju clan," the chief elder sitting to the right of the Buddha spoke slowly, his voice like a dull knife cutting flesh, "why did you give up such a good opportunity for a prisoner when you could have left Uchiha Madara behind to wait for our reinforcements?"

Hashirama's chest heaved violently. He remembered Madara's eyes when he stood in the shadows of the trees and said, "Next time we'll be rivals." He remembered the stone tower the two of them had built by the Naka River, and the pain of having to face each other with their swords on the battlefield countless times.

How can he explain these things? And who would understand?

"Enough." Butsuma finally spoke, his deep voice drowning out all the discussion. "Hashirama Senju was imprisoned in the dungeon for a month for letting the enemy go. Itama has been examined by the medical team, and after it is confirmed that he is alright, he will be under the care of Tobirama."

The council chamber erupted in commotion. Hashirama felt Itama's hand suddenly tighten. The boy turned and hugged his waist, burying his dirty face in Hashirama's chest.

Hashirama gently stroked his younger brother's straw-like hair, then looked up and stared directly into his father's eyes. "I will go to the dungeon on my own, but I don't think I've done anything wrong."

His voice was soft, yet it silenced the entire council chamber: “War is full of decay, and your hearts are decayed too.”

Butsuma's pupils suddenly contracted, and Hashirama released Itama, placing the boy's hand into Tobirama's, who had appeared beside him at some unknown time.

The white-haired boy gripped his younger brother's wrist tightly, his other hand pressing against the kunai at his waist, watching the elders warily.

"Father, I'll take my brother and leave first." Tobirama pulled Itama out without waiting for a reply, his movements seemingly rough but actually carefully avoiding the wound on Itama's arm.

After the door opened and closed, the council chamber fell into a deathly silence.

The Buddha remained in that posture, the candlelight casting deep shadows on his sharply defined face.

Hashirama turned and walked out, his wooden clogs making a dull thud on the tatami mat.

"Hashirama!" Butsuma suddenly called out.

Hashirama stopped at the doorway without turning around.

"Remember your identity." The voice of the Buddha was unusually weary. "The future of the Senju clan..."

Chapter 25 - Vermilion Bird

“That’s why I’m doing this, because I remember.” Hashirama interrupted his father. “You taught me that true strength is not about killing, but about protecting.”

He stepped out the door, and the moonlight poured down like water.

The lanterns of the medical team in the distance swayed as they approached, and one could vaguely hear Tobirama's urgent questioning and Itama's tearful reply.

Hashirama turned towards the dungeon, but saw Momoka standing with her arms crossed at the corner.

“I brought some bedding and medicine.” She handed over a bundle, her voice very low. “The innermost cell of the dungeon is next to the hot spring pipes, so it won’t be too cold.”

Zhu took the bundle, shook his head with a wry smile, and said, "I've dragged you into this."

Momoka gave him a deep look. "Young clan leader, do you really believe that you can reconcile with the Uchiha?"

Hashirama looked towards the Nanga Forest and did not answer.

But at that moment, the light in his eyes was more resolute than ever before.

Inside the council chamber, the elders took their leave one after another.

The last ninja to leave carefully closed the door. Through the crack as it was about to close, he saw the clan leader, known for his iron will, droop his head in dejection, looking as if he had aged ten years in an instant.

The crimson moonlight poured down like a viscous liquid, soaking into every inch of your skin.

You suddenly open your eyes and find yourself bound to a stone pillar by some invisible force, unable to move.