210. Begins

At dawn, a figure darted through the dense forest, treading on the tender green grass of early spring, and finally stopped by a winding riverbank.

“Ah, such nostalgia!”

Over a decade had passed. The boy from back then had grown into a man, but the stream of the Naka River still flowed as gently as ever, unchanged by the passage of time.

“Who would’ve thought the Senju clan had already pushed the frontlines this far? It seems like my cousin and the others are really struggling.”

Uchiha Gin crouched down, dipped his hand into the icy water, and looked up. In the distance, the towering wooden golems loomed. He sighed deeply, his eyes tinged with melancholy.

The Naka River was only a dozen kilometers from the Uchiha clan's homeland. The shockwaves from the massive battles between Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama were loud and clear within the clan’s territory. Ordinary clan members lived in constant anxiety, and merchants who used to frequent the area had long since fled. The once vibrant Uchiha territory now exuded desolation.

“Ah... I hope that once this act is over, I’ll finally see the gates of Konoha.”

Pep-talking himself, Uchiha Gin stood up, stretched, and a rare seriousness gleamed in his usually lazy eyes. Clapping his hands together, he produced a wooden branch from his body. The branch fell to the ground and transformed into a wooden clone.

“Hey, main body, can I play the uncle and just die right away?”

The wooden clone, forced into existence, immediately received the plan in its mind. As a mere tool without benefits or insurance, it expressed its reasonable dissatisfaction with being overworked, raising its hand to suggest portraying Uchiha Tajima and promptly kicking the bucket.

“No, I’ll play the uncle. You’ll play the white-haired guy. I’m worried you’ll get stabbed and dispel the clone.”

Uchiha Gin shook his head, rejecting the idea. He wasn’t about to let anything go wrong with his final performance in the Warring States era.

“What, clones don’t have rights now?”

The clone sneered at the explanation, doubting it would ever make such a rookie mistake.

“Stop complaining!”

“Fine, fine...”

Resigned, the clone rolled its eyes and formed a single hand sign. With a technique of disguise, green wood branches wrapped around its body. When the branches fell away, a familiar white-haired figure emerged, crimson eyes glinting, and stared at the main body with an annoyed expression.

“Perfect! That expression is spot on.”

Impressed by the clone’s flawless performance, Uchiha Gin couldn’t help but clap. He then used the same technique to transform into a weathered Uchiha Tajima. His sharp eyes and powerful aura exuded overwhelming presence.

“Have you memorized the script?”

In his role as the uncle, Uchiha Gin frowned and addressed the unwilling “Tobirama,” who grudgingly nodded.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll stick to the script.”

In the face of greater responsibility, the clone set aside its dissatisfaction and nodded seriously.

“Good! Let’s move out!”

With everything prepared, Uchiha Gin gazed at the collapsing giants in the distance and waved his hand.

The show was about to begin.

In the heart of the battlefield between the Uchiha and Senju clans, the members of both sides had tacitly cleared a space for their leaders to duel. The vast clearing was littered with shattered boulders, uprooted trees, and deep craters. Dust clouds, carried by shockwaves, rose dozens of meters into the air. Two towering giants, blotting out the sky, were slowly crumbling.

“Hashirama!”

“Madara!”

Two swift figures leapt down from the heads of the giants. Uchiha Madara, wielding his fan with fervor, charged at Senju Hashirama, who showed no fear as he raised his massive broadsword to meet his former friend in battle.

“Clang!”

The clash of their weapons sent a violent shockwave through the battlefield, forcing ordinary clan members to retreat in fear.

“Stand back! This isn’t a fight you can interfere with.”

A flash of gold appeared in front of the advancing Senju members. In the blink of an eye, a figure clad in indigo armor arrived, slightly out of breath. It was Senju Tobirama, who had used Flying Thunder God to reach the scene. His trembling hands hung at his sides as his crimson eyes radiated an oppressive aura, stopping his clansmen from throwing their lives away needlessly.

Meanwhile, the late-arriving Uchiha Izuna shot a glare at Tobirama, who had fled mid-battle with him earlier. He then turned to the enraged Uchiha members and shouted,

“Don’t interfere with my brother’s fight!”

He followed up with a taunt aimed at Tobirama:

“Hey, white-haired freak! Did your dead old man only teach you how to run away?”

“Damn you! Evil Uchiha scum!”

Tobirama, far from the composed leader he would one day become, gritted his teeth in anger. Drawing a battered blade, he looked at it with pained affection before bending his fingers and vanishing from sight.

“Hmph! Coming to scratch me again?”

Knowing Tobirama’s methods well, Izuna snorted, activating his Mangekyo Sharingan. He scanned his surroundings warily, waiting for the attack.

As Izuna’s eyes darted around, Tobirama suddenly appeared under his ribcage. His blade, coated in blue chakra, thrust mercilessly at Izuna’s exposed flank.

“Clang!”