At the same time, further south of Ryusei’s newly assigned sector, hidden deep within the larger semi-division stationed at the very southern tip of the Land of Hot Water, Kiyomi Uchiha sat at the hideout in the center of her forces.

In the dim light of the hideout, she leafed through reports one after another.

She was thirteen now. More womanly in frame, sharper in bearing.

Yet her face had only grown colder over the past half year, colder even toward her own clansmen.

On the surface, most assumed it was the weight of her rising kill count since arriving here months ago.

But Kiyomi knew the truth. It wasn’t just that.

“Ryusei…” That name surfaced again, unbidden.

The strange former classmate who, against all expectations, had played a key role in the Kumo incursion just north of here a few days ago.

The same battle that eventually snowballed and secured Yugakure itself, nearly the entire Hot Water, where she was also stationed, and forced Kumogakure out, an outcome thought impossible until it happened.

She had read of it quickly again, like many times during the last few days, as she was notified of it relatively fastest due to the proximity, and her pulse had quickened the instant she saw his name and battlefield record.

For some reason, pride and warmth stirred in her chest, as though it were she herself who had achieved that victory.

Catching herself, she flushed faintly, muttering words that, had her subordinates heard them, they would have thought themselves hallucinating.

But the softness vanished as quickly as it came. Her face hardened once more, small fists clenching.

By now, she knew Ryusei was also deployed somewhere close by.

His group had come from the north and was likely stationed as backup in the rear, not far from her own position at the extreme south.

Yet despite being so near, she could not see him. Just like before.

There were many logistical difficulties for that meeting, and she had her subordinates to command here, and not just any subordinates; it included Uchiha clansmen of all kinds, many of whom could report back to the patriarch or her grandpa in Konoha.

Any misstep, any hint of “private contact,” would spread instantly, no matter the difference in time and place.

“It’s still the same as before…” Kiyomi’s face hardened, anger flashing in her eyes.

Since that last meeting half a year ago, she had figured out what happened.

Some of the five subordinates assigned to her back then must have reported everything to the clan.

Fugaku and her grandfather had kept it quiet, but her grandfather had explicitly forbidden her from ever contacting that boy again.

That day, he had told her many truths she hadn’t known before. Darker truths.

He explained that it wasn’t only her status that bound her future, but her bloodline itself.

Because of her Sharingan potential, she would eventually have to be matched with the highest-grade male of her generation, or even across generations, just to ensure that her dojutsu talent would pass on.

That was clan tradition. Every clan, he said, had the right to arrange marriages as they saw fit.

From that point on, Kiyomi stopped feeling proud of being Uchiha. She began looking at her clan differently.

Foolish, that was what she called herself, for never having considered this despite already being thirteen.

But because of her status and because her grandfather doted on her, no one had ever dared to bring it up until then.

Worse still, her grandfather had added one more sentence, one that shattered her completely.

Even if the clan allowed it, that boy would not live much longer.

Those were his exact words. Because, he said, he had already guessed the truth of his identity.

Ryusei was the last remnant of the Senju revivalist faction, and therefore the biggest internal target of the entire current village leadership.

He also explained everything about his identity and what happened to Senju more deeply.

Kiyomi had been devastated when she heard it. In that moment, she realized there was no solution.

She couldn’t betray her clan, not after her upbringing, not while her doting grandfather’s, who raised her, approval meant a lot to her still, even if her feelings toward the clan as a whole had already soured.

And the only other path, the idea of siding with Konoha’s Hokage faction, was impossible as well.

That would not only spit on her grandfather’s hardliner teachings, but it was also the same leadership hunting Ryusei.

So she had cried. For days. Secretly, alone, torn apart. Under that pressure, her eyes had changed, her three tomoe awakened, and she already carried one of the strongest Sharingan in the clan at just 13.

Then the war began. The Uchiha were dispatched in great numbers to the southeastern front a few months afterward.

She had demanded her place there, partly to escape the cage she felt closing in, partly because she had matured almost overnight.

Even so, she never stopped thinking of “solutions.” For in her own mind, even if Ryusei had never agreed to anything, she already considered them a “thing.”

It was during that time she caught wind of something more.

From careless words spoken by her grandfather and other elders, she pieced together the existence of a higher stage of the Sharingan.

The Mangekyō.

She knew that anyone who awakened it became Kage-class instantly.

And in her mind, if she could reach it, when not even Fugaku, the patriarch, possessed it, then she would be untouchable.

The strongest, the most important Uchiha alive. More powerful and valuable than any elder, more than Fugaku himself.

And if she reached that point, who could stop her from choosing whomever she wanted?

With that strength, she also believed she could even protect Ryusei against the entire leadership of the village.

That was why she came to this front. To hone her Sharingan, to stare into death, to push herself toward that awakening.

Yet months passed since her three tomoe had awakened, and the Mangekyō never came.

She knew it required severe trauma, emotions that could not be faked.

She tried to force it anyway, but nothing worked.

Despite her rapid growth, already among the top of the Elite Jōnin hierarchy, second perhaps only to Fugaku despite the vast age gap, she felt it was nothing. It wasn’t enough.

Not enough to give her control of her fate, not enough to make her truly free. And that was what she now desired more than anything.

She still couldn’t see Ryusei, even though he was so close.

Just like in the village, she didn’t dare. Any of her five subordinates could be watching.

Even though she had grown cold to them, sometimes humiliatingly so, they never left her squad, always hovering like guards on a mission.

Deep down, she also feared that even her identity alone, matched to Ryusei’s, would bring him more trouble.

And then the war itself pulled her in. As a hardliner with such potential, she should never have been dispatched, yet even her grandfather had to yield.

She had threatened that if they didn’t allow her to go, she would enlist directly under Konoha’s command.

Fugaku too was pushing the clan to prove themselves in this war, to gain merit and integrate better into the village.

So her grandfather, the Great Elder Nobukata, eventually gave way, partly to give Fugaku face. Days of persuasion finally broke him.

Now the majority of the Uchiha here were from Fugaku’s neutral faction, their presence an obvious political move.

The hardliners stayed behind as police in greater numbers, uninterested in fighting Konoha’s war, some even refusing to see themselves as true parts of the village at this point already.

But Kiyomi had come. As the second strongest Uchiha in the south, she was given sub-command, leading a semi-division, now, eventually, after Kirigakure’s surprise incursion.

The other division commanders were leashes by the Hokage’s faction, their task clear: to contain Fugakure’s and Uchiha merit.

Kiyomi only gained her position accidentally because of the suddenness of the Kiri incursion here and her previous battlefield record.

And so she sat now, commander of her own force, her Sharingan burning in the shadows.

Yet inside, all she could think of was how nothing had changed.

She was about to return her eyes to the reports when her pretty brows furrowed, a faint look of disgust flashing across her face.

The sound of those footsteps was all too familiar and unwanted.

Reiji Uchiha. Sixteen years old, a grandson of another hardliner elder, already with two tomoe in his eyes.

Her grandfather, promptly after the previous “incident”, and the other elders, including the patriarch, had probably agreed upon and then made their intent clear: he was the one they wanted for her now.

Judging by how they made sure he was always dispatched somewhere near her on this front, and some hints before she left.

He had an older brother, too, Shirou Uchiha, one of the clan’s strongest Elite Jōnin, already with three tomoe, nearly a decade older.

So they were truly a very blessed lineage in the last few decades.

But it was Reiji the clan had selected. He was considered the one with the most potential, closest to her own generation, the one most “worthy” of her.

That alone was enough to disgust her.

As for the boy himself, she thought of him as nothing more than an irritating fly.

An annoying simp who never stopped buzzing around her in subtle ways.

Always hovering, always trying to “help,” admiring her too obviously while pretending to be reserved and proud.

Every word from him carried some hint, as if they were already a done deal and she should simply yield to it.

Kiyomi hated him. Hated that smug, quiet assumption more than anything.

But she also knew the truth: nothing could happen to him. Not here, not on this battlefield.

The elders would never allow it. So she treated him as poorly as she could, ignoring him, swatting him aside with words whenever possible. Like a fly that refused to die.

She couldn’t understand how anyone could seriously claim that kind of person was more “worthy” than Ryusei, she knew.

To her, it was absurd, idiotic even, to put their names in the same sentence, even if such assumptions came from her own grandfather.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep