The closer Isamu got to the Uchiha camp, the heavier the atmosphere became.
Something felt wrong.
The forest had grown unusually quiet. Even the occasional chirping of birds had disappeared, leaving nothing but the soft rustling of leaves and the sound of his own unsteady footsteps. His breathing was shallow, his throat dry, and every movement sent another wave of pain through his battered body.
Yet, despite his exhaustion, he could feel it.
Eyes.
Dozens of them.
Watching him from the trees, from behind bushes, perhaps even from the branches above. He couldn't see them, but he could feel their presence.
He continued walking.
His clothes were little more than rags now. His dark shirt was torn in several places, his trousers were covered in dirt, and dried blood stained the fabric around his waist and arms. A blood-soaked piece of cloth was wrapped around his face, covering the terrible wound where his left eye had once been.
Every few steps, his vision blurred.
He was running on nothing but determination.
Eventually, the trees began to thin, revealing a clearing beyond them. Wooden barricades, watchtowers and several rows of tents came into view. The Uchiha camp.
He had made it.
For a moment, Isamu simply stood there, staring at the entrance. This was where his mother had told him to go. This was where he was supposed to find people who would protect him. This was where he would become strong enough to avenge her.
But before he could take another step, someone appeared beside him.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Isamu flinched.
A Uchiha soldier stood beside him, having seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He wore dark armour, with the Uchiha crest displayed proudly on his back. His hand rested close to the weapon attached to his waist as he examined the boy.
His eyes narrowed.
The child looked terrible.
His clothes were torn, his skin was pale, and a bloodstained bandage covered half his face. He looked as though he had crawled out of a battlefield.
Isamu slowly turned his head towards him.
He tried to speak, but nothing came out.
His lips parted slightly. His throat tightened.
He was so tired.
"Well?" the soldier pressed.
Before Isamu could gather his thoughts, another figure appeared behind them.
This one was younger, perhaps in his early twenties. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his expression carried the sort of impatience that came from dealing with troublesome people all day.
His Sharingan was already active.
"You're deaf? Or mute?" he asked with a faint sneer.
Isamu swallowed.
"I-I… I am…"
"Speak up, boy."
The young soldier folded his arms.
Isamu's hands began to tremble. His knees threatened to give way beneath him, but he forced himself to remain standing.
He couldn't collapse here. Not before they knew who he was. He had come too far. With the last bit of strength he could muster, Isamu raised his head.
His right eye changed.
The familiar red iris appeared, with a single tomoe slowly rotating around its pupil.
Both soldiers noticed immediately.
"I am Isamu Uchiha!" he shouted, his voice cracking beneath the strain. "And I'm—"
His body finally gave out.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed face-first into the dirt.
For a moment, neither soldier moved. They exchanged a look. The younger one crouched down, examining the boy's Sharingan.
"Well, that's interesting."
The older guard glanced towards the camp.
"Grab him."
The younger soldier sighed, slipping an arm beneath Isamu's shoulders.
"Fucking hell. Just what we needed."
He lifted the unconscious boy and carried him towards the camp.
Pain.
That was the first thing Isamu recognised.
It was everywhere.
His back ached, his arms felt impossibly heavy, and even the smallest movement sent sharp jolts of pain through his body. His head throbbed, and his throat felt as though he hadn't drunk water in days. He tried to move his arm. A sharp sting immediately forced him to stop.
Where was he?
His memories came back slowly.
The death of his mother.
The forest.
The entrance.
The soldiers.
His Sharingan.
Then darkness.
"He's awake."
A voice broke through his thoughts.
Isamu's eyes fluttered open.
He found himself lying on a thin blanket inside a tent. The material above him was a dull brown, supported by wooden poles, and a small lantern hanging nearby provided enough light to illuminate the interior.
The air smelled of herbs, medicine and damp fabric.
He turned his head slightly.
Two men were standing a short distance away.
The first was the young man from the entrance.
He was leaning against one of the wooden supports, his arms folded across his chest. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, and his half-lidded eyes made him look as though he would rather be sleeping.
The second man was considerably older.
He stood with his hands tucked into the sleeves of his clothing. His dark hair was beginning to show signs of age, but his posture remained perfectly straight. There was something about him that Isamu couldn't quite explain.
Something that made the air around him feel heavier.
Isamu instinctively became more alert.
The older man noticed.
"You're awake."
Isamu tried to sit up.
"Don't."
The command was quiet, but carried enough authority to make him stop.
"Your body is in no condition to be moving around. You've lost a considerable amount of blood, and several of your injuries haven't even begun to heal properly."
Isamu swallowed, his throat painfully dry. The older man reached for a cup resting on a small wooden table and handed it to him.
"Drink."
Isamu hesitated.
The man raised an eyebrow.
"If I wanted you dead, boy, you wouldn't have woken up."
Isamu carefully accepted the cup. He drank slowly, allowing the water to soothe his aching throat. It wasn't much, but it helped. Once he had finished, the older man pulled a small stool closer and sat opposite him.
"Now, I have a few questions."
Isamu lowered the cup
"First, tell me how a child possessing the Sharingan managed to find himself so deep inside Hyuga territory."
Isamu opened his mouth.
"I-I… I…"
"Take your time," the older man said, although his expression remained serious.
Isamu glanced between the two men. He didn't know how much he could trust them. He didn't even know who they were.
"What happened to your eye?" the older man asked.
His hand went to feel his face and found that it was properly bandaged.
For a moment, the boy said nothing.
His fingers tightened around the cup.
He could still remember it.
The screaming.
The pain.
His mother's voice.
The moment everything had been taken from him. His remaining eye darkened, and his expression changed.
"The Hyuga."
The two men exchanged a brief glance.
"The Hyuga?" the older man repeated.
Isamu nodded.
There was a short silence.
"Hmmm."
The older man leaned back slightly, studying the boy.
"The Hyuga are responsible for your injuries?"
Isamu looked down. He knew he had to be careful.
His mother had told him about the Uchiha when they were on the farm. She had told him that the Uchiha were proud people, fiercely protective of their bloodline and traditions. She told him to lie about the his true identity. If they discovered the truth about his heritage, there was no telling how they would react. He was already an outsider to the Hyuga. He couldn't afford to become one to the Uchiha as well.
So he lied.
"Yes."
His voice was quieter now.
"My mother… she moved us here because the fighting wasn't as bad. We thought we'd be safe."
He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"But a few days ago, the Hyuga found out about us."
The younger man finally moved away from the wooden support.
"Found out about what?"
Isamu hesitated.
"That we were living here."
"And?"
"They killed her."
The words came out almost as a whisper.
For the first time since waking up, Isamu struggled to maintain his composure.
He looked away, blinking several times.
"They killed my mother."
Neither man spoke immediately.
The older Uchiha watched him carefully, his expression difficult to read. He had seen plenty of children lose their parents during the ongoing conflict. It was hardly an uncommon occurrence in the Warring States Period.
But something about this particular boy caught his attention. A child with the Sharingan. Deep inside Hyuga territory. Bearing injuries severe enough to suggest he had barely escaped with his life. There was more to the story. He was certain of it. However, before he could ask another question, the younger man spoke.
"Then why come here?"
Isamu turned towards him.
The younger Uchiha tilted his head.
"Did you think we'd simply take you in?"
Isamu stared at him.
"Well?"
"I…"
The boy didn't know what to say.
He had imagined this moment countless times during his journey. He had imagined arriving at the Uchiha camp, being welcomed, and finding somewhere he belonged.
He hadn't imagined being questioned like a criminal.
"Did you expect us to give you shelter and food?" the younger man continued. "You show up looking half-dead, claiming to be an Uchiha, and expect us to believe every word?"
He pushed himself away from the support and took a few steps closer.
"What exactly do you have to offer us that we don't already have?"
Isamu remained silent.
"And how are we supposed to know you're not some spy? For all we know, that Sharingan could have been stolen from one of our own."
The words stung.
Stolen?
His Sharingan was his. It was part of him. He had suffered to awaken it. Isamu's grip tightened around the cup.
The younger man noticed but continued.
"You're not the first person to claim Uchiha blood, and you certainly won't be the last."
"Enough, Hikaku," the older man interrupted.
Hikaku glanced at him.
"What? I'm only asking reasonable questions."
"Then allow him to answer."
Hikaku sighed and stepped back, though the unimpressed expression never left his face. The older man returned his attention to Isamu.
"Well, boy?"
Isamu looked down at his hands.
He could feel his heart beating faster.
He didn't know what would happen if they rejected him. He had nowhere else to go. His mother was gone and his home was gone.
He had spent days walking through unfamiliar forests, surviving on whatever little food he could find. He had almost died reaching this place. He couldn't leave empty-handed.
"I don't know…"
His voice trembled.
Then he looked up.
"But my mother told me to come here. We heard that your clan had established a camp a few miles from where we lived, so I thought…"
He paused.
"So you thought what?" Hikaku asked.
Isamu looked directly at him.
"That I would find my people."
For a brief moment, the tent fell silent.
Hikaku's expression didn't change, but he looked away. Isamu continued.
"I don't know what you expect me to say. I don't have anything. I don't have money, I don't have a home, and I don't have anyone else."
His voice grew quieter.
"But I'm not asking you to feed me or give me somewhere to sleep."
He took a shaky breath.
"I'm asking you to train me."
Both men looked at him.
"I want to become stronger."
His fingers curled into fists.
"Strong enough that nobody can ever do something like that to me again."
His voice began to rise.
"I want to become a warrior. I want to fight. And I know you can use all the help you can get against the Senju."
That last sentence seemed to catch their attention.
Hikaku raised an eyebrow.
The older man remained perfectly still.
Isamu continued, his single visible eye burning with determination.
"I don't care how difficult it is. I'll train harder than anyone. I'll do whatever you ask of me. Just give me a chance."
For the first time since entering the tent, Hikaku had nothing to say.
He studied the boy.
He was practically falling apart. His body was covered in injuries, and he could barely remain conscious.
Yet he was talking about becoming a warrior.
Hikaku almost found it amusing. The older man, however, seemed considerably more interested. He rose from his seat.
"If that's truly what you want, then I have no objection."
Isamu looked up.
"Really?"
"Yes."
The older man turned towards Hikaku.
"Since the boy wishes to become a warrior, you will be responsible for his training."
Hikaku's relaxed expression disappeared.
"Me?"
"Do you see anyone else here?"
"With all due respect, why me?"
"Because you are capable, and because I said so."
Hikaku stared at him for a moment before letting out a long sigh.
"Wonderful."
Isamu looked between them. He wasn't entirely sure what was happening. Was this really it? Had they accepted him?
The older man turned towards the boy.
"Listen carefully, Isamu."
The boy straightened as much as his injuries allowed.
"You are currently in the Uchiha camp. This is a military settlement, not a place for children to wander around freely. Everyone here has a purpose, and everyone is expected to contribute in some way."
He paused.
"If you wish to become a warrior, you will be treated as one in training. You will learn our ways, follow our orders and understand what it means to carry the Uchiha name."
Isamu nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"Don't thank me just yet. Training under Hikaku will not be pleasant."
Hikaku gave a faint smirk.
"He's right about that."
The older man continued.
"For now, however, you need rest. A healer will be sent to properly treat your injuries. You'll remain here until you're fit enough to move."
He began walking towards the entrance of the tent.
Isamu watched him.
There was something reassuring about the man's presence, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something dangerous beneath that calm exterior.
Just before leaving, the older man stopped.
He turned his head slightly.
"One more thing, boy."
Isamu immediately looked towards him.
"If I discover that you've lied about your identity, if you're caught doing anything suspicious, or if you prove to be a threat to this camp…"
His voice became colder.
"I'll kill you personally."
The words hung in the air.
Isamu swallowed.
"Understood."
AN: his left eye is gone. But when the byukugan activates it appear. Ik it's not realistic but fuck it