"Shinyuu, what are we supposed to do?" Shizune looked up, her vision blurred by tears. The usually composed medical ninja was completely overwhelmed, looking more like a lost child than a seasoned kunoichi.
"You've already done more than enough," Shinyuu said gently. He reached out, his thumb lightly brushing the tears from her cheek. "Leave the rest to me."
Shizune froze, startled by the warm weight of his hand. The Uchiha Shinyuu she knew was timid, self-deprecating, and quiet. But the boy standing before her felt entirely different. His dark eyes were as sharp and unwavering as a hawk's. Simply looking into them gave her an inexplicable sense of security.
Realizing how close he was, a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. She quickly shifted the topic to mask her fluster. "Their injuries are severe. How do we treat them? Unless we transport them back to the village or get more medics, they won't survive. And the captains are already discussing abandoning them."
"Don't worry. As long as I'm here, no one gets left behind," Shinyuu said, rolling his shoulders to test his newly healed muscles. "I'll put an end to this war, and we'll all go home together."
Before Shizune could process the sheer weight of that promise, Shinyuu playfully flicked her forehead. Leaving her completely stunned, he turned and walked toward the front of the cave.
"Jerk," Shizune muttered, instinctively rubbing her forehead. She realized her voice lacked its usual edge, her cheeks burning hotter as she scrambled to follow him.
Near the cave entrance, the tactical meeting had reached its grim conclusion.
"As acting captain, I propose we leave the heavily wounded behind and retreat immediately," Fu Yamanaka announced, his voice devoid of empathy. "All in favor, raise your hands."
Beside him, Torune Aburame raised a gloved hand. "Agreed. Transporting casualties will drag down the main unit's speed. Abandoning them is the only logical choice." He swept his cold gaze over the hesitant shinobi. "I urge you to consider this carefully. Don't forget what happened to the White Fang."
The mention of Hatake Sakumo sent a chill through the cave. The legendary White Fang had chosen his comrades over his mission, a decision that brought him disgrace and ultimately drove him to suicide. Human nature was fickle; the village only cared about the results, not the sacrifices made along the way. Torune's words effectively boxed the squad into a corner, using the fear of ostracization to force their compliance.
"There's no need to vote. We refuse. We aren't throwing away our teammates."
Shinyuu's voice cut through the heavy silence, calm and definitive.
Heads snapped toward him.
"Isn't that Uchiha Shinyuu?" someone whispered. "Wasn't he critically injured? How is he walking?"
Many still shuddered remembering how Shinyuu had been dragged out of the explosive tag trap, drenched in his own blood.
Torune and Fu's expressions darkened. As elites raised in Danzo's Root, they were considered prodigies in their own right. Their entire ideology was built on sacrificing anything—and anyone—for victory. Being publicly defied by a supposedly weak Chunin was an insult they weren't used to.
"You are just a Chunin, Shinyuu. You have no right to participate in this decision," Fu snapped, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "Step back into line immediately. If you speak out of turn and incite the ranks again, I will execute you under martial law."
The crowd tensed. The shinobi stared at Shinyuu, concluding that the blast must have scrambled his brains. No one in their right mind openly antagonized Root.
"Are you deaf?" Fu barked, his patience fraying. "Defying a captain's direct order is a death sentence!"
Torune chimed in, his tone dripping with icy contempt. "Do not forget our situation. We are being hunted by over a hundred Cloud elites and the A-B Combo. This is a world where the strong devour the weak. Trash who haven't even reached Jonin don't get a voice. I will give you two choices: shut your mouth and cower in the corner, or die."
Their murderous intent flooded the air.
"Shinyuu, step back!" Shizune rushed forward, throwing herself between him and the captains. She bowed hastily. "Please forgive him! His head injury was severe, his mind isn't clear yet—"
Shinyuu placed a hand on her shoulder, gently moving her aside. He met Torune's glare without blinking.
"So, what you're saying is," Shinyuu began, his tone almost conversational, "comrades are allowed to kill each other?"
He tilted his head slightly. "Does that mean I can kill you, too?"
The sheer audacity of the question echoed off the stone walls, draining the color from the surrounding ninjas' faces. This defiant, provocative boy was lightyears away from the cowardly Shinyuu they knew.
Torune burst into a derisive laugh. "What a joke. We knew the Uchiha were getting arrogant, but your naivety is staggering. With your pathetic scraps of power, you actually threaten to kill me?"
"A useless Chunin," Fu sneered, his hand drifting toward his kunai pouch. "If you had stayed quiet, we might have let you drag yourself along. Not anymore. Insubordination is treason. We have every right to put you down. The weak belong shivering in the dark."
Before Fu could draw his weapon, a purple-haired Jonin pushed her way to the front. "Fu, you're crossing the line," Uzuki said sharply. "We are all Leaf shinobi. In a crisis like this, we need to calmly discuss our options, not turn on each other."
"Stay out of this, Uzuki," Fu warned. "Command gave us full authority over this mission. This kid is dead weight and openly defying orders. Killing him is within our rights."
"I see," Shinyuu murmured, a mocking smile curving his lips. "So having power gives you the right to take a life?"
He looked up, his eyes locking onto the two Root captains. "Then let me show you what despair really is."
In a fraction of a second, the pitch-black irises of his eyes were consumed by a violent, bloody crimson.
Normally, an Uchiha's Sharingan evolved in strict stages: one tomoe, two tomoe, and finally three. Three tomoe was the undisputed pinnacle of the clan's visual prowess known to the world at large.
But as the surrounding shinobi watched in horror, dark shapes materialized within Shinyuu's crimson eyes. One, two, three... all the way to nine pitch-black tomoe, spinning wildly before snapping together into a complex, terrifyingly intricate pattern.
A monstrous wave of ocular power erupted from him. It wasn't just chakra; it was a physical, suffocating pressure that blasted outward like a hurricane, centering on Shinyuu. His dark hair whipped violently in the sudden gale, and the sheer weight of his gaze paralyzed everyone in the cavern.
"What... what kind of eyes are those?!" a shinobi gasped, falling to his knees.
"Wasn't his Sharingan only at one tomoe? Now there are... one, two... nine?!"
"How is this possible? Three tomoe is supposed to be the limit! What in the world is a nine-tomoe Sharingan?!"
Panic ripped through the ranks. They didn't understand the mechanics behind the bizarre, blood-red eyes staring them down, but their survival instincts screamed a singular truth. Under the crushing weight of that gaze, it felt as though they were no longer looking at a defiant Chunin, but an incarnate natural disaster.