"You can't just slander me like that!" Uchiha Madara roared, face flushed, at Uchiha Gin. He regretted confiding in his unreliable cousin. "I thought you'd have wise advice, being older. Turns out you're just shallow! I, Madara, am ashamed to be associated with you!"
With a huff, he stormed out.
"Hey, don't go! Let me give you tips, or you'll be pinned down forever!" Uchiha Gin shouted, hands cupped like a megaphone, drawing curious glances and whispers from passersby in the corridor.
Madara wished he had extra legs to flee faster.
At the door, Uchiha Izuna, seeing his brother's frantic escape, dropped the medicine he'd just picked up and chased after him, sparking a youthful pursuit.
Uchiha Tajima, baffled, watched his sons bolt. Turning to Uchiha Gin, he asked, "Gin, what'd you do to tease Madara this time?"
"Heh, nothing much. Ask Izuna—he said he'll report it to you himself," Uchiha Gin said, squinting with a grin.
"So rude. I'll discipline that boy," Tajima said, shaking his head, seemingly apologetic for Madara's behavior.
"Uncle, you're treating me like an outsider," Uchiha Gin replied. In private, Tajima preferred "uncle" over "Clan Leader."
"Gin, my mistake. I sent you to work right after a mission, no rest," Tajima said, guilt in his voice.
"You're too kind. It's my fault for not being skilled enough, getting injured by the Senju," Uchiha Gin said, having overheard Madara and Izuna. Elder Mio had chalked his coma up to an old mission injury, so he played along to avoid suspicion.
"Head injuries need proper rest. Don't let it linger," Tajima said, patting his shoulder, acting the caring elder.
But Uchiha Gin caught a fleeting glint of scrutiny in his eyes.
"Gin, you didn't finish your last mission report. After encountering the Uzumaki, what happened? Any suspicious figures?" Tajima asked casually, shifting to the mission.
Thinking back, Uchiha Gin recalled his report being cut short after revealing his Sharingan, never completed.
"We faced the Uzumaki and were quickly outmatched in numbers and strength," Uchiha Gin said, feigning thought. "Their leader, a muscled guy, overwhelmed Captain Fuka. Luckily, I captured a young Uzumaki in the forest."
Recalling Mito Uzumaki's cute ponytail, he smiled. "The kid seemed important. I used her as leverage to draw the leader away. We struck a deal: I released her, and he let us live."
Tajima nodded at the half-true tale. "Cool-headed under pressure. Worthy of my nephew."
"All thanks to your guidance, Uncle," Uchiha Gin flattered.
"No other strange people or objects?" Tajima pressed, undeterred.
"Hmm… now that you mention it," Uchiha Gin said, tapping his hand as if recalling, "the Uzumaki kid pulled out a ninja tool to resist."
"What tool?" Tajima's interest piqued.
"Just a pearl, nothing special. She activated it, and a rune hit me, but nothing happened. Probably broken," Uchiha Gin said, shrugging, feigning no effects.
"Where'd it hit?"
"Here." Uchiha Gin pointed to his head.
"I see. Rest up, Gin. Take a break from work," Tajima said, a subtle frown flickering before he stood.
"I'm fine. I can work tomorrow," Uchiha Gin insisted, hopping off the bed and doing a few flashy moves to prove it.
"Don't push yourself," Tajima relented, nodding.
Uchiha Gin smiled as his uncle left, but once alone, his grin faded.
Tajima was hiding something.
During their talk, an inexplicable gut feeling warned Uchiha Gin of Tajima's veiled malice toward him.
An illusion? he wondered, but the sensation, once rooted, lingered.
Soon, Uchiha Gin, packed up, left the medical bed. Noticing the late hour, he headed home.
At the market, he bought extra food—durable ingredients so Senju Itama could survive if he didn't return.
As he paid, he sensed sudden malice from the vendor. Caught off guard, he tossed the money to the shifty-eyed merchant and left.
Walking home, head down, he mulled over the feeling. Illusion or something else?
Opening his door, no Itama ambush awaited. The once-messy room was spotless.
Hearing the door, black-haired Itama, in an apron, peeked from the kitchen, eyeing Uchiha Gin's sour expression. "Back early today?"
"What're you doing, kid?" Uchiha Gin asked, testing his new sense on Itama. No malice.
"Hmph, I cooked for myself. Make your own!" Itama said, wielding a spatula.
"Whoa, a Senju young master cooking?" Uchiha Gin teased, squeezing into the kitchen. He froze at the pan's indescribable contents. "What's this, some cursed dish?"
"Who're you mocking? Try it—it's amazing!" Itama, stung by the doubt, scooped a mosaic-like blob and thrust it at him.
"No thanks, I'd rather not meet my Uchiha great-grandma yet," Uchiha Gin refused, valuing his life.
"Don't beg for a bite later," Itama said, oozing confidence, shoving a chunk in his mouth.
Seconds later…
"Don't die on me!" Uchiha Gin shook the foaming Itama, regretting not eating it himself. He'd only get a stomachache; this kid was reckless.
Thankfully, Itama survived, vomiting everything after Uchiha Gin's shaking, narrowly escaping death.
Looking at the frail kid, Uchiha Gin felt a pang of fear. Itama's life was tied to his—any harm to the boy could doom him too.
Scooping up the light, bonelessly soft Itama, Uchiha Gin studied his sleeping face. The kid's round, delicate features weren't so bad—almost cute.
Shaking off the odd thought, he scoffed. I'm not Madara. No way I'd have thoughts about a Senju guy.
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