Silent protection and the long journey home
The carriage bumped along the bumpy dirt road, the monotonous creaking of the wooden wheels the only constant noise inside. Uchiha Aoi huddled on the lightly blanketed seat, her small body swaying feebly with the vehicle's swaying. Her new, plain kimono, much softer than her previous one, still offered no warmth.
Her stomach churned violently. A strong feeling of dizziness and nausea surged up her throat. This five-year-old's body was clearly unable to cope with such a long and bumpy journey. Her face was pale, and a fine layer of cold sweat oozed from her forehead. She bit her lower lip tightly, trying hard not to vomit.
A bony hand lifted the car window curtain from the outside, revealing Uchiha Madara's dark, emotionless eyes. He glanced at Aoi's condition, frowned slightly, and then lowered the curtain.
From outside came his cold and concise command: "Slow down. Rest at the edge of the woods ahead."
The car slowed down significantly and the bumpy feeling lessened. Aoi finally couldn't help but dry heave a few times and curled up in discomfort.
The convoy stopped beside a relatively flat woodland. The door was opened, and Ban stood outside, handing in a leather water bag and a small piece of dark-colored object wrapped in clean leaves.
"Drink some water. Hold this in your mouth." His tone remained flat, as if he was giving combat orders rather than expressing concern.
Kui took it timidly. The water in the bag was refreshing, slightly soothing the discomfort in her throat. She looked at the object within the leaf. It was a rather unassuming, dark brown candied plum. She hesitantly placed it in her mouth, and a burst of intensely sour and astringent flavor instantly exploded, stimulating her saliva. Then, a light aftertaste of sweetness washed over her, miraculously suppressing the overwhelming nausea.
"Thank you...Brother Madara." She whispered, her voice still a little weak.
Madara didn't respond, simply glancing at her to confirm she was alright. Then, he turned and walked towards the guards who were on guard and feeding the horses, asking in a low voice about the route and the surrounding situation. His profile, cast in the shadows of the trees, looked particularly stern, not at all like a boy of twelve or thirteen.
After a short rest, they set off again. Aoi noticed that Madara had ordered a slower pace and seemed to be intentionally choosing a relatively flat route. While still bumpy, it was now within her tolerable range. She clutched her water bladder, the sour plum pit in her mouth, and furtively watched the tall figure on horseback outside the window. An indescribable, subtle warmth seeped into her cold, anxious heart.
Night fell quickly. The wilderness was bitterly cold. The guards expertly chose a sheltered valley to set up camp, lit a campfire, and established a simple perimeter.
Wrapped in a thick cloak, Kui was still shivering with cold, huddled by the fire, trying to absorb the little warmth she could. The maid brought her some food, a roasted rice ball and some pickles, but she had no appetite and only managed to eat half of it.
The crackling bonfire illuminated the silent, vigilant faces of the guards. Madara sat a little further away from the fire, polishing his kunai and shuriken. His movements were focused and fluid, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond the firelight's reach.
Late at night, Aoi was arranged to sleep in a fur-covered carriage. But the cold and fear kept her awake. The wind in the wilderness wailed like a ghost, and the howls of unknown beasts drifted in and out. She wrapped herself tightly in her cloak, her body shivering uncontrollably.
Suddenly, the carriage door was gently opened, and a dark blue Uchiha clan jacket, still warm from body temperature, was thrown in, covering her perfectly.
Aoi looked up in surprise, only to see Madara turning and leaving. He seemed to have just gotten up to inspect and done this casually. He walked back to his night watch position, sat down again, and continued to stare at the darkness in silence, as if nothing had happened.
The coat was far too large for the five-year-old girl, practically enveloping her completely. It still lingered with the boy's fresh breath, a faint odor of sweat, and a faint hint of gunpowder. But more importantly, the solid warmth of his body dispelled the chill and strangely soothed the fear within her. She buried her face in the soft clothing, absorbing its silent, yet firm protection, and finally drifted off to sleep.
The journey wasn't always peaceful. Once, while passing through a narrow valley, Madara suddenly raised his hand, and the entire convoy stopped instantly. All the guards almost simultaneously entered combat mode, their hands on their weapons, their eyes scanning the cliffs on both sides sharply.
Madara's Sharingan silently opened, its single crimson magatama slowly rotating, appearing eerily cold in the dim light. He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something, sensing movements unnoticeable to ordinary people. The atmosphere instantly tensed like a fully drawn bowstring, even the air seemed to freeze.
Aoi was so scared that she held her breath in the carriage, her little hands tightly covering her mouth, her heart beating wildly.
After several minutes, the bloodshot in Madara's eyes slowly faded. He said in a deep voice, "It's all right. Just a few disturbed raccoons." His tone was even, but Aoi could clearly see that his knuckles were turning white from the strain he exerted on the reins, and his gaze was still warily scanning the cliff face. That was no simple raccoon.
Another time, they encountered a small group of about seven or eight ronin in ragged clothes, armed with worn weapons. Seeing that they were few in number (the guards had restrained their chakra and dressed like ordinary samurai) and had a seemingly good carriage, they showed greed in their eyes and surrounded them with laughter, with evil intentions.
Madara didn't even dismount, nor did he activate his Sharingan. He simply scanned the rabble with his bottomless black eyes, a cold stare. A murderous aura, honed in a sea of blood and corpses, condensed into a tangible mass, swept over them like a winter's chill.
The leading ronin's playful smile froze in an instant, his face turning pale as paper, and a cold sweat broke out. He felt as if an invisible beast had grabbed his throat, making even breathing difficult. Trembling, he knelt, his teeth chattering as he cried, "Sir... spare me... we are blind... spare me..." Then, tumbling and crawling away with his terrified men, he fled without even turning his head.
From beginning to end, Madara said nothing, made no movement. The convoy continued its peaceful journey, as if brushing off a speck of dust. But within the carriage, Aoi felt the terrifying power of the future Shura of the ninja world, a man who could crush his enemies with his aura alone, without the need for ninjutsu or the Sharingan.
After several days of trekking, the towering walls of the Fire Nation's capital finally appeared on the horizon. The road became smoother and more populated as we approached. The clamor of voices and the sounds of carriages replaced the stillness of the wilderness.
When the carriage finally stopped in front of the majestic vermilion gate, Madara dismounted swiftly. He negotiated with the well-dressed butler in front of the gate, who looked respectful yet scrutinizing, and presented the token. His manners were impeccable, yet he carried a certain aloofness and coldness that was unique to Uchiha and incompatible with the aristocracy.
He personally carried Kui down from the carriage and handed her little hand to the elegant and graceful old lady, who was supported by a maid. This was a simple and routine handover ceremony.
"On my father's orders, deliver Miss Aoi safely."
"Thank you for your hard work, young master Uchiha."
The conversation was brief and polite, as cold as a formula.
Then, without hesitation, without even a glance at Aoi, Madara turned and mounted his horse. His dark figure, against the bustling backdrop of the capital, seemed singularly lonely and resolute. His guards followed closely behind, the clatter of their horses' hooves clattering as they quickly vanished into the bustling crowd and the end of the street.
The vermilion door slowly closed behind Aoi, making a heavy and dull sound, completely isolating her from the outside world that was full of killing but also had a trace of silent warmth.
She stood there, looking at the door, almost hearing the distant clatter of horses' hooves. That long, silent journey, one filled with hidden concern, was over. She was safe, but also truly alone.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com