Confrontation and choice at the bottom of the cliff
Time slipped slowly through the cold, damp, and dead silence, like a sticky gel. It was unknown how long it had been, perhaps a quarter of an hour, perhaps even longer, before Uchiha Aoi slowly regained a wisp of vague consciousness from the extreme cold and exhaustion of her semi-comatose state.
The rain seemed to have softened, turning from a downpour to a gentle drizzle, but the sky remained shrouded in a thick, leaden cloud, oppressive and suffocating. The light at the bottom of the cliff was dim, barely visible. Not far away, the river continued to roar tirelessly, its sound muffled and oppressive.
She moved her body, stiff as a popsicle, and the biting cold and muscle aches forced her to groan softly. However, what woke her up even more than the physical discomfort was the feeling of a heavy weight that didn't belong to her, and a faint trace of body warmth.
She snapped her eyes open, horrified to discover she was unwittingly half-held in the unconscious Senju Tobirama's arms! His arm, though weakened by his unconsciousness, still rested on her waist. Their fallen position brought them incredibly close, his cold breath brushing against her hair. This passive, intimate contact, beyond a safe distance, at that moment, only filled her with immense fear and a sense of being violated.
Aoi's heart felt like it was being gripped by an icy hand, and it stopped for a moment! Almost instinctively, as if scalded, she used all her remaining strength to break free from the arm, stumbling backwards several steps until her back slammed hard against the cold, slippery rock wall, forcing her to stop. The gravel clattered under her feet, standing out against the silence of the cliff.
She leaned against the rock wall, still in shock, her chest heaving violently, gasping for breath, and stared vigilantly at the still unconscious man on the ground.
He looked a world away from the cold, stern, and intimidating Senju Tobirama of his usual self. His short silver hair, matted by water, blood, and mud, lay tangled on his forehead and pale cheeks, making him look incredibly disheveled. His face, always sharp and cold, now took on a fragile pallor due to the extreme blood loss and coma. His lips were tightly pursed, their color so pale that they almost blended with his skin. Even unconscious, his furrowed brow seemed to hold a trace of unwavering pain and a deep weariness, or perhaps... a hardness. The wound on his back, a ripped patch of clothing, a scorched mess of flesh and blood, still slowly oozing blood, looked even more horrifying in the dim light, silently telling of the terrifying scene that had just occurred.
Was it him... who, at the last moment, leaped off the cliff without hesitation? Was it to save her? Or... simply to ensure she was killed personally, leaving no further trouble? Had he taken the Yeyue Ninja's violent lightning strike on his back to protect her?
Countless questions and chaotic, conflicting emotions, like boiling magma, surged and collided violently beneath the icy lake of her heart. Fear (of this man himself and his unknown situation), suspicion (of his incomprehensible series of actions), a faint, almost overwhelmed, complex feeling of hatred for the act of "saving his life," and an even stronger, deep hatred and vigilance for the Senju clan, rooted in her blood and family upbringing... All these emotions intertwined like a tangled mess, blocking her chest, making her heart swirling and almost unable to breathe.
What should I do now?
This reality, like a cold dagger, pierced his chaotic thoughts. He was unconscious, seriously injured and near death. This was undoubtedly... an opportunity.
A chance to avenge her brother Izuna's tragic death! A chance to redeem the blood debt of countless Uchiha clan members killed at the hands of the Senju! A chance to rid the family of this mortal enemy, this foe of terrifying wisdom and power! Senju Tobirama, the pillar of the Senju clan and a formidable rival to his brother, Uchiha Madara! Killing him would benefit the future of the Uchiha clan in every way! This was her duty as a daughter of the Uchiha clan!
This alluring thought, like a vine growing in the darkness, quickly entwined itself with her heart, whispering like a demon. Her gaze, drawn involuntarily, as if by a magnet, fell on a nearby gravel beach. It was a simple yet unusually sharp metal hairpin that had fallen from her scattered hair. In the dim light, the hairpin gleamed with a cold, alluring light, a symbol of death and the end.
The murderous intent, like a poisonous snake, quietly raised its head and spitted out its tongue.
She shivered, not from the cold, but from the intense struggle within. She moved forward, step by step, extremely slowly, as if each step were treading on red-hot charcoal. She squatted down, stretched out her cold, stiff, and mud-stained fingers, and picked up the hairpin. The cool touch of the metal at her fingertips sent a shiver through her, yet it also brought a strange, heart-pounding sense of clarity.
She gripped the hairpin tightly, feeling the slight pain of the sharp tip against her palm, and walked back to the unconscious Tobirama. She crouched down, looking closely at his defenseless, pale neck, where the blue veins were faintly visible beneath the skin. She raised the hairpin, pointing the tip directly at the fragile area that held life together.
Her hands were shaking so badly that she could barely hold the tiny hairpin. This was the first time she had ever so closely, clearly, and with such conscious intent, attempted to take someone's life. Furthermore, this was someone who had just... possibly risked his life to save her. A man... for whom she harbored some indescribable emotion.
Reason, like the strictest instructor, roared in her mind: Kill him! This is for the Uchiha! This is the right choice! The interests of the family are above all personal, insignificant feelings!
Yet, her emotions, like the most stubborn reef, resisted the torrent of reason. On the clifftop, when his blade suddenly stopped, the flash of intense turmoil in those red eyes, a turmoil she couldn't comprehend; the resolute figure he followed without hesitation as he leaped off the cliff; the moment he held her tightly, his muscles tensing and the muffled groan as he used his back to withstand the lightning... These images flashed uncontrollably over and over again, like tiny needles, piercing the murderous intent she had finally gathered.
Kill him?
Or...save him?
A battle between her conscience and her own will. The inner struggle was like two colossal forces tearing at her soul, threatening to tear her apart completely. The family's honor, her brother's expectations, and the blood feud against Izumi's brother, all clashed desperately with the tiny lingering lingering feeling of compassion for life and the lingering hesitation in that inconceivable "protection."
In the end, the fire of revenge and her sense of duty to her family seemed to temporarily overwhelm that inappropriate weakness. A flicker of near-desperate determination flashed in her eyes, and she bit her lower lip so hard she could taste the faint scent of blood. With all her strength, she raised the hairpin high in her hand, and with a tragic farewell to the past, she stabbed Tobirama's unprotected throat fiercely!
However, just before the sharp tip of the hairpin touched his neck skin and could even feel the faint body temperature, a millimeter away—
Her movements were once again strangely and completely frozen, as if she had been cast under the most advanced immobilization spell.
Looking at his face so close to her, which was extremely pale due to blood loss; looking at the shadows cast by his long silver eyelashes, which were even thicker after being wet by the rain, under his eyelids; looking at his tightly pursed, thin lips with beautiful lines... Her hands were as if being pulled tightly from all directions by countless invisible, extremely tough silk threads. No matter how she urged her will, the stab that condensed all her strength could not land!
Why...why can't I do it?!
She hated it! She hated her own indecision! She hated her own softness! She hated herself for even showing a shameful, unwarranted wavering and... softness towards this enemy whose hands were stained with Uchiha blood! This was a betrayal to her brother Izuna and to all the sacrificed members of her clan!
Hot tears, mixed with icy rain, once again flowed uncontrollably from her eyes, sliding down her icy cheeks. Humiliation, self-loathing, confusion... all these emotions threatened to overwhelm her.
There was a crisp sound of "clang".
The hairpin that carried so much struggle and murderous intent finally slipped from her violently trembling and completely exhausted hands, and fell on the gravel beside her, making a crisp and ironic sound, rolling a few times, and then stopped moving.
In the end, she still... couldn't do it.
She seemed to have been drained of all her strength and collapsed onto the cold stone ground, gasping helplessly. Her shoulders shook slightly from her suppressed sobs, her heart filled with endless self-contempt and confusion with no way out.
At that moment, she hadn't noticed the barely perceptible, ever-so-slight twitch of Senju Tobirama's tightly closed eyelashes, lying "unconscious" on the ground. In truth, the moment she bent to pick up the hairpin, her murderous intent radiating, his supremely keen sense of danger, ingrained in him as a top-tier ninja, had already spurred him back to consciousness. But he didn't immediately open his eyes, nor did he move. He simply chose to remain "unconscious," like a calm yet cruel spectator, a prisoner awaiting trial. He wanted to see for himself what this Uchiha woman, the source of his repeated loss of control, would do in the face of such an absolute reversal of power.
When she raised the hairpin, her killing intent at its peak, his heart felt cold and dead. He had even secretly mobilized his remaining chakra, ready to launch a thunderous counterattack and subdue her the moment she stabbed him. However, when her hairpin finally fell powerlessly, accompanied by tears, the cold wasteland of murderous intent in his heart seemed to be subtly touched, cracking a tiny crack, and a more complex and indescribable emotion, even unfamiliar to him, quietly grew.
He slowly opened his eyes. The intense storm they'd experienced at the clifftop, nor any obvious emotional fluctuations, remained in those crimson eyes. Instead, there was a bottomless, almost apathetic coldness and alienation. He stared coldly and emotionlessly at her slumped, distraught figure, as if he were looking at a stranger who had nothing to do with him. Then, supporting himself with his arms, he endured the ripping pain in his back and, with immense difficulty and without a word, slowly sat up on his own. Without even glancing at the hairpin on the ground or at her weeping form, he began to examine and treat the hideous wound on his back, his movements slow but steady, as if the cruel, life-or-death decision he'd just made had never happened, or wasn't worth mentioning at all.
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