A heavy decision
After Uchiha Aoi uttered those three words—"I promise"—it felt as if all her strength and soul had been drained away in an instant. The elders' gazes in the meeting hall, filled with relief yet mixed with complex emotions, and Uchiha Hikari's words, light yet weighty as a mountain, "The family will remember your sacrifice," all echoed through a thick, distorted layer of glass, blurring and unreality. She didn't know how, under those gazes, she had managed to maintain a shred of composure, walking out of that suffocating hall like a zombie.
It was not until she staggered back to the empty and deserted Japanese-style room where she was temporarily housed, and the paper door behind her gently closed with a soft "click", completely blocking out the outside world's view, that her shaky composure, which she had maintained all the way, collapsed.
Her back leaned heavily against the cold door, her body losing all support and sliding slowly down the smooth wood, finally collapsing helplessly onto the cold tatami. A violent tremor, like a sudden chill, began at her icy fingertips, quickly spreading through her arms and shoulders until her entire body shuddered uncontrollably. She clutched her frail arms tightly, using her last remaining strength, her nails digging into the flesh, trying to use the slightest pain to fight the overwhelming fear and despair within her, as if only this could prevent her from being completely torn apart and swallowed by the invisible waves.
"Yeyue... Clan..." She silently chewed the name over and over again, each syllable like ice shards slicing through her throat, bringing a cold sting and bloody hallucinations. In her mind, all the hearsay, fragmented information, swirled uncontrollably, forming a vague and terrifying image: the Land of Thunder in the far north, with its constant thunder and lightning and harsh environment; the Yeyue people, whose fierce and martial character was said to be as violent and direct as their ninjutsu; the rumors of their powerful Lightning Release Body and fearless spirit... A stranger, whose name, appearance, age, and temperament were unknown, would become her nominal husband. And she would forever leave the land of the Fire Nation where she was born and raised, her only brother, and enter a completely unfamiliar family, whose language and culture might be alien, even potentially hostile. She would abide by unfamiliar rules, face countless strange and scrutinizing eyes, and spend the rest of her life in a foreign land said to be filled with the constant rumble of thunder.
The mere thought of this possibility caused a strong, uncontrollable wave of nausea to surge up her throat. She leaned over and began to dry heave violently, her stomach cramping and convulsing, but nothing came out. Only bitter tears were forced out of her eyes, quickly blurring her vision and dripping onto the tatami below, leaving dark, desperate marks.
Amidst the cold chaos and despair, her mind subconsciously turned to her brother, Madara. Where was he now? What was he doing? Did he know about the decision the elders had made without his knowledge? If he knew...how would he react? Would he, like the elders, rationally yet coldly believe that this was a "necessary measure" for the family's survival? Or would he...like he had done when they were children, stand before her without hesitation, angrily rejecting anyone who would harm her?
Thinking of the latter possibility, her heart, which felt like it was immersed in ice water, actually struggled to elicit a faint, pitiful warmth. At least, in this cold and cruel world, perhaps there was still someone who would stand by her side purely and without regard for personal gain, who would sincerely not want to see her become a victim of political maneuvering. Brother Madara... would he?
But this faint warmth, like a candle in the wind, was soon completely drowned by the deeper and more realistic waves of worry. She clearly recalled the scene she saw from afar at the training ground yesterday - the lines on Brother Madara's profile were as tight as a fully drawn bowstring, his eye sockets were deep, and his bloodshot eyes were filled with an unconcealable extreme fatigue. It was not just physical fatigue, but also the mental exhaustion caused by being tortured to the limit by heavy pressure. The movement of his kunai was slightly stagnant due to an old injury, but the aura he exuded was still frighteningly sharp, like a string that was stretched to the extreme and could break at any time. And when he faced the report of the casualties of his tribe, the anxiety, powerlessness and deep pain that was forcibly suppressed but still leaked from his eyes...
The once glorious ship of Uchiha is now damaged and leaking in the storm and rough waves, struggling to move forward, and brother Madara is using his own back to hold up this sinking broken ship, which is already in danger and cannot support the ship alone.
And there was also Brother Izuna… Before Brother Izuna died, he held her hand with a weak breath, his eyes, which were always gentle and smiling, filled with reluctance and worry. His intermittent words of advice were still ringing in her ears: "Aoi… please… in the future… you must help Brother Madara… he is too lonely… too sentimental… such a person… in this troubled world… will live a very painful life…"
Brother Izumi's gentle and sad gaze seemed to have traveled through time and space, falling heavily on her again, with silent expectations.
What could she do? She was merely a young girl, powerless, denied even the most basic, systematic ninja training due to her peculiar, uncontrollable chakra constitution and the elders' excessive (or rather, restrictive) "protection." On the battlefield, she couldn't fight alongside her brother Madara and share the burden of powerful enemies. In clan affairs, her influence was limited, and she was often absent from the clan, leaving her with no influence on the complexities of the situation and unable to share his burdens. She always seemed to be that well-protected, safely confined, yet ultimately useless burden.
But now, the elders told her she had "value." Her sole, greatest value lay in her identity as Uchiha Madara's only living blood sister. This identity could serve as a bridge between the Uchiha clan and another powerful family, gaining them much-needed aid and perhaps... perhaps even alleviating a small portion of the immense burden on Madara's shoulders.
Reject? Say "no" loudly based on your pitiful fear and tiny self-will?
Then what?
And then watch Brother Madara walk further and further on that lonely and cruel road to destruction, until one day he is completely crushed by heavy responsibilities, endless battles and inner pain, or... dies in battle in some unknown land?
Watching the flag of the Uchiha clan fall completely, making the sacrifices of father, mother, brother Izuna and countless clansmen who shed blood for the family meaningless, and letting the Uchiha name be erased from the ninja world forever?
That night, the image of the young ninja with unusual silver hair and piercing red eyes she'd unexpectedly encountered outside the clan walls resurfaced in her mind, untimely and vivid. That languid yet pointed voice, that brief conversation about "bad guys," that fleeting, almost unreal, inexplicable thrill and curiosity... Thinking back on it now, it felt like a bitter and cruel irony, a stark reminder of how unattainable and inappropriate the little bit of freedom and ordinary emotional interaction she'd secretly longed for were in this cold, brutal reality.
The inner struggle was like two huge waves of diametrically opposed natures violently crashing and tearing at her narrow chest! On one side was the instinct for survival, the desire for freedom, and the extreme fear of marrying far away in the unknown; on the other was the deep concern and love for her brother, the unshirkable and unrelinquished sense of responsibility to the family, and the deep-rooted pride and stubbornness of the Uchiha.
Time seemed to stretch infinitely in this agonizing agony, yet it also seemed to freeze. The sky outside the window shifted from bright afternoon light to a dim, warm sunset glow, before finally sinking slowly and completely into a boundless, icy darkness. Meanwhile, a maid cautiously brought in dinner, then, looking at the untouched, already cold meal, took it away silently without a word, not daring to ask a single question.
Finally, when the desolate moonlight shone through the window lattice, like a cold silver gauze, casting a clear glow on the ground, Uchiha Aoi, who had been curled up by the door for a long time without moving, finally raised her head slowly, extremely slowly.
The tear marks on her face had long since been dried by the wind, leaving only taut skin and swollen eye sockets. Deep within those inky black eyes, the raging storm seemed to have subsided, replaced by a near-death, numb calm and a resigned, desperate determination.
She held onto the door and swayed to her feet. Her legs were numb and tingling from being crouched for so long, but she seemed oblivious. She walked slowly to the ancient bronze mirror in the corner of the room. The mirror reflected her current appearance vaguely—her face as pale as paper, her lips bloodless, her eyes red, but those eyes were unusually clear and bright, burning with a cold, almost life-burning fire.
"Brother..." She whispered softly in a hoarse but remarkably firm voice, facing the unfamiliar self in the mirror who was about to embark on a road of no return, "This time... I will protect you. In my... way."
Even though this method meant pushing herself into a bottomless, dark abyss, in exchange for a chance for Madara-san to breathe, and for the Uchiha clan to grasp a glimmer of hope for continuation... this seemed to be the only sacrifice she could make, the most "valuable" sacrifice she could make.
The joys and sorrows of a person seem so small and insignificant in the face of the huge scale of the family's survival and the lives of loved ones. She finally made a choice, choosing to embark on a path destined to be full of thorns, loneliness and pain.
Her heart still ached, and her fear of the future had not dissipated at all, but a heavy, almost tragic sense of mission, like a hard armor, temporarily wrapped around her fragile heart and suppressed all other emotions.
She looked at herself in the mirror, as if bidding a silent farewell: farewell to the carefree past (however brief), farewell to those unrealistic fantasies, and farewell to a possible, different future.
From this moment on, she was no longer the Uchiha Aoi who only needed to be protected.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com