Awkward reunion and established status
At the border between the two ethnic groups, a buffer zone once rife with tension and bloodshed, a neutral zone has now been temporarily cleared. A simple yet spacious Japanese-style room stands within, symbolizing the fragile attempt at peace and foreshadowing the impending, irresistible intertwining of fates.
Inside, light filtered through the elegant paper windows, casting soft, dappled shadows on the tatami floor. The air was filled with the scent of new wood and the faint scent of straw mats. What should have been a peaceful and tranquil atmosphere was now stagnant, like the suffocating low pressure before a storm, practically enough to condense water droplets. Every inch of the space was filled with an invisible heaviness.
Uchiha Aoi knelt on a soft cushion, clad in the magnificent kimono newly prepared by the Uchiha clan, befitting her status as a "princess-to-be." The deep purple satin was delicately embroidered with silver thread, the pattern of the Uchiha family's round fan. The lapels and cuffs were adorned with auspicious wisteria patterns, a truly magnificent garment. Yet, this exquisite garment weighed heavily on her, each thread constraining her breath. Her back was straight, a testament to the pride and propriety ingrained in the Uchiha clan's blood. Yet, upon closer inspection, a subtle stiffness tinged the straight lines. Her hands were clasped tightly on her knees, her knuckles bluish-white from the strain, betraying the turmoil within their owner.
Her eyes lowered, her thick lashes casting a small shadow beneath them. Her gaze was fixed on the small patch of finely woven tatami mat before her, as if it held some mysterious pattern that would capture her entire attention. She didn't dare, didn't want to, look at the man across from her. The man who would soon become her husband.
Senju Tobirama.
He too wore the formal garb of the Senju clan. The dark blue, stand-up collar of his shirt accentuated his silver hair, each strand meticulously combed, reflecting the very image he exuded—rigorous, austere, and unerring. He knelt directly across from Aoi, his posture erect, his back as slender as a pine tree, a model of impeccable etiquette. Yet, his distinctive, ruby-like eyes lacked the warmth expected of a man about to marry. They rested calmly, even with a touch of customary caution and analysis, on Aoi, who bowed her head. His gaze didn't resemble that of a future wife, but rather an assessment of a crucial "item" that needed to be properly managed, or a strategic task that must be accomplished for the benefit of the clan.
Silence was spreading, and only the occasional bird calls outside the window made the silence in the room even more awkward.
Finally, it was Tobirama who spoke first. His voice was steady and clear, without any inflection, as if he were presenting a dull battle report or experimental data. "Ms. Uchiha," he addressed her formally, beginning the official business. "Regarding the current progress of the peace talks between the two clans, the basic framework has been established. Border outposts will be gradually dismantled within three days, and joint patrols, consisting of five elite soldiers from each side, will begin tomorrow."
Aoi's fingertips trembled slightly, but she didn't respond.
Tobirama didn't seem to expect a response, and continued in his logical tone, "The preliminary site for the future village has been determined. It's on the plain ten miles east of here. The blueprints were jointly surveyed by us and the Uchiha. The core area will include an administrative building, a mission dispatch center, a training ground, and residential areas for the various tribes. Infrastructure construction will begin in full swing after the wedding." He paused, his eyes seeming to scan Aoi's tense profile before returning to the low table in front of him. "As for... the wedding matters."
When the word was finally uttered clearly, Aoi felt her heart suddenly shrink, as if it was tightly grasped by an invisible hand.
"The date is tentatively set for the sixth day of next month. According to divination, it's an auspicious day for marriages and alliances. The location will be the village's central square, which is currently under construction. The ceremony will be presided over by my brother, Hashirama Senju, and Uchiha Madara. This will demonstrate our resolve and sincerity for reconciliation to both clans and the entire ninja world." His tone remained flat, as if he were discussing the weather rather than his own lifelong event. Every word was like a cold hammer, precisely striking Aoi's already overwhelmed heartstrings, emitting a dull, palpitating echo.
Aoi's mind was a tangle. Tobirama's calm, almost cruel voice filled her ears, while countless chaotic images flashed through her mind uncontrollably—his fierce Flying Thunder God Slash and relentless pursuit at the edge of the Valley of the End; his resolute figure following her as she desperately leaped from the cliff; his bare, scarred back as he lay unconscious, gravely wounded, beside the turbulent river at the bottom of the cliff, and the sharp hairpin she hadn't managed to pierce; the days and nights of house arrest in the Senju clan's territory, the unfamiliar scenery outside the window, and the inextricable loneliness and fear deep within her heart...
Hatred, like an old poison, had long since seeped into her bones. He was the Senju, her sworn enemy. It was his brother who indirectly caused the deaths of so many Uchiha relatives, and wasn't his own hands stained with Uchiha blood? She should hate him; this hatred was her innate responsibility as an Uchiha.
But... why, deep down, did she still feel an inexplicable confusion? Was the vulnerable Senju Tobirama at the bottom of the cliff, wounded and in need of her help, the coldly efficient "Speediest Shinobi" on the battlefield, really the same person? This occasional flash of contradiction caused her hatred for herself to waver, and this wavering brought deeper self-blame and pain.
At this moment, the strongest emotion was a sense of immense humiliation and uncertainty about the future. She, Uchiha Aoi, the younger sister of Uchiha Madara, the patriarch of the Uchiha clan, was about to feed herself to the tiger by marrying the man she was supposed to hate with all her heart. What was this? A trophy? A hostage? Or a sacrifice to maintain a fragile peace? What thoughts were hidden in those eyes of Madara's, always blazing, as he made this decision? Was this truly for the good of the Uchiha clan, the only path to peace? She dared not dwell on it, only to feel a dark future, a cold, suffocating feeling that followed her everywhere.
"...Regarding your post-marriage arrangements," Tobirama's voice once again pulled her out of her chaotic thoughts, continuing to plan her future. His tone lacked the expectation or warmth expected of a newlywed husband, only an extremely calm approach and a sense of responsibility to ensure the safekeeping of this important "asset." "You will reside in a separate courtyard adjacent to mine within the Senju clan's territory. It has been renovated and will be furnished to the highest clan standards. You may bring two personal Uchiha maids with you to care for your daily needs and alleviate any discomfort you may experience in this unfamiliar environment."
"Highest standards"... "independent courtyard"... "personal maid"... these words sounded like they accorded ample respect and preferential treatment, but to Kui, it was a profound irony. It felt more like a high-class prison, using material comforts to mask the essence of a political marriage. Everything about her, from her residence to her movements, even to the servants around her, was meticulously planned, leaving her no room for autonomy. She was like a precious piece of porcelain, carefully wrapped and placed in a safe and conspicuous location, for everyone to admire and to serve as a warning.
Finally, the accumulated emotions broke through the dam of reason. Aoi raised her head abruptly, and for the first time, bravely and directly looked into Tobirama's eyes. Her eyes were slightly red, and mist was misting in her clear eyes, but she forced herself to suppress it, so that no tears would form. Her voice had a subtle tremor, but she tried hard to maintain her final composure and pride: "Tobirama..."
She paused, as if gathering her strength to speak her next words.
"...Is all this truly unchangeable?" Her voice was soft, yet like a feather, gently scratching the stagnant air, carrying with it a faint, almost imperceptible glimmer of hope, and perhaps, a desire for reassurance that even she herself hadn't yet grasped. She wondered if the man across from her, seemingly in control, also felt helpless about this absurd arrangement, or if he...had even the slightest disagreement?
Senju Tobirama met her gaze. His crimson eyes, still deep and piercing, like a bottomless pool, clearly reflected her forced composure, yet the true emotions hidden beneath were unfathomable. He was silent for a moment, a fleeting few seconds that felt like an eternity to Aoi. She could almost hear her own heart pounding frantically in her chest.
"This is a joint decision made by the leaders of both tribes." He finally spoke, his voice still steady, without any ripples. "It's for the sake of long-term peace and stability, and to end the bloodshed and sacrifice that have lasted for too long." His reasons were high-sounding and impeccable, completely standing on the moral high ground and the perspective of ethnic interests.
Then, he paused, his gaze seemingly lingering on her slightly red eyes for a fleeting moment, too fleeting to be captured. He seemed to want to add something, his lips moving slightly, but in the end, the words that came out were still cold and pragmatic: "...Don't worry. Now that we're engaged, I will fulfill my responsibilities as a husband and ensure your safety and well-being in the Senju clan's territory."
Responsibility... safety... a secure life...
These few words, like a final verdict, completely shattered the last bit of unrealistic fantasy in Aoi's heart. As expected, there was no affection, no warmth, not even a basic shared vision for the future. Only cold "responsibilities" and "transactions." He promised her only shelter and material security, not a home, let alone an emotional home. He accepted her as a task that needed to be completed, a marriage project that needed to be properly managed.
Aoi's heart sank completely, sinking into a cold, deep ocean. All her struggles, reluctance, confusion, and humiliation seemed to have lost their meaning at this moment. Resistance was futile, her fate had already been written. She lowered her head again, forcing all the surging emotions back into the deepest part of her heart. She used all her strength to make her voice sound less broken, less tearful. The voice was dry and hollow, as if it came from far away:
"...I understand." She said softly, each word like a knife cutting through her heart. "Everything...will be as arranged."
The brief meeting ended in a suffocating silence. Everything that needed to be explained had been explained, everything that needed to be confirmed had been confirmed. Tobirama said nothing more. He stood up swiftly, his movements quick and decisive, without even a glance at Aoi. He turned, opened the paper door of the Japanese-style room, and walked out. Sunlight streamed in for a moment as he retreated, then was shut out by the closed door, and the room returned to its previous darkness and silence.
Aoi remained alone in the empty Japanese-style room, kneeling for a long time without moving. The faint breeze of air that had been stirred by Tobirama's departure had long since subsided, but the air still seemed to linger with his cool, faint scent of ink and herbs, a subtle reminder that what had just happened was not a dream.
Sunlight slowly shifted across the floor, its mottled shadows gradually lengthening and distorting, foreshadowing the approach of dusk. The light in the room dimmed, shrouding Aoi's figure in a hazy twilight. Her shadow, stretched long and isolated, cast upon the tatami, looked especially frail and helpless.
She knew that from this moment on, the tone of their relationship, bound together by clan interests, had been set in this oppressive Japanese-style room: alienation, awkwardness, and a whirlwind of unresolved grudges and cold realities. The bond of "marriage," woven not by emotion but forged by political necessity and helpless compromise, now seemed fragile, cold, and even sharp, ready to cut them at the slightest mistake.
The road ahead was long and foggy. She couldn't see what awaited her in the future: deeper humiliation, surging danger, or... some faint hope lurking beneath the frozen surface that she couldn't even imagine at the moment?
But no matter what, there was no turning back. As Madara had said, this was the Uchiha's choice, and it was also her fate. She had to swallow all the bitterness and reluctance, don the mask of "Mrs. Senju Tobirama," and continue, step by step, arduously, on this predetermined, thorny path. For the Uchiha, and for... a peaceful future that even she herself hadn't yet grasped, a future that might exist.
Tears finally fell silently down her drooping face, one drop, two drops, quickly disappearing into the deep purple fabric of her luxurious kimono, leaving no trace. Outside, the setting sun dyed the sky a magnificent blood-red, like the indelible memories of the battlefields of the past, and like the new, challenging chapter that lay ahead in the unknown tomorrow.
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