Crazy Shinobi: Rise of the uzumaki Clan

NahIdWin

Flower _Sapien

1si2

Adam_Febriansyah

Bigbrowser007

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Hashirama's POV

The familiar sight of the Senju compound came into view as I crested the final hill. The golden light of sunset bathed the land in warmth, but the scene felt colder than it should. Guards at the gate avoided my gaze, their expressions tense. Whispers reached my ears, fragments of conversations that made my chest tighten.

Something was wrong.

I quickened my pace, my footsteps heavy on the stone path as I entered the compound. The usual bustle of the clan was muted, as though the entire place was holding its breath.

When I entered the main hall, my brothers were there. Tobirama stood like a statue in the center of the room, his face grim and unreadable. Itama sat on the floor, his knees drawn to his chest, his small frame trembling.

The air felt heavy, suffocating.

"Tobirama," I said, my voice sharp. "What happened?"

Tobirama turned to face me, his gray eyes hard but tinged with something I hadn't seen in him before—grief. He took a deep breath, as though steadying himself before speaking.

"Father's dead," he said bluntly.

The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?"

"It was an ambush," Tobirama continued, his voice cold and clinical, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fists clenched at his sides. "Uchiha forces attacked his patrol. He fought, but..."

I didn't hear the rest. My mind had already stopped, stuck on the word dead.

My father was dead.

The man who had taught me everything I knew about strength, about duty and honor, about protecting our family—gone. I could still see him standing tall, his voice commanding yet full of warmth as he guided us.

"How?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"They struck without warning," Tobirama replied, his tone sharp. "Father didn't stand a chance."

I staggered back, the weight of the news threatening to crush me. I looked to Itama, who met my gaze with wide, tear-filled eyes. He was too young for this, too young to lose a father.

"They'll come for us next, won't they?" Itama's voice was small, trembling with fear.

"No," I said firmly, my voice stronger than I felt. I knelt before him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I won't let that happen. I promise."

The words steadied me, anchoring me to the reality I now faced.

Tobirama stepped forward, his expression hard. "Hashirama, we can't let this go unanswered. The Uchiha need to pay for what they've done. We have to strike back."

"No," I said, rising to my feet.

"No?" Tobirama's voice sharpened. "They killed Father, Hashirama. Are you saying we should just sit here and do nothing?"

"I'm saying we can't act recklessly," I shot back, my voice firm. "We're not prepared. Running into battle without a plan will only cost more lives."

"We don't have time to wait," Tobirama argued. "Hesitation will get us killed. You know that as well as I do."

He wasn't wrong. The Uchiha were relentless, and this ambush was proof that they wouldn't stop. But I couldn't let my anger dictate my actions. Father wouldn't have wanted that.

"I'll take responsibility," I said, my voice steady.

Tobirama frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm the eldest," I said, meeting his gaze. "It's my duty to lead the clan now. I'll make sure we're ready for whatever comes next. But we won't rush into this blindly. Not while I'm in charge."

There was a long silence as Tobirama studied me, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded, though the tension in his shoulders didn't ease.

"Fine," he said. "But don't make the mistake of underestimating them."

"I won't," I promised.

---

The next morning, I stood alone in the training grounds. The sun had barely risen, its pale light casting long shadows across the field. I gripped my sword tightly, the weight of it grounding me as I took a deep breath.

If I was going to protect my family, my clan, I needed to be stronger. Stronger than I'd ever been. Father had carried this burden for years, and now it was mine to bear.

I started with the basics—swinging my blade, channeling my chakra into precise strikes. Each movement was deliberate, every swing a promise to myself and to my clan. I wouldn't let them down.

Hours turned into days, and days into weeks. I trained relentlessly, pushing my body to its limits. Tobirama joined me often, his sharp mind and tactical precision a constant challenge. Itama, though still young, began to watch from the sidelines, his wide eyes filled with determination.

This was my life now. Training, planning, preparing for the inevitable war with the Uchiha.

But in the quiet moments, when I was alone, my thoughts drifted to him—the boy I'd met at the river. Madara. He'd spoken of peace, of a world where children didn't have to die in senseless wars.

I wondered if he would understand this pain, this loss. And if he did, would he still believe peace was possible?

I wanted to believe it was. But as I swung my blade again and again, the weight of the Senju's future pressing down on me, that hope felt further away than ever.

To Be Continued...