Renjiro barely heard the murmured voices of the three Uchihas as he turned on his heel and exited the dimly lit chamber, his every step echoing against the polished wooden floors. The heavy door creaked as it closed behind him, and the moment he was out of sight, his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
He had agreed.
He had accepted the betrothal to Nakada Uchiha, Daichi's youngest daughter.
'That bastard really had me cornered…'
The realization sat uneasily in his gut, but there was no point in dwelling on it now. The elders had gotten what they wanted—or rather, what they thought they wanted.
Inside the chamber, Daichi observed Renjiro's departing back with satisfaction. The boy had looked grim, his face a shadowed mask of reluctant acceptance. That was good. That meant he understood where he stood in the grand scheme of things.
But Renjiro had learned long ago how to control the emotions he let others see.
The moment he stepped out of the main building and into the open night, he exhaled loudly. The breath he hadn't even realized he was holding rushed out of him, fogging slightly in the cold evening air. His lungs expanded as he took in a deep breath of the crisp, moonlit air, relishing the cool breeze that brushed against his skin.
For the first time in hours, he allowed himself to feel.
A slow smirk curled onto his lips.
"Well, that went better than expected."
It was ironic—Daichi likely believed he had succeeded in binding him, in cementing Renjiro's future to the Uchiha clan through this marriage. But Renjiro knew better.
'There's no way they're actually forcing me into marriage.'
The words echoed in his mind with growing amusement. He was thirteen. A kid. The supposed marriage was still four years away, which in the shinobi world, might as well be an eternity.
'So much can happen in four years…'
The smirk on his face faded as exhaustion set in. The night's events had drained him, and he was still reeling from the earlier training session with Kushina before Daichi's summon had interrupted his plans. The ache in his muscles had dulled to a manageable throb, but his mind was another matter.
'Enough thinking for now.'
With that, Renjiro set off toward his home, his steps quiet against the stone pathway. The Uchiha compound was eerily silent at this hour, the only sounds being the occasional chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves swaying in the wind. The lanterns along the pathways flickered, their warm glow casting elongated shadows against the walls.
By the time he reached his house, fatigue had settled deep in his bones. He didn't even bother turning on the lights as he stepped inside, moving purely by muscle memory. His first stop was the kitchen.
The water was cold, crisp, and refreshing as he gulped it down. He savoured the way it eased the dryness in his throat, cooling the lingering heat of irritation that still simmered within him.
Setting the glass down with a soft clink, he sat down at the small dining table, resting his forearms on the polished wood. The quiet of the house wrapped around him, offering a temporary sanctuary from the weight of politics and obligations.
His fingers drummed against the table absentmindedly.
"I knew there would be consequences after Daichi found out about my Mangekyō… but this… this was much milder than I expected."
It had been inevitable, really. The moment Daichi became aware of his power, he had known the clan head would make his move.
But he had expected worse. A greater display of force, perhaps. A deeper attempt at control.
Instead, they had chosen marriage. A leash, yes—but a leash with slack.
He chuckled dryly, shaking his head. He seriously did not know how to feel about it.
"At some point, I realized rejecting the offer was a pointless struggle."
Daichi had backed him into a corner the moment the proposal was spoken aloud. Once he had heard it, it was no longer a matter of if—it was a matter of how long before he gave in. The decision had been made for him the second the words left their lips.
But even in that cage, he had found a door.
"I still have time."
Four years.
Four years before anything became official.
And in the shinobi world, four years was a lifetime.
Wars were fought and ended in less time.
People died in less time.
His fingers curled slightly against the table as his thoughts darkened.
"Daichi might not even be alive in four years."
Or him.
The Fourth Shinobi World War loomed on the horizon, an inevitability carved into history. The world was already shifting, moving toward the bloodshed that would soon drown the nations in conflict.
And with his existence now possibly altering the timeline, he had no way of predicting how things would unfold.
Would his presence make the war harder to survive?
Would he become a greater target?
Would his actions escalate the war further instead of mitigating it?
He didn't know.
That uncertainty was what unnerved him the most.
"But all in all, it's clear Daichi and Fugaku are planning something…"
The marriage was just one piece of their strategy. A move to ensure his loyalty, to solidify his place within the clan's hierarchy.
But it was more than that.
Daichi wasn't the type to take unnecessary measures. If he was pushing for this now, in the middle of growing hostilities between the villages, then it meant there was more happening behind the scenes.
Something bigger.
And Renjiro was in the middle of it.
He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.
'I need more information.'
He would have to tread carefully and watch for the real game being played beneath the surface. If Daichi and Fugaku were moving pieces behind the scenes, then sooner or later, their true agenda would come to light.
And when it did—
He would be ready.
His gaze flickered toward the window, where the moon hung high, casting silver light across the compound. His smirk slowly returned, sharper this time.
"According to the original plot, Daichi should have died during the war… or shortly after."
It was vague, but the records of the Uchiha clan in his past life had made it clear—Daichi Uchiha was not a long-term player. Renjiro did not even know that he existed before his transmigration.
His fingers tapped against the glass in his hand as the thought solidified into something almost amusing.
If he wanted to break free from this betrothal, from the leash Daichi had placed around his neck, then there were only two ways to do it.
The first was to gain enough merit during the war that even the Uchiha elders would no longer be able to dictate his fate.
And the second…
A slow, cold smile spread across his lips.
"Daichi has to die during the war."
Silence stretched through the room, the weight of his words lingering in the air.
He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling.
'Well then… I suppose I'll have to make sure history stays on track.'
The war was coming.
And Renjiro would be ready.
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