Under the black night, pale moonlight illuminated the face of this Uchiha who'd captured him.
Paired with his sinister smirk, it looked eerie, making the already timid Senju Banma tremble uncontrollably. His gagged mouth could only whimper.
"Senju brat, if I were you, I'd eat while you can," the Uchiha "demon" said, rolling his dead-fish eyes.
Banma instinctively licked the object in his mouth. A salty, savory taste hit his tongue.
He bit down—it was chewable. After a few chomps, he realized it was jerky.
Starved for two days, Banma didn't care if it was poisoned. He devoured it, finishing the chunk in seconds.
Smacking his lips, he asked, "Got more?"
Uchiha Gin's forehead twitched with a at the captive's shamelessness. He flicked Banma's black-and-white head sharply.
"Kid, you realize your situation?"
"The Senju will never bow! Kill me if you dare—my father and brothers will avenge me!" Banma retorted, defiant.
Gin, planning to toy with him, lost interest at the kid's resolute glare.
In his old life, he'd had siblings. A boy Banma's age would've been watching cartoons, snacking, living a carefree childhood. Here, kids this young killed or were killed on battlefields.
"What a rotten era," Gin muttered heavily.
Just days ago, he'd been a modern guy with normal values. Adapting instantly to this world's rules like somes was absurd.
"Huh? What'd you say? I won't spill a word about my clan!" Banma snapped, assuming Gin wanted Senju intel. His small face showed a maturity beyond his years.
"Self-important little punk," Gin said, looming over him with a chilling stare.
Banma's heart raced, but Senju pride fueled a stubborn glare back.
"Nice eyes. We won't kill you yet, but don't think about escaping."
"…"
"Or suicide. If you die, we'll just grab another of your brothers."
"!!!"
Meeting Banma's ferocious gaze, Gin crouched, whispering, "Kid, you don't want your brothers caught because of you, right?"
Like an eldritch murmur, it shattered Banma's budding resistance.
"Cooperate, and the Uchiha—er, we—treat captives well. Might even let you live," Gin continued, nearly slipping up.
"You swear?" Banma lifted his head after a pause, his tiny face firm.
"On the Uchiha ancestors' honor," Gin vowed, unbothered—those ancestors were tucked away in Madara anyway.
"Achoo!" Somewhere, a spiky-haired boy skipping stones by a river shivered, sneezing hard.
Beside him, a mushroom-haired kid teaching him froze mid-lesson. "You okay? Don't rush if you can't get it across. Feel the upward pull…"
"It's your fault, weirdo, standing behind me! I'm so sensitive I can't even pee with someone there!" the spiky kid griped.
"Sorry…" The mushroom boy slumped, dejected.
[Two entwined souls, a fated meeting—the ninja era begins its tale.]
Banma relented, too young to dissect Gin's words like his sharp-witted brother Tobirama might've.
If Gin had tried that spiel on Tobirama, he'd be dead by dawn.
With Banma compliant, Gin removed the iron chains. Hauling the kid was tough enough—the extra weight was a burden.
Rolling them into a scroll lightened his load. He tied Banma's hands with simple rope instead.
No tent for the captive. Behind his own, Gin staked out a spot, planting a pole and binding Banma to it like Kakashi once tied Naruto during Team 7's first test.
Settled, Gin felt weary. Time to rest in his tent.
He yawned, plotting how to goad Uchiha Tarou into a "fight" tomorrow for Heart of Steel points.
As he rounded the tent to head back, the air stilled. A presence lurked behind him.
He glanced at Banma's stake. In the pitch dark, a figure stood silently atop it—Banma gone.
"Enemy attack!" Gin's pupils shrank. This stranger infiltrated their camp undetected, even by Fuka's three-tomoe Sharingan.
He opened his mouth to shout for the others, but moonlight spilled down, revealing the figure.
The words caught in his throat.
This person stunned Gin—unshaken sinceing—like a thunderbolt. As moonlight fully pierced the shadow, Gin rasped, "Uchiha… Itachi… Impossible. You can't exist here. Dragon vein?"
A black-haired youth in a black-and-red cloud cloak stood silently, eyes closed. His pale, handsome face bore deep lines, and his forehead guard—alien to this era—sported a clear slash.
A Naruto veteran, Gin instantly recognized Uchiha Itachi—Sasuke's pivotal figure.
Reeling, Gin speculated—did Akatsuki tap the Ryūmyaku in Loulan, sending Itachi back?
Itachi remained still, silent. Gin moved to call Fuka.
Then, the youth's eyes opened, revealing shuriken-shaped Sharingan glowing faintly.
The scene warped. The white moon vanished.
A blood-red moon rose, bathing everything in crimson. An oppressive aura crashed over him.
In a dazed blink, Gin felt hoisted up. Another blink—he was strapped to a cross.
"Blood moon, cross… No way…" Words failed him. He'd read this, but living it was new.
[Genjutsu: Tsukuyomi]
All around, Itachis materialized, each wielding a samurai sword. One spoke flatly, "In Tsukuyomi, I control space, time, and mass. For the next seventy-two hours, I'll stab you endlessly…"
The sound of steel piercing flesh echoed as Gin's helpless screams filled the space.
A guy who'd fuss over a scratch in his past life, he neared collapse.
Even knowing it was genjutsu, each stab brought real agony, shaking him to his core.
The illusion's nature kept him conscious, watching wounds heal only to be pierced again.
Tears and snot streamed; he lost control of his body. After what felt like forever, as he prayed for the end, a ghostly voice purred, "Seventy-one hours left…"
"AAAAAAHHHH!!!" Gin's wails pressed on.
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