I, Uchiha, will not be whitewashed!

That afternoon, there was no wind in the camp.

Shuoge wielded his sword on the training field, Kai ran, and Hong practiced illusion magic under the shade of a tree.

Everything is the same as yesterday, the day before yesterday, and many days ago.

Then a commotion arose at the camp entrance.

It wasn't the kind of noise you hear during a battle; it was something else entirely—someone was shouting "stretcher!", someone was shouting "get out of the way!", and someone was yelling for the medical team.

Shuoge sheathed his sword and walked towards the camp entrance.

He saw Kakashi.

Kakashi lay on a stretcher, covered in mud, with a bandage wrapped around his left eye. Blood seeped from under the gauze, staining most of his face red.

His right hand was still gripping the kunai, his knuckles white, and he had already fainted.

Lin walked beside the stretcher, her face streaked with tears, her eyes red, but she didn't cry out. Her white coat was covered in mud and blood, making it impossible to tell whose it was.

Shuoge stood there, watching the stretcher pass by him.

Kakashi was carried into the medical tent, with Rin following closely behind.

He didn't follow; he saw someone else—Obito wasn't there.

Kai ran over from the training field, panting, and turned pale when he saw Kakashi on the stretcher.

"Kakashi! What's wrong with Kakashi?"

He rushed toward the medical tent, but was stopped by Hong.

"Kai, wait." Red's voice was steady, but her hands were trembling.

"Where's Obito?" Kai asked.

No one answered.

Shuoge stood there, something swirling in his mind.

Obito.

Kakashi.

The Sharingan of the Uchiha clan.

He recalled a point in time—the Battle of Kannabi Bridge, the day Kakashi Hatake was promoted to Jonin, and the day Obito "died".

Kakashi's left eye was scratched, and Obito gave him his Sharingan.

Was Kakashi twelve years old that day? He wasn't quite sure.

At that time, Kakashi was already a Jonin, and Obito and Rin were already Chunin.

How old is Kakashi now?

He did the math.

wrong.

Kakashi is not even ten years old yet. He's already two years old!

Shuoge's fingers tightened.

He entered the medical tent, where Rin was treating Kakashi's wounds. Her technique was skilled, but her hands were trembling.

Shuoge stood at the tent entrance, not going in, but just watching.

Kakashi's left eye was gone; the wound was deep, running from his brow bone all the way to his cheekbone. He was still clutching a kunai in his right hand, which Rin had pried open to remove.

"Where's Obito?" Sakugo asked.

Lin paused for a moment. She didn't look up, her voice was very soft, as if afraid of disturbing something.

"Obito... he's buried under the rocks. There's no way to save him." Her voice trembled, but she finished speaking. Then she continued treating the wound without stopping.

Shuoge stood there, watching Lin's retreating figure. Her shoulders were trembling, but she didn't cry.

He knew she would cry, just not at this moment.

He turned and stepped out of the medical tent, standing outside. The sun was blazing, turning the ground white. He looked down at his shadow, short and barely visible beneath his feet, like a black dot.

Obito is dead.

Not two years from now, it's right now.

Or perhaps it's because of him.

Because of him, this butterfly.

His existence changed so many things—the ceasefire on the western front was brought forward, the retreat of Sunagakure was brought forward, and the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist were encountered earlier than expected.

Now even the Battle of Kannabi Bridge has been brought forward.

He had no idea what else might come first.

But he knew one thing—Lin.

Lin is next.

In the original storyline, Rin was captured by Kirigakure shortly after Obito's "death," implanted with the Three-Tails, and then died in the outskirts of Konoha under Kakashi's Lightning Blade.

That was the final straw that led to Obito's corruption, a crucial part of Madara Uchiha's plan.

Shuoge raised his head and looked at the distant sea.

The fog hadn't arrived yet; the sea was blue, the sky was blue, as if nothing had happened.

But he knew something was approaching. Not fog, but a conspiracy. A conspiracy by adults, a conspiracy by the ninja world, a conspiracy that uses children as pawns.

He couldn't let Lin die.

It wasn't because she was his deskmate, it wasn't because she changed his medicine, it wasn't because she would scold him for not taking his medicine properly.

It's because she shouldn't have died.

A person who would ask "Does it hurt?" when changing the dressings of the wounded, a person who would count out each pill carefully and place them on the table, a person who would stand by the training ground and wait for you to finish practicing your sword before speaking—she shouldn't have died in the adults' conspiracy, shouldn't have become part of anyone's plan.

Shuoge turned and walked towards the medical tent.

He didn't go in; he just stood at the entrance, leaning against the tent pole.

Rin was still inside, tending to Kakashi's wounds. Her back was thin, her white coat stained with blood, and her shoulders were still trembling. He looked at her, for a long time.

"I won't let you die."

He didn't say it aloud, but just thought it to himself.

The wind blew by, carrying the smell of the sea.

Someone in the distance was calling "Obito"—it was Guy's voice.

Then there was no sound.

The camp was as quiet as a graveyard.

Shuoge leaned against a tent pole, knife behind his back, hands hanging at his sides.

He looked at the lone tree in the distance, its leaves rustling in the wind.

He remembered what Obito had said in the tent—"She changed your bandages because you're wounded. Don't overthink it."

He didn't say anything then, and he can't say anything now.

He closed his eyes, his chakra flowing slowly through his meridians. He didn't need to sleep; he only needed to become stronger. Strong enough to protect those he wanted to protect, strong enough to prevent anyone from ever being taken away from him again.

……

……

……

Kakashi lay in the medical tent for three days.

The wound on my left eye has been stitched up, but the bandage cannot be removed yet.

The transplanted Sharingan needs time to adapt; the flow of chakra, the focus of vision, and coordination with the right eye—everything needs to be relearned.

Kakashi didn't speak; he hadn't uttered a word since waking up.

He kept his right eye open, staring at the top of the tent, motionless.

Lin would come every day to change his dressings, and then leave without saying a word.

Kai came twice, standing at the tent entrance, unsure what to say, and left after a while. Hong came once, standing in the distance, glancing at it, and then turning away.

Shuoge did not go to see him.

It's not that I don't want to, it's that I don't know what to say if I go.

"Please accept my condolences."

"Take care of yourself"?

"Obito didn't die in vain"?

These words are all nonsense.

Once a person is dead, they are dead; nothing can bring them back to life.

So he didn't go.

Uchiha Sakugo's personality wasn't suited to comforting people; he wasn't good at that.

On the fourth day, Sakumo Hatake arrived.

When he walked into the tent, the sentries in the camp were all stunned for a moment—why was White Fang, who wasn't at the front line, coming to the rear?

No one dared to ask.

Sakumo Hatake went directly to the medical tent and stayed inside for fifteen minutes.

When he came out, Kakashi followed behind him. His left eye was still bandaged, his right eye was staring at the ground, his face was pale, and his lips were bloodless. He carried a backpack and held the White Fang short sword in his hand, with a new scratch on the scabbard.

Sakumo Hatake walked to the command tent, lifted the curtain, and went inside.

Orochimaru was looking at the map when he looked up and glanced at him.

"Kakashi needs to go back to the village to recuperate," Sakumo Hatake said calmly. "He can come back once he's healed."

Orochimaru didn't ask why. He glanced at the silver-haired boy outside the tent, then at Hatake Sakumo.

"Can."

Hatake Sakumo nodded, turned around, and walked out of the tent.

He walked up to Kakashi and extended his hand.

Kakashi didn't take it; instead, he carried his backpack and walked towards the camp entrance.

Sakumo Hatake followed behind him, the two of them walking out of the camp, one in front of the other. No one saw them off, no one said "take care."

In times of war, leaving alive is the best farewell.

Shuoge stood on the training field, watching the two figures disappear into the mist. Kai stood beside him, his fists clenched tightly.

"Kakashi... will he be alright?" Guy's voice was a little hoarse.

Shuoge did not answer. He turned around and continued to swing his knife.

One cut, another cut, and yet another.

Kakashi is gone.

Obito is dead.

Lin's teammates are all gone.

She still went to the medical tent every day, alone, to change dressings, remove bandages, and stitch up wounds for the wounded. Her movements were still so gentle, her hands still so steady, but she no longer smiled.

It's not that I don't want to laugh, it's that I can't laugh anymore.

Shuoge considered having Lin join his team. His team only had Kai and Hong; Dai had gone back to the village to recuperate, and they were short one person.

Rin is a medical ninja, and the team needs a medical ninja.

And he had promised himself that he wouldn't let Lin die.

I feel most at ease keeping it close at hand.

But before he could even speak, the transfer order came down.

Lin was assigned to the medical unit of the eastern front camp and was no longer part of any combat squad; she was directly under the command of the medical platoon.

Logistics, rear area, relatively safe.

When Shuoge saw the transfer order, he remained silent for a while.

The medical unit was located at the innermost part of the camp, far from the front line, and was overseen by Orochimaru and Sakumo Hatake.

It was much safer than his squad, which was always on missions. He didn't go to Lin, didn't say, "Consider joining my squad," and didn't say, "I'll protect you."

He simply folded the transfer order and stuffed it into his pocket.

"What's wrong?" Hong asked him.

"It's nothing." Shuoge picked up his knife and walked out of the tent.

That night, he practiced his sword on the training field until late into the night.

It's not that I'm tired, it's that I'm annoyed.

He knew Lin wouldn't die—at least not in the medical corps.

If the Hidden Mist Village wants to capture her, they won't do it inside the camp; they'll do it outside.

She is safe as long as she doesn't leave the camp.

But he still felt irritated.

Since Obito's "death" came sooner than expected, will Rin's "death" also come sooner than expected?

he does not know.

All he could do was keep an eye on things. He kept an eye on the medical unit's mission schedule, on Lin's outings, and on every possible opportunity to get her out of the camp.

He couldn't let her go out alone.

He sheathed his sword, stood in the moonlight, and looked up at the sky.

There were no stars, only fog, a hazy gray, like a dirty cloth. He looked down at his hands. The scar on the web of his hand was still there, from gripping the knife so tightly. He clenched his fist, then relaxed it.

"You won't die," he whispered. Then he turned and walked back to the tent.

The next day, when Lin came out of the medical tent, she saw Shuoge. He stood by the roadside, knife behind his back, hands at his sides, like a tree. Lin walked over and stopped in front of him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just passing by." Shuoge's voice was flat.

Lin glanced at him. She didn't ask, "Were you waiting for me?" nor did she say, "Thank you." She just stood there, the wind blowing and ruffling her hair.

She lowered her head and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"I'm fine," she said.

Shuoge looked at her. She had dark circles under her eyes, her lips were dry, and her face was pale. But she stood straight, and her voice was steady. She was genuinely alright. Or rather, she was pretending.

"Hmm." Shuoge turned and left.

Lin stood there, watching his figure disappear between the tents. She suddenly remembered the first time she changed his dressing; he hadn't said a word. And now he still didn't speak.

But she knew he had come to see her.

She confirmed she was still alive. She lowered her head, smiled faintly, and then turned and walked back to the medical tent. Other wounded soldiers were waiting for her.

……

……

……

The mission came suddenly.

When the messenger lifted the curtain, Sakugo was wiping his sword. Kai was doing push-ups, and Kurenai was organizing her ninja tool kit.

"We lost contact with Horikoshi Village on the eastern coast this morning. Go investigate." The messenger placed the scroll on the table and turned to leave.

Shuoge unrolled the scroll and glanced at it.

Horikoshi Village has about thirty households who make a living by fishing. It's not on a supply line, there are no troops stationed there, and not even a sentry post.

What is Wuyin doing in a place like this?

He closed the reel and stood up.

"Walk."

-

The three left the camp and headed east along the coastline. After walking for most of the day, the road became narrower and narrower, the sea breeze grew stronger, and a burnt smell began to seep into the air.

Kai sniffed.

"Someone is burning something."

Shuoge quickened his pace.

He stopped when the village came into view.

There wasn't a single complete house.

The roof collapsed, the walls fell, and the wooden beams were charred black and still smoking.

The fishing boat was dragged ashore, its keel smashed, and it was left upside down on the beach.

The old banyan tree at the village entrance had been cut down to the roots, its crown pressing down on the mill, its leaves already withered. The ground was covered with footprints—not those of the villagers, but those of the ninjas.

In the open space in the middle of the village, corpses lay scattered about.

Kai was the first to rush in. He ran a few steps and then stopped.

Hong followed behind, her pace slowing down.

Shuoge walked in, the knife behind his back, his hand resting on the hilt.

His gaze swept over the corpses—men, women, the elderly, and children. The oldest was seventy or eighty, the youngest still an infant. All had been killed with a single blow.

The wound was very clean; it was a ninja's knife.

Kai squatted down in front of an old man.

The old man was lying on the ground with a wound on his back that ran from his shoulder down to his waist.

The blood had dried; it was dark red and stuck to the clothes.

Kai reached out and turned the old man's body over. The old man's eyes were still open, and his mouth was agape, as if he were shouting something.

Kai's hands were shaking.

He closed the old man's eyes and stood up. His eyes were red, but he didn't cry.

Hong stood in front of a child. The child was five or six years old, curled up on the ground, clutching a rag doll in his arms.

The rag doll was soaked in blood, and its original color was no longer visible.

Her red lips trembled as she knelt down and closed the child's eyes. Her hands trembled, but she didn't cry.

Shuoge walked deep into the village.

Every few steps, you would see a corpse.

A young woman was lying on the threshold, her hand reaching into the house—she was trying to crawl inside to reach her child.

Inside the room, an infant lay on the bed with a thin, long wound on its neck.

Shuoge stood at the doorway, looking at the small bed, the baby, and the woman leaning against the threshold. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his knife, his knuckles turning white.

His eyes began to burn. It wasn't the stinging sensation after seeing bright light; it was a burning heat coming from behind his eyeballs, as if something was gushing out.

The three-tomoe Sharingan automatically activated and slowly rotated in the sunlight.

It's not a kaleidoscope, it's just a three-tomoe jewel.

But the burning sensation was more intense than ever before. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them. His eyes were still red, and the triangular tomoe mark on them was still swirling. The burning sensation had subsided somewhat, but it hadn't completely disappeared.

Kai walked over and stood beside him. He looked at the baby in the room and remained silent for a long time.

"Who did it?"

Shuoge, his face grim, squatted down.

He examined the young woman's wound. A ninja's blade, thin and swift. A single stab into her back, piercing her heart.

The technique is clean and efficient, a common knife-fighting method used by those in the shadows.

"Kirigakure—" Sakugo stood up. "Anbu."

"Why?" Kai's voice was hoarse. "There are no ninjas here, no garrison, nothing. What's the point of killing these people?"

Shuoge looked at him. Kai's eyes were red, his lips were trembling, and his fists were clenched tightly. Hong stood behind him, head down, looking at the rag doll.

"War—" Shogo's voice was flat. "No reason needed."

He turned around and faced the sea.

The fog rolled in from the sea, grayish-white, like a wall.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Clear the battlefield!

He thought to himself. Wuyin was cleaning up the rear. Eliminating villages, removing spies, sealing off every possible leak. They were about to make their move on the eastern front.

"Let's go." Shuoge didn't turn around. "Go back and report."

He took a step. The knife was behind him, and his hand was at his side.

Kai and Hong followed behind. Three people, three pairs of footsteps, crunching on the sand. The sea breeze blew from the east, and the fog grew thicker and thicker, as if it would swallow the entire coastline.