Naruto: Threads of Crimson

I shook my head and rolled my shoulders back and forth. "No pressure, right?"

"None at all," Shisui said, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "But seriously, think we're ready for this responsibility?" His tone was light, but there was a flicker of seriousness in his eyes.

I smirked back, feeling that same feeling. "I think so. I'm ready to carry our clan name into the future, and I know you are as well."

Shisui nodded, his eyes gleaming. "I am, I'm just so excited to build my reputation and make sure the village is never in any danger."

I thought about my parents and how I was going to make them so proud. "Yeah, we're gonna do great things, Shisui. I can feel it."

We continued walking, through the streets as I grabbed a dumpling meal from a nearby stand. "Man, these dumplings are so-" Suddenly, a strange sensation crept over me.

'What is this? Why do I feel in danger all of a sudden?' A chill ran down my spine, and the air seemed thicker. The faint, metallic scent wafting through the breeze.

I glanced at Shisui. His carefree grin had disappeared, replaced with a look of concentration. He felt it too. Neither of us said anything, but the shift in the air was enough to put us on edge.

Then we saw him.

A man stood ahead, his pale skin stretched tight over sharp features, yellow eyes staring straight at us. Purple markings ringed his eyes. His gaze was unnerving, piercing through the crowd as if no one else existed. 'Everything about him feels wrong, it's like he's a shadow that's out of place walking through the bright streets of the village.'

The man's eyes landed on us, and he began to take steps towards us. 'Who is this guy? Why does he make me feel this way?'

"Hello there," he said, his voice a low, unsettling hiss that sent a shiver through me. "I couldn't help but notice the two of you."

His voice was somewhat familiar, faintly echoing in my memory, but I couldn't place it. My muscles tensed as his gaze stayed locked onto us. Shisui's stance shifted subtly; he didn't look alarmed, but I knew him too well. He was ready.

The man stopped just a few feet away, his eyes narrowing with an almost predatory interest. "You both are Uchiha clansmen, aren't you?" His words dripped with a strange mix of curiosity and intent, as though he already knew the answer but wanted to hear us confirm it.

"Yeah, we are," I answered cautiously. "I'm Shiro, and this is Shisui." I gestured toward my teammate, whose Sharingan flickered into life, silently analyzing every movement the man made.

The man tilted his head, his lips curling into a thin smile. "You must have the Sharingan too, then," he said, his voice lowering. "Just like your friend. May I… take a closer look?"

His request made my head tilt a little. I hesitated, glancing at Shisui, whose slight frown told me he felt the same discomfort. But the man wore a Leaf headband, and no one around us seemed alarmed. Reluctantly, I activated my Sharingan, my eyes glowing faintly red.

The man leaned closer, his fingers brushing near my face, though they never quite touched me. His stare was invasive, his yellow eyes locking onto mine with unsettling fascination. The way he studied me felt wrong, like he was looking at an animal on an exam table, searching for something only he could recognize.

I pulled back slightly, the instinct to recoil overpowering my politeness. His gaze lingered, and his smile widened into something more unsettling, more unnatural. "Very good indeed," he muttered.

He stepped back and straightened, his eyes flicking briefly to Shisui before turning to disappear into the crowd. No one else seemed to notice him, but to me, the air felt colder, the metallic scent lingering faintly in his wake.

Shisui broke the silence, his voice unusually tense. "Wha—who was that?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head as the memory of his voice tugged at something deep in my mind. "But his voice… it sounded familiar. I just can't figure out why."

Shisui's Sharingan faded as he looked toward where the man had gone. "There's something about him… something that felt off."

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By the time I reached the Uchiha compound, the strange encounter with the pale man was starting to fade from my mind, replaced by the excitement of my promotion and the prospect of telling my parents. As Shisui and I parted ways, I practically sprinted the last few steps to my house. The familiar warmth of home beckoned, and I slid the door open to find my parents in the living area, deep in conversation.

The click of the door drew their attention, and I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. I threw my hands into the air, joy bubbling over. "Mom, Dad… I've been promoted to chunin!" The pride in my voice rang out clear as day.

My mother's eyes widened in surprise, her expression quickly softening into joy. My father looked at me, his face breaking into a proud smile. They exchanged a glance—a look that spoke a thousand unspoken words—before my mother rushed forward, wrapping me in a tight, warm embrace.

"We're so proud of you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her Sharingan flared to life, the crimson glow locking onto my eyes as if she wanted to engrave this moment into her memory.

My father stepped closer, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. The weight of his approval was palpable. "You've earned this," he said simply, but the depth in his voice told me how much he meant it. His Sharingan was active too, mirroring my mother's, the gleaming red orbs focused entirely on me.

I blinked, a little caught off guard. They rarely activated their Sharingan at home. "Why do you both have your Sharingan on?" I asked, unable to suppress my curiosity as I looked back at their glowing crimson eyes.

My father smiled, his expression softer than usual. "Well, our eyes remember all they've seen, don't they?"

I tilted my head, confused. "Yeah, everything gets ingrained in our minds," I replied hesitantly.

My father chuckled softly, the sound warm but carrying a weight of meaning. "Not quite, Shiro. Our clan has discovered over the years that it's not just our minds that hold memories—our Sharingan does too. The eyes carry everything they've witnessed. By looking at you now, with our Sharingan active, this moment becomes a permanent part of us—etched so deeply it will never fade."

My mother, still holding me close, spoke softly, her voice carrying the tenderness of a truth rarely shared. "As shinobi, we see so much pain and loss. Our eyes bear witness to things we wish we could forget. But in moments like this, moments filled with pride and love, we let our Sharingan record happiness too. That way, even in the darkest times, we can look back and hold onto this feeling. That's why we activate it—for memories we want to treasure forever."

Her words sent a chill through me, not of fear but of reverence. The Sharingan was more than a tool for battle. It was a vessel for memory, a keeper of the most sacred parts of our lives. The thought was both eerie and deeply moving.

My father nodded, his gaze steady. "This is why the Uchiha put so much faith in bonds. It's moments like these that remind us why we fight, why we protect. These memories anchor us and keep us strong."

Their words hit me like a revelation. I had always thought of the Sharingan as a weapon, a technique. But now I saw it differently. It wasn't just about power—it was about holding on to what truly mattered. I smiled softly, letting the moment sink in. With a deep breath, I activated my Sharingan too, feeling its familiar pull as the warmth of this memory embedded itself within me.

The celebration continued, our laughter filling the house, lightening the weight of my new responsibilities. My father told stories of his own promotion, while my mother reminisced about the pride she felt in her own achievements. Their words wrapped around me like a protective shield, grounding me in the love and support of my family.

In that moment, surrounded by them, I understood something Reika had once said on our first mission: being a shinobi wasn't just about fighting for the village or completing the mission. It was about protecting the people you loved and cherishing the moments that made it all worthwhile.

This was what the Will of Fire truly meant.

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(A/N: This is a pretty short chapter; I only really wanted to give a quick cameo from Orochimaru since he is still in the village at this time. The next few chapters aren't going to focus on Shiro, so don't be surprised when he's omitted.)