A quiet, creeping tension coiled in Renjiro's gut, his Sharingan activating on reflex. He hadn't meant to, but the sheer absurdity of the proposal had jolted something primal within him. He could feel the weight of three pairs of eyes watching, waiting for his reaction.
He didn't keep them waiting long.
"No."
The word left him in a clipped, decisive tone, sharp as a drawn kunai.
A beat of silence stretched across the room, thick with disbelief.
Elder Toka let out an audible scoff, his grip tightening around his intricately carved cane. Even Fugaku allowed a slight shift in his expression—subtle, but there.
Daichi, however, remained entirely unfazed. If anything, he looked almost… expectant. As if this was the response he had anticipated.
"Why?" The clan head's voice remained level, absent of surprise or irritation.
Renjiro exhaled sharply, willing his shoulders to relax. "Because I'm thirteen." His voice was firm, though beneath it, there was an undercurrent of simmering frustration. "I'm too young for marriage."
Toka let out a derisive huff, but Renjiro ignored him, keeping his gaze locked on Daichi.
"I see." Daichi tapped his fingers against the polished wood of the table, his expression betraying nothing. "That's your reasoning?"
"Yes."
But that wasn't entirely true.
Marriage had never been something he had given serious thought to, not even in his previous life. He had been too preoccupied with other matters, with ambitions that stretched far beyond the notion of settling down. Love, family, long-term commitments—these were ideas he had pushed aside, treating them as distant, almost theoretical concepts, luxuries reserved for those who had the time and security to indulge in them.
But security did not exist in the shinobi world. Not really.
Especially not for someone like him.
Even if he managed to navigate both the third and fourth shinobi wars, to carve his way through the shifting tides of battle and politics, there were still greater threats looming on the horizon.
Madara. Kaguya. The Otsutsuki.
Names that had yet to be spoken in this world but ones he knew would spell disaster when their shadows eventually fell upon the shinobi nations.
Renjiro wasn't just preparing for the battles of today but for the calamities that would come decades from now. And yet here he was, sitting in a dimly lit chamber, being forced to consider a future he wasn't even sure he would live to see.
A wife? A family?
These weren't just unnecessary distractions. They were liabilities.
Renjiro had spent every waking moment ensuring his survival, clawing for strength, making sacrifices that others would never understand. Every move he made was calculated, every action designed to keep him alive in a world that would swallow him whole the moment he hesitated.
A family would be a tether, a weakness to be exploited by enemies. A wife, children—attachments that could be used against him.
He had seen it happen before.
His mind flashed to the stories he knew, of shinobi whose loved ones had been turned into weapons against them. Of how Itachi Uchiha's fate had been sealed, not just by the weight of his own ideals, but by the bonds he could not sever. Of how even the strongest warriors had fallen when their hearts had been used against them.
And yet, here he was, expected to walk willingly into a situation that would tie him down, that would make him vulnerable in ways he had spent his entire life avoiding.
It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Toka finally broke the silence with a measured tone, attempting to ease the tension. "Of course, we are not suggesting a wedding immediately. The betrothal would be for the future—when both of you come of age."
Renjiro's jaw tightened. Of course. That was how they framed it. Not as an immediate burden, but as a seed to be planted, a commitment for later, when resistance would be meaningless.
Still, he held his ground.
"Even then, I fail to see how I would be a suitable match for the clan head's daughter. She's two years older than me. If you truly want to secure a strong political marriage, shouldn't she be paired with someone more… established?"
A flicker of something—annoyance?—passed through Daichi's gaze. It was quick, barely perceptible, but Renjiro caught it.
It was Fugaku who answered instead. "Strength outweighs age in the shinobi world," he said, his voice steady, carrying the weight of authority. "You have already proven yourself. Your mastery of the Sharingan, your battlefield prowess—it places you above most adults, let alone those your age. Nakada is skilled, but the combination of your talents would create a formidable lineage."
Renjiro almost scoffed aloud.
'There it is.'
The core of their reasoning, wrapped neatly in diplomatic wording. They weren't doing this out of concern for him. They weren't offering him marriage because they thought it would be in his best interest.
This was about control.
They wanted to secure his loyalty, to ensure that no matter how strong he became, no matter how far he climbed, he would always be tied to the Uchiha. A marriage to Nakada wasn't just a proposal—it was a leash. One they expected him to slip into willingly.
And he understood why they were doing this.
What confused him was why now?
The world was teetering on the edge of war. Tensions between villages had reached their boiling point. Armies were gathering, alliances were being forged and broken. The shinobi world was preparing for one of the bloodiest conflicts in history.
Why, in the middle of all of this, was Daichi prioritizing marriage alliances?
What was his true aim?
"I still refuse." His voice was firm, unwavering.
Toka let out a quiet sigh, though his expression remained composed. "I understand your hesitance," he said, his tone now adopting an air of reason. "But consider your situation, Renjiro. Kumo's demands are clear. They want you dead. And while the Hokage has resisted their pressure so far, things may change. If you accept this proposal, the Uchiha clan would have an even greater reason to advocate for you—to push back against the Hokage should he ever waver."
Renjiro stilled.
The weight of those words settled over him like a suffocating fog.
Slowly, he let the information sink in, his mind dissecting every angle.
Then, after a long moment, he spoke. "Wasn't the clan going to do that anyway?"
Silence.
The room seemed to freeze, the only sound the distant crackling of embers in the hearth.
Daichi's expression remained unreadable, his gaze steady as he finally answered, voice devoid of warmth.
"Not all of the clan elders consider you one of us."
Renjiro's breath hitched.
The words, though spoken so matter-of-factly, cut deeper than any blade.
He knew he had always been an outsider in the eyes of some, that whispers of his "half-breed" status had followed him since childhood. But to hear it stated so plainly, so effortlessly… it struck something raw within him.
Daichi saw the flicker of reaction and pressed forward. "This is for your own good, Renjiro." His voice, though measured, carried an undercurrent of finality. "This union ensures your place within the clan. It secures your future."
Renjiro's hands curled into fists beneath the table.
There it was. The final push.
He closed his eyes, forcing his breath to steady. His mind screamed at him to resist, to fight against this invisible noose tightening around his throat.
He exhaled slowly, the weight of inevitability pressing against his ribs.
"Fine."
The word tasted like ash in his mouth.
Daichi smiled. "Wise choice."
=====
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