Looking for Trouble
Happy times never last long in Konoha.
After wandering through the village with Kushina Uzumaki, basking in the quiet joy of stolen hours, dusk draped its violet cloak over the rooftops.
Reluctantly, Senyu escorted Kushina back to her quarters. Then, alone, he turned toward the underground lair he now called home—Orochimaru's hidden base.
> It's been so long since I stepped inside my old house. Probably crawling with dust bunnies and ghosts.
One night isn't worth the cleanup.
The cool air nipped at his collar as he walked the silent road. His mind wandered, circling the memory of his recent conversation with Mito Uzumaki.
She treated him like a junior—polite, gentle even.
But Senyu couldn't quite bring himself to return the sentiment.
> No matter how much she loves Kushina... she'd still sacrifice her for the village if it came to that. Just like Hashirama gave up Madara.
More than that, Mito's ability to sense malice was far too dangerous. That unique Uzumaki perception—her "spiritual sensitivity"—felt like she was staring through his mask and straight into the shadows.
> What kind of technique or seal could deceive her?
There has to be something...
Lost in thought, Senyu almost didn't notice the two shadows now blocking his path.
His Sharingan hadn't activated—but even without it, the Uchiha clan crest stitched across their backs was unmistakable.
"Yo, if it isn't Senyu... or wait, do we even call him Uchiha?"
The taller one sneered. "Nah, man's just a mutt. No surname, no respect. What's up, mongrel?"
Laughter followed, sharp and grating. Senyu's brow furrowed.
He stepped forward, attempting to walk past without engaging. But the two shifted, flanking him like wolves cornering prey.
"Aww, trying to walk away already?"
"Did we hit a nerve, mongrel?"
Senyu's voice dropped an octave, low and cold.
"Move. Now."
They only laughed harder.
The one in front—Yuto Uchiha—reached out to shove him.
Bad move.
Senyu caught his wrist mid-motion, grip tightening with the calm precision of someone trained to kill. Though Yuto had a few years on him, Senyu's body—honed through Orochimaru's merciless training—was harder than steel.
Yuto's smug expression quickly turned to a grimace of pain.
"L-Let go! Bastard, let go!"
From behind, Kazuma Uchiha moved to strike.
Without even turning around, Senyu delivered a side kick that sent Kazuma skidding across the dirt road.
Still holding Yuto's wrist, Senyu tilted his head slightly.
"Now... how about you get lost?"
Yuto grit his teeth through the pain. "You... you're just an abandoned freak. A clanless dog! How dare you look down on me?!"
He drew a kunai with his left hand and lunged.
"Too slow."
Senyu shifted. The blade missed.
In one fluid motion, Senyu kneed Yuto hard in the gut.
"Ghk—!"
The kunai clattered to the ground. Yuto wheezed, his eyes wide with shock and agony.
Then came the elbow—clean, merciless, to the side of the head. Yuto dropped like a sack of rice.
"Yuto!" Kazuma rushed to help his friend up.
Yuto spat blood, glaring at Senyu with hate. "We're not done! Kazuma, let's break him!"
He flung several shuriken forward. Senyu's katana—previously still at his hip—sang as it left the sheath.
One by one, the shuriken were deflected midair, sparks lighting up the street.
The two Uchiha came at him with kunai, but in the blink of an eye—Senyu vanished.
"W-Where'd he go?!"
"Is that the Body Flicker?!"
A voice behind them—closer than it had any right to be—answered:
"Not a jutsu. Just speed. You're both too damn slow."
Yuto barely turned before the back of Senyu's blade cracked against his forearm.
Crunch.
The arm folded at a sickening angle.
"AAAAH!" Yuto collapsed, howling in pain.
Senyu pivoted, grabbing Kazuma's arm from behind and slamming a foot against his knee. The older boy dropped to a kneel. Senyu pressed a boot to his back, twisting his right arm behind him.
"Rule #3 of the shinobi code," Senyu whispered, "Don't attack your comrades. You both came at me first. And with weapons. So if I break one arm... that's just self-defense, right?"
"No! Please!" Kazuma begged, voice cracking.
The answer came in the sound of bone shattering.
Kazuma screamed, clutching his limp arm.
Both boys lay writhing on the ground, gasping and humiliated.
Senyu looked down, eyes narrowed in cold contempt.
"Is this what the Uchiha clan produces now? Weak, loud, and pathetic?"
Yuto, still reeling from the pain, managed to spit out, "The clan... won't let this go…"
Senyu's smirk was venom.
"You're what, sixteen? Seventeen? And neither of you have even awakened your Sharingan after all that rage and pain?"
He paused, mock-thoughtful.
"I guess defective blood really does run in the clan."
Their faces burned with fury and shame.
Then Senyu did something that broke them completely—he activated his Sharingan.
Scarlet tomoe spun slowly in his eyes.
"To be honest, the Sharingan's not bad... once you stop tying your whole identity to it."
He turned to leave—but paused.
"Oh, and since you two are with the Konoha Military Police, go ahead and press charges. Please do. I'll be waiting… at Orochimaru-sensei's base."
He tilted his head, eyes gleaming.
"...Don't pretend you've never heard the name."
Yuto and Kazuma froze.
The Orochimaru. One of the Sannin. One of Hiruzen Sarutobi's legendary pupils.
And Senyu… was his student?
Senyu scoffed, flicking imaginary dust off his shoulder as he turned away.
"Two idiots," he muttered. Then he walked off into the night, leaving them broken in body—and in spirit.