Chapter 7: The Awakening

As the Senju warrior's blade descended, time seemed to slow. The world around Asura shifted, and everything took on a deep, crimson hue. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and he could see every movement with perfect clarity. The man's sword was moving, but it was so slow, almost as if it were drifting through water.

Asura's eyes widened, and in that instant, he realized he could see the trajectory of the blade, the intent behind the strike. His body moved on instinct, rolling to his left just as the sword sliced through the air where his head had been moments before. He scrambled to his feet, panting, and faced the man, who now glared at him with a mix of surprise and fury.

The Senju warrior's eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a sneer. "Sharingan…" he muttered, his tone laced with disdain.

The word echoed in Asura's mind, and he felt a thrill of shock and exhilaration. He had awakened the Sharingan, the legendary eyes of his clan. Even as his heart pounded, even as his legs trembled from the sheer terror of almost losing his life, a flicker of pride surged through him. He had done it. He had unlocked the power of the Uchiha.

But there was no time to bask in his achievement. The Senju warrior roared and charged at Asura, his sword slashing through the air. Asura tightened his grip on his own blade, his new eyes tracking the man's movements with eerie precision. He knew he couldn't match the man's strength, so he did the only thing he could—he parried, deflecting the attacks just enough to avoid the worst of the blows.

The clang of steel against steel rang out as they fought, Asura's mind whirling. He could see the man's movements, predict his strikes, but his body wasn't fast enough, wasn't strong enough to take full advantage of it. He was still just a child, fighting a seasoned warrior. Each blow jarred his arms, sending sharp jolts of pain through his muscles.

The Senju warrior grinned, a cruel glint in his eyes. He raised his hand, his fingers moving in a series of intricate signs. Asura's heart skipped a beat—he was about to use a jutsu. For a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm him, but then something clicked. The Sharingan allowed him to see, to understand, and without thinking, his own hands mirrored the signs.

Wind Release: Wind Bullet.

The two of them finished the signs at the same time, their mouths opening to release a gust of compressed air. Twin blasts shot forth, colliding in mid-air with a deafening boom. The force of the impact sent a wave of wind rippling outwards, flattening the snow beneath their feet. For a brief moment, the world was chaos, and when the dust settled, both jutsus had canceled each other out.

Asura staggered, his vision swimming. He had done it—he had copied the jutsu, but the effort had drained him completely. His chakra reserves were depleted, and he felt the Sharingan flicker, then fade. Exhaustion weighed on his limbs, and his legs threatened to buckle beneath him.

The Senju warrior, however, was still standing strong. He had plenty of chakra left, and his expression had darkened, eyes burning with murderous intent. "Impressive," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "But you're out of tricks, little Uchiha."

Asura could barely lift his sword, his vision blurred, and he felt as if the ground was shifting beneath his feet. The Senju warrior charged, his sword gleaming as he raised it for the final blow. Asura's mind screamed at him to move, to fight, but his body was too slow, too weak.

Just as the blade was about to come down, there was a flash of movement. Three shadows darted forward, their red eyes glowing in the dim light. Before the Senju warrior could react, he was pierced from three sides—one sword driving through his back, the other two stabbing into his sides. The Senju warrior's eyes widened in shock, blood spurting from his mouth as he tried to comprehend what had happened.

The three Uchiha who had saved Asura were adults, their Sharingan active and burning with fury. They pulled their blades free, letting the Senju warrior slump to the ground, lifeless. Two of them immediately turned and sprinted back into the fray, their swords cutting down any Senju they could find. The third remained, his eyes flicking down to Asura.

"Return to the village," he ordered, his tone curt but not unkind. "The battle is over. The Senju are retreating, and you need treatment."

Asura could barely comprehend the words, his mind still reeling from everything that had just happened. But he managed to nod, his legs moving on autopilot as he began to jog back toward the village. Every step sent a jolt of pain through his body, but he forced himself to keep moving, his vision narrowing to a tunnel as exhaustion took over.

By the time he reached the outskirts of the village, the world around him had blurred into indistinct shapes and colors. He could see the medical tents up ahead, the figures of people rushing around, tending to the wounded. Relief washed over him, but his body was at its limit.

Asura stumbled, his legs finally giving out beneath him. He managed to crawl a few more steps before collapsing onto the cold, hard ground. His vision darkened, and the last thing he heard before everything faded away was the distant, frantic voices of the medics rushing to his side.

Then, there was nothing but darkness.