Tekka is my father — an officer in Konoha's police force and a member of the elite Uchiha clan.
During the Third Great Ninja War, Tekka Uchiha was assigned a covert mission beyond the borders of the Land of Fire. His target: an envoy from the Hidden Stone Village who was conducting secret negotiations with the Hidden Waterfall Village. The mission was classified as level S — swift, lethal, and with no margin for error. Tekka executed it with the coldness and precision worthy of his clan. The target did not even have time to react.
But what seemed like a clean strike revealed itself as a trap.
Minutes after the elimination, Tekka realised he had been tracked. Enemy ninjas were already converging on his position: three jōnin and at least five chūnin from the Hidden Stone Village emerged from the treetops and even from the very earth, as if sprouting from the ground. With no chance to escape, he activated his three-tomoe Sharingan.
The environment slowed down before his eyes. Every movement, every flow of chakra, every hand seal — everything became clear.
The first to attack was an earth-style user, who raised pillars of stone attempting to crush him. Tekka leapt between the columns, dodging fluidly, and launched a sequence of shuriken connected by steel wires. With a snap of chakra, he manipulated the wires in midair and immobilised two chūnin at once, cutting them down with a sharp kunai strike as he passed by.
A jōnin tried a surprise attack using a concealment technique, emerging from the shadows, but Tekka sensed him even before seeing him. His Sharingan detected the distortion in chakra. He spun around and executed a Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique, spewing a massive sphere of fire that illuminated the battlefield, dispelled the camouflage, and reduced the enemy to ashes.
The confrontation intensified.
Tekka was forced to alternate between taijutsu and genjutsu, using quick illusions to disorient his opponents, while his body bled from deep cuts. Every move was precise, but the numbers pressed him hard. He killed two more, but the third jōnin — an earth-style specialist — opened a crater beneath his feet with an underground jutsu. Tekka fell, and a spear of stone pierced his shoulder. Screaming in pain, he still managed to unleash a Fire Style: Phoenix Flower Jutsu during the fall, firing multiple fireballs that exploded on contact, spreading smoke and flames across the field.
Gravely injured, disoriented, and with chakra nearly depleted, Tekka escaped the crater with one last leap. His body battered, he staggered through the forest until he reached the borders of the territory known as the Bamboo Village.
There, finally, his knees gave out. His blood mixed with the earth, while the world around him darkened. But even unconscious, his red Sharingan eyes remained open, like stubborn embers refusing to die out.
In the three days that followed, his body slowly healed. But the silence between him and Akemi was thicker than the heavy forest air. There was something unsaid in every exchanged word — something tense like barbed wire under the skin.
She avoided prolonged conversations, doing only what was necessary: changing bandages, keeping the room tidy, and leaving food nearby.
It was a restrained kindness, uncomfortable even for her.
The idea of caring for an Uchiha, a man from Konoha, gnawed at her from within. Yet it was impossible to ignore him. He was wounded. Vulnerable. He was just... human.
Knock, knock.
The knocks on the wooden door sounded dry and direct. Tekka, still lying on the makeshift futon, raised himself with effort. His eyes narrowed. His hand slid reflexively to the sheath of the sword resting against the wall — an automatic gesture, forged by battle experience.
"Come in," he said, his voice hoarse but controlled.
Akemi entered without hurry, balancing a simple tray. The smell of rice and root tea filled the air, discreet but comforting. She stopped in front of him, avoiding eye contact.
"I brought food," she murmured.
"Thank you... Akemi," Tekka replied, hesitating as he sought the right tone.
She nodded but didn't answer. She simply placed the tray beside the futon and took a step back. Arms crossed. Watching him like someone assessing a trap about to spring.
"You act like someone from Konoha," she finally said. "Always grateful, always polite, as if that would erase the smell of blood on your fingers."
Tekka lifted his eyes to her, surprised. But he didn't respond immediately.
"War stains us all," he said at last. "It's not exclusive to my village."
"No. But some villages have the luxury of choosing what to forget," she retorted, dryly.