The sharp scream echoed through the forest, slicing through the quiet like a blade. As soon as Eric and Tony heard it, they didn't waste a second. Both dashed toward the sound without a word. But just before they reached the forest's edge, Tony raised his hand.
"Stop, Eric," he said, a bit breathless. "Let's observe first. We don't know what's going on."
Eric halted, glancing back. "You serious?"
"Yeah. Look, this is our first real situation in this world. We don't know who's who or what's what. We might jump in and end up helping the villain." Tony's voice was steady, but there was a nervous undertone. He didn't want their first move in this new world to be a mistake.
From behind a thick patch of trees, they crouched and peered through the brush. Down a sloping path at the forest's edge, they saw her.
A young woman, maybe in her twenties, was running with all the desperation in the world etched into her face. Her green eyes—bright, panicked—looked back as four men in dark clothing chased after her, gaining quickly.
"She's done for," Eric muttered. "Those guys are way faster."
Tony frowned. "This doesn't look good," he muttered, his voice tinged with anxiety. "But still... what if she's not who she appears to be? She could be the villain here for all we know."
Eric didn't respond immediately. His eyes were locked onto the scene, analyzing every movement. Despite the suspicion, there was something about the woman that tugged at his instincts—a fragile desperation that didn't seem faked.
.....
Her name was Uzumaki Yuri, and she was a survivor.
She had just celebrated her twentieth birthday—but her soul felt ancient, carved by ten thousand unspoken scars.
Her eyes, a rare shade of vivid green, once sparkled like jade under the sun. Now, they bore a dulled glint—like broken glass reflecting memories too heavy to carry. Her hair, dyed black in a futile attempt to hide, still betrayed her identity. In the sunlight, streaks of deep crimson shimmered through, a cruel reminder of the blood that ran through her veins.
Twenty years ago, she was born into the prestigious Uzumaki Clan, deep within a hidden valley who known for their incredible chakra and sealing technic. Her father, a revered elder, held one of the highest seats in the village council. Her mother, gentle and wise, once told her bedtime stories about the powerful line of Uzumaki heroes and priestesses.
Yuri was a child of pride. A child of destiny.
In those early years, she lived like a princess. Villagers greeted her with warm smiles. Children followed her like ducklings. The elders praised her keen senses, her bright chakra, and the eerie maturity in her gaze. She was gifted, adored, loved without restraint.
And for a time, she believed that her life would always be like that—a quiet tale of warmth passed down, without any end.
But the world is rarely so kind to those born into greatness.
It was a moonless night. The wind howled strangely through the valley, and the stars seemed to hide in fear.
She awoke to a scream.
At first, she thought it was a nightmare. But when she opened her door and stepped outside… the nightmare came alive, that day was the end of her sweet dreams.
The village was on fire.
Homes crumbled. Shadows clashed in deadly dance. Bodies—faces she had smiled at just hours earlier—lay strewn across the crimson-stained streets. Her father appeared, bloodied and desperate, lifting her into his arms.
Her father.
The strongest man she ever knew, the gentlest soul she ever loved. In her earliest memories, he was always smiling. Tall and stern to others, but soft around her. He used to carry her on his shoulders and say, "One day, you'll see further than even I can."
And on that one cursed night, when fire and fury tore their home apart, it was those same strong arms that scooped her up. He was wounded—badly. Blood poured from a deep gash across his side. She still remembered the way it soaked through his robes and onto her tiny hands.
"Yuri, listen to me…"
She hadn't wanted to listen.
"No matter what happens, you must live."
He had knelt before her, his body trembling, and cupped her cheeks in hands drenched in red. One of those hands—his right hand, forever etched into her soul—had run gently through her hair.
"You're my greatest treasure."
And then, he smiled.
Even as he sealed her into safety with the last of his chakra.
Even as the barrier closed around her and her screams echoed unanswered.
She remembered every detail of that moment.But more than anything…
She remembered how it felt when his bloody hand stroked her hair, slow and trembling, a soft touch in the midst of chaos. It was warmth. Protection. Farewell.
Ever since that day, the red in her hair haunted her.
Every strand, every flicker of crimson was a reminder. Not just of her lineage… but of her father's blood. Of the final moment they shared.
She cried for him that night.
And every night after.
The destruction of the Uzumaki Clan wasn't random. It was calculated. The Four Great Villages—each threatened by the clan's knowledge and sealing techniques—had formed a temporary alliance to wipe the bloodline from existence.
They succeeded.
Yuri never saw her family again.
She wandered for days, barefoot, hungry, calling names that would never answer. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw flames and blood. Every time she slept, she heard the laughter of those who slaughtered her people.
She was ten years old.
And she was alone.
Over the years, Yuri came to understand the value of her blood—and the curse it carried.
Her lineage was a rare treasure: pure Uzumaki blood, rich in vitality, immense chakra reserves, and a unique sensory ability that surpassed every shinobi sensor she ever read about in scrolls. With a single breath, she could read emotions, trace chakra threads from miles away, and even perceive killing intent before it formed.
Her gift was what kept her alive—but also what made her a target.
To the world, she was a relic. A resource. A tool.
To rogue nations, she was a breeding vessel. To warlords, a secret weapon. To some… just another experiment waiting to be dissected.
And so, she ran.
She never stayed in one place longer than a week. She learned to silence her chakra signature. To sleep with one eye open. To kill without hesitation when cornered. To smile in mirrors only when pretending to be someone else.
She forgot what peace sounded like.
She forgot what love looked like.
And she forgot what it felt like to speak her name.
There were moments—many, in fact—when she stood at the edge of a cliff, or sat beneath a moonlit tree with a kunai against her neck, wondering…
Would it be better if I just disappeared?
Would anyone cry? Would anyone notice if Uzumaki Yuri, last of her name, simply faded into the void?
The answer always felt like no.
But her mother's voice—soft and unwavering—lingered in her soul like a ghost.
"Yuri… the fact that you were born as my daughter…That is the greatest thing that ever happened to me."
"Please… live. No matter what. No matter who you have to become.One day, someone will appear. Someone who makes you want to stay."
"So hold on… just a little longer."
Those words were her lifeline.
When her legs trembled from hunger, she repeated them.When her hands shook with blood, she whispered them.When she sat in cold caves, crying into her knees, she clung to them.
And maybe… just maybe… they were finally coming true.
Because now, as four mercenaries closed in with blades drawn and lust in their eyes—when all seemed lost again—one stranger had appeared from the trees.
But their eyes weren't cruel, not of greed, she just saw pity for a wounded soul.
Then he had stepped between her and her enemies.
She blinked, barely believing it.
Was this it?Was this the moment her mother spoke of?Was this the one who would carry her burden, even if just for a while?
For the first time in years… the tears that welled in her eyes weren't from despair.