On the day of Riki's birth, the Valley of Hell came alive. The villagers gathered to celebrate the new member — a symbol of hope amidst desolation. When the baby's first cry echoed, a wave of joy swept through the air. The Chinoike danced, manipulating blood in fluid, hypnotic patterns, while the Uzumaki raised their cups in laughter and drink, in a celebration that seemed to defy the weight of the past.
Tekka stepped out of the cabin with Riki in his arms, and the valley fell silent for a moment. For many Chinoike, it was the first time they had seen an Uchiha up close, after centuries of separation. Their eyes carried distrust — echoes of stories in which the Uchiha had a role in the downfall of their clan. But upon gazing at the child, even the hardest expressions softened. Riki was more than a baby: he was the promise of something greater. A bridge between clans divided by generations of pain. For the remaining Uzumaki and Chinoike, whose numbers dwindled with each passing year, every new life was a silent vow against oblivion.
Sensing a veiled hostility, Tekka activated his Sharingan without realizing — the three tomoe spun instinctively, a reflex born of years in battle and the tension around him.
In response, the Chinoike activated their Ketsuryugan, and the blood-stained waters of the valley churned violently, as if reacting to an ancestral force. The tension became almost suffocating — the air heavy, dense, charged with the clash of opposing heritages.
Takashi, the eldest Uzumaki elder, intervened with a forced cough, his imposing presence cutting through the silence:
— Lord Tekka, this child in your arms is the newest member of the Valley of Hell — he said, his voice firm, though a subtle plea was hidden in the tone.
— Elder Takashi... yes. This is Riki, my son with Akemi — Tekka replied, holding the baby firmly.
— I regret that you feel threatened, Lord Tekka. And I hope young Riki helps ease the tensions between the Chinoike and Uchiha. But… please… it is not appropriate to keep your Sharingan active in our home.
Tekka blinked, surprised to realize the tomoe were still spinning in his eyes. With a conscious effort, he deactivated the Sharingan. The Chinoike, in turn, slowly relaxed their Ketsuryugan. The waters of the valley calmed, reflecting the darkened sky. The tension dissolved, but the echo of distrust lingered in the air.
Gradually, Uzumaki and Chinoike approached, curious. Riki was passed from arm to arm. His large, black eyes stared at each face with unsettling calm. Despite the commotion, he didn't cry but remained silent — and that intrigued everyone.
"These poor shinobi… None of them suspect that behind this serene façade, I'm in absolute panic. A reincarnated soul, thrown into a strange world, experiencing something not even my worst nightmares could conjure. Who wouldn't be in shock in my place?"
Weeks after his birth, Riki began to grow used to the idea of being a child again. There wasn't much to do but wait for time to pass, trapped in a fragile body while his mind buzzed with memories from another life.
But over time, something even more unsettling emerged: his father, Tekka, was a side character, almost irrelevant in the story he knew. And his mother, Akemi, didn't even exist. It was a paradox.
Riki had watched the entire Naruto anime, read the manga, followed the spin-offs. The Chinoike clan had never crossed paths with the Uzumaki in the original work. This world… this version of the story… wasn't supposed to exist.
Still lost in thought, Tekka entered the room and carefully picked Riki up in his arms. The baby let out a sleepy murmur, as if sensing the weight of the moment without understanding it.
— You're really going to leave us? — Akemi's voice cut through the silence behind him. Cold. Direct. Her eyes were fixed on his back, as if trying to pierce through him.
Tekka didn't turn immediately.
— Akemi… I have to go back. The war is consuming everything. Even children are being sent to the battlefield. The clan needs me. Konoha needs me.
— Konoha. — She repeated the name as if spitting something bitter.
— The same village that watched in silence as Uzushiogakure was wiped out? That allowed Danzō to send squads under the guise of "diplomatic missions"? Do you really think Konoha sees you as indispensable, Tekka? You're just another pawn… and worse: a replaceable one.
— You're mixing things up — he said, turning to face her. — What Danzō does doesn't represent the whole village. There's still honor in Konoha. There are still those who fight to protect, not destroy. And I am one of them.
— People like you don't change the system, Tekka. They get crushed by it — her voice wavered between anger and a deeper sorrow. — And even so, you want to leave your son? Leave us? For a village that erased my clan's name from the records? That hunted surviving Uzumaki like unstable weapons? That never acknowledged the Chinoike's exile as injustice?