Naruto: The Not Motivated Uchiha

"Adult stuff, kid. Stay out of it," Uchiha Gin said, smacking Izuna's head as he leaned in. He wasn't sure how long he'd keep Tobirama—worst case, until the kid was old enough to bury him.

At the table, Tobirama overheard but didn't bicker. He quietly fetched two more sets of chopsticks from the kitchen.

"Enough sulking, eat," Gin urged, nudging the brooding Madara, who reluctantly took a corner seat.

"Big cousin, eat up!" Gin plopped tofu into Madara's bowl, then asked, "Still fighting out there?"

"Yeah, the Senju got Uzumaki aid. The battlefield's a stalemate," Madara said, blowing on the steaming tofu before swallowing.

"Uzumaki?" Gin's dormant memories stirred, picturing a burly yet refined figure. The Uzumaki were in the war already? How was Mito?

"Right. Their young leader, Uzumaki Hanada, leads the reinforcements. Strong taijutsu, solid sealing techniques. Big brother sparred him, didn't gain an edge," Izuna said, glaring at Tobirama before turning to Gin. "Weird guy, too. Always asks Uchiha the same odd question."

"What question?" Gin asked, curious. Hanada didn't have quirks like that before.

"He asks every Uchiha, 'Know a curly-haired Uchiha?' Haha, bizarre, right?" Izuna laughed, banging the table.

"Haha, what a weirdo," Gin echoed with a forced chuckle, bowing his head to hide his identity.

Tobirama stared: -_-

"Cousin, what's that mark on your forehead? Looks cool," Izuna, in his chuuni phase, said, eyeing Gin's diamond Yin Seal. "Like a third eye! Hook me up with one!"

The last thing Gin wanted was to be called a tryhard. "Heh, I'll teach you later. Maybe throw in a spine tattoo."

"Seriously, why're you back so soon? Last war kept you out six months. This trip was barely a month," Gin said, changing topics.

"Senju Butsuma died," Madara said, eyes locked on Tobirama, dropping the bombshell slowly.

Crack! Tobirama's chopsticks snapped, but he kept his head down, silent.

"Bad chopsticks. Grab another pair," Gin said, noticing tears on Tobirama's cheek, giving him an excuse to leave.

Tobirama shuffled to the kitchen, his slim frame trembling.

"Why bother?" Gin sighed, shaking his head at Madara, knowing the news was meant to hurt Tobirama.

"Sparing his life was for your sake, cousin. Letting him live comfortably while our clansmen die on the battlefield? How can they rest?" Madara's face hardened, his patience with Gin's leniency toward the Senju remnant thin.

"Wars don't start or end with one person's will," Gin said, squinting his dead-fish eyes at Madara. "A child's life doesn't sway the tides of conflict. A world without mutual understanding breeds endless strife."

Madara fell silent, pondering Gin's words, dropping the Tobirama issue.

Phew, he's getting harder to fool. Gin's stock of philosophical platitudes was running dry.

After dinner, a thoughtful Madara dragged a reluctant Izuna home, leaving Gin to clean up. "These jerks used to help with dishes. Now they bolt like rabbits."

Finished, Gin knocked softly on Tobirama's door. No response. Sighing, he said, "Kid, don't do anything stupid."

Creak. The door opened. Tobirama, eyes red and swollen, looked pitiful, voice trembling. "When can I go home?"

"When the war's over," Gin said, heart softening at the boy's state. No! Can't fall for the sad-boy act! Shaking off odd thoughts, he made a promise.

"My father's dead. You've no reason to keep me. Kill me," Tobirama said with a bleak smile. The clans' millennium-long war had no end—this promise was empty.

Thwack! A knuckle-flick landed on the mopey kid's head. Gin steadied his irritation. "Years with me, and you've learned none of my positivity—just emo nonsense."

Calculating, he leaned down to the grumpy Tobirama. "Soon. Ten years, war's done. I'll send you home."

Tobirama, clutching his head, pursed his lips, unconvinced. He'd heard such lies before—kiddy pacifiers.

"You're meeting Tsume to hang out, right? Take this cash, buy whatever," Gin said, stuffing money into Tobirama's hands to cheer him up.

After soothing the emo kid, Gin felt drained. Raising this brat's like being a dad before I'm even married.

Collapsing onto his bed, only sleep could ease his odd exhaustion. As he drifted off, the long-dormant system flickered, a familiar voice echoing in his mind.

Ding! Host has reached age thirty. System activation available. Confirm activation?

Jolted awake, Gin hesitated. His hasty "yes" upon transmigration had saddled him with a brutal mission from this archaic system, constantly threatening erasure. He'd been burned before.

"No, no, no!" This time, he wouldn't fall for the damn system's trap.

"Detected strong host rejection. System entering cooldown. Complete cumulative tasks to unlock. During cooldown, host's age is fixed at thirty."

What? That's a perk?

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