For the next hour, Uchiha Rusa rattled off Uchiha Gin's alleged crimes.
Petty ones: skipping out on restaurant bills, peeping on widows bathing, stealing kids' snacks.
Grave ones: dragging a girl into the woods at night, assaulting her in front of her boyfriend, then killing both to silence them. When her parents complained to the clan, he had them detained and "reunited" with their daughter, boasting, "A family should stay together."
Countless similar tales spread among the clan, making Uchiha Gin infamous.
Ordinary clansmen feared him like a monster, while stronger ones despised him, restrained only by his status from enacting justice.
???
None of these crimes appeared in the original owner's memories.
The original owner was aloof, especially after the massacre, rarely interacting with clansmen. His daily needs were self-met, and his few conflicts arose when others mocked him as the massacre's sole survivor.
The ninja world doesn't know me, but my legend's everywhere.
"You saw all this yourself?" Uchiha Gin interrupted Rusa's litany.
"Uh… not exactly," Rusa admitted, scratching his head uncertainly.
"Then why's it sound so real?"
"No clue who started it, but everyone began saying, 'Uchiha Gin did all this…'" Rusa trailed off, suddenly doubting himself. When had he built this image of Uchiha Gin?
If these deeds were false, why did everyone believe them? Was someone spreading lies, or…?
Uchiha Gin grew suspicious of the original owner's plight. Who was slandering him, and why?
The questions gnawed at him. Why target a weakling like the original owner?
Was it just resentment for his survival?
Survivor's guilt.
The theory flashed in his mind.
Survivor's guilt: in disasters or crimes, survivors face harsher public scrutiny, bearing immense moral pressure.
The original owner's reclusiveness and silence against rumors likely stemmed from this. Surviving the massacre left him guilt-ridden, so he ignored the slander.
But silence equaled admission.
Thus, his villainous persona solidified among unaware clansmen, blurring rumor and reality until none questioned it.
"Lord Gin, that's all I know," Rusa said.
Lost in thought, Uchiha Gin barely heard Rusa's latter half, though he assumed more negative gossip.
"Thanks, Brother Rusa. I value honesty," Uchiha Gin said, unbothered, knowing the original owner was innocent of these atrocities.
"I'll get going," Rusa said, parched and eager to slip away before Uchiha Gin's mood soured.
"Sure, let's grab tea sometime," Uchiha Gin nodded absently, his mind elsewhere.
Outside, Rusa leaned against the wall, drenched in sweat, legs shaky. "I said all that, and he didn't snap. Nothing like the rumors."
Shaking his head, he dismissed it—none of his concern as a lowly guard. With Uchiha Ironball filing for a transfer, Rusa needed rest for his solo night shift.
Putting the original owner's "injustice" aside, Uchiha Gin decided to meet the alleged old guard, hoping for clearer intel.
Cell Block Three housed minor offenders—thieves and the like. Sentences ranged from ten days to a year, after which most were released.
Some were Uchiha clansmen, others rogue ninjas, all weak and timid.
Two young Uchiha, barely over ten, guarded Cell Block Three. Their stern faces clashed with their youth, creating an odd sight.
As Uchiha Gin approached, a scrawny boy spoke. "Restricted area. No entry."
"You don't know who I am?" Uchiha Gin asked, surprised by the lack of recognition.
"No matter who you are, no orders, no entry," the boy said, stone-faced, blocking the gate.
His "orders" referred to Uchiha Ryuei, the dungeon's de facto ruler.
"I'm the new archivist, here to verify prisoner info," Uchiha Gin said, cutting to the chase.
"Archivist? Go ahead," the boy said, stepping aside.
"Idiot Firecore, you trust a stranger that easily?" the other boy snapped, stopping his partner.
"But he said he's the archivist!" Uchiha Firecore said, scratching his head, confused.
"I, Uchiha Jiro, won't fall for your tricks!" The second boy, with a square, honest face and naively clear eyes, radiated familiar foolishness.
"Uchiha Jiro? Is your brother Uchiha Taro?" Uchiha Gin asked, recognizing him.
"How'd you know?" Jiro replied, startled by the mention of his long-absent brother.
"I was on a mission with your brother. Just got back," Uchiha Gin said, leveraging social ties.
"Oh, my brother's friend! Come in!" Jiro beamed.
Uchiha kids are too honest. No wonder the clan got wiped out, Uchiha Gin thought.
"Thanks, Little Jiro," Uchiha Gin said, smiling at the grinning boy, then turning to the sulking scrawny one. "Thanks to you too, Little Firecore."
The pouting boy looked up, puzzled. "How'd you know my name?"
…
Bidding the boys farewell, Uchiha Gin headed deeper into the block.
Cell Block Three was busier than the others, but prisoners seemed relaxed, some chatting or bragging. Their minor crimes bred little resistance, so his Heartsteel Chest didn't trigger.
Searching fruitlessly, Uchiha Gin began to suspect Rusa had invented the old guard. Then, he spotted an open cell.
Approaching, he saw a hunched figure mopping the floor, dressed in the Uchiha's high-collared combat uniform.
"Hey, excuse me—" Uchiha Gin started.
The figure turned.
In the dim corridor light, an aged face appeared, etched with wrinkles like time's scars.
His gray-white pupils and claw-like, bloodless hands gripping the mop were striking.
Startled by the figure's appearance, Uchiha Gin swallowed his words.
A dark glint flashed in the old man's gray eyes. A raspy, crow-like laugh escaped his withered mouth, his words chilling Uchiha Gin.
"Heh heh heh, you've finally come."
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