Uzushiogakure
The clan, known for its fierce vitality and unmatched stamina. Their vast chakra and endurance allow them to survive battles that would have ended others.
What truly set them apart was their mastery of sealing techniques. To the Uzumaki, fūinjutsu was their biggest strength. They can seal monsters, bodies, and juts. They were walking prison.
Because of this, the Uzumaki were respected as allies and feared as enemies.
Malenia sat on her knees at the center of the sealing hall.
She was eight years old.
Her hair, a deep, muted red, was tied back with a simple cord to keep it from brushing the parchment spread before her. The ceremonial clothing of her early childhood had long been set aside. Today, she wore plain robes marked only by thin stitching at the sleeves—protective patterns woven so subtly that most would mistake them for decoration.
Ink stained her fingers.
In front of her lay a half-completed fuinjutsu array—complex, layered texts. The lines curved inward, forming a structure meant to contain, not release.
Malenia drew the next stroke carefully.
The ink scattered more than it should have.
She paused.
Across from her, Elder Shiosuke watched without speaking. His hair was also red like her's, his back bent with age, but he still was a retired jonin. He had been teaching sealing techniques longer than most villages had existed. (well villages just got form after Senju and uzumaki alliance)
"Do not hesitate," he said calmly. "Fuinjutsu requires practice and precision."
Malenia nodded once and continued.
As the final line closed, the array tightened—too much. The paper started to glow , it looked like it was about to explode, but before it could,
The elder's fingers tapped the floor.
He leaned forward and placed a single corrective mark beside hers.
The seal relaxed instantly.
The paper flattened.
The pressure vanished.
"Again," he said, as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Malenia bowed and reached for a fresh scroll.
She did not ask why her seals always behaved this way. She had learned, very early, which questions were never answered.
Uzushiogakure existed openly once more.
That was what the maps said.
Ten years ago, the island had been quiet. Defensive arrays layered over one another until even the sea routes seemed to forget it was there. But those days were in the past. Now trade vessels came and went. Messengers carried Uzumaki seals to distant lands, each one a reminder that the clan still stand's tall
The world had calmed.
Or so they claimed.
Malenia had been two years old when the peace was forged.
She did not remember the ceremony clearly—only fragments. A large hall. Too many unfamiliar chakras pressing in from all sides. One man whose presence felt like standing too close to a living forest. Another whose gaze lingered on her longer than it should have.
And Mito.
That memory was the clearest.
Red hair like her own. Hands warm and steady. A scent of ink, smoke, and home.
Mito Uzumaki had left Uzushio that day, marrying Senju Hashirama to bind two great powers together.
Malenia had simply learned that some people left—and did not return.
She was the only princess and protector now.
No one said it aloud.
The lesson ended.
Elder Shiosuke rolled up the scrolls and rose slowly to his feet. "That is enough for today."
Malenia nodded and stood up.
Outside, the village moved with quiet purpose. Uzumaki shinobi passed through the streets carrying sealing tools instead of weapons. Children practiced chakra control exercises. The air was heavy with containment barriers layered so densely that foreign chakra struggled to breathe.
Malenia walked beside the elder, hands folded neatly in her sleeves.
"Elder," she asked after a moment, "why do we practice seals meant for battle if there is peace?"
Shiosuke stopped.
Around them, the sea wind shifted. The wards adjusted automatically.
"Peace," he said slowly, "is not the absence of conflict. It is the delay of it."
Malenia considered this.
"Then why am I learning seals meant to stop chakra entirely?"
The elder looked down at her then.
His gaze was not afraid.
But it was careful.
"Because," he said, "when conflict comes, it will not ask permission."
He placed a hand briefly on her head—a rare gesture.
"You are Uzumaki," he continued. "And Uzushio does not gamble on hope."
They resumed walking.
Behind them, in the sealing hall, a discarded practice scroll lay forgotten.
That night, as Malenia slept, the barriers around the island shifted subtly.
Far beyond the sea, in lands that would one day march armies toward Uzushio's gates, rumors stirred—unease without cause, fear without name.
And at the center of it all, the princess who did not yet understand war dreamed not of battle—
—but of pressure.