Chapter 3 : Shikaku
The impossible patterns still blazed crimson in the mirror. The echo of the wall's unnatural softness lingered on Ren's fingertips, a cold dread settling deep in his gut. *A curse...*
*Click.*
The sound of the door sliding open was like a gunshot in the silent room. Panic, pure and instinctive, surged through Ren. *The eyes!* Before conscious thought could form, before he could even turn, he felt it – a reflexive pull deep within his chakra pathways, a desperate, internal *shutter* closing. The intricate, terrifying geometries dissolved, the deep crimson receding like a tide pulled back into the sea, leaving only the familiar, deep brown irises of Uchiha Ren.
He spun, heart hammering against his ribs, to see a figure framed in the doorway.
And he was surprised to see the person standing there.
It was Shikaku Nara. Not the clan head, not the Jonin Commander yet, but unmistakably him – the sharp eyes, the perpetually tired expression softened now by genuine concern, the characteristic spiky ponytail. His father's closest friend. The man who'd shared countless meals, missions, and laughs in this very house since they were genin chasing each other through the village streets.
"Ren?" Shikaku's voice was gruff but gentle, carrying the weight of shared grief. He stepped fully into the room, closing the door softly behind him. His gaze swept over the discarded bandages, the pale, strained face, the dark circles under Ren's now ordinary-looking eyes. "You're awake. Thank the Sage."
Ren tried to speak, but his throat tightened. He managed a jerky nod, his mind still reeling from the impossible power he'd just touched and the near-disastrous exposure.
Shikaku crossed the small room in two strides. Without a word, he placed a large, calloused hand gently on top of Ren's messy black hair. The touch was warm, solid, grounding in a way Ren hadn't realized he needed. It was a gesture laden with years of familiarity, of being practically an uncle. "How are you holding up, kid?" he asked quietly, his eyes searching Ren's face.
Ren swallowed hard, forcing his voice to work. "I... I'm okay, Shikaku-san." The words felt like ash in his mouth. *Okay? I have universe-breaking eyes burning out of my skull!* But the lie was necessary. "Just... tired. Head hurts." That, at least, was painfully true. The phantom ache behind his eyes pulsed.
Shikaku sighed, a sound full of weary understanding. His thumb rubbed briefly against Ren's scalp. "That's to be expected. Body and mind... they take hits like that hard." He paused, his gaze drifting towards the window, perhaps seeing memories Ren couldn't share. "Your father... he was a good man. The best." The words hung heavy in the quiet room. "We'll... we'll get through this. The clan. You."
Ren just nodded again, unable to trust his voice. He focused on the warmth of Shikaku's hand, a tangible anchor against the terrifying chasm of power lurking just beneath the surface of his brown eyes.
Shikaku gave Ren's head a final, reassuring pat before letting his hand fall. "Get some rest. Don't push yourself. I'll make sure someone checks on you later with food." He turned towards the door, his shoulders seeming to carry the weight of the world.
Ren watched him go, a confusing mix of gratitude and guilt churning inside him. Shikaku reached the door, slid it open, and stepped halfway into the hallway. Then, he stopped. He turned back, his sharp eyes meeting Ren's directly. The weariness was still there, but beneath it was a bedrock of unwavering resolve.
"Ren," he said, his voice low and serious. "If you need *anything*. Anything at all. You come to me. Day or night. Understood?"
The offer, simple yet profound, struck a chord deep within Ren. It was a lifeline thrown across the gulf of his terrifying secret. "I... I understand, Shikaku-san," Ren managed, his voice thick. "Thank you."
Shikaku held his gaze for a moment longer, a silent promise passing between them, then gave a curt nod. "Rest." He slid the door shut with a soft *snick*.
Silence rushed back into the room, thicker and more profound than before. Ren stood frozen for a long moment, staring at the closed door. The warmth from Shikaku's touch faded, leaving only the chilling echo of his reality-warping power and the dull, persistent ache behind his eyes. He slowly turned back towards the small, tarnished mirror.
Deep browneyes stared back. Ordinary. Safe.