The training ground was a silent, sacred space, the air still humming with the aftershocks of a god's casual demonstration. Sasuke Uchiha stood before Rohan, a boy unmade and remade in the span of an hour. The bedrock of his reality had been pulverized, the bitter axioms of his existence revealed as cruel lies. In their place, a single, fragile, and terrifyingly brilliant seed of hope had been planted: the promise of his brother's salvation. He had bowed his head, not in defeat, but in a profound, desperate act of supplication. He had asked to become a student.
Rohan's smile was a gentle sunrise, chasing away the last shadows of the boy's despair. "Come," he had said, his voice a balm on Sasuke's raw soul. "Our first lesson is not about power. It is about remembering what it is you are fighting for." And with a flash of golden light, they were gone.
They reappeared not in a training hall or a library, but on a quiet, sun-dappled bench overlooking a tranquil pond within the village. For a long time, they simply sat in silence. Rohan did not press, did not lecture. He simply provided a calm, steady presence, an anchor for the storm of emotions raging within Sasuke. He allowed the boy the space to grieve for a hatred that had been his closest companion, and to tentatively, cautiously, embrace a hope he had long believed impossible.
Finally, Sasuke spoke, his voice a low, rough whisper, his gaze fixed on his own tightly clenched fists. "The power you showed me… it is not of this world. How can I ever hope to stand against Danzo? Against the darkness of this village? I am nothing compared to you."
"Comparison is the thief of joy, Sasuke," Rohan replied softly. "And power is not a destination; it is a tool. The strength you need already resides within you. It is buried under years of pain and anger. My role is not to give you my power, but to help you unlock your own. To give you the right tools for the task ahead."
With a quiet focus, Rohan reached into the silent, humming interface of the System within his soul. He had a fortune of tickets, a universe of potential prizes. He needed something specific now. A tool fit for a future king, a blade that could channel both lightning and hope.
Draw Lottery.
The response was not a grand, conceptual explosion, but a quiet, profound resonance, the feeling of a legendary weapon answering a worthy master's call.
[Lottery Draw Complete. Item Gained: Meito (Famed Sword), Saijo O Wazamono (Supreme Grade Sword): Yoru no Kasen (River of the Night Sky)]
Rohan held out his hand, and with a soft shimmer of displaced air, a sword materialized, resting across his palms. It was a thing of sublime, understated beauty. A shirasaya, a plain wooden scabbard and hilt, unadorned and humble. But even encased in its simple sheath, both Sasuke and the two Sannin watching from the distant Hokage Tower could feel the immense, sleeping power within it. It was an aura of immense gravity, of a perfectly balanced and impossibly sharp edge.
"This is for you," Rohan said, offering the sword to Sasuke. "It is a blade from another world, one of the twelve finest ever forged. Its name is Yoru no Kasen. It is a sword meant to be wielded not with brute force, but with precision and gravity. It will be a perfect vessel for your lightning-nature chakra, and for the new powers you are about to receive."
Sasuke stared at the sword, then at Rohan, his dark eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief. He hesitantly reached out and took it. The moment his fingers touched the simple wooden hilt, he felt a connection, a thrum of power that resonated with his very soul. It felt… right. As if it had been waiting for him his entire life.
"Thank you," he whispered, the words inadequate but deeply sincere.
"A sword is but a piece of steel," Rohan said gently. "The true weapon is the wielder. And the wielder must have faith. You doubt my promise to save your brother. This is understandable. Allow me to offer you a demonstration. A down payment on the miracle I have promised you."
Rohan placed a hand on Sasuke's chest, directly over his heart. Sasuke tensed, but did not pull away. A brilliant, warm, golden light began to emanate from Rohan's palm, a light that felt like pure, concentrated life. It flowed into Sasuke's body, a divine, intoxicating river of pure vitality.
It was not a healing jutsu. It was something far more profound. Sasuke felt his cells singing, his entire being suffused with a warmth and energy that was beyond anything he had ever known. He felt… younger. Stronger. More alive. The chronic, low-level exhaustion that had been his constant companion since the night of the massacre simply vanished, replaced by a boundless wellspring of energy.
"I have just channeled one thousand years of my own life force and eternal youth into you," Rohan explained, his voice calm, his hand still glowing. "It now resides within you, a reservoir you can draw upon. Consider it proof of my ability. If I can grant you a millennium of life with a touch, I can certainly restore the health of one dying man."
Sasuke was speechless. He could feel it. The truth of Rohan's words was a tangible, humming presence within him, a battery of pure life that made his own chakra feel like a flickering candle in comparison. The seed of hope in his soul, nurtured by this impossible gift, began to sprout, its first fragile leaves unfurling toward the light.
"Now," Rohan said, his expression turning serious, his voice taking on a clinical edge. "Before we can build, we must first cleanse. The gift Orochimaru gave you, the Cursed Seal on your neck, is a parasite. It feeds on your hatred and offers you a tainted, borrowed power. It is a chain that binds you to him. We will remove it. Now."
A flicker of fear entered Sasuke's eyes. He knew the power of the curse mark. He had relied on it. But he also knew its corrupting influence. He nodded, his jaw tight with resolve.
"This may be… unpleasant," Rohan warned. He moved his hand from Sasuke's chest to the back of his neck, where the three tomoe of the curse mark pulsed with a faint, dark energy.
Rohan's form began to shimmer. He did not become intangible, but his entire body began to radiate a brilliant, holy light. This was a controlled, localized application of his Awakening. He was not turning the world into light, but he was turning the very concept of purification into a tangible force.
"Hold still," he commanded.
A beam of pure, white-gold light, no thicker than a needle, lanced from Rohan's fingertip and pierced the center of the curse mark.
Sasuke screamed.
It was not a pain of burning or cutting. It was a pain of unmaking. He felt the light invade the seal, a holy fire seeking out the dark, senjutsu-infused chakra of Orochimaru. He could feel the parasite within him shrieking, writhing, fighting back against its annihilation. Dark, ugly patterns spread across his skin from the seal, veins of black and purple pulsing as the curse mark fought for its life. It was an agony that transcended the physical, a spiritual exorcism that felt like his very soul was being torn in two.
But through the pain, he felt Rohan's other hand on his shoulder, a steady, unbreakable anchor. And he felt the golden river of life force within him surge, healing the damage as quickly as the battle was being waged. The purifying light burned, and the divine life force soothed.
The process lasted for what felt like an eternity, but was in reality only ten seconds. With a final, violent hiss, the dark patterns receded, and the three-tomoe mark on his neck dissolved, burned away into nothingness by the absolute, purifying light. All that remained was smooth, unblemished skin. The parasitic chakra, the connection to Orochimaru, the tainted power… it was gone. Completely.
Sasuke collapsed forward, gasping for breath, his body drenched in sweat. He felt… clean. The constant, low-level whisper of the curse mark in the back of his mind was gone. He felt lighter, his own chakra flowing more freely than it had in years.
"It is done," Rohan said softly, helping him back to a sitting position. "You are free of him."
Sasuke looked at Rohan, his eyes filled with a new, profound level of awe and gratitude. He had just been given a legendary sword, a thousand years of life, and had been freed from a curse that not even Kakashi could fully contain. And their lesson had not even truly begun.
"Now," Rohan said, his voice taking on a tone of profound seriousness. "For your true power. The power of your bloodline. The Mangekyou Sharingan."
Sasuke's head snapped up. "But… the condition… to kill your closest…"
"That is the path of grief," Rohan interrupted gently. "The path of trauma. It is a key forged in pain that unlocks a door to a room filled with darkness. But it is not the only key. An overwhelming emotional catalyst of any kind can turn that lock. Profound, soul-shaking grief is one. But what of profound, soul-shaking hope? What of the shock of a miracle? What happens when the Uchiha brain, hardwired for emotional extremes, is flooded not with the darkness of loss, but with the divine light of impossible salvation?"
He placed both his hands on either side of Sasuke's head, his thumbs resting gently on the boy's closed eyelids. "I am about to flood your chakra network, your optic nerves, your very soul, with the life force I have given you. It will be an overwhelming experience. Do not fight it. Accept it. Focus not on the hatred you have lost, but on the hope you have just found. Focus on the image of your brother, alive and whole. Let that be the catalyst."
Rohan closed his own eyes, and the golden light returned, a thousand times more intense than before. He poured the divine energy into Sasuke, channeling it directly into his eyes.
For Sasuke, the world exploded. It was not pain. It was… everything. He felt the thousand years of life force roaring through him, a tidal wave of pure vitality. His Sharingan activated involuntarily behind his closed lids, the tomoe spinning at an impossible speed. He saw flashes of his past, the night of the massacre, but the images were no longer coated in hatred and fear. They were washed clean by this golden light, transformed into a tragic, noble memory. He saw his brother's face, not as a monster, but as a hero. He saw the promise of his restoration, a future so bright it was blinding. The grief, the hope, the shock, the miracle—it all coalesced into a single, overwhelming emotional supernova within his soul.
He felt his eyes change. It was a feeling of something breaking, something reforming, something being born. A new pattern, a new power, a new paradigm.
When the light receded, Rohan removed his hands. "Open your eyes, Sasuke."
Sasuke slowly opened his eyes. He looked at his reflection in the tranquil water of the pond. The familiar three tomoe of his Sharingan were gone. In their place, in both eyes, was a new, intricate, and beautiful pattern. It was a complex, star-like design, sharp and geometric, glowing with a faint, internal light. He had done it. He had awakened the Mangekyou Sharingan. But as Rohan had predicted, born from a miracle instead of a murder, its powers were unique.
He could feel them, an intuitive knowledge blooming in his mind.
His left eye held the power of [Miracle]. It was a passive ability. As long as the eye was active, the very fabric of probability would bend around him. It granted him a constant, overwhelming state of 99.99% good luck. Attacks would narrowly miss him. The enemy's jutsu would inexplicably fail. The precise information he needed would fall into his lap. The ground beneath his opponent's feet would crumble at the perfect moment. It was a subtle, terrifying power that would make him seem like a chosen child of fate itself. The cost was not chakra, but the slow consumption of the life force Rohan had gifted him.
His right eye held the power of [Antithesis]. This was an active ability, a direct counter to misfortune. In any event, there was always the smallest, infinitesimal chance of things going catastrophically wrong. If that 0.01% chance occurred—if a stray kunai took an unlucky bounce, if a perfectly executed plan was foiled by a random act of nature—he could activate his right eye. The power would allow him to designate that single, negative event and completely revert its outcome, as if rewinding a single thread of fate. A fatal blow would become a glancing scratch. A collapsing bridge would reform. A failed mission would become a success. Like its counterpart, this too consumed his vast reservoir of life force.
He was no longer just a skilled shinobi. He was a master of fortune, a man who could defy fate itself.
He looked up at Rohan, his new Mangekyou eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The gratitude in his heart was a tangible thing, a warmth that finally, truly, pushed out the last of the cold bitterness that had lived there for so long. The seed of hope had not just sprouted; it had bloomed into a magnificent, radiant flower.
"When?" Sasuke asked, his voice steady, but filled with a new, focused fire. "When can I have my revenge?"
"Patience, my student," Rohan said with a gentle smile. "Danzo is a weed with deep roots. To kill him, we must first isolate him, expose him, and strip him of his power and influence within the village. This will take time. You must train, master these new gifts, and become the weapon you were meant to be." He placed a reassuring hand on Sasuke's shoulder. "At most, one year. At least, six months. But I promise you, you will have your justice."
Sasuke nodded, the timeline a firm, concrete goal to focus on. It was enough. He stood, his new sword at his hip, his new eyes seeing the world with a clarity he had never known. He felt… reborn.
He turned to leave, to go home, to begin the first day of his new life.
"The Hokage will need to be briefed on your new abilities," Rohan called after him. "I will need your consent to share this information."
Sasuke paused, his back still to them. For a moment, he was silent. Then, without turning, he gave a single, curt utterance.
"Hn."
It was the most Sasuke Uchiha-like response imaginable. But in that single, simple sound, Rohan heard everything he needed to. I understand. I agree. I trust you.
Sasuke walked away, his steps light, his shoulders, for the first time in six years, unburdened.
Rohan watched him go, a sense of profound satisfaction filling him. The first, most difficult part of his gambit was complete. He turned his attention back to the Hokage Tower, knowing that Tsunade and Jiraiya had been watching, and sent a silent message of success.
In the Hokage's office, Tsunade and Jiraiya let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief in perfect unison. The tension that had held them captive for days finally broke. They had just witnessed a miracle. They had watched a soul on the brink of eternal damnation be pulled back into the light. The path ahead was still long and dangerous, but for the first time, it was a path they could walk with genuine hope. The last Uchiha had been saved. And the future of Konoha, once a dark and stormy sea, now held the promise of a new, brighter dawn.