The ritual was worse than anything I had imagined.
I carved seals across my body, mixing my blood with serpentine ink. I stitched the Senju flesh into my arm, channeling chakra to bind it.
At first, nothing happened. Then the pain hit.
It felt as though roots were tearing through my veins, strangling my organs. My Sharingan spun wildly, reacting to the foreign chakra inside me. I screamed until my voice broke.
I saw visions—forests burning, rivers splitting, faces I had never met. The will of Hashirama's cells tried to consume me, to overwrite me.
But I clung to one thought: I am not a pawn. I am not a vessel. I am me.
And in that crucible of pain, my eyes changed.
When I staggered to the mirror, crimson tomoe had twisted into the pinwheel of the Mangekyō Sharingan.
It happened by accident at first. My hand brushed the stone table, and suddenly it split cleanly in two, like a blade of invisible force had severed it. The air itself seemed to scream as the cut passed through.
The left eye's ability: Kirisaki (切裂, "Sever") — the power to slice anything, whether flesh, stone, or even chakra.
Later, bleeding from another failed experiment, I activated the right eye. My wound sealed instantly, flesh knitting back together as if time reversed.
The right eye's ability: Iyashii (癒し, "Heal") — the power to restore my body, even from mortal wounds.
Together, they made me something unnatural: a predator who could kill with a glance and never fall.
But the cost was clear. Every use burned my eyes, every activation drew me closer to blindness.
The first true test came soon after. Another squad of missing-nin tracked me to the marsh, this time led by a former ANBU with a scar across his face.
"You're the Uchiha freak," he sneered. "They say you're hoarding Orochimaru's treasures. Hand them over."
I smiled. "Try to take them."
The battle was swift, brutal. His kunai met my cut—and sliced in half, clean as water. He leapt back in terror, but his body followed, carved apart by a line he couldn't see.
Another hunter drove a blade into my gut. I laughed as my wound closed instantly, blood fading into fresh skin.
Their fear tasted sweet. For once, I wasn't the hunted.
I was the monster.
Yet even victory had its price.
After the fight, I collapsed, clutching my eyes. Blood dripped from them like tears, staining the marsh water red. My vision blurred at the edges, black creeping inward.
Mangekyō power came with a cost. Even my healing eye couldn't restore my sight.
I remembered Madara's story. Eternal Mangekyō required another's eyes. To fully control these cursed gifts, I would need to kill and take from my kin.
But my clan was gone. Only Sasuke remained… and Itachi.
Then I remembered one thing
"Hashirama cells can be used as repacements , and i just had enough of it"
I began with more grafts. My left arm, already infused with Hashirama's cells, was not enough. So I cut deeper, stitching pieces of Senju tissue into the flesh around my temples, into veins that connected directly to my eyes.
The pain was worse than before. It felt like roots were burrowing behind my sockets, wrapping around the nerves. My Sharingan spun wildly, as if resisting the invasion.
For three days, I was blind. My vision blackened, my chakra collapsed. I thought I had failed—that I'd rot here, just another corpse in Orochimaru's graveyard.
But on the fourth day, the world bloomed again.
I opened my eyes to crimson clarity. The Mangekyō pattern spun, sharper than ever. No haze. No bleeding. My sight had returned.
The Hashirama cells had taken root.
I tested my power.
"Kirisaki."
A boulder ahead split cleanly, sliced as though by an unseen blade. No pain in my eyes. No blur.
"Iyashii."
I drew my kunai across my palm. Blood welled, then closed instantly. My chakra flowed steady, smooth.
It worked. The Hashirama cells were feeding my eyes, healing them as they strained. My Mangekyō was no longer a curse to burn itself out—it was a living flame, endlessly fed by roots.
Not an Eternal Mangekyō. Not stolen.
Mine.
But the change was not without side effects.
When I looked in the mirror, I no longer saw just crimson eyes. My sclera faintly glowed green at the edges, Senju energy intertwining with Uchiha flame. Veins across my temples pulsed unnaturally, like branches feeding into my visio