The silence of the forest pressed in, broken only by the wind weaving through the leaves. I sat against the trunk of a massive oak, eyes closed, memories swirling into place, solidifying into something whole.
Isaac's logic. Sasuke's instincts. One mind. One soul.
And the first thought that surfaced was pure disgust.
How stupid was I?
The realization hit like a kunai to the gut. The Sasuke of the future—the one I had just inherited the memories of, the one who survived the Fourth Shinobi War—was a cripple by choice. He had walked away from the Valley of the End with one arm, and never once bothered to replace it. Not with medical ninjutsu, not with Hashirama's cells, not even with a prosthetic.
"Idiot," I muttered aloud, fingers curling into fists. "A shinobi handicapping himself in a world where every advantage matters? Unforgivable."
But that wasn't the worst of it.
Yang Release. Life-force itself, the primordial essence that could heal, create, and reshape reality when mastered. I could feel it lingering inside me even now, an ember waiting to be stoked into flame. And yet, my future self had barely touched it, wasting one of the most overpowered abilities in existence.
Then came the Rinnegan—my Rinnegan. A gift of godlike proportions, able to bend space, manipulate gravity, absorb jutsu, control life and death itself. And what had I done with it? Barely scratched the surface. A toy, not a weapon.
The anger boiled hotter. This wasn't just arrogance. It was negligence.
And then the final insult revealed itself in memory—marriage. A family. With Sakura Haruno.
I let out a bitter laugh, though it came out colder than ice. Sakura, the pink-haired medic with monstrous strength, was undeniably competent. A medical genius, yes. Loyal to a fault. But from a purely strategic standpoint? Idiotic.
Karin.
The name echoed like a revelation. The last pure-blooded Uzumaki of her generation. The clan of vitality, sealing mastery, and absurd chakra reserves. Pairing the Uchiha and Uzumaki bloodlines… the child would have been unstoppable. Sharingan tempered by Uzumaki vitality, Rinnegan stabilized by their legendary chakra.
But instead, Sasuke—the old Sasuke—had chosen convenience. Familiarity. Weakness.
I pressed my palms to my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. My lips twisted into a humorless smile.
"No. Not anymore. That version of me is gone. I am not him."
My gaze lifted, crimson Sharingan flaring to life. The forest warped in its vision, details sharp, colors alive.
"I'll correct every mistake."