Three days had passed since Amamiya Raizen's self-inflicted surgery—a crude gamble between genius and madness.
For those seventy-two hours, his world was nothing but darkness. He'd lived in blood, smoke, and noise for so long that the sudden silence of blindness felt alien. Every heartbeat, every rustle of cloth sounded like mockery.
He spent those days lying still, feeling a dull throb behind his right eye, as though chakra itself was grinding against bone. Something was forming there—slowly, painfully—like metal being reforged in a forge that used agony as fuel.
When the medical-nin finally returned, Raizen barely reacted. He just sat upright as the layers of gauze unwound, each strip whispering against his skin until light stabbed through the dim tent like a blade.
His breath hitched. For the first time in days, he saw sunlight.
"This... is light," he muttered. The words came out hollow, disbelieving. His fingers brushed the bandages still clinging to his temple. The warmth of the sun burned against his eyelids, almost too much to bear.
He stared into that brightness for a long moment, then said under his breath, "Success or failure... in one strike."
The medics left when he waved them away. Alone now, Raizen sat cross-legged on the cold table. His right eye began to bleed red—the familiar, haunting glow of the Sharingan flickering to life.
One tomoe. Two. Three.
They spun faster, merging into the pinwheel of the Mangekyō Sharingan. The pattern twisted, reshaped—its blades curving like a boomerang. The air hummed. Pain lanced through his skull, raw and electric. He clenched his teeth.
"Move," he hissed, and the tomoe spun again, faster and faster, until the motion became a blur. The boomerang fractured into a dark triangle that locked around its center, the form stabilizing.
His lips curled. "The Eternal... Mangekyō Sharingan."
The words tasted like victory and madness mixed together.
He lifted his hand and touched the corner of his eye, feeling the pulse of power beneath the skin. Then came the laughter—quiet at first, then swelling, wild and unrestrained.
"Hah... hahahahaha!"
It lasted for minutes. When it finally died, his breath came sharp and ragged.
Raizen opened the interface of his so-called "system," that lingering reminder of a past life he barely understood anymore. A white orb sat within its void—the Byakugan he'd seized.
Without hesitation, he selected Extract.
The orb dissolved into light. A moment later, his left socket flared, filling with cold radiance. He winced as a new pupil formed, milky white with a faint violet sheen.
The world exploded open.
Veins pulsed beneath skin; chakra flowed like rivers. Every heartbeat, every motion of those outside the tent painted itself across his vision in luminous threads.
"So this is... the Byakugan." He let out a low whistle, half awe, half exhaustion. "No wonder the Hyūga act like nobles. Seeing the world like this... changes you."
He focused, activating chakra to test control. The flow responded instantly—precise, responsive. "Eight Trigrams... maybe I can copy their forms now."
He exhaled slowly. "Still, I can't tap into its full potential yet. Not without the right body." He turned his head slightly, and the scarlet glimmer of his right eye flared again. "Good thing I've got eternal insurance."
The Eternal Mangekyō began to rotate again, its energy burning steady and endless. That heavy sense of limitation—the fear of blindness—was gone.
For the first time since his reincarnation, Raizen felt... limitless.
"Yeah," he murmured with a smirk. "I've definitely gotten stronger."
Susanoo. Amaterasu. Tsukuyomi—each name surfaced in his mind like cards in a deck waiting to be played. And now, with the eternal form, those techniques would evolve even further.
He rose from the table, testing his balance. "Time to find a test subject," he said dryly. "And the Hyūga Coalition owes me a field experiment."
When he stepped outside, sunlight struck his mismatched eyes—one blood-red, one pearl-white. The guards flanking the tent froze, eyes wide.
Raizen noticed their stares and sighed inwardly. Right—no way to hide the Byakugan. From a distance, he probably looked like a walking yin-yang symbol that learned how to kill people.
He ignored the whispers that followed.
"Is that... Byakugan?"
"Did the patriarch steal it?"
"I heard he had surgery. Maybe he—"
"Enough," barked an older shinobi. "Don't gossip about Raizen-sama unless you want to lose your tongues."
Raizen smirked faintly as he passed. Let them talk. Let them fear. If they thought he'd ripped the eyes out of a Hyūga corpse, so be it. The truth was worse anyway.
He entered the command tent where Inuzuka Daisaku and the clan officers were already assembled. The moment he stepped in, silence fell. Everyone stared—but none dared speak.
Raizen took his seat at the head and gestured. "Report."
Daisaku straightened. "The Hyūga Coalition hasn't moved. They're camped about a hundred miles out, recovering their strength and requesting reinforcements from Shichisui Gorge. Our scouts report minimal activity—defensive posture only."
Raizen nodded slowly. "And the other fronts?"
"The Sarutobi and Kaguya engagements are escalating. Both sides are preparing for open war."
"Good." Raizen stood, his chakra flickering faintly—sharp and steady. "Then we'll strike first."
He looked over his officers, voice cold but calm.
"The Hyūga have been crippled once. Their morale's cracked, their command scattered. Before they recover, we'll hit them again."
He pointed toward the map. "This afternoon, we march two thousand strong. No speeches. No glory. Just annihilation."
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then the tent erupted into motion—orders shouted, armor fastened, boots striking earth.
Raizen stepped out once more, eyes gleaming like twin storms.
One eye for heaven. One for hell.
And both staring toward the next battlefield.