The wooden ceiling loomed overhead. Moonlight slipped through paper screens, pale and thin, illuminating bloodstained tatami in uneven patches.
Sasuke coughed as his eyes opened.
Pain answered the movement immediately. His head throbbed, sharp enough to steal his breath. Even the smallest shift sent aches rippling through his body. He stayed still, letting his gaze move instead.
Wooden beams. The metallic scent of blood that refused to fade. From somewhere beyond the room, footsteps receded across planks, growing quieter with each step.
Good.
The silence meant the area had already been cleared. Whatever remained nearby was no longer watching.
Sasuke pushed himself upright inch by inch. Time was thin here. The door behind him was shut. This window would close soon.
He reached the tatami.
The smell struck harder up close. Two bodies lay where they had fallen, expressions calm, almost untouched by fear. For a moment, his breath faltered. Heat welled behind his eyes, spreading fast and uncontrollable.
Tears followed before he could stop them. They burned as they fell, streaking down his face, soaking into his collar. He did not wipe them away.
There was no room for hesitation.
Gloved hands. A scroll unrolled. Steel drawn clean and quiet. The saline bottle waited within reach.
His fingers trembled once.
Then he forced them steady.
The work was finished quickly.
When it was done, the gloves were destroyed and the scroll sealed. Sasuke did not look back at the floor as he secured everything away. He placed a single strand of hair at the edge of the scroll before closing it, subtle enough to go unnoticed by anyone not looking for it.
He exhaled slowly.
Barely ninety seconds had passed.
At the doorway, he paused and glanced back once. The room was unchanged, save for what could no longer be seen.
Perhaps this spared them something worse.
Or perhaps it was simply another violation.
He turned away and ran.
The memory faded.
Sasuke sat alone now, the room dim, his breathing steady again. Before him rested the vial, clear liquid suspending two pairs of eyes in silent stillness.
His expression had already cooled.
He sealed everything away with practiced care. Whatever had slipped through him earlier was gone, pressed flat and contained.
These eyes mattered.
They were more than weapons. They were keys.
Two Mangekyō could become something greater. That much was known. But the thought did not stop there.
What if there were three?
Or four?
The idea surfaced without excitement, only curiosity. His mother's eyes had not reached that stage, but the shinobi world was full of exceptions. Bloodlines twisted. Evolutions occurred.
And there was still one more pair.
His gaze shifted, distant, focused on a name he did not speak.
The room fell silent again.