After finishing a dinner prepared using the unique geothermal steam of the Valley of Hell, Ren Uchiha followed a kind-faced, middle-aged man named Hikaku Uchiha out of the camp.
Climbing the steep slopes to the encircling cliffs of the valley, he found Setsuna Uchiha waiting for him. The old man was dressed in a short-collared kimono, his grey-white hair tied back. He sat cross-legged at the very edge of the precipice, staring down into the churning mists of the night—a bottomless abyss where no human footprint could be found.
"Great Elder, I'm here."
Ren approached and glanced down. At that moment, a bird soared past the cliff edge. Suddenly—
Swish!
A dark shadow shot up from the depths of the valley, piercing the bird with incredible speed and knocking it out of the sky. Looking closer, Ren realized the projectile was nothing more than an ordinary pebble.
Ren was stunned. Judging by the speed and sound, the drop into the valley was at least eight hundred meters. To hit a flying bird from such a distance required a level of marksmanship that far exceeded standard throwing techniques.
Setsuna didn't move a muscle. After a long silence, he spoke:
"That is how those trapped in this hell survive. Falsely accused, imprisoned by the Daimyo of the Land of Lightning on trumped-up charges, they live like savages—drinking boiling water from the vents, catching birds for food and feathers, and gnawing on wild grass. Yet, who would believe that sixty years ago, these people were nobles who wore silks and ate fine delicacies?"
Setsuna paused, asking softly without turning around: "Ren, do you understand what caused such a tragedy?"
Ren remained silent for a moment before answering: "I suppose it's the gap in destiny. They gave up their power, their identity as shinobi, and the skills passed down through generations. They chose to be nobles, entering a battlefield of power they weren't suited for. In the end, they met with a crushing defeat."
Setsuna nodded in satisfaction. "Exactly! That is why I chose you over Fugaku!"
The old man gestured for Ren to sit beside him at the edge, where one misstep meant falling to a grizzly death. With their feet dangling over the void, Setsuna watched the moon through the drifting mist.
"Uchiha Fugaku possesses power, strategy, and ambition that ordinary clansmen cannot reach," Setsuna sighed. "I even believe that one day he might awaken those forbidden eyes—the power that transcends everything. Normally, I should support such a man."
"But," Setsuna said darkly, "Fugaku lacks one thing: Guts. Since becoming the Captain of the Police Force, he has carried the weight of the clan's trust. It makes him cautious, moving inch by inch toward a distant goal. He is slowly losing himself."
"I have seen it before, so I am afraid. Afraid that Fugaku, like the Chinoike, will abandon the meaning of the Uchiha's existence and lead the clan into a point of no return."
Ren frowned. "The meaning of the Uchiha's existence? What is that?"
Setsuna turned his head, his crimson eye boring into Ren. "The pursuit of power. These eyes, capable of seeing through all and learning all, have already mapped out our path. Listen, Ren—I am going to tell you a secret known to few!"
"A hidden legend visible only to those like me, who have used the forbidden Izanagi, peered into the crevice where fantasy and reality meet, and glimpsed the truth of the past!"
Ren froze—not because of the old man's cryptic words, but because of what was happening to Setsuna's eye.
The Three-Tomoe Sharingan was spinning, stretching, and warping into a brand-new pattern! Black curves spiraled toward the pupil, surrounded by three broad black lines—a design like a perfect, twisted piece of art.
The Mangekyō Sharingan!
"This... this is..." Ren's breath hitched.
"This is the ultimate power the Uchiha have pursued for a thousand years!" Setsuna smiled with a sense of relief. "The Mangekyō Sharingan!"
Ren swallowed hard, his mind racing. Wait, the script I wrote just to scam the insurance payout for the old man... he actually opened the Mangekyō because of it?!
The absurdity of the moment left him paralyzed. But Setsuna only maintained the eyes for a second before let out a pained groan. Bloody tears slid down his hand, falling into the night sky. He struggled to raise his blood-stained fingers, pressing his index and middle fingers against Ren's wide-eyed right eye.
With his other hand, he formed the "Ram" seal.
"Transcription Seal: Amaterasu!" (Seal!)
A wave of heat flooded Ren's right eye. An itching sensation forced him to activate his own Sharingan. Within his Two-Tomoe vision, his right eye momentarily shifted into the shape of Setsuna's Mangekyō before the pattern faded back into secrecy.
Setsuna immediately deactivated his eyes, gasping for air as if the act had drained his very life force.
"Whoa, old man, you—"
Ren nervously supported him, terrified the elder would tumble off the cliff. He dragged Setsuna back to a safe spot. After gasping for a while, Setsuna finally recovered. He looked at Ren with a slightly dazed expression.
"Now... where was I?"
Ren stared at him. Suddenly, the old man's eyes lit up as if he remembered something. He reactivated the Mangekyō and reached for Ren's face again. "Right, I need to place a Transcription Seal on you, wait—"
Ren felt his scalp go numb. Is this old-age dementia? How could he forget what he just did? He batted away Setsuna's trembling hand.
"You already did it! Just now! Enough!"
"Is that so?" The old man blinked, pulled a small notebook from his robe, and squinted at a page. He coughed twice and said heavily, "One more thing. I must warn you: Izanagi is not a benevolent technique. The crevice between fantasy and reality is incredibly dangerous. Never use forbidden jutsu recklessly!"
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