Chapter Twenty-Five: The Six Eyes and the Sharingan

Obito was in a defensive position.

He was braced, arms crossed over his sternum, every ounce of his remaining cursed energy focused into a desperate, dense shield at the point of impact. He was waiting for the collision, for his body to be struck and thrown backwards.

He was waiting for the collision to happen, for his body to be struck and thrown backwards.

He had seen the trajectory. He knew it would hit. All he could do was mitigate the damage. He braced for the world to dissolve into fresh, shattering pain.

But the effect that was supposed to happen never happened at all.

The expected impact—the concussive THUD, the feeling of ribs cracking, the flight through the air—simply didn't materialize. There was only silence, and the continued, terrifying pressure of Maki's killing intent frozen in mid-air.

Obito looked without blinking. If it weren't for the Sharingan, he wouldn't have been able to see the reason for Maki stopping in her place while the weapon was in the striking position.

His crimson eyes, still active, saw it. They saw the space around Maki's training spear warp. It wasn't stopped by a physical barrier. It was as if the very air in front of the weapon's tip had become an infinitely dense, immovable wall. The wooden shaft vibrated violently in her hands, but could not advance another millimeter.

Even the girl was angry, and her eyes were trembling from extreme anger.

"Why did you stop me, Gojo?!"

Her anger was directed in her voice towards the person who was eating sweets and smiling a broad smile while taking steps that seemed small to approach them.

The voice that answered was light, cheerful, and utterly out of place in the context of attempted murder-by-spear.

"Now, now, Maki-chan. That's no way to greet your beloved teacher after a long day of work!"

Satoru Gojo stood at the edge of the training field, a large, colorful paper bag of sweets in one hand, a lollipop sticking out of his smiling mouth. He wore his signature black blindfold, but his presence was anything but obscured.

Panda, in addition to Inumaki, sighed in relief. The teacher had arrived at the right time.

"Tuna mayo," *Inumaki said, the words carrying a clear tone of 'thank goodness'. Panda simply slumped, letting out a puff of air. "Phew. Close one."

The two thought—Gojo Satoru, as usual, had eliminated many Grade One curses in various places in Japan to return to Jujutsu High School in Tokyo, and on his way, he bought a lot of sweets in a bag, all of them different from the many shops he passed on his way.

His return was a casual, post-work errand run that happened to involve saving continents from cursed disasters. The bag jingled with the sound of wrapped candies as he walked.

He had arrived there and was waiting for his students to come to him smiling, but when he arrived, he felt cursed energy in the place.

Even behind the blindfold, the Six Eyes—that supreme sensory organ—gave him a perfect, instantaneous readout of every iota of cursed energy within a vast radius. He'd felt Maki's intense, focused physical energy (which registered as a curious 'null' in cursed energy terms) and another, smaller, but surprisingly refined and controlled stream of cursed energy clashing.

His Six Eyes, even behind the veil that hid them, were able to make him know what was happening in one second when he arrived there.

The information flooded in: Maki Zenin. Aggressive stance. Target: Obito Zenin (Kyoto student, patient, previously comatose). Target's cursed energy: Fluctuating but precise. Defensive reinforcement active. Probability of severe injury in next 0.5 seconds: 87%. Ah, interesting.*

But he stopped when he saw Maki rushing towards the young man. Gojo smiled while seeing this attack.

"Yes, that's how my student should act."

There was no displeasure because of this blow; after all, anger was one of the things Gojo's students should have.

He believed in letting his students feel their emotions, even the ugly ones. Repression led to worse things. A clean, physical expression of fury was, in his book, healthier than letting it fester into a curse.

But the thing that truly surprised Gojo was the person who was being attacked.

He'd read the file on the comatose Zenin boy. 'Talentless.' 'Low potential.' The usual clan discard. The energy he was sensing, and the movement he'd glimpsed just before freezing Maki, told a very different story.

—What a good application of cursed energy in a short time.—

The young man was able to transfer his cursed energy in less than seconds to protect himself even after being hit. It should have been able to make him lose consciousness or cause a wave of damage that would make him unable to get up again for a long time.

The young man was able to transfer his cursed energy in less than seconds to protect himself even after being hit.

Gojo had seen the micro-second reinforcement blossom over the boy's chest. It was textbook perfect—not in power, but in timing and efficiency. A Grade Two sorcerer would be proud of that move.

He had been able to adjust the location of the blow in addition to reducing the damage to the maximum possible extent.

Not just a shield, but a focused dampener. He hadn't just blocked; he'd redirected and dispersed the force. It was a high-level concept for someone who was supposed to be a novice.

—Interesting. Isn't this the person who was in a coma for a month?—

Of course, being a teacher in this place and the strongest person in the world, Gojo, and Yaga's student, he knew his identity. The child was also from the Zenin clan.

Of course, being a teacher in this place and the strongest person in the world, Gojo, and Yaga's student, he knew his identity.

But he hadn't cared at the time because the young man had lost consciousness from Grade One, and for a person like Satoru Gojo, that was disappointing, simply because for him, Grade One curses weren't something new to observe; he could eliminate dozens of them in a matter of seconds.

But he hadn't cared at the time because the young man had lost consciousness from Grade One, and for a person like Satoru Gojo, that was disappointing.

Surviving a Grade One encounter was a baseline expectation for anyone he might take a vague interest in. Simply being alive wasn't special. How you survived was.

Of course, that only because he is the strongest, and he himself realized that everyone is not at his level.

He was acutely, sometimes painfully, aware of the gulf. It was why he found small surprises, like this one, so delightful.

But nevertheless, he had a kind of observation towards strength, something ordinary people couldn't see or know.

The Six Eyes didn't just see cursed energy; they saw its quality, its flow, its efficiency. They could assess a sorcerer's innate talent, their control, their potential, with a glance.

But at this moment, he was appreciating the young man's ability to control cursed energy, which far exceeded his age.

The control was… polished. Not vast, but refined. Like a master jeweler working with a very small, perfect diamond. It was out of place. It was fascinating.

Perhaps he could even describe this cursed energy as being able to reach Grade One control of cursed energy.

In terms of pure control efficiency, yes. The boy was squeezing 100% utility out of every unit of cursed energy he had. That was a hallmark of the highest echelons. But his total output was pitifully small. It was like having a Formula One engine in a go-kart.

But that was all for the first moments of Gojo as he watched the child as he avoided Maki's strikes.

Then he saw the evasion. And his interest, already piqued, skyrocketed.

His Six Eyes moved towards the young man's eyes.

"What are these eyes, I wonder? Are these the boy's cursed technique?"

Even through the blindfold, the Six Eyes focused. They didn't just see the red color; they perceived the unique, swirling pattern of the tomoe, the way cursed energy cycled through the ocular nerves in a complex, self-reinforcing pattern unlike any normal technique.

Red eyes with points spinning around the pupil. Their shape was very different.

He'd never seen anything like it. It wasn't a known clan technique. Not Zenin, not Kamo, not Gojo. It was alien.

But from their clarity and the way the young man used them while dodging Maki's strikes, it was clear the young man was using them to avoid every blow.

The correlation was undeniable. Every time Maki moved, the boy's eyes tracked not her body, but the trajectory of her movement, a fraction of a second before it happened. He was reading her, predicting her. The eyes were the source.

The strongest in the world followed the young man's movements and evasion in addition to breathing even while feeling pain, and he could only feel admiration.

*Gojo watched, a smile playing on his lips behind the lollipop. The boy was hurt, scared, outclassed in raw power, but he was fighting smart**. Using every tool, every ounce of skill to stay alive. That was worth appreciating.

In the last moment, he noticed the young man had been exposed to a moment of weakness due to injuries in addition to his weak body from the coma, so he was in a weak position.

The Six Eyes saw the fatigue setting in, the trembling in the muscles, the slight lag in the cursed energy flow. The boy was at his limit.

During that, Maki was about to direct a serious blow that would make the young man lose consciousness, maybe even enter a coma again.

Her final thrust. It was a fight-ender. The boy had no more evasion left. A direct hit would have catastrophic consequences for his already-fragile state.

—In the next moment, Gojo had used the Blue technique using his cursed energy and fixed the girl in her place by using force to pressure space without harming her.—

A casual flick of his free hand. A microscopic application of the Limitless technique's 'Blue'—the power of attraction. He didn't pull Maki; he intensified the 'space' around her spear tip, creating an immovable point that her weapon could not penetrate. It was like welding the air itself.

"Curse you! Let me go quickly! I want to beat him to death!"

Maki's scream was raw, primal. She strained against the invisible constraint, the muscles in her arms corded, veins standing out on her neck. The training spear groaned in her grip, but didn't move an inch.

Gojo laughed without paying attention to that. Maki released all her strength to break free, but to no avail.

*He chuckled, taking the lollipop out of his mouth with a soft pop. "So energetic! But no can do, Maki-chan. School rules: no murdering guests. Especially not recovering ones. It's bad for our accreditation."

Gojo said to her while looking towards the red-eyed young man:

He turned his head, the blindfold somehow conveying a sense of direct attention towards Obito.

"Calm down, girl. You were wonderful. You should relax. Okay, I have some sweets for the next meal."

His nonchalance was clear, and honestly, he didn't feel any problem saying that.

He treated the near-fatal beating as a mildly unruly playground scuffle. It was infuriating, awe-inspiring, and utterly typical of Satoru Gojo.

—

On the other hand, Obito was stopped in his place, feeling as if he were an insect at this moment.

The pressure that had been sent to his body was overwhelming. He realized this pressure wasn't coming into his consciousness, honestly; if he turned off the Sharingan at this moment, he would be sure that he would stop trembling, stop feeling as if he were nothing at this moment.

The pressure that had been sent to his body was overwhelming.

It wasn't physical. It was metaphysical. The sheer, staggering density of cursed energy that was Satoru Gojo, even when he was relaxed and eating candy, pressed down on the world. Through the Sharingan, Obito wasn't just seeing it; he was feeling it as a constant, low-grade psychic hum that vibrated in his bones.

He was simple. He was standing in front of the strongest, Gojo Satoru.

The man who could erase continents if he felt like it. The man who treated Special Grade curses like mildly annoying bugs. The living cheat code of the Jujutsu world. And he was looking at him.

The cursed energy that the man possessed at 27 years old at this moment was calm, pure, and full of negative energy, with glimpses of positive strength.

Through the Sharingan's enhanced perception, Gojo's energy was a sight to behold. It wasn't a chaotic storm like the factory curse's. It was a deep, placid, infinite ocean. Vast beyond comprehension. The negative energy was there—the inherent malice of cursed energy—but it was balanced, controlled, and harnessed with an ease that defied physics. Flickers of something else—positive, creative energy?—danced at its edges.

He was able to see this raw energy through the Sharingan eyes, which clarified the great difference between the factory curse that he would have died from if he hadn't run away and the strongest man in front of him.

The comparison was laughable. The Grade One factory curse, which had nearly killed him and his team, was a puddle. Gojo was the Pacific Ocean. The puddle could drown you if you fell face-first into it. The ocean could erase you from existence without noticing.

Literally, that curse would be nothing but an insect in front of this monster in front of him.

The strength between them was as different as the sky and the earth, without limits.

"Mmm, your cursed technique is interesting, boy."

The strongest in the world said that while smiling as he took out a sweet and put it in his mouth. At the same time, he put a finger of his other hand on his chin and began to hum as if trying to read Obito's body piece by piece using the Six Eyes.

The strongest in the world said that while smiling as he took out a sweet and put it in his mouth.

He was analyzing him. Not with malice, but with the detached, intense curiosity of a scientist examining a fascinating new specimen.

Gojo had noticed several things while looking at the movement of Obito's body, especially the face, which was quickly turning from admiration, fear, awe, amazement, then to fear, trembling, anxiety—a set of emotions.

The Six Eyes could read physiological responses down to the minute twitch of a capillary. Obito's face was a fireworks display of terror and awe. Gojo found it… entertaining.

He couldn't know the reason for their existence in the young man at the moment he met him for the first time, but he didn't care; he found the matter just cute because he simply believed—

He shrugged internally. As expected of me. I'm famous.*

—As expected of me. I'm famous.—

He justified all that amazement on the young man's face simply by being famous. Who doesn't know Gojo Satoru, the legend?

He justified all that amazement on the young man's face simply by being famous.

It was a convenient, ego-stroking explanation, and Gojo was happy to roll with it. The truth—that the boy was seeing the terrifying abyss of his power through magic eyes—didn't even cross his mind. Why would it? No one could see that.

But on the other hand, Obito wasn't in that state because of that, but because of the pressure.

The Sharingan at this moment was sending information about Gojo's cursed energy. The difference between it and the factory curse was like the difference between the sky and the earth.

The Sharingan at this moment was sending information about Gojo's cursed energy.

It was a torrent of data threatening to short-circuit his brain. ENERGY DENSITY: ∞. CONTROL EFFICIENCY: 100%. OUTPUT POTENTIAL: CATASTROPHIC. THREAT LEVEL: ABSOLUTE. The Sharingan, designed to analyze and predict, was screaming error messages in the face of something that defied all its parameters.

There wasn't even a moment of hesitation; the man in front of him could eliminate that curse without even thinking about it.

The Six Eyes calculation would be instantaneous: Target: Factory Curse. Required Energy: 0.0001%. Method: Blue (Attraction) to compress, then Red (Repulsion) to disperse. Time to Execute: <0.01 seconds. It would be less than a thought.

His mere presence would have made that curse flee in that place as if it were facing the undisputed king of the forest, the lion, the honored person in this world.

The factory curse had been arrogant in its new Grade One power. Faced with Gojo, it would have experienced a primal, instinctual terror beyond intelligence. It would have tried to burrow into the earth to escape.

—He is staring at me. Is he trying to explore using the Six Eyes? What will he see? Will he see my cursed technique? My soul? What the hell will he see?—

The fear that he would be discovered that he wasn't the real Obito Zenin was, honestly, in this moment, Gojo was a little confused because he noticed that Obito's soul was much stronger and full of negative energy.

There was fear that he would be discovered that he wasn't the real Obito Zenin.

But honestly, at this moment, Gojo was a little confused because he noticed that Obito's soul was much stronger and full of negative energy.

But he simply thought directly that approaching death had enhanced the soul.

That was natural for the strongest in the world; after all, the same thing happened to them when they were approaching death, and after that, they became the strongest in the world, isn't that normal first?

That was natural for the strongest in the world.

Gojo's own near-death experiences (few as they were) had been profound catalysts. He assumed it was the same for everyone. Trauma = power-up. Basic shonen logic.

"Do you want this piece?"

Gojo opened the bag of sweets and took out some pieces of candy and gave them to the boy.

He held out a brightly wrapped piece of hard candy, his smile benign, as if offering a treat to a scared kitten.

But Obito didn't move. He looked at that candy for a minute before his hands trembled and grabbed a piece.

His movements were jerky, mechanical. The Sharingan was still active, analyzing the candy as if it were a cursed object. He finally took it, his fingers brushing Gojo's. The contact sent a jolt through him—a tactile confirmation of the infinite power he was sensing.

After that, he put that piece in his mouth and tried to suck the sugary taste.

The sweetness exploded on his tongue, absurdly normal in the surreal situation. It was a grounding sensation, a tiny anchor to reality.

Gojo smiled and said happily:

"Well done. No need to be in a state of post-trauma. In our world, it's normal to face danger. You have to overcome that, boy."

His advice was glib, delivered with the ease of someone for whom 'danger' was a theoretical concept that applied to other people.

After that, he looked at his student, who was angry and was about to crush her hands while trying to struggle with the Blue technique. He deactivated his technique, and after that, she pushed towards him, but he soon caught her.

He released the spatial constraint. Maki, her momentum unchecked, lurched forward a step. Gojo's hand shot out with impossible speed and gently but firmly gripped her wrist, stopping her charge dead.

"Let me go quickly! I want to hit him! He's despicable!"

She struggled, but his grip was like a titanium manacle. She might as well have been trying to pull her hand from a mountain.

Gojo didn't know what the problems were between her and the young man behind him, but he only smiled.

"It's not good for my student to attack an injured person. Don't you see he's weak at this moment?"

He said it as if pointing out a breach of etiquette, not morality.

Her movements didn't stop, but her mouth fell silent. Her looks were full of anger, and she didn't care if her opponent was weak; she just wanted to hit him.

She glared at Obito over Gojo's shoulder, her eyes promising a future of pain. But she knew fighting Gojo's restraint was futile. The fight was over.

But in the end, when she thought about it, she stopped and turned and said before disappearing from the place:

She yanked her wrist back, and this time Gojo let her. She took a step back, her chest heaving. She pointed the training spear at Obito, her voice low and venomous.

"When you're in good condition, I will crush your head and put you in a coffin."

She declared it with the absolute certainty of a natural law. Then she spun on her heel and stomped away, her footsteps pounding angrily on the dirt. Thud. Thud. Thud. She didn't look back.

The four who were in the field witnessed the girl as she left while running at great speed; she didn't look back after saying these words.

Panda and Inumaki watched her go, then looked at each other. "Salmon...?" "Yeah. That was... intense." They then glanced at Obito, who was still standing frozen, then at their teacher, who was unwrapping another candy.

On the other hand, Obito's eyes had turned to normal. Gojo Satoru noticed that, but he didn't say anything, only told them to go to their work while he went to Principal Yaga's room.

"Alright, show's over! Panda, Inumaki, don't you have cursed corpse maintenance? Scram! And you," *he pointed a candy at Obito, "should probably lie down. You look like you're about to pass out. Shoko would be mad if I broke her patient."

With a final, cheerful wave, Gojo turned and sauntered towards the school buildings, his bag of sweets jingling, as if he hadn't just intervened in a potentially lethal duel and met a boy with impossible eyes.

—

Obito went to the place that had become his room in this place for a short period. There, he sat on the chair in the room and just looked at the ceiling, and his body trembled.

The guest room was small, spartan. A bed, a desk, a chair. He sat in the chair, his back screaming where Maki had struck him, his entire body a symphony of aches from the fight and the lingering weakness.

—What kind of monster is this? Is this the strength in this world? Why do I feel as if I was looking at the sky without stopping to the point that I stopped thinking?—

The experience was beyond fear. It was awe so profound it bordered on religious terror. Standing before Gojo was like standing at the edge of the universe and looking into the void.

Standing before Gojo was like standing before a towering mountain.

For the rest of the shamans, they wouldn't be able to see this cursed energy unless Gojo wanted them to see that strength. But at that moment, Obito had activated his Sharingan cursed technique.

For the rest of the shamans, they wouldn't be able to see this cursed energy unless Gojo wanted them to see that strength.

Most sorcerers perceived Gojo as 'strong' in an abstract way. They felt the results of his power, the aftermath. They couldn't perceive the engine itself. Obito, with the Sharingan active, had been given a front-row seat to the sun's core.

But at that moment, Obito had activated his Sharingan cursed technique.

It had been a curse and a blessing. A curse because it showed him the impossible gap. A blessing because it gave him a terrifyingly clear benchmark for what 'power' truly meant in this world.

The Sharingan was making him easily able to see the flow of cursed energy incredibly and know the information.

It was as if he felt pressure, and Gojo himself was releasing that pressure towards him. Of course, the Six Eyes user didn't realize that because he didn't expect these eyes to have such an exceptional ability.

It was as if he felt pressure, and Gojo himself was releasing that pressure towards him.

The Sharingan's analytical function had been trying to 'solve' Gojo, to fit his infinite energy into a comprehensible model. The effort had created a feedback loop of psychic strain that felt like external pressure.

In the end, the Sharingan resembled the Six Eyes in several points.

Both were ocular techniques that granted supernatural perception. But the similarities ended there.

—The Six Eyes allow seeing energy, slowing movement, in addition to seeing objects from afar and up close at an atomic level, and manipulating cursed energy and increasing manipulation to the extent that the user can use one percent to produce a 100% effect easily, in addition to increasing the recovery speed of cursed energy to the maximum extent, which makes the user of these eyes be in a state similar to having infinite cursed energy.—

The Six Eyes were a comprehensive optimization system. They maximized input (perception) and output (efficiency) while minimizing cost (energy expenditure). They were the perfect tool for a god.

—The Sharingan technique that Obito obtained was different. It allowed him to see cursed energy, predict, in addition to reading movements and seeing cursed energy accurately, but not at the atomic level. It didn't help recover cursed energy; rather, it helped copy physical movements in addition to copying cursed energy control skills, but it didn't enhance talent; it was like a cheating device that helped the user see something more accurately upon explanation.—

The Sharingan was a tactical tool. A combat simulator. It gave you data and reflexes. It didn't make your engine bigger; it gave you a better dashboard and steering wheel. It was a powerful cheat, but a limited one compared to the universe-hacking that was the Six Eyes.

But there were some points that Obito, after this, finally found—things that were helping him to understand that the Sharingan eyes were also good.

Comparative analysis, born of sheer terror, had its benefits.

He was able to deactivate and activate the Sharingan whenever he wanted, unlike Gojo, who was unable to stop activating the Six Eyes.

This was a crucial difference. The Six Eyes were always on. They were a part of Gojo's sensory apparatus, like his sight or hearing. He couldn't turn them off. Before he mastered Reverse Cursed Technique, they drained his cursed energy constantly.

He was able to deactivate and activate the Sharingan whenever he wanted.

He could give his brain a rest. He could choose not to see the terrifying truth of the world's power structure. That was a mercy Gojo had never known.

Those eyes were draining his cursed energy greatly before he mastered the Reverse Cursed Technique.

Obito imagined if he hadn't been able to deactivate the Sharingan. He would have been like Kakashi Hatake from the Naruto anime, using Obito's Sharingan in the story of the Naruto anime.

Obito imagined if he hadn't been able to deactivate the Sharingan. He would have been like Kakashi Hatake from the Naruto anime.

Constantly drained, always on the edge of exhaustion, unable to use his full potential because the eye was a parasite. Gojo had faced a similar problem—a permanent, energy-draining sensory overload—but on a cosmological scale.

Perhaps the style that makes most people who love Gojo link him to the character Hatake Kakashi is also part of the effect of the Six Eyes that was consuming Gojo's cursed energy permanently all the time.

The constant strain, the need for overwhelming power to compensate, the isolation that came from perceiving the world in a way no one else could—there were eerie parallels. Both were men shackled by their own supreme gifts.

But in the story of the Naruto anime, the Sharingan didn't help recover chakra, unlike the Six Eyes, which helped use a small amount in exchange for greater recovery, and thus there was a higher balance and capacity for Gojo.

The Six Eyes had a built-in sustainability loop. The Sharingan did not. Obito's technique was purely expenditure. His recovery depended on his own natural reserves and rest.

But this wasn't important at this moment. Obito was busy feeling that sensation he found in Gojo Satoru, which started as if he had come out of a state of fear, as if he had been afraid of an ant, while he had to think about the dragon he had just met.

The scale of the problem had shifted. Maki was a mortal threat, a tiger in his path. Gojo was the climate. The tiger could kill him. The climate could erase the continent he was standing on without a thought.

He even forgot the pain in his body or even Maki's words before leaving the field.

The immediate, physical terror was overshadowed by a deeper, existential dread. The bruise on his back, the threat from Maki—they were local weather. Gojo Satoru was the gravitational pull of a black hole.

He was busy thinking about this man.

About the infinite ocean of power. About the eyes that saw everything. About the casual, world-altering strength wrapped in a candy-eating, smiling façade.

And about the forbidden, terrible thought that had sparked in his mind before Maki attacked.

The path to power. Yaga's secret. The cursed dolls.

To even dream of walking a path in a world that contained Satoru Gojo, he would need every advantage he could steal, every forbidden shortcut he could find.

No matter how dark.

He looked at his trembling hands, then clenched them into fists.

The trembling didn't stop.

But within the fear, a new resolve was crystallizing, hard and cold as diamond.

He had seen the summit.

Now he knew how far he had to climb.

And how deep he might have to dig to find the tools for the ascent.

──────────────────────

End of Chapter.

──────────────────────

Chapter 25 - Chapter Twenty-Five: The Six Eyes and the Sharingan