Age Thirteen (continued)
I woke up blindfolded.
The cloth was soft against my eyes, but the pressure was constant. I could feel my Mangekyo dormant behind my lids—not gone, just waiting. Hungry.
"The light will hurt you," a nurse said. "Your eyes are different now. The healers don't understand what happened."
"Where is my father?"
"Resting. He'll be fine. His injuries weren't as bad as we thought."
"Kushina?"
"Safe. She's been asking for you."
I sat up. The blindfold pressed against my eyelids. I could feel my chakra—depleted, sluggish, but slowly refilling.
The door opened. My father's footsteps. I knew them by heart—the slight drag of his left foot, the weight of his chakra like a second presence.
"Leave us," he said. The nurse left.
He sat beside my bed. I felt the heat of his chakra—warmer than usual. Proud? I couldn't tell.
"You awakened the Mangekyo," he said. "The Spiral Eye. I wasn't sure you would."
"You knew about this?"
"The Uchiha texts speak of a Mangekyo that only appears in those with Uzumaki blood. A fusion of fates. The Eye of Divine Judgment." He paused. "Tell me what you saw."
I hesitated. But he was my father. And I needed to understand.
"I saw consequences," I said. "Threads. Every action has a thread leading to its outcome. I could see them—all of them. And I could... rewrite them. Not change the action. Change the consequence."
"Give me an example."
"The jinchuriki. Her attack was going to kill you. I saw that thread. So I rewrote it. Her hand hit the wall instead. You lived."
My father was silent for a long time.
"That is not a Mangekyo ability I have ever heard of," he said finally. "The Uchiha have eyes that cast illusions, create black flames, summon giant skeletons. But rewriting consequences? That is the power of a god."
"It almost killed me. My chakra—"
"Your chakra will grow. The cost will diminish. But the curse remains." He touched my blindfold. "Every Mangekyo has a curse. What is yours?"
I closed my eyes—my real eyes, beneath the bandages. I had felt it, in that moment of awakening. The price.
"I can only rewrite consequences for others," I said quietly. "Not for myself. I can save anyone in the world—except me."
My father's hand tightened on my shoulder. "Then you must choose carefully when to use it. Every time you rewrite a fate, you blind yourself a little more. The Mangekyo is not infinite. Eventually, the light will fade."
"I know."
"Do you regret it? Awakening?"
I thought of my father's face, pale with terror but alive. I thought of the Kiri fleet retreating, the village still standing.
"No," I said. "Never."
---
The weeks that followed were a blur of recovery and training.
My eyes healed slowly. The blindness was minor—just a slight fuzziness at the edges of my vision—but I knew it would get worse. Every use of the Mangekyo would cost me a piece of my sight.
Tsunade came to check on me when she could. She examined my eyes with her green-glowing hands and frowned.
"The chakra patterns are unlike anything I've seen," she said. "The Mangekyo is changing your optic nerves. Every time you use it, the damage becomes more permanent."
"Is there a cure?"
She hesitated. "There are rumors. The Uchiha have a legend about the Eternal Mangekyo—a transplantation of eyes from a close blood relative. But the operation is dangerous. And the donor..."
"Dies."
"Yes."
"Then there's no cure."
"Not one I'm willing to perform."
I took her hand. "Then we'll find another way."
She looked at me. Her brown eyes were sad. "You're going to go blind, Ren."
"Maybe. But not today."
She squeezed my hand. "Stubborn idiot."
"You're the one who came all this way to check on me."
"Someone has to."
We sat in silence. The sun was setting outside the window, painting the sea in shades of orange and gold.
"Tsunade," I said.
"What?"
"Thank you. For being here."
She leaned her head on my shoulder. "Don't thank me. Just don't die."
"I'll try."
"That's all I ask."