Age Sixteen (continued)
Three days passed before my father was strong enough to talk.
I visited him every evening. He lay in the hospital bed, his body wrapped in bandages, his eyes covered with a cloth. The Mangekyo had taken everything from him—his sight, his strength, his peace.
"Ren," he said when I entered. "I knew you would come."
"Every day."
"Sit."
I sat in the chair beside his bed. The room was small and quiet, the only sound the beeping of the monitors.
"I'm dying," he said.
"Tsunade says you're getting better."
"Tsunade is a good doctor. But she can't fix what's broken inside me." He turned his head toward me. "The Mangekyo is a curse. I told you that when you were young. It gives great power, but it takes everything in return. My sight is gone. My body is failing. I have weeks, maybe months."
"Father—"
"Let me finish." He held up a hand. "I've done terrible things. I threatened your sister. I hurt you. I pushed you to awaken the Sharingan through pain. I was not a good father."
"You were grieving."
"That's not an excuse." He lowered his hand. "But I want to make things right. Before I go."
"How?"
"The Eternal Mangekyo. My eyes. They're useless to me now. But they can save yours."
"No."
"Ren, listen to me. Your Mangekyo is consuming you. Every time you use it, you lose more of your sight. In a few years, you'll be blind. In a decade, you'll be dead. But if you take my eyes—"
"I said no."
"You're being stubborn."
"I learned from you."
He almost smiled. "Yes. You did."
We sat in silence. The monitors beeped. The sun set outside the window.
"Why did you go to Kiri?" I asked.
"To negotiate a truce."
"Alone?"
"I couldn't risk anyone else. The elders wouldn't have agreed. They wanted to fight to the last man. But I knew we couldn't win. I knew the only way to save Uzushio was to surrender."
"But Kiri didn't accept."
"They used me. Tortured me for information. And then they invaded anyway." His voice cracked. "I failed. I failed your mother. I failed you. I failed Kushina."
"You didn't fail. You tried."
"Trying isn't enough."
"It's all any of us can do."
He was quiet for a long time. Then: "Your mother would be proud of you."
"Would she?"
"Yes. She always knew you were special. The golden chains. The Sharingan. The Mangekyo. She said you would change the world."
"I don't want to change the world. I just want to protect the people I love."
"That's the same thing."
I didn't know what to say. So I just sat there, holding my father's hand, until he fell asleep.
---
The next day, I met with Orochimaru.
His laboratory was as cold and creepy as ever. Jars lined the walls, containing organs and fetuses and things I didn't want to identify. He stood at a steel table, dissecting something that might have been a human heart.
"Ren Uzumaki-Uchiha," he said, not looking up. "I heard you retrieved your father."
"Yes."
"And his eyes?"
"Still in his skull."
"Pity. I was hoping to begin the surgery soon."
"The surgery isn't happening."
Orochimaru looked up. His pale eyes gleamed. "Your father is dying. His eyes are useless to him. But they could save your sight. Give you the Eternal Mangekyo. Make you stronger than any shinobi alive."
"I don't want to kill my father."
"You wouldn't be killing him. You'd be taking something he no longer needs. He'll die anyway. His death could mean something."
"I said no."
Orochimaru smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "You're making a mistake."
"Maybe. But it's my mistake to make."
I turned and walked out.
---
That night, my father asked for Tsunade.
She came to his room, her face tired, her hands still stained with the blood of the day's surgeries.
"Tsunade Senju," he said. "I've heard a lot about you."
"All good things, I hope."
"Ren speaks highly of you. And he doesn't speak highly of many people."
Tsunade glanced at me. I shrugged.
"I have a request," my father said. "When I die—and I will die, soon—I want you to perform the Eternal Mangekyo surgery. Take my eyes. Give them to Ren."
"Father—"
"Be quiet, son." His voice was firm. "Tsunade. Can you do it?"
She hesitated. "The surgery is complex. Dangerous. I've studied the techniques, but I've never performed it."
"Then learn. Practice on cadavers. Do whatever you need to do. But promise me you'll do it."
"Daichi—"
"Promise me."
Tsunade looked at me. Her brown eyes were sad.
"I promise," she said.
My father nodded. "Thank you."
He turned his blind eyes toward the ceiling. "Now leave me. I need to rest."