The air in Renjiro's room was thick with the lingering metallic tang of blood, and the stillness was broken only by the faint sound of his ragged breaths.
His Sharingan began to pulse in rhythm with his pounding heartbeat. Each pulse sent waves of chakra through his body, and his vision blurred as the tomoe in his eyes started to shift.
The central tomoe elongated, its curves straightening into sharp lines, until it blossomed into a radiant six-pointed star. The shape pulsed with a subtle luminescence, the edges of the star glowing faintly as if alive with chakra.
This new form seemed to anchor itself in Renjiro's vision, a testament to his Uzumaki heritage. The hexagonal star represented the intricate sealing techniques of his clan, a symbol of the bonds and protections that defined him.
Around the star, the Sharingan's usual simple red field transformed. Rippling outward in perfect symmetry, a circular pattern emerged, reminiscent of a stone dropped into still water.
These concentric ripples mirrored the designs found in sealing arrays, their deliberate and precise nature a reflection of Renjiro's mastery of barriers and chakra awareness.
As the transformation stabilized, the entire eye glowed faintly, a mesmerizing fusion of Black and Red.
Renjiro groaned, his body trembling as the pain began to ebb. His hands, slick with blood from his earlier ordeal, fell limp at his sides. The new power in his eyes was overwhelming, a weight pressing on his consciousness.
Exhaustion swept over him like a tidal wave, and before he could even try to sit up, his body gave out. He collapsed onto the floor, his vision fading into darkness.
When Renjiro's eyes fluttered open, the world felt oddly distant. His limbs were heavy, and a dull ache throbbed through his body. The cold wooden floor pressed against his cheek, sticky with dried blood. He shifted slightly, wincing as the stiffness in his muscles protested.
The first thing he noticed was the mess. Blood streaked the floorboards, forming macabre trails around his collapsed form. His clothes were soaked, the fabric stiffened with the dried crimson and sweat.
His hands trembled as he pushed himself up, his head spinning with the effort. He glanced down at his reflection in a pool of congealed blood, but the murky surface offered little clarity.
Renjiro exhaled sharply, his breath hissing through clenched teeth. "What a mess," he muttered, his voice hoarse and dry. But the state of his body was the least of his concerns. He staggered to his feet, swaying slightly, and turned toward the mirror across the room.
His steps were unsteady as he approached, leaving faint bloody footprints in his wake. The mirror's surface was slightly dusty, the room's dim light reflecting his shadowed silhouette. He leaned in, his fingers gripping the edges of the frame as he peered at his own reflection.
With a deep breath, Renjiro activated his Sharingan.
The change was immediate. His usual three-tomoe, or four when he opened the gates, Sharingan blossomed into its new form, and he stared, captivated, as the six-pointed star in his eye gleamed with faint chakra. The ripple-like outer ring was subtle but distinct, a hypnotic pattern that seemed to draw the eye inward toward the star at its centre. The combination of patterns was unlike anything he had ever seen, a fusion of artistry and precision that created an illusion of motion that drew him in.
Renjiro tilted his head, studying the design with an inscrutable expression. "So, this is it," he murmured. "The Mangekyō Sharingan... or whatever this might be."
Apart of Renjiro was still doubtful about the whole Ordeal. He was not sure that he would get the same results since he basically used a shortcut.
He leaned closer to the mirror, his brow furrowing. "Do I like it?" he mused aloud, tilting his head. "I don't know. It's... different."
His fingers brushed against his temple as if trying to grasp the significance of the pattern. "Does it suit me? Or is it... too much?" He huffed softly, shaking his head.
"It's not what I imagined, but it's mine," he said quietly. "I guess that's all that matters."
Pulling away from the mirror, Renjiro crossed his arms and began to pace the room. "Now comes the hard part," he muttered, his voice heavy with thought.
"How am I supposed to figure out what this thing can do? Am I just supposed to know the abilities out of the blue?"
He clenched his fists, his frustration mounting. For the next hour, Renjiro tried everything he could think of. He channelled his chakra in different ways, focusing it on his eyes until the strain made his temples throb.
He willed the Mangekyō to reveal its secrets, shifting his gaze to objects around the room in the hopes of triggering some kind of effect. He activated and deactivated the Sharingan repeatedly, searching for any hint of a new ability. He even tried activating other techniques in combination, thinking that they might interact with his new eyes.
Nothing worked.
Finally, he sank onto a chair, his head in his hands. His body was trembling from the strain, and his frustration had reached its peak. "Great," he muttered. "I have these eyes, and I don't even know what they can do. What's the point?"
Leaning back, he sighed heavily, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "I guess they'll show themselves when they're ready," he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "No use forcing it."
He glanced down at his blood-streaked hands and grimaced. "And I should probably clean up before I ruin this entire house," he added, dragging himself to his feet.
Renjiro shuffled toward the bathroom, his movements slow and deliberate. He stripped off his soiled clothes, tossing them into a corner before stepping into the shower. The hot water cascaded over him, washing away the dried blood and grime. Steam filled the room, curling around him like a comforting shroud.
As he scrubbed at his skin, Renjiro's thoughts began to wander. The warm water eased his aching muscles, and he leaned against the tiled wall, letting the droplets trail down his back. His mind lingered on the possibilities of his Mangekyō. What could it do? What kind of power had he unlocked?
Suddenly, a thought struck him, sharp and clear. His hands froze mid-motion, and he straightened, his eyes widening. "Now that I have the Mangekyō," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water, "I should be able to do that, right?"
Renjiro turned off the shower abruptly, the sudden silence amplifying the pounding of his heart. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, water dripping from his hair as he stepped back into the main room. His mind was focused on one thing.
His bare feet padded softly against the floor as he moved to the centre of the room, his posture tense with anticipation.
Closing his eyes, Renjiro took a deep breath, centering himself. He focused his chakra, channeling it toward his eyes. The familiar warmth of his Sharingan activated, but this time, he pushed further, willing the new power of the Mangekyō to emerge.
At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a faint silvery light began to flicker around him. The chakra was ethereal, almost liquid in its flow, and it clung to him like a second skin. Renjiro's breath hitched as the aura grew stronger, enveloping him in a protective shell.
He opened his eyes, the six-pointed star of his Mangekyō glowing with an otherworldly intensity. The silvery chakra pulsed in time with his heartbeat, and as it began to coalesce into a more defined shape, Renjiro could feel the raw power surging through him.
"What is this...?" he whispered, his voice trembling with awe as the room filled with the shimmering light.
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