Shisui entered the familiar home with slow, measured steps, his face drawn with a somber expression. The usual warmth he felt upon returning to this place was absent. Gone was the cheerful air of someone stepping into a place of comfort. Today, the house felt like a hollow shell—an empty echo of what it once was. His hand lingered on the doorframe, but he didn't say the words he always did.
"I'm home."
There was no need to say it. Because this time, no one would answer him.
His eyes scanned the empty rooms, the silence hanging heavily in the air. It was too quiet. The house was... empty.
"They've already left, huh?" Shisui muttered under his breath, his voice almost lost in the stillness.
As he walked deeper into the house, a flash of something caught his eye—a small slip of paper. His gaze narrowed, and instinctively, he moved toward it. Underneath a water bottle, the letter had been carefully placed to keep it from flying away.
He picked it up, and as he did, a sense of dread settled into his chest. Shisui unfolded the paper, his heart racing as he began to read the words his younger brother had left behind.
"Sup, brother! I'm going to a far place with Grandpa and training to become stronger. It will take me a few months to return, so don't start crying because you miss me. I wish I could say goodbye directly, but Grandpa said there wasn't enough time left, and we had to go as soon as possible. Hence, the letter. Well, what I want to say is 'A home without a family is nothing but a desolate house.' Pretty deep, right? What I mean is don't do anything stupid. Till then, Goodbye! By Ryuuji."
Shisui's hands trembled as he finished reading the note. The words were lighthearted, but the weight of them hit him hard. His heart sank, guilt clawing at his chest.
"I'm sorry, Ryuuji," Shisui whispered, his voice cracking. "Because your brother is about to do something stupid."
***
Jima's eyes widened, the intense crimson of his Sharingan glowing like the flare of a dying star. He locked his gaze onto Ryuuji, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. The world itself held its breath as the air around them thickened with an undeniable, almost tangible power.
Ryuuji's heart slammed in his chest. His mouth went dry. It was as if the very weight of Jima's gaze was crushing him. The eyes of his grandfather... they were not just a symbol of the Uchiha clan's legendary power. They were radiating an aura of control and dominion.
The three sharp, obsidian blades of the Mangekyo Sharingan spread outward, their symmetry cutting through the very air with a predatory elegance. Each of the three black triangles was tipped with a crimson orb, pulsing with raw energy. The inner design was intricate, a geometric labyrinth that appeared to stretch into infinity—a visual representation of unyielding focus, precision, and power that was beyond comprehension. The gaze itself seemed to penetrate to Ryuuji's core, his very soul laid bare. (A/N: Click on the comment to see the picture.)
It was a thing of beauty—and terror.
The power in those eyes was undeniable. And in that moment, Ryuuji knew—this was the true might of the Uchiha. This was the legacy that coursed through his veins.
"This is—" Ryuuji whispered, his voice faltering in awe.
"Mangekyo Sharingan?!" He shouted, unable to contain his disbelief.
Jima remained still, watching Ryuuji with a knowing smile, though inside, he was equally surprised. He hadn't expected his grandson to recognize it so quickly.
"How do you know about the Mangekyo Sharingan?" Jima asked, his voice laced with suspicion. "It's supposed to be a top-secret within the Uchiha Clan. Only the Clan Leader, myself, and a few high-ranking officials in Konoha should know of its existence. How could you possibly..."
Ryuuji's panic surged. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and for a moment, he thought his heart might just stop. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words tangled in his throat. His mind raced for an excuse.
"I-I uh... actually, I—"
"Did you secretly go to my study and read the books there without my permission?" Jima interrupted, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Ryuuji froze, guilt and fear washing over him. His eyes widened, and without thinking, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. It's not like he could say he was a reincarnated being, and so jumped at the opportunity presented to him.
"Y-yes! T-that's what I did! I'm sorry, Grandpa! I shouldn't have gone in without asking!" Ryuuji bowed his head low, practically pressing his forehead against the floor in apology.
Jima stared at him for a moment, his lips twitching as if he were about to scold him. But instead, he let out a deep sigh, shaking his head.
"Haah... Fine. It doesn't matter. Just... raise your head."
Ryuuji complied immediately, still bowing deeply, but now with a mixture of embarrassment and relief.
"Now, you said this was the Mangekyo Sharingan, right?" Jima asked, his tone turning serious again.
"Yes." Ryuuji responded quickly, his voice steady despite his earlier panic.
"Well," Jima said calmly, his eyes never leaving his grandson's, "you're only half correct."
"Huh? What does that mean?" Ryuuji asked, his curiosity piqued despite the confusion swirling inside him.
Jima's lips curled into a subtle smile. "What I possess isn't the Mangekyo Sharingan." He paused dramatically, and when he spoke again, his words hung in the air like a thunderclap.
"It's the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan."
The words struck Ryuuji like a punch to the gut. He could hardly process them. His mind reeled, trying to connect the dots. Eternal Mangekyo? That was unheard of. Only two people in the entire history of the Uchiha Clan had ever been known to possess it—Madara Uchiha and Sasuke Uchiha. Both were legendary figures, both were the reincarnations of the powerful Indra Otsutsuki. How could his grandfather...
'Grandpa has the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan?! Even in the original series, only two people had it! And they were both special! They were the reincarnations of Indra Otsutsuki!'
Ryuuji's thoughts were a chaotic blur, his heart racing as he processed the magnitude of what his grandfather had just revealed.
Jima's smile widened, clearly enjoying the look of shock on Ryuuji's face. "See? Now do you understand how strong your Grandpa really is? Hohohoho!" Jima laughed heartily, as if Ryuuji's stunned expression was the greatest joke he'd ever seen.
"Grandpa!" Ryuuji nearly shouted, his hands clasped together in desperation. "Please make me your disciple! I want to be as strong as you!"
"Hohohoho... Very good!" Jima chuckled, his voice full of pride. "Since you're my grandson and clearly a genius, I'll make you my disciple! Be grateful, Ryuuji! Hohoho!"
Ryuuji's chest swelled with pride, but before he could bask in the excitement, Jima's tone turned grave once again. His eyes were sharp, his presence commanding.
"Ryuuji, I'm sure since you've read some of my books. You know that when a Sharingan evolves into the Mangekyo, each one develops its own unique ability, correct?"
"Y-yes!!" Ryuuji quickly responded, his voice full of enthusiasm, though internally, he had no idea what he was talking about. He couldn't exactly tell his grandfather that he had seen everything unfold from the sidelines of a world he no longer belonged to.
"Good," Jima said, nodding in approval. "I, too, have my own unique Mangekyo ability."
A sudden, overwhelming surge of energy erupted from Jima's body.
BZZZZZ!!!
A brilliant blue aura shot up into the sky, its intensity like the crackling of a storm. The energy expanded outward, reaching up to ten kilometers in every direction, creating an enormous dome.
Outside the dome, everything seemed frozen in time. The world moved at a crawl, a sluggish, torturous pace. Even the flapping of a fly's wings was slow enough to see each individual movement.
"ChronoDomain," Jima said, his voice calm despite the overwhelming power radiating from him. "That's the name of my technique."
Ryuuji stood frozen, his mind racing once more. ChronoDomain? What was this? What kind of power did his grandfather wield?
***
A/N: I'm changing Itachi's cultivation to Low-level Kage from High-level Kage, as it makes more sense. Credits to Storm2023.