Two years had passed.
The boy who once appeared so frail now bore the beginnings of a man's frame.
Though no longer confined to a bed, his recovery was far from complete.
He could freely control his upper body, but his legs remained stubbornly unresponsive.
There were faint signs of progress, sporadic twitches, and delayed responses, but they were far from reliable.
The elderly man, ever resourceful, had noticed Shisui's struggle.
Though acquiring a proper wheelchair was beyond his means, the old man had crafted a makeshift wooden one.
It wasn't much, but it was functional.
"Thank you,"
Shisui had said when he first received it, his gratitude was sincere.
By now, Shisui's daily routine had settled into a monotonous rhythm.
He would wake up, eat, stay indoors, and focus on refining his sensory abilities using chakra.
Though his hands were now fully functional and capable of weaving seals, he never cast a single jutsu.
That night, as the old man brought his meal, Shisui decided it was time to break his silence.
The man intrigued him. He was a recluse, tending to his small fields during the day and occasionally leaving to procure goods.
Despite his solitary existence, he had taken Shisui in without hesitation.
For two years, Shisui had searched his memories, trying to piece together any recognition of the man.
He recalled countless faces, those he had impacted and those he had failed.
But this old man was a mystery, his chakra calm and unassuming, unlike anyone Shisui had encountered before.
That night, the silence broke.
"I haven't been a good person,"
Shisui began, his voice steady but heavy with regret.
"I prioritized my family above all else. And I still lost them."
The old man paused, the statement catching him off guard.
"This is the most you've spoken since I took you in,"
he said, his tone light but observant.
Shisui ignored the remark.
"The least you could do is tell me who you are and why you're helping me. You'd gain more by turning me over to the authorities."
The old man chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"Do I need a reason to save a life in need?"
he said, his voice tinged with reminiscence.
"That's what your father said to me before I passed out... And the Uchiha police force is no more."
Shisui froze.
"You knew my father?"
"I knew someone who looked like you,"
the old man replied.
"So I assumed he was your father. And judging by your injuries and the eyes you lost, it wasn't hard to figure out you're a Uchiha. If not, then maybe a distant relative. Or perhaps a reincarnation,"
he added with a laugh.
"I'm blind, not stupid,"
Shisui muttered.
"I see more now without my eyes than—"
Before he could finish, the old man flicked a stone that struck Shisui squarely on the forehead, cutting him off.
"Eat your food while it's hot and get some rest,"
the old man said, a wry smile on his face.
"We'll talk more tomorrow. Don't stress over the small stuff, kid."
With that, he left.
Shisui sat in silence, the small stone resting lightly in his palm.
Sleep would come soon, but it wouldn't be peace.
Nights were still a torment, a reminder of what he had lost and what he could never regain.
Blindness, he was finding, was far easier to endure than the memories.