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corection for number chapter

Chapter 171: The Sharingan  

The discussion about naming the technique came to an abrupt halt. Since the original body and the shadow clone shared the same mind, even the clone couldn’t help with the naming dilemma. In any case, the grey bone’s ability to absorb chakra and life force had been significantly suppressed.  

Flesh-formed sealing inscriptions completely enveloped the bones, as if dense crimson script had been carved into the ashen-white surface. Layer upon layer of chakra-blocking seals turned the grey bones into an isolated zone, cutting them off from absorbing even the slightest trace of energy.  

Like invasive roots, the bone branches greedily siphoned life force from the surrounding flesh. But passive absorption was nothing compared to the Eight Gates, a technique designed from the start to burn life energy.  

On top of that, Hikari herself was tipping the scales—preventing the grey bones from stealing even a shred of vitality. In the end, they could only remain in a state of starvation, sinking into deep dormancy.  

After being weakened so severely, the patterns on the grey bones still grew, but at a rate so slow that even Hikari’s Byakugan struggled to perceive any change.  

A rough estimate suggested their growth had slowed by at least a hundredfold. If she never used the grey bones again, the Shikotsumyaku would never fully evolve into its final form before her natural death.  

Which meant she no longer had to worry about whether her body could withstand the next stage—Tsukuyomi’s Grey Bone.  

In a way, she had already cured her kekkei genkai’s affliction through sheer ingenuity.  

But that wasn’t enough.  

Hikari observed the dormant bones within her body, unsatisfied. Though her arsenal of techniques had expanded, her most fundamental and powerful abilities remained the Byakugan and Shikotsumyaku.  

Abandoning the latter would be like cutting off her own arm—not to mention the wasted potential of that deadly power.  

So the Reverse Eight Gates research couldn’t stop. The Sage Body had to be perfected. Only then could she sustain the grey bone’s evolution. And her chakra reserves were still a major bottleneck—though the Samehada temporarily compensated, it was only a stopgap.  

External power could never match the reliability of one’s own strength.  

She had easily defeated Kisame Hoshigaki, the man who had taken down the Eight-Tails’ jinchūriki, precisely because he relied too much on Samehada.  

If she grew complacent in the false strength it provided, she’d eventually meet the same fate.  

And that was an outcome she refused to accept.  

"Where’s the three-tomoe Sharingan?"  

"Right here!"  

At her original body’s question, the Yang Release clone pulled out a small vial freshly retrieved from the lab and shook it.  

Glug, glug.  

The viscous liquid sloshed oddly.  

Preserved in a transparent saline solution, the crimson three-tomoe Sharingan floated lifelessly, its bloodshot sclera riddled with veins—enough to make anyone with trypophobia shudder.  

Unfazed, Hikari took the vial and poured the eyeball into her palm.  

The limp, purplish-red nerves and vessels dangled limply. The damp orb was dull, its once-lively tomoe now frozen in place.  

Fshh.  

A thin slit split open in Hikari’s palm, from which tendrils of flesh and blood vessels extended, intertwining with the Sharingan’s own veins. Slowly, meticulously, she stitched the lifeless eye into her hand.  

Squelch.  

The grotesque sound of flesh merging echoed through the cave as the two crimson orbs settled into their new sockets.  

A verdant glow—the light of the Mystical Palm Technique—illuminated the cavern as the triangular and inscribed-circle marks on Hikari’s forehead began to rotate.  

Crack.  

The three Gates of Life, bound by chakra chains, loosened slightly, releasing a pure stream of vitality.  

Guided by Yang Release chakra and the Byakugan’s power, this life energy flowed through her meridians, fusing the Sharingan seamlessly into her palm.  

Hiss!  

The implanted eyes flared to life.  

Violet chakra, brimming with vitality, surged through the connected pathways. The three tomoe spun faster and faster, endlessly converting the crimson Yin-based pupil power within.  

In just two minutes, the plug-and-play Sharingan had been perfectly integrated.  

"How does it feel?"  

The Yang clone stepped closer, eyeing the original body, who was silently assessing the new addition.  

Aside from the Sage Body, Hikari now possessed all of Kaguya Ōtsutsuki’s core abilities. The Byakugan and Shikotsumyaku already synergized into "physical manipulation." Maybe the Sharingan would trigger something new.  

"Feels… like nothing’s changed."  

Hikari frowned, pouring even more chakra and life force into the three-tomoe eyes, hoping for a breakthrough.  

But even when the Sharingan’s pupil power overflowed, no hidden potential awakened.  

"The Sharingan can convert chakra and life force into pupil power, but the efficiency is abysmal." She clenched her fist, feeling the Byakugan’s energy clash faintly with the Sharingan’s.  

"The Byakugan converts chakra to pupil power at a near 1:1 ratio. The Sharingan? Ten units of chakra for one unit of pupil power. Keeping it active is like spamming the 'Rotation' nonstop."  

Life force fared slightly better—fifteen units could be condensed into one unit of pupil power.  

"Wait, hold on." The Yang clone blinked, doing mental math. "Which one’s more efficient? I’m lost."  

"Life force, obviously."  

Hikari flexed the Sharingan’s power, finding it sluggish—nothing like the Byakugan’s seamless control.  

"Our chakra quality is three or four times higher than average, yet it still takes ten units for one. For a normal shinobi? Thirty units, minimum."  

"Life force quality doesn’t vary much between people. Thirty versus fifteen? Life wins."  

"That’s terrible."  

The Yang clone grimaced. With the same chakra, she could keep the Byakugan active indefinitely—its drain was negligible compared to her natural recovery.  

But the Sharingan? At full output, her reserves would last an hour. The gap wasn’t just thirtyfold—it was exponential.  

No wonder Kakashi was always exhausted.  

Three-tomoe was already this taxing. A Mangekyō? The cost would be unimaginable.  

Hikari agreed—the conversion rate was pitiful. But the Sharingan wasn’t truly plug-and-play.  

According to the Second Hokage’s research notes, the Sharingan’s true nature lay in the unique chakra produced by an Uchiha’s brain during extreme emotion.  

This special Yin-based chakra interacted with the eyes, imprinting unique patterns—hence its true name: "The Eye That Reflects the Heart."  

Even the basic three-tomoe was a reflection of the user’s soul.  

Each tomoe represented a shinobi’s three core talents—the three powers every warrior sought:  

• Taijutsu: Dynamic vision, reflexes, predictive movement.  

• Genjutsu: Hypnosis, illusion-breaking, discerning deception.  

• Ninjutsu: Sensing chakra flow, copying techniques, spotting weaknesses. 

Three tomoe turned even the most mediocre Uchiha into a well-rounded prodigy.  

And chakra wasn’t even a concern.  

The Sharingan’s nature meant it would force conversion—burning life force if chakra ran low.  

All kekkei genkai diseases followed the same logic.  

Advancing to Mangekyō required another surge of that unique chakra, reshaping the pupil into a new pattern and birthing esoteric ocular powers.  

• Obito, desperate to escape reality, gained Kamui’s intangibility.  

• Kakashi, wanting to banish the Three-Tails from Rin, manifested a more offensive long-range Kamui.  

• Itachi, pressured by the world, craved control—hence Tsukuyomi. And when his best friend died, his unquenchable rage birthed Amaterasu’s black flames. 

The patterns were superficial. The brain’s unique Yin chakra was key.  

Without it—or if the implanted eye’s chakra didn’t match—the user had to brute-force conversion with life energy and massive chakra. Hence the inefficiency.  

Even control became difficult.  

Danzo’s Izanagi lasted a minute. Obito’s? Three. If he’d lined his arm with three-tomoe, her Yang clone would’ve died on Thunder Drum Mountain.  

As for evolution? A hundred times harder.  

An average shinobi could pour all their chakra and life into a two-tomoe and still fail to reach three.  

The Mangekyō? The Second’s notes were vague, but Hikari doubted even Hashirama’s cells could make it likely—let alone the Eternal or Rinnegan stages.  

Kakashi’s case was a fluke.  

Obito’s awakening had resonated with him, forcing his Mangekyō to activate. Killing Rin wasn’t the trigger—if he’d locked himself in a room reading Make-Out Paradise, it still would’ve happened.  

(Though the resulting ability might’ve been… different.)  

"So, can the Sharingan work as a life filter?" The Yang clone cut to the chase.  

She’d crossed mountains and fought Uchiha Obito for these eyes. If they were useless, all that effort was wasted.  

Hikari’s ashen pupils gleamed as she ran simulations in her mind. Finally, she sighed.  

"No way to know without testing."  

The Sharingan and Hashirama’s cells represented the extremes of Yin and Yang. Using the former’s intangible pupil power to simulate the latter’s physical form…  

It was the pinnacle of Yin-Yang manipulation.  

If this failed?  

Then there was no other way.  

The two fell silent, frustration mounting. But they knew the magnitude of what they were attempting.  

In a thousand years of shinobi history, only one Hashirama Senju had existed. And Hikari was this close to reaching that pinnacle.  

If she succeeded, her life force and chakra would grow limitlessly. The path to the Six Paths would be wide open.  

The Reverse Eight Gates was her ascension.  

Failure wasn’t an option. And the longer it took, the less time she’d have to grow—the more variables would stack against her.  

Hikari’s resolve hardened.  

She crossed her fingers.  

"Multiple Shadow Clone Technique!"  

BOOM!  

Dust filled the cavern.  

The Yang clone coughed, waving away the smoke to reveal sixty-six silver-haired girls in white robes.  

"This many?!"  

Her pupils contracted.  

She knew Hikari better than anyone. The original’s chakra reserves couldn’t sustain this many clones.  

Which meant only one thing—  

"Hah… hah…"  

Hikari’s face was deathly pale. The violet core in her chest pulsed erratically as the seal on her forehead unlocked the three Gates of Life, releasing torrents of green energy.  

She was burning life force for chakra.  

But once the Reverse Eight Gates was complete, the lost vitality would be trivial to restore.  

With the grey bone’s threat gone, she could afford to go all-out.  

"Handle everything outside. I’m going into seclusion."  

"Understood."  

The Yang clone glanced at the sea of shadow clones filling the cave, sensing the original’s determination.  

Hoisting the motionless Samehada onto her shoulder, she turned and left.  

The sword had a voracious appetite. With Hikari’s chakra drained by the clones, feeding it fell to her.  

She’d have to raid Root’s prison for convict chakra. If that wasn’t enough, there was always the other massive chakra source in the lab’s basement.  

Let’s hope Samehada can stomach Hashirama’s energy.  

Chapter 172: A Mission Years Overdue  

The dimly lit chamber held only three flickering candle flames, casting the silhouettes of two figures—one seated, one standing—onto the mottled stone walls in deep orange light.  

Just like the past. 

Just like now.  

"That’s how it happened."  

The dim glow tinted his dark sunglasses amber as Aburame Ryūma’s violet eyes gleamed, fixed silently on the one-eyed old man sitting withered before him.  

The elder leaned heavily on his cane, his frail frame sinking into the shadows, merging with the darkness itself. His narrow, calculating eye scanned the mission report, flickering with emotions—shock at the Akatsuki’s terrifying power, icy killing intent toward the masked man who once controlled the Nine-Tails, and greed for that invincible Mangekyō ability.  

But not a trace of his former kindness remained.  

How pitiful.  

Danzo.  

Unable to bear watching the man who was once a warm sun fall so far, Ryūma lowered his head, tracing the intricate wood-grain patterns on the floor as if searching for traces of the friend who once existed.  

Unaware of his most trusted subordinate’s thoughts, Danzo’s aged fingers twitched at the edge of the report, his mind roiling like a stormy sea.  

The intelligence Itachi Uchiha had sent back—he had already reviewed it once. Many names stood out immediately, their origins unmistakable.  

Take that shinobi named Kakuzu, for instance—a notorious bounty hunter in the black market. With an unmatched mission success rate and client satisfaction, he was a top-tier legend, the kind drowning in cash from desperate clients. A true pillar of the underworld.  

Danzo’s own operatives had clashed with him once. The aftermath required heavy recruitment just to replenish losses, yet they barely scraped together intel—just the name Kakuzu and the fact that he wielded large-scale composite ninjutsu.  

Then there was Sasori of the Red Sand.  

Chiyo’s grandson, hailed as Sunagakure’s most prodigious puppeteer—a title undisputed. Konoha had never faced him directly, but that reputation alone marked him as a monster on par with Kakuzu and Orochimaru.  

And then there was Itachi Uchiha, Kisame Hoshigaki, and that masked man who attacked Konoha… Akatsuki’s strength was terrifying enough, but the worst was yet to come.  

"You’re saying Hikari not only instantly killed Kisame Hoshigaki without a scratch but also fought that masked man—the one who once clashed with the Fourth Hokage—to a standstill?"  

The wrinkles at Danzo’s eyes deepened.  

Staring at Ryūma’s bowed head, a picture of unwavering loyalty, he found it hard to believe.  

Not that he doubted Ryūma himself—no one could question his devotion, forged through decades of trials. That trust was unshakable. Even if the world betrayed him, Ryūma would be the last at his side.  

But Hikari? That kind of power?  

Kisame, the Tailless Tailed Beast, famed for his monstrous water-style prowess—even Orochimaru had been forced to retreat against him. And Hikari killed him unscathed?  

Did that mean she had far surpassed Orochimaru? That even he and Hiruzen might not be her match?  

He couldn’t reconcile it. The same girl who once had to ask her academy teacher for leave before missions—how could she wield such strength?  

If Ryūma had told him this ten years from now, he wouldn’t have doubted it. As Konoha’s greatest genius, she should reach those heights.  

But now?  

This wasn’t just unreasonable—it spat in the face of the world’s natural order.  

Hearing Danzo’s skepticism, Ryūma shook his head firmly.  

"Not a standstill. The masked man fled, relying solely on Izanagi’s reality-warping invincibility and his space-time ninjutsu’s mobility. He didn’t dare face her again."  

The report grew even more absurd. Danzo wondered if Ryūma was under a genjutsu.  

"This is what I and the others witnessed firsthand. If you still doubt it, test Hikari yourself. Her strength is no illusion." Ryūma’s voice remained icy, emotionless—a glacier frozen for millennia.  

Could it really be true?  

Danzo hesitated.  

One person under genjutsu was possible—but not everyone. And Hikari was right there in the Root base. Her power could be verified instantly. There was no point in a lie so easily exposed.  

Which meant… she had done it.  

A child, stepping onto the pinnacle of the shinobi world.  

A monster.  

Danzo’s breathing grew heavy, his pupils contracting in the candlelight—yet the gleam in his eyes burned brighter.  

Wariness. And greed.  

Hikari’s power unsettled him… yet he couldn’t help but fantasize.  

With Kotoamatsukami’s brainwashing and long-term conditioning, he could bind her to his cause. With her support, killing Hiruzen, claiming the Hokage’s seat, leading Konoha to glory—no longer a distant dream.  

If she became the next God of Shinobi, he might even unite the world under Konoha’s banner.  

What a sight that would be.  

After decades in the shadows, he finally saw a glimmer of light. Rationality slipped from his grasp.  

He believed it.  

Pushing his sunglasses up with a finger, Ryūma pressed his lips together, smoothing away the faintest curl of his mouth.  

Hikari was strong—but not that strong.  

She defeated Kisame because he’d lost Samehada, weakening him drastically. The masked man fled due to ninjutsu compatibility and the vast chakra reserves stored in Samehada—now exhausted.  

Without someone like Kisame to feed her chakra, her normal strength was just slightly above elite jōnin level—far from the absurdity he’d described.  

Danzo was beyond saving.  

That was the conclusion he’d reached after regaining his memories and pondering on the journey back.  

The kind Danzo was gone, replaced by this filthy worm. And now, he would fulfill his old promise—to end the man festering in the dark.  

But killing him wouldn’t be easy.  

In his prime, Danzo was only slightly weaker than the Third Hokage. Though complacent in recent years, he remained a top-tier shinobi.  

Ryūma, an infiltration specialist, couldn’t do it alone. He needed allies.  

Itachi Uchiha was his first. They’d agreed—if Danzo left the village, Ryūma would provide his location, and Itachi would strike.  

But what if Danzo never left?  

Waiting passively wasn’t an option. He needed a second ally—and the ideal candidate was Hikari.  

No deep reason. Just raw strength.  

Turning her against Danzo would weaken him and bolster their side. A perfect move.  

Plus, while Itachi couldn’t easily infiltrate Konoha, Hikari was already here—inside the Root base.  

The best possible choice.  

The plan was sound—but how to turn her?  

First, he needed to sow conflict.  

Exaggerating her power was step one. Danzo tolerated her now because of Kotoamatsukami and her manageable strength. To spark tension, they needed to fear each other.  

Nothing bred conflict like mortal threat.  

Once Danzo saw her as a danger, he’d test her loyalty. Any hesitation would breed distrust—leading to more Kotoamatsukami attempts or other control methods.  

From their mission together, Ryūma had gauged her personality.  

Neither good nor evil. 

Greedy and domineering.  

Harmless if unprovoked, but cross her—and she’d strike back mercilessly.  

Both were cut from the same cloth—ambitious, ruthless. If he could expose Kotoamatsukami’s brainwashing, their rift would widen until collapse.  

Then—Danzo’s death.  

The chamber fell silent.  

The candlelight wavered.  

Though physically together, Danzo and Ryūma’s minds were worlds apart.  

"Good. You’ve done well."  

Danzo, preoccupied with Hikari, dismissed Ryūma with his usual indifference—but then, on a whim, recalled their pre-mission conversation.  

"That person—did you remember who it was?"  

"Hm?"  

Ryūma, deep in plotting Danzo’s demise, blinked.  

His absentmindedness made Danzo frown.  

After decades together, he prided himself on knowing Ryūma inside-out.  

Calm. Stern. Reliable.  

In Danzo’s eyes, Aburame Ryūma was the perfect shinobi—an impeccable tool. He never spaced out during debriefs.  

Had that person affected him so deeply?  

As his finest instrument, Danzo couldn’t allow anyone to sway Ryūma—whoever they were.  

A hollow smile stretched his aged face, wrinkles deepening—but there was no warmth, only a bone-chilling menace.  

"That kind-faced man you mentioned—the one whose name you couldn’t recall. Have you remembered now?"  

Ryūma’s violet eyes, darker than poison, deepened further.  

"I have."  

"Oh? Who was he?"  

Danzo’s grin widened, but his eyes stayed dead. The fake kindness wasn’t comforting—it was unnerving.  

"He’s dead."  

Silence.  

The candlelight flickered across their faces, just like when they’d founded Root together.  

Danzo’s eyelid twitched. Staring into Ryūma’s shadowed gaze, he couldn’t meet it.  

Shame? Fear?  

He didn’t know—didn’t want to know.  

As Root’s absolute leader, any vulnerability was weakness.  

Konoha’s rise demanded ruthless logic and iron will. That was his creed.  

All weakness must be discarded. 

All bonds severed.  

Yet now, long-buried frailty stirred. And seeing Ryūma—the one who’d unearthed it—Danzo’s killing intent solidified.  

No one could influence Ryūma. 

No one could influence him.  

Not Hiruzen. 

Not even Ryūma himself.  

Feeling the murderous chill, Ryūma’s hidden eyes narrowed. Kikaichū crept silently from his sleeves to his fingertips.  

Whoosh.  

A draft swirled. The candles trembled.  

Their faces flickered in the unstable light, shadows warping grotesquely on the walls.  

Tension thickened. Violence loomed.  

Thud. Thud. Thud.  

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, stark in the silence.  

Knock. Knock.  

"Who is it?"  

"Me."  

A young girl’s voice rang out. That tone, paired with the weighty steps—only one person in Root fit.  

The draft vanished. The candles steadied.  

The twisted shadows returned to their seated and standing forms—as if nothing had happened.  

Danzo slowed his chakra flow, reining in his killing intent.  

Hikari was growing stronger. Her cold detachment during experiments rivaled even his. Hard to control.  

His Kotoamatsukami was still recharging. Without Ryūma, he’d have no one left to counter her.  

Spare him for now. Once Hikari replaces him… then, Ryūma dies.  

"Enter."  

The door creaked open.  

Hikari strode in, Samehada slung over her shoulder.  

Danzo’s eye flicked to the sword—the chakra-absorbing weapon from Ryūma’s report.  

"If you want Sharingan, go to Chizuru."  

"Not here for Sharingan."  

Sensing the room’s odd atmosphere, her Byakugan noted their erratic heartbeats and breathing.  

Why so tense? 

Plotting against me?  

She glanced at the emotional hues above their heads.  

Danzo’s—wariness, fondness, greed—no outright malice.  

Ryūma’s—muddled, but… deception? And… goodwill?  

Puzzled, she filed it away.  

"I need the basement lab’s—" 

"—that tree for a new experiment."  

Chapter 173: The Time Is Not Yet Ripe  

"You want access to that 'Tree.'"  

"Correct."  

Hikari rested the ravenous Samehada on her shoulder, her fingers gently stroking its surface to soothe it.  

The battle at Thunder Drum Mountain had completely drained Samehada's energy. Unlike Kisame Hoshigaki, who possessed vast reserves of chakra, Hikari couldn't easily sustain this gluttonous monster.  

These past few days had left it starving.  

After leaving the Forest of Death, she had headed straight for Root’s underground prison, hoping that even if she couldn’t replenish her own chakra reserves, she could at least feed Samehada.  

But reality had proven far different from her expectations.  

Most of the prisoners were ordinary people—hardly any shinobi, and those who were had only been genin or chūnin. Not a single high-level jōnin prisoner in sight.  

Given Samehada’s voracious appetite, even draining every last drop of chakra from these people wouldn’t be enough to satisfy it, let alone fill the endless void of her main body’s needs.  

Puzzled, she questioned the prison guards and Chihaya Tōru, finally learning the reason for the shortage.  

Years ago, Orochimaru and Chihaya Tōru had conducted human experiments together. Due to their reckless methods and the extreme danger of Hashirama’s cells, the supply of death row inmates and abducted test subjects from other villages quickly ran dry.  

At a critical point in the experiments, with no more test subjects available, Orochimaru began indiscriminately kidnapping Konoha shinobi to fill the gap.  

This was what ultimately provoked the Third Hokage’s pursuit, leading to Orochimaru’s defection.  

"The Third Hokage turned a blind eye to many of Lord Danzō’s actions," Chihaya Tōru, a veteran of Root, explained. "But harming Konoha’s shinobi and civilians was an absolute red line he would never allow to be crossed."  

With no war to provide captives and the experimental division failing to produce results, Danzō had little incentive to keep gathering test subjects.  

Why waste resources on failed experiments when he could brainwash them into loyal tools instead?  

When Hikari first joined the experimental division, the doctors and nurses had eyed her like a potential test subject precisely because of this shortage.  

Children with excellent physical traits were all taken by Danzō to replenish Root’s ranks, leaving only the weak and disabled for the experiments.  

And Hikari, with her "disabled" status, had been the perfect candidate in their eyes.  

With the prison and test subject routes closed, only one option remained—the giant tree with nearly limitless chakra.  

Ordinary people had no right to approach it. Even Chihaya Tōru could only show it to Hikari, not grant her unrestricted access.  

Which was why she had come to Danzō for permission.  

"That tree is extremely dangerous. What exactly do you plan to use it for?" Danzō asked, hesitating.  

He wasn’t eager to grant Hikari access.  

If everything Muta had said was true—that she had already grown strong enough to easily defeat Orochimaru—then allowing her to grow further might make her impossible to control.  

Kotoamatsukami had an effect on her, but it wasn’t perfect. He’d need to cast it a few more times to fully overwrite her will before he could safely let her advance.  

Otherwise, he’d be stuck with a problem he couldn’t handle.  

Nearby, Muta stood silently, his expression as cold and indifferent as ever, as if none of this concerned him.  

Danzō’s reaction was exactly as he had predicted.  

There was no way Danzō would allow Hikari to grow unchecked. He would either suppress her or force her into submission.  

Only when she proved herself completely trustworthy would Danzō relent.  

But that was nearly impossible. Eventually, this conflict would escalate into outright violence.  

This was the death trap Muta had designed for Danzō.  

Through her 360-degree vision, Hikari noticed Muta’s emotions inexplicably growing agitated.  

This guy is weird.  

Making a mental note of his reaction, she smoothly fed Danzō the prepared lie:  

"The Sharingan can evolve from two tomoe to three tomoe using Hashirama’s cells. I was wondering if I could push my three-tomoe further."  

"You—what? How?"  

Danzō, who had been ready to reject any proposal, nearly choked on his own tongue.  

An evolution beyond the three-tomoe? That was the Mangekyō—the very power he coveted most.  

The abilities of the Mangekyō were unpredictable. Even the strongest enemies could fall to its hax if caught off-guard.  

If just one Mangekyō was this powerful, imagine what an army of them could do.  

If Hikari could cultivate all his stockpiled Sharingan into Mangekyō, no force in the shinobi world—not the other Great Villages, not even Akatsuki—could stand against him.  

But only if she could actually pull it off.  

"It’s the same principle as the two-tomoe evolution—yang giving birth to yin. But advancing beyond three tomoe is a qualitative leap. Ordinary Hashirama cells won’t be enough—"  

Hikari spoke confidently, knowing Danzō’s obsession with the Mangekyō and his lack of technical expertise made him an easy mark.  

For all his cunning and ruthlessness in shinobi affairs, when it came to experimental research, he was just an old man—far easier to fool than someone like Chihaya Tōru or Orochimaru.  

In her past life, even the dumbest scams had tricked so-called "high-intelligence" individuals—even PhDs—because no one was an expert in everything.  

When faced with unfamiliar territory, people could only rely on logic and experience—and those were the easiest things to manipulate.  

Her previous "two-tomoe evolution" experiment had already laid the groundwork. Now, she just had to sell the dream.  

What she actually did with the tree afterward?  

That was none of Danzō’s business.  

Using an investor’s money for personal gain was a tale as old as time.  

Once the research was done, she’d either take the results for herself or pressure Danzō for more funding—milking the old man dry. By the time he realized, she’d have grown strong enough to inherit his legacy.  

Danzō had no sons.  

Wasn’t it only right for a disciple to inherit their master’s estate?  

"—In summary, I believe the vitality of the Senju Tree has a sixty percent chance of triggering a higher evolution of the three-tomoe Sharingan."  

"Reasonable."  

Danzō’s eyes gleamed as he swallowed the bait.  

He didn’t understand terms like "yang giving birth to yin" or "chakra nature fusion creating Kekkei Genkai," but the sheer sophistication of the jargon made it sound plausible.  

Logically, it made sense. And Hikari had already proven herself with the two-tomoe experiment—far more reliable than Chihaya Tōru’s years of stagnation.  

Give her a few months. If it worked, great. If not, he could use it as leverage to rein her in. Either way, he lost nothing.  

"If Root’s resources are at your disposal, could you produce results within six months?"  

Hikari pretended to think before nodding. "Yes. No problem."  

Inside, she was ecstatic.  

Six months was more than enough to complete her Reverse Eight Gates. By then, fabricating some impressive "results" would be trivial.  

And if she failed? Well, she’d still have six months of free access.  

Danzō, pleased, turned to Muta. "Take Hikari to the Barrier Team to record her chakra signature."  

"Y-Yes."  

Muta, stunned, could only comply.  

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.  

Danzō was supposed to fear Hikari’s growth, deny her request, and let resentment fester between them—just like he’d orchestrated with Orochimaru and the Third.  

Yet his plan had failed at the first step.  

Then it hit him.  

The potential of the Mangekyō was too great. The sheer profit had temporarily outweighed Danzō’s caution.  

Only when the rewards dried up—or when they clashed over distribution—would the real conflict begin.  

Now is not the right time.  

"Let’s go, Muta."  

Hikari nudged him forward, eager to experiment with Samehada’s limits. If it could absorb the Senju Tree’s chakra, her main body’s research would skyrocket.  

Imagine having thousands of shadow clones like Naruto—she might even finish the Reverse Eight Gates in days.  

(Assuming her main body didn’t collapse from exhaustion.)  

As the two walked away, Danzō watched their retreating figures, his lone eye reflecting the flickering candlelight.  

Later, in the dark corridors of Root...  

The scene was eerily similar to Hikari’s first day in Root—her and Muta walking in silence.  

But everything had changed.  

"Lord Muta!"  

A masked Root agent bowed as they passed.  

Muta acknowledged him with a nod, but the agent’s eyes widened when he noticed Hikari.  

"L-Lady Hikari?!"  

Hikari raised an eyebrow. This was new.  

Before, most Root agents had ignored her. But after Thunder Drum Mountain, those who had witnessed her power now treated her with respect.  

As they walked, Hikari observed her surroundings with relaxed curiosity.  

When she first arrived, Root had seemed mysterious and intimidating. Muta had been an unapproachable enigma, and her own mortality had weighed on her.  

Now?  

Her Shikotsumyaku was stabilized. She had the Sharingan. The Reverse Eight Gates were nearly complete.  

With Samehada fully charged, she could unleash a tailed beast cloak and Lightning Armor—enough to slaughter her way through Root. Only Danzō himself could challenge her.  

Power changed perspective.  

What was once ominous now felt almost... welcoming.  

Meanwhile, Muta’s emotions churned violently beneath his stoic exterior.  

"Muta, something on your mind?" Hikari asked.  

"...No. It’s nothing."  

His voice was heavy.  

He was plotting to drive a wedge between her and Danzō—just as Danzō had once done to Orochimaru and the Third.  

The irony wasn’t lost on him.  

In the end, insects like him could only thrive in darkness.  

"About your earlier question... I remember now."  

"Hm? What question?"  

"I can’t speak of him. And neither can you."  

"Him...?"  

"Be careful of Danzō."  

Hikari’s footsteps faltered.  

She studied Muta’s emotions—sincerity mixed with something like guilt.  

Why would he warn her? Risking Tongue Eradication Seal just to betray Danzō?  

Since when were they that close?  

Yet the golden sincerity in his aura was undeniable. This wasn’t a test. He genuinely wanted to protect her.  

She said nothing, pretending she hadn’t heard, and followed him in silence.  

For now, she couldn’t trust his motives. But one thing was clear:  

Root’s internal struggles ran deeper than she’d thought.  

And inheriting her "master’s" legacy might be easier than she’d imagined.  

Chapter 174: The Power of Shadow Clones  

Barrier Division 

The space was covered in dense black sealing formulas, crawling like geckos across every surface. Rows of metal pillars stood on the mottled floor, each topped with silver disks etched with intricate patterns.  

At the base of the pillars, a crimson chakra membrane pulsed with a blood-like glow, casting eerie reflections that intertwined with the cursed seals on the walls and ceiling, amplifying the room’s sinister atmosphere.  

Beep!  

A pale, delicate hand—one that could crush steel into pulp—pressed against one of the silver disks.  

A shrill noise pierced the air as violet energy traced a path across a gray disk, slowly solidifying into a pattern representing the interplay of Yin-Yang and water.  

Hum!  

As the final stroke of the seal was completed, the purple light dimmed.  

Seeing the pattern stabilize, Aburame Ryōma swiftly formed hand signs, transferring the chakra imprint from the disk into the barrier’s core. Hikari could clearly sense a strand of her chakra merging with the barrier.  

Barrier: Mimicry Concealment Gate Formation.  

A B-rank barrier technique used in all Root and ANBU bases. Its effects included masking the interior, simulating the external environment, and verifying intruders by cross-referencing their chakra signature with pre-registered imprints.  

A match granted passage. A mismatch triggered lockdown—and an alarm.  

This was an all-purpose ninjutsu. The barrier at her training ground in the Forest of Death was derived from it.  

"Now you can pass freely."  

Ryōma swiftly sealed the disk away and politely gestured for Hikari to exit the Barrier Division.  

The Hidden Faces of Root 

This place was rarely open to outsiders. The Barrier Division had only three members: Aburame Ryōma (Chief), Chō, and Yamanaka Fū.  

Unsurprising.  

Sensor-types were rare in any faction. Even Root, with its vast resources, had only a handful.  

The Barrier Division had another name—Sensory Barrier Squad. Had Hikari not joined the Experimental Division, this would’ve been her most likely assignment.  

Her objective complete, she felt Samehada on her shoulder squirming like a child denied dinner. With a wave, she prepared to bid Ryōma farewell.  

"Wait."  

Ryōma suddenly stopped her, tapping his sunglass-covered right eye meaningfully.  

"Be careful."  

His warning was earnest.  

Knowing Danzo’s right eye housed Kotoamatsukami, she immediately understood. Nodding in acknowledgment, she dashed toward the Experimental Division, Samehada in tow.  

Whatever friction existed between Ryōma and Danzo could wait. Business came first.  

Tap. Tap. Tap.  

Her footsteps accelerated like a storm through the dim corridors. The petite figure carrying a door-sized blade vanished in an instant.  

The Laboratory of Shadows 

The Experimental Division’s door creaked open, releasing a wave of chilled air.  

To preserve live specimens, the temperature here was kept low—enough to prevent decay but not enough to freeze.  

Inside, the usually bright Honeycomb Lab was pitch black.  

Pale-faced test subjects lay strapped to beds. Surgical tools gleamed in sterile cabinets. The silence was oppressive.  

She had arrived in Konoha at dusk. Discussions with her main body about Reverse Eight Gates and negotiations with Danzo had dragged into nightfall.  

Now, alone, it was the perfect time to test Samehada’s abilities.  

The Forbidden Depths 

At the hidden basement entrance, Hikari took a deep breath and pressed her palm against the pale-red barrier.  

Chakra surged.  

The barrier flickered, comparing her imprint to the stored data. A match. The seal dissolved, swallowing a fraction of her chakra as fuel for maintenance.  

Creak—  

The rusted iron door groaned, revealing a lightless abyss.  

Her Byakugan pierced the darkness, locking onto a radiant green glow below. Without hesitation, she descended.  

The barrier resealed behind her.  

Silence reclaimed the lab.  

The Thousand-Hand God Tree 

At the bottom of the stairs, her vision was cut off by the barrier. But before her stood a colossal tree encased in a glass pillar.  

Its lush canopy blotted out the ceiling like an emerald storm. The gnarled trunk bore human faces frozen in agony.  

Beneath it, fused bodies formed a grotesque pedestal—limbs tangled like melted wax, flesh gray and slick with mucus-like film.  

A brown-yellow solution bubbled around the roots, filling the air with a sour stench.  

Gulp.  

Samehada thrashed in excitement, sensing the ocean of chakra within.  

This was no ordinary tree.  

It was a monstrosity—grown from hundreds of Hashirama-cell-infused test subjects, fed decades of sacrifices. Its chakra reserves dwarfed even a Tailed Beast.  

The last time she’d felt something this vast was Kurama inside Naruto.  

Rustle!  

Samehada shredded its bandages, jaws splitting open like a blooming flower.  

"Careful. This thing is… unnatural."  

She patted its spiny hide, unsure if the warning was for it—or herself.  

Though stabilized by seals, the tree’s erosion effect was lethal. A Four Symbols Seal beneath ensured its destruction if it ever went berserk.  

Danzo’s insurance.  

But for Samehada, a living creature, the risk was higher.  

Feast of the Devourer 

Climbing the glass pillar, she unsealed the top hatch.  

A rotten, acidic stench blasted out—like pickled corpses. Her shadow clone nearly dispelled from the assault.  

Gritting her teeth, she shoved Samehada inside, letting it block the opening with its bulk.  

Gulp! Gulp!  

Samehada chomped into the foliage, devouring the dense chakra. Branches trembled as green energy swirled into its maw.  

Hikari watched closely, ready to yank it back at the first sign of distress.  

But Samehada feasted without issue, gulping down the chakra like a starved beast.  

Link to the Main Body 

As energy surged into her, she channeled it through the spiral chains connecting her to her true self.  

Two seconds later—  

"This helps… a lot."  

Her main body’s voice was exhausted.  

Eight Gates’ strain, shadow clone feedback, and Reverse Eight Gates research had pushed her to the brink.  

"Don’t die in that cave," she muttered. "If Reverse Eight Gates fails, we’ll find another way."  

"But it’s working!"  

The reply was fatigued but exhilarated—almost manic.  

"Already?!"  

"Sixty-six clones training nonstop. Three hours for you… but 25 days of work for me."  

"…Don’t compare yourself to Naruto, you idiot."  

"I’ll rest soon. We have six months with this tree—no need to rush."  

The link cut off.  

Her duty now was simple: keep feeding chakra.  

Crisis 

Screeeeech—!  

Samehada convulsed, spines jamming the hatch.  

"What’s wrong?!"  

She yanked it free, but its swollen belly pulsed with dark-green chakra—a tumor of unstable energy.  

Medical Ninjutsu: Chakra Scalpel.  

She prepared to cut it out—  

Click.  

The basement door opened.  

A black-clad figure stood in the doorway, eyes cold and hollow.  

Chapter 175: Tsubaki  

"If I were you, I wouldn't touch it so carelessly."  

The light pillars embedded in the ceiling and walls suddenly flared to life, their harsh white glow flooding the dim basement with blinding illumination.  

The abrupt shift made Hikari narrow her eyes against the glare.  

Tap. Tap.  

The soft click of leather heels against stone steps echoed crisply through the hollow chamber.  

A woman descended the staircase—long black hair framing her shoulders, clad in Root's standard black uniform. Her face was cold, her eyes dull, with dark circles beneath them like bruises.  

The panda-eyed woman from Equipment Division.  

Why is she here?  

Hikari frowned.  

At this hour, most of Root's personnel were asleep, save for a few patrolling shinobi. What was this woman doing in the basement instead of resting?  

And the lab was far from Equipment Division. Not to mention the basement's protective barriers—how had she even gotten in?  

Suppressing her questions, Hikari retracted the chakra scalpel hovering near Samehada's belly and turned to the approaching woman.  

"Do you know what's wrong with it?"  

The woman glanced down at Samehada, writhing on the floor like a fish in labor.  

"It... overate."  

Hikari blinked.  

Overate?  

Samehada's appetite was legendary. In the original timeline, it had devoured six of the Eight-Tails' tails in one go. How could it be full after just this?  

"No ability is perfect. Chakra-absorption techniques aren't omnipotent—Wood Release chakra isn't so easily digested."  

The woman nudged Samehada with her foot. "Let it rest. If you cut open its digestive organ, this... thing—" She paused, eyeing the sword's handle flailing against the floor. "—won't recover."  

"Its name is Samehada. A living weapon."  

Hikari provided the explanation, watching the woman's reaction.  

Samehada had originally been a symbiotic creature attached to the Three-Tails, Isobu, helping it digest food and refine chakra. After Isobu's sealing, it became independent—later reforged into one of the Seven Ninja Swords.  

Blind and driven purely by chakra sensation, it betrayed masters without hesitation if it found tastier energy.  

"Hn. Its chakra core is in its digestive tract. Damage that, and it'll never produce chakra again."  

Hikari nodded. Though confident in her surgical precision, the warning wasn't unfounded. If Samehada just needed time, surgery could wait.  

"Can it recover on its own?"  

Samehada's thrashing had already weakened. Its handle trembled toward Hikari's palm, transmitting fragmented signals.  

"Good... good..."  

Unclear if it meant "I'm fine" or "I'll be fine." But it did seem better.  

"Thank you. May I ask your name?" Hikari studied the woman—this was her second time inquiring. The first, before the Thunder Drum Mountain mission, had gone unanswered.  

The woman's dull eyes flickered, as if stirred by ripples.  

"Tsubaki."  

Without another word, she turned toward the giant tree at the basement's center—her slender frame straight yet lonely, like a wild blade of grass.  

Tsubaki?  

Hikari wracked her memory. The name was unfamiliar, but that wasn't surprising. In a world of millions, the "canon" cast were but a fraction.  

"Why did Wood Release chakra affect Samehada this way?"  

"It's not Wood Release specifically. All nature-transformed chakra is harder to digest. Combined elements? Worse."  

Tsubaki spoke casually, as if discussing the weather. "Yin-Yang techniques for absorbing chakra are common. But no one's solved the digestion problem."  

Hereditary kekkei genkai? Yin-Yang Release?  

Hikari's interest sharpened. Root's archives had scant details on these topics—yet this woman treated them as common knowledge.  

Seizing the opportunity, Hikari pressed further. "What makes combined elements harder to absorb?"  

Tsubaki stopped before the towering tree.  

"Stability."  

Her answer came bluntly, as if she couldn’t care less about secrecy.  

"Wood Release fuses earth and water—the two most stable physical natures. Earth absorbs water's fluidity; water erodes earth's solidity. Add a catalyst of Yang, and from their broken structures emerges something new—wood."  

She pressed her palms against the glass tank, her posture eerily mirroring the deranged scientist Chihaya's.  

"Wood inherits both natures' stability—harder than earth, stronger than water, yet flexible with life. Even a trace can overwhelm that gluttonous fish."  

Her dark eyes fixed on the grotesque flesh-mass beneath the tree roots—severed limbs, melted features. Yet her gaze held neither horror nor disgust, only a quiet, aching pride.  

"I've come to see you again."  

Her whisper clung to the glass, trembling with something between devotion and desolation.  

Who... is she?  

Hikari's ash-gray pupils flickered. The woman's chakra core—elite jōnin-level—pulsed erratically.  

Her expertise in Wood Release, her untrained muscles, her lack of combat scars... yet this much chakra?  

Back in Equipment Division, Hikari had sensed something off about her. At first, she'd assumed another experiment—like the Nara brothers with their transplanted Sharingan.  

But now...  

"Senju Tsubaki?"  

The woman stiffened. Slowly, she turned, her hollow eyes widening.  

"How did you—?"  

"The legendary 'Forest's Senju'—a clan born with immense vitality. Even their children could produce jōnin-level chakra effortlessly." Hikari gestured at Tsubaki's core. "You fit."  

A shadow crossed Tsubaki's face.  

"The Senju... dissolved into Konoha. Gone—gone—"  

Her murmur was less an answer than a mantra—a chant to bury the past. She slid down the glass, her voice crumbling into silence.  

Hikari hesitated, unsure what to say.  

The wheel of time crushed more than just the Uchiha.  

Senju. Uzumaki. Kaguya. Uchiha—all once-great clans ground to dust.  

Not because they were unlucky.  

Not because they grew weak.  

But because the era changed.  

Hashirama and Madara's village system was like introducing guns to an age of swords—no martial tradition could compete.  

The old clans? Like children clutching gold in a den of wolves.  

Submit utterly—like the Hyūga.  

Or produce another Hashirama.  

Without power, clinging to glory meant annihilation.  

Her clan. Naruto's. Sasuke's. This woman's. All the same.  

Silence thickened in the basement.  

Hikari watched the thriving tree, the piled bones, the doll-like woman slumped against the glass.  

This would be her fate if she stopped growing stronger.  

So she couldn't stop. Even death would find her on that path.  

Scritch. Scritch.  

Samehada's spines scraped the tiles, its bloated belly slowly deflating.  

Tsubaki had been right—it had overeaten.  

Steeling herself, Hikari gripped Samehada's hilt, channeling purified chakra into her core. Samehada's converted energy was pristine—easily absorbed, efficiently transformed.  

Gloop.  

Bubbles rose in the tank's yellow fluid.  

Hours slipped by.  

Deep night settled.  

"Tsubaki... aren't you leaving?"  

The woman hadn't moved from the glass. Hikari eyed Samehada's shrunken belly, itching to feed it more—but stealing chakra from Tsubaki's family right after her help felt... wrong.  

"Go where?" Tsubaki's voice was faint, her gaze distant.  

"To sleep?"  

"I sleep better here. With them."  

Noticing Hikari's grip on Samehada, she added, "Feed it if you want. Just... be quiet. Let me rest."  

Her eyes closed, her cheek pressed to the glass—aligned perfectly with the faceless visage within.  

Now Hikari saw it—their similar features. The contours of their brows, the spacing of their eyes.  

Family.  

A heavy sigh escaped her.  

Permission granted, Hikari scaled the tank, lowering Samehada inside. This time, it stopped at a slight bulge—wisely refusing to gorge.  

After resealing the tank, Hikari glanced down at the sleeping woman. Samehada squirmed in her grip, digesting.  

Wood Release chakra took time. The Reverse Eight Gates wouldn't be perfected overnight.  

For today... this is enough.  

Cradling Samehada, Hikari tiptoed out, killing the lights behind her.  

Hiss.  

The crimson barrier resealed.  

In the dark, empty basement—  

The tree's branches swayed. Flesh-masses slurped nutrient fluid.  

And the woman slept against the glass, her face—finally—softened into a smile.  

Pure. Delicate.  

Not a weed, but a camellia—waiting to bloom.