Naruto Immersive Replay, The Curse of the Sharingan

Page 277

This is more surprising than any explanation or exchange of benefits, and it has greatly changed your perception of him.

This sudden, unfounded "trust" is like a faint but persistent light, trying to pierce through the thick fog surrounding you.

You remained silent for a long time, and finally, you simply said, "I owe you a favor."

As soon as you finished speaking, you didn't hesitate any longer. You turned around and stepped into the dark tunnel. Your figure was instantly swallowed by the darkness. There was no hesitation or fear. It was as if the darkness was your final destination.

Itachi remained alone in the cold, dark basement, standing silently for a long time, the word "human kindness" echoing in his ears.

He knows that the word you uttered is worth far more than you can imagine.

He's gambled on something, and the reward might come in a way he can't predict.

Walking in absolute darkness, the path beneath your feet is uneven, wet, and slippery.

But the faint sound of water acted like a compass, guiding the way. Even without lighting, the Sharingan automatically activated in the darkness, its crimson color and tomoe quietly emerging, clearly illuminating the path ahead.

Finally, the sound of water grew louder.

You push open a heavy wooden door that has long been decayed and is almost fused with the rock.

An even more ancient, desolate, and deathly aura swept over us.

Uchiha Forbidden Pavilion.

This place is even more dilapidated than the library above, covered in cobwebs and thick with dust so thick that clear footprints can be left behind.

However, most of the scrolls sealed by special runes are well preserved in ancient ninjutsu barriers that isolate the air, emitting ominous and powerful energy fluctuations.

Your gaze swept over the scrolls, without any unnecessary movement.

He went straight to the scrolls marked as the most forbidden, ignoring the warning marks on them that would drive an ordinary ninja to the brink of mental collapse, and immediately broke the seal and began flipping through them at lightning speed.

Your reading speed is astonishing. The Sharingan not only grants you night vision, but also gives you an almost terrifying information processing speed.

Izanagi, Izanami... numerous forbidden techniques that could overturn common sense flooded into his mind like a tide, and were calmly analyzed, dissected, and absorbed.

But soon, you closed the last scroll of forbidden magic.

"Too many side effects, not suitable for frequent use," you muttered to yourself, making a cold assessment.

These powers are indeed strong, but they come at a high price and mostly rely on the Sharingan, a source that consumes life force. They are not the kind of way you are looking for that can fundamentally "save" anything.

Standing in the center of the Forbidden Pavilion, I surveyed this forgotten and forbidden land.

Just then, a strange feeling, a sensation from the depths of the soul, quietly emerged.

It's like an invisible string being plucked, creating a subtle resonance with your presence.

There's something else here...

You narrowed your eyes, and the three tomoe of your Sharingan slowly rotated as you began to carefully examine every inch of the space.

Walls, floor, ceiling... Finally, the gaze settled on a seemingly ordinary corner of the wall.

The dust distribution there has extremely subtle inconsistencies.

He stepped forward, his cold fingers carefully exploring the area, until his fingertips touched an extremely tiny bump.

Without hesitation, you gently pressed the button.

A very faint mechanical sound rang out in the deathly silent Forbidden Chamber.

Immediately afterwards, a huge, seemingly fixed bookshelf next to them silently slid to the side, revealing an even deeper opening behind it.

A colder, more ancient aura seeped out from it.

The red light of your Sharingan intensified, and without any fear, you stepped into this hidden realm that even the Uchiha Chronicles had not recorded.

The passageway was short, ending at an unusually spacious Japanese-style room.

The room was empty, filled only with years of accumulated dust and deathly silence, as if its sole purpose was to protect something.

And that thing was on the wall directly opposite.

It was covered by a large, dull piece of dark silk, which still revealed its former splendor.

You sensed for a moment, confirming that there were no traps or dangerous chakra remnants, before slowly stepping forward.

Reaching out, my fingertips touched the cold, smooth silk fabric, and I gently tugged at it.

The silk cloth slipped down, raising a cloud of fine dust. Beneath the cloth lay not some magical artifact or secret scroll, but a relatively well-preserved painting scroll.

The painting depicts a woman.

She wore the ancient attire of the Uchiha clan, her chin slightly raised. Her innate arrogance was not merely superficial, but deeply ingrained in her very being, hidden beneath her sharp and imposing demeanor, as if nothing in the world mattered to her.

Her appearance... is at least 70% similar to yours when you were young; she's clearly exactly what you'll look like when you grow up!

The edges of the scroll bear scorch marks, as if someone had tried to destroy it but gave up halfway.

What's most unsettling is that next to the portrait, in a blank space, there's a line of writing.

The handwriting was crooked and erratic, frantic and forceful, as if it had been written with fingertips dipped in some kind of liquid—"Uchiha Nagi, Madara's beloved."

With the faint light provided by the Sharingan, you could clearly see the color and the shocking texture... it was blood.

You felt as if you had been struck by an invisible force, and you stumbled backward, your back almost hitting the cold wall.

My heart lost its normal rhythm for a moment, pounding violently in my chest, bringing a strange, cold feeling of suffocation.

Who left this?!

The woman in the painting...is also named Nagi? Uchiha Nagi?

You immediately realize that this might be what you'll look like as an adult. So, who exactly are you? And what is your relationship with the legendary ninja demon, Uchiha Madara?

What kind of obsessive and mad weight does the word "beloved," written in blood, carry?

Why...can't you remember? What exactly are those blurry, fragmented memories that occasionally surface in your mind hiding?

A chilling shiver ran down your spine, but at the same time, a deeper, darker thirst for knowledge and a sense of belonging began to grow and spread wildly in the depths of your dark eyes.

Standing before the painting, the small figure was enveloped by the gaze of the arrogant and sharp woman in the huge portrait, as if they were facing each other across time and space.

Deep within the forbidden pavilion, there was utter silence.

Only your breathing gradually returns to normal, yet grows increasingly cold.

And that portrait, etched with madness and obsession in blood, silently tells the story of a forgotten, forbidden past.

Returning along the same route, my steps were still light, but there was a subtle heaviness compared to when I came.

Following the sound of water, we passed through the dark tunnel and returned to the basement beneath the library.

Uchiha Itachi remained waiting there, like a silent reef.

Hearing your footsteps, he looked up and calmly gazed at you.

He didn't ask if you had found what you were looking for, nor did he inquire about what you had been through. He simply nodded very slightly, as if your departure and return were entirely expected.

You didn't speak either. Your dark eyes, which had just witnessed your own secret, now appeared even more unfathomable. All the turbulent waves were forcibly suppressed under that eerie calm.

The two walked out of the library one after the other in silence, stepping into the slightly lazy afternoon sunlight of Konoha.

The streets were bustling with people, noisy and full of life. The laughter of children chasing and playing, the shouts of vendors, the hurried footsteps of ninjas... all of this constituted a vibrant world.

But you seem to carry an invisible barrier, completely out of place with the hustle and bustle around you.

You are lost in your own thoughts, oblivious to everything around you. The mystery surrounding your identity is like a thick fog, enveloping you completely. You don't even notice when Itachi briefly left your side.

It wasn't until a sweet, cloying fragrance wafted in that you were suddenly jolted awake from the vortex of self-doubt and inquiry.

The weasel has returned to your side, holding two strings of crystal-clear, soft and tempting tricolor dumplings in its hands, the sweet sauce shimmering with a warm halo in the sunlight.

He handed one of the strings to you, the gesture natural, as if it were just a casual sharing between fellow travelers.

Your gaze fell on the meatballs, and you paused for a moment.

I don't have a particular preference for sweets, but at this moment, this string of food shared by Itachi is like an anchor, temporarily pulling you out of those overwhelming and dark thoughts.

Raise your hand, and your icy fingertips are about to touch the warm bamboo skewer.

At this moment——

Without warning, an extremely dazzling golden light burst forth from the deepest part of his eyes!

The light flashed and disappeared in an instant, as fast as an illusion, yet it carried a supreme aura that transcended time and space.

At the same time, a series of fragmented and bloody images, like a red-hot branding iron, were fiercely imprinted on my mind.

Chapter 257 Hair Tie

The cold, bright moon hangs high in the sky.

The cold light of the blade flashed.

The familiar Uchiha clan crest was stained with blood and trampled upon.

A figure appeared—the same silent boy who had shared the three-colored dumplings with him. He wore the uniform of the Anbu, held a kunai, and his eyes were cold and despairing, like an abyss. Behind him lay the countless corpses of his clansmen, their blood flowing like streams...

Despair, wails, and the atmosphere of death almost overflowed from the screen...

Your hand froze in mid-air, just inches away from the string of three-colored dumplings. You suddenly looked up at Uchiha Itachi beside you.

His dark eyes, flashing with golden light, were now filled with extremely complex emotions: shock, understanding, and a hint of disbelief.

Did they foresee it? No, it's more like they 'saw' a cruel fragment of the future that was bound to happen.

Looking at Itachi's handsome yet pale profile, you can't completely reconcile the image of the boy before you with the one in your mind—a figure bathed in the blood of his clan, with eyes as desperate as a demon.

Why? What happened to make him do something so resolute and cruel?

The eagle also keenly caught the fleeting golden glint in your eyes.

It wasn't the light of the Sharingan, nor any kind of eye technique he had ever seen. It was the power of an ancient law, and the moment it appeared, he even felt his soul tremble slightly.

What is that? How many secrets are you still hiding?

Your eyes met briefly in the air. In your eyes was the complexity and inquiry that came from seeing through fate, while in Itachi's eyes was the astonishment and deep exploration of that unknown golden light.

An unspoken secret filled the air.

Neither of you asked a question; you all tacitly looked away, as if the strange thing had never happened.

Your fingers finally touched the bamboo skewer, taking the string of three-colored dumplings, the warmth of the weasel's fingertips still lingering on it.

Itachi silently began eating his own skewer.

The sweet glutinous rice and fragrant red bean sauce melt in your mouth, the taste should be wonderful.

But at this moment, for the two who were already eating nothing but stale food, the sweetness turned into something extremely bitter, even carrying a faint... bloody smell.

You ate in small bites, the bloody moonlit night scene still flashing repeatedly in your mind.

The weasel chewed slowly, but his mind was not on the dumpling at all; he was still savoring that breathtaking golden color.

Walking side by side on the bustling streets of Konoha, the sun is warm and the breeze is gentle, and destiny and secrets flow silently between you.

The three-colored meatballs he shared tasted...very bland.

You return alone to your temporary room, where all is quiet.

He took out the kunai with special significance from his personal ninja tool pouch. The kunai had an ancient style, and its blade was longer and sharper than the usual type. The dark metal seemed to be surrounded by an inescapable aura of blood and dust.

My fingertips brushed against the cold blade, bringing a familiar stinging sensation.

We must find a way to take that first step.

Staying in Konoha as a commoner orphan is too passive.

Like a chess piece placed arbitrarily, one's fate is in the hands of others.

Hiruzen Sarutobi's seemingly kind yet unfathomable eyes seemed to reappear before my eyes, and his gentle yet unyielding words echoed in my ears once more.

"Once you join the Anbu and become a sharp blade directly under the Hokage, the entire Konoha leadership will be your support."

Or... a more elaborate cage?

Giving up your freedom and power in exchange for temporary protection? That's definitely not your code of conduct.

What you need is the truth, the initiative, the power to break all shackles—the hidden secrets of Konoha, the turbulent situation in the ninja world, the buried history...

Perhaps only a vast amount of information can, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, help you find the meaning of your existence and the direction of your future.

As thoughts raced, my fingertips unconsciously tightened.