Naruto Immersive Replay, The Curse of the Sharingan

Page 207

"It's refreshing." The corners of Yishiban's mouth turned up almost imperceptibly. "She complained about that back then too."

Obito's Kamui mask suddenly appeared on his shoulder, and Madara from Another World realized that the entire Akatsuki leadership was crammed into this narrow corridor.

Nagato and Konan were checking the supplies list, Itachi was calculating something with his eyes closed, and even the most boisterous Deidara was quietly kneading clay, except that the lump of clay was rolled into your chibi shape.

“She hasn’t slept for three days,” Scorpion suddenly spoke, his mechanical eyes gleaming. “The last time this happened was when they were developing the puppet regeneration core.”

As if to confirm his words, you suddenly staggered in the laboratory.

Hey! You guys!

Yahiko's voice boomed from the end of the corridor. The orange-haired youth, carrying a stack of replies towering above his head, saw letters fluttering down like snowflakes with every step he took. "All five Kage have replied! The Raikage said he'd only provide Lightning Release chakra after witnessing it in person, the Mizukage requested that Mei Terumi be sent to supervise, and that old man, the Tsuchikage..."

His report came to an abrupt halt, and all the Akatsuki members suddenly stood up straight. The temperature in the corridor plummeted by ten degrees, and Madara appeared in the shadows at some unknown time.

"Is she still inside?" The deep voice caused frost flowers to form on the glass window.

Nagato silently blocked the laboratory door. "As agreed, before the procedure is completed..."

Madara's Rinnegan shifted slightly, and everyone then noticed that he was carrying the unconscious Eight-Tails Jinchuriki in his left hand and the Two-Tails pinned down by the Kusanagi Sword on his right shoulder.

"Materials." He tossed the two tailed beasts onto the ground like garbage bags. "Is that enough?"

The laboratory door suddenly slid open, and you staggered out, the light in your eyes dimmed to almost extinguished.

Without even glancing at the tailed beast on the ground, you pounced straight at Madara's chest, saying, "Got you..."

Ban instinctively caught you, but froze when he touched your back—that section of your spine was incredibly hot, and golden veins were throbbing violently under your skin.

"You're using yourself as a guinea pig?" His voice was as dangerous as the sea before a storm.

Your muffled laughter came from his chest, "The most perfect vessel... isn't it myself..." Before you finished speaking, you fell into a deep sleep.

At midnight, Kakuzu's screams echoed throughout the base.

"My money!!" Green eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. "That's money that's been stored in the Land of Hot Springs' treasury for three hundred years..."

The light of Shisui Kotoamatsukami flashed by in the corner, while Konan expressionlessly counted the mountain of explosive tags; Deidara and Sasori squatted in a pile of gold coins, one sculpting a miniature tailed beast model, and the other installing new joints on a puppet.

"What's all the noise about?" Hidan stomped on Kakuzu's back. "The Jashin-sama said this money will be earned back tenfold!"

In the shadows of a corner, Itachi was explaining the principles of the technique to Kisame, "Simply put, it uses Izanagi's 'rewrite reality' property to... at the moment the Jinchuriki dies..."

"Stop, stop, stop!" Kisame clutched his head. "Itachi-san, just tell me if we want to fight or not!"

You are suddenly awakened in the darkest hour before dawn.

The only sound in the lab was the hum of the instruments, but you immediately sensed something was wrong—someone had altered the surgical model.

"Here you go." Ban appeared out of nowhere and handed over a cup of hot cocoa.

You raise an eyebrow in surprise; this doesn't seem like the kind of drink he would prepare.

“Deidara said…” Madara awkwardly looked away, “Sweets can boost brainpower.”

You chuckled and deliberately moved closer to him, "Worried about me?"

Ban didn't answer, but simply draped his coat over your shoulders.

You gazed silently into the distance until the first rays of dawn pierced through the clouds.

"It will succeed," you suddenly said.

Ban snorted softly, "Of course." He paused, "Otherwise, I would make the whole world pay for it."

This Uchiha-style confession made you laugh so hard you almost bent over. You tiptoed and kissed Madara on the cheek, then skipped and hopped towards the lab, ignoring his bewildered gaze, shouting, "Let's get to work! Let's save the world!"

Standing in the shadows, Madara from another world vaguely saw Nagi's figure overlap with the girl before him. They shared the same stubbornness, the same... resolve to fight against the world to protect what was important to them.

Chapter 197 Tears

The laboratory lights turned an eerily white at midnight.

You sit alone at the console, the draft spell under your fingertips glowing with a faint blue light. The moment the last rune is completed, you suddenly feel your heart being gripped by some invisible hand.

Success! As the thought crossed my mind, two drops of warm water unexpectedly hit the paper, blurring the still-wet ink.

You touch your cheek blankly, your fingertips touching the cold liquid.

"These are...tears?"

The laboratory glass reflected its bewildered expression; as a being born from a vessel, it shouldn't possess such vivid sorrow.

Memories of frolicking with the Akatsuki members, the feeling of being kissed in Madara's arms, even the pain of being bumped on the shoulder by Madara's maniacal laughter during the Showa era—these should all fade away as the mission is completed.

But why is there such an empty space in his chest?

You clutch the fabric at your chest, where a dull pain throbs, as if something important is being forcibly ripped away.

In a corner of the laboratory, a full-length mirror reflects your trembling figure. Walk towards the mirror and look at yourself with red-rimmed eyes.

The person in the mirror had slightly trembling lips, as if silently accusing something.

"What am I so sad about?" you ask yourself in the mirror. "Isn't this the meaning of my existence?"

There was no answer, only the low hum of the laboratory's exhaust fan, like the sigh of some ancient creature.

You turn back to your workbench, your fingers unconsciously tracing the lines of the incantation.

Once this ritual is completed, it means you will reach your final moment as a vessel, becoming the medium to awaken the Creator.

But why does your heart clench with such pain at the thought of that moment approaching?

There's a well-worn notebook in the drawer. You carefully take it out; it's your personal notebook, secretly kept, completely different from those rigorous experimental data.

On the title page is a line of small print: "If I am not a container, then who am I?"

Turn to the latest page, which features two profiles side by side. One is your own likeness, and the other is an almost identical but expressionless outline. Your fingertips gently trace the expressionless portrait.

Unlike my own rich emotional fluctuations, that "you" was like an exquisite doll, with empty eyes yet unusually calm. In the dream, she simply looked at me quietly.

Upon waking, you try to recreate the dream, until last night, when you completed the crucial part of the procedure, that familiar figure reappeared in the corner of the laboratory.

"You've come." You stopped writing, afraid to turn around, lest you startle this phantom-like presence.

She didn't answer, but simply took a step forward, her cool fingers gently resting on your shoulder.

In that instant, you feel a strange calm, as if all your chaotic emotions have been frozen.

"Why am I sad?" you ask another version of yourself in your dream, in your memory, "When my mission was about to be completed."

Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

You can only make out a few words from their lip movements: "Because you're afraid of disappearing."

The scenes in your memory recede like the tide, and you find yourself back in the empty laboratory, your clothes soaked with tears.

Suddenly I understood the source of that sense of loss: what you feared was not death, but the complete disappearance of "Uchiha Nagi" as an independent being.

Now this seed has taken root and sprouted, breaking through the soil on the eve of fulfilling its mission, causing you unbearable pain.

You stand on high like an observer, never truly integrated into this world, secretly watching children laughing and playing on the street countless times, trying to understand that aimless joy.

"I want to live..." you whisper to the night sky, "not as a vessel, but as a person."

The moment you say those words, you feel a sense of relief, only to be overwhelmed by an even deeper fear.

If you refuse to fulfill your mission, what has been the point of all these years? If you are just an ordinary person, then who is Uchiha Nagi?

Madara stood at the door, his Rinnegan glowing faintly in the darkness, his gaze suddenly tightening when it landed on your damp cheek.

You hurriedly wiped away your tears, but he grabbed your wrist.

"Why are you crying?" Ban's thumb rubbed hard against your eye, so hard it almost chafed your skin. "Scared?"

"I didn't..." You tried to break free, but were pulled into a warm embrace.

Ban's heartbeat traveled through Xiaopao, steady and powerful, a stark contrast to your disordered breathing.

“Lie.” He bit your earlobe, the pain carrying a punitive undertone.

The rain suddenly intensified, and the laboratory windows were being pounded on, sounding like some kind of ominous premonition.

"Ban..." you clutched his collar, your voice barely audible, "If... I mean if... she comes back..."

Suddenly, Madara grabs your chin, forcing you to look up. The ripples in his Rinnegan spin wildly, reflecting his own tearful appearance.

“Listen,” his voice was terrifyingly low, “I don’t care about any creator or anything. If you dare to disappear, I’ll turn the entire spacetime upside down.”

This isn't sweet talk, it's a threat, yet you feel inexplicably at ease, as if this obsessive declaration can defy predetermined fate.

The night wind whips up your clothes, and you suddenly wonder if Nagi, standing before the rift in time, ever felt this same heart-wrenching longing?

I finally understand that the source of that sense of loss is not doubt about my mission, but mourning for the self that has been deliberately divided.

The spell scroll on the table glowed faintly; it was a fate you could not escape, but at least for now, you could face it with your whole self.

He wiped away the last tear and tucked the scroll into his bosom.

The pre-dawn wind was chilly, but you no longer shivered.

Whatever awaits you ahead, at least for this moment, you are not just a vessel, but a flesh-and-blood soul capable of both fear and courage.

As the first rays of dawn appeared on the horizon, you stepped out of the laboratory without hesitation, because you knew that somewhere, the Creator was waiting to meet you.

This time, you will no longer be a broken vessel, but a complete self, to face that destined encounter.

The nights in Amegakure are always damp, but tonight the air is particularly thick, making it difficult to even breathe.

You sit quietly on the tower. The members of the Akatsuki have gathered around you without you even noticing. No one speaks, and no one explains why they have all come here on this night.

They simply stood there, some leaning against the wall, others against the pillar, but their gazes all fell on the slender figure in the center.

Kisame's Samehada was casually placed at his feet, his thick arms were crossed in front of his chest, and his shark-like eyes were slightly narrowed; Sasori stood in the shadows, his Hiruko shell reflecting a cold light, but unusually, it did not make any mechanical noise.

Xiao Nan's paper flowers bloom and wither silently at her fingertips, with petals like white feathers drifting down to your feet.

An indescribable sense of oppression filled the air, like the calm before a storm. Everyone knew what tomorrow meant: a meeting that could change the entire ninja world's landscape, or it could be the end of many of their lives.

Obito was the first to break the silence. Ignoring Madara's murderous glare, he walked straight to you and sat down.

The mask concealed his expression, but the eye that was visible shone with an unusual light. "The stars are very bright tonight," Obito said, his voice much gentler than usual.

You tilt your head slightly, and the sky suddenly brightens.

A meteor streaked across the night sky, followed by a second, a third... In the blink of an eye, the entire sky above Rain Village was lit up by a meteor shower, with thousands of silver rays falling like teardrops, turning the night as bright as day.

“This is…” Xiao Nan looked up, and paper flowers drifted from between her fingers.

Everyone was stunned by the sudden beauty. Kisame opened his mouth wide, revealing his sharp teeth; even the usually aloof Kakuzu raised his head.

Amidst this dazzling light, Obito quietly took your hand.

His palms were large and warm, with calluses on his fingertips from years of fighting, yet they were incredibly gentle at this moment.

You didn't pull your hand away, letting his slender fingers slip through yours, interlocking your fingers.

"A belated meteor shower," Obito said softly, his voice carrying a profound meaning that only you could understand.

You looked up at the sky full of shooting stars and softly hummed in agreement.

The moment you look down, a large patch of vibrant roses suddenly appears at your feet. They are not real flowers, but roses carefully crafted from explosive clay. Each one is lifelike, with delicate patterns on the petals.

Deidara's voice came from behind, carrying the stubbornness and trembling unique to a young boy.

Before you could even turn around, a pair of trembling arms hugged you tightly from behind, Deidara's blond hair brushing against your neck, his breath hot and rapid.

"These are the nine hundred and ninety-nine roses I'm sending you, hmm!" His voice was muffled, as if he was trying hard to suppress something. "Choose to play with me, choose to lie to me, but I hope... you'll always be happy!"

You feel a wetness on your neck; it's Deidara's tears.

This boy, who is usually so flamboyant and always has "art is an explosion" on his lips, is now crying silently behind you like a child.

His arms were wrapped around your shoulders, trembling violently, as if you would disappear if he let go.

The tower was completely silent, except for the faint sound of a shooting star streaking across the sky.

No one laughed at Deidara's loss of composure, because everyone was experiencing the same emotions: fear of the unknown tomorrow and pain of potential loss.

You gently take Deidara's hand, which is wrapped around your chest. His hand is a size bigger than yours, but it's incredibly cold. You tilt your head back slightly and meet Deidara's lowered blue eyes, which are filled with an overwhelming sense of worry and sorrow.

“If we succeed,” your voice was soft, yet like a drop of water falling into a calm lake, creating ripples, “I will be with you to make the art of explosion eternal.”

Deidara's eyes lit up instantly, like two ignited stars. He grinned, trying to laugh, but tears streamed down his face uncontrollably, landing on the back of your hand, burning hot and almost scalding your skin.

"This is...the promise you made to me...my promise! Yes!" His voice choked with emotion, barely able to form a sentence, yet he stared intently into your eyes, as if trying to etch this moment into his mind.