"It's Izanami," a deep voice informed him.
Naka spun his head around. Fukashi was standing just a few paces behind them, his expression incredibly solemn.
"Izanami?"
Fukashi looked down at the unconscious girl cradled in Naka's embrace. "It is a entirely new dōjutsu—one Naori developed specifically to break your delusion and convince you to face reality. It seems her gamble worked. You have finally regained your sanity."
"Fukashi-sama... I—"
Fukashi raised a firm hand, cutting him off before he could spiral into excuses. "I know what you want to say, Naka. But your apologies belong to her. You should thank Naori. She went as far as to engineer a forbidden kinjutsu that directly counters Izanagi just to save you."
Naka's breath hitched. "A kinjutsu that counters Izanagi... then that means!"
Fukashi offered a slow, heavy nod. "Naori's Izanami demands the same price as Izanagi. It has permanently sacrificed one of her lights."
"!!!"
"Well," Fukashi sighed, a faint, fatherly trace of warmth softening his stern demeanor. "You had better take responsibility for her from now on. It takes a hell of a lot more than simple 'childhood affection' for a girl to go to such lengths for a man."
"...I understand, Fukashi-sama," Naka whispered, tightening his embrace around Naori. Slowly, his gaze drifted over to the side, landing on Arashi and the other fallen Uchiha warriors.
Letting out a heavy, trembling sigh, Naka focused his left eye on the corpses.
Kamimusubi!
A distortion rippled through the air. In a flash, Arashi and the four jonin vanished, before 'reviving' perfectly intact, their fatal wounds instantly undone as fate was rewritten for their bodies.
The moment the jutsu concluded, Naka gently sat Naori next to a small sand crater and dropped heavily to his knees before them, bowing his head until it pressed into the dirt.
"I am so deeply sorry, everyone!" Naka cried out, his voice thick with tears. "I... I completely lost my mind!"
The revived shinobi remained silent for a long moment. Looking at their own hands, and then at Naka's bowed form, the realization of what had transpired slowly clicked. Arashi and the jonin's expressions turned livid for a brief second, before a collective, heavy sigh swept through them. They stepped forward, surrounding the kneeling prodigy.
"Naka," Arashi called out.
Naka raised his head.
BANG!!!!
"Ugh…."
A brutal, heavy punch planted itself squarely against Naka's jaw.
"Ugh..." Naka groaned, flying backward a few meters into the sand. He slowly pushed himself back up, rubbing his bruised cheek as Arashi marched right up to him, his fist still smoking with chakra.
"You IDIOT!" Arashi roared, though his eyes were wide with a mixture of anger and relief. "We thought we were genuinely dead for a second there!"
"Arashi… everyone…"
"Naka-sama..." one of the jonin muttered, shaking his head with a wry smile. "We were incredibly disappointed in you. But we are still breathing, and in the end, that is all that matters."
"Well, yeah," another jonin cracked, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "We've already technically died two times before this campaign anyway. Dying a third time wasn't exactly a massive deal."
"Hehe," the third jonin laughed, nudging his comrade. "You fool, you died three times today alone! I only died twice!"
"You see, Naka-sama, it's fine," the final jonin concluded, helping Naka back to his feet. "We understand. You have always been fierce and brutally straightforward. Honestly, I'm just surprised you managed to regain your sanity at all."
Naka's brow furrowed and his mouth twitched, caught in a conflicting wave of anger, annoyance, and overwhelming relief. He let out a heavy sigh, offering one final, formal bow as he apologized.
"I am truly sorry for losing myself and harming you all. It will never happen again. I swear it to you on my honor."
"Don't sweat it, Naka," Arashi grinned, giving him a playful shove. "We won't hold a grudge—just as long as you pay for our drinks for the rest of our lives!"
"Seconded!" another jonin cheered.
"Count me in too!"
Naka's eyebrow began to twitch uncontrollably. He let out another long, exhausted sigh and shook his head at his relentless comrades.
"Fine, don't worry," Naka muttered, a small, genuine smile finally tugging at the corner of his lips. "I will buy you all the drinks you want once this war is over."
Stepping past the laughing shinobi, Naka approached Naori. He knelt beside her, gently sliding his arms beneath her knees and back, lifting her unconscious form into a secure princess carry.
"OHHHH~! NAKA!!!" the squad instantly erupted into loud, obnoxious jeers.
"Naka-sama, how scandalous! Taking advantage of Naori-sama while she's passed out!"
"SHUT IT, ALL OF YOU!" Naka barked, his face flushing crimson as he shouted over their laughter.
He cleared his throat, holding Naori just a fraction closer to his chest as he looked out across the horizon. "Let's go back. Back home… to our clan."
The teasing faded into warm, supportive smiles. Squaring their shoulders and moving with a renewed sense of unity, the squad fell into formation behind Naka, marching proudly through the sand toward the Konoha headquarters.
Fukashi sat back on top of a jagged boulder, his gaze lingering on Naka, Arashi, and the rest of the squad as their silhouettes slowly walked away across the barren battlefield.
"…Shinichi, what do you think?" Fukashi asked quietly. "Did any of the others awaken it?"
"…"
Shinichi's figure slowly materialized from the deep shadows of the dunes, his three-tomoe Sharingan glowing crimson in the dark. "No… their talent is simply not refined enough."
"Talent?" Fukashi echoed, raising an eyebrow at his son's remark.
"Their emotional states were highly volatile, and their brains did begin to secrete the Sharingan chakra, or specialized Yin chakra," Shinichi analyzed detachedly. "However, the actual rate and volume of that chakra release were far too slow and insufficient. Given that they have already fully awakened the three-tomoe Sharingan at an early age, it is highly probable that their neural pathways have developed a certain biological resistance to emotional stimuli as they matured. By contrast, Uchiha Naka and Naori each released more concentrated Sharingan chakra just now than the rest of the squad combined."
"...I see." Fukashi nodded slowly, tilting his head back to look up at the star-studded sky. The deep hues of twilight had entirely faded, leaving them enveloped in the cold desert night.
"And you?" Fukashi looked back at his son. "Did you awaken yours?"
"No. But I can feel that I am approaching the threshold. I am currently debating whether I should allow nature to take its course, or if I should forcefully stimulate my own cerebral chakra organs to artificially force my Sharingan to evolve."
"I see... then let nature take its course," Fukashi suggested firmly, reaching out to affectionately ruffle Shinichi's dark hair. "There is absolutely no need for you to take such a reckless gamble. You are already exceptionally strong, even without the Mangekyō Sharingan."
"Dad, how are your eyes?" Shinichi asked, shifting the subject as he pushed Fukashi's hands away. "Perhaps... I can fix your degradation?"
"??!!!" Fukashi stared at Shinichi in sheer bewilderment.
"Do you remember when I scanned your entire biological pathway with my chakra last night?" Shinichi asked, sliding a dense, heavily sealed scroll out from the sleeve of his combat suit.
"….Yes. I remember," Fukashi stammered, his pulse quickening. "What about it?"
"…I developed a specialized technique. Let me see if I can restore the physical damage within your optic nerves."
"!!! Shinichi... is such a thing even possible?"
"I cannot guarantee it. I have never attempted it on a human subject before," Shinichi stated matter-of-factly. "This scroll contains the exact structural, biological blueprints of your physical condition from last night."
"And? What does that mean?"
"…I created a custom medical jutsu. Or rather, a localized reconstruction formula. It might just resolve your blindness entirely. Lie down in front of me."
Fukashi hesitated, as a sudden wave of caution washed over him. "…Shinichi… are you absolutely certain this is safe? Have you ever actually tested this jutsu before?"
"...…"
"Shinichi?"
"On second thought…" Shinichi muttered, abruptly pulling the scroll back and tucking it away. "Let's forget I mentioned it. It is far too risky. There are too many biological variables and unverified anomalies."
"...."
"..."
"Haah~" Fukashi let out a deep, long-suffering sigh, shaking his head helplessly at his son's sudden onset of academic madness. "Explain the fundamental mechanics of the jutsu to me first."
"... Onmyo Sōzofukuki 陰陽創造復歸 (YinYang Creation Restoration) functions as a fundamental regression or chronological reversal jutsu, rather than a standard medical technique that repairs or regrows damaged tissue and organs," Shinichi explained calmly, his fingers tracing the edge of the scroll.
"The biological data I recorded acts as a physical template to forcefully rewrite the target's current anatomy back to its exact past state. It utilizes pure Yin chakra to manifest a spiritual form based entirely on the stored biological blueprint—essentially projecting your uninjured, past physical condition—and overlays it perfectly on top of your current, degenerated body. Then, Yang chakra is introduced to systematically break down the existing, damaged physical state, forcing the cellular matrix to instantly realign and conform to the stored data. …What do you think?"
"….."
Fukashi was entirely speechless. For a terrifying, fleeting moment, his mind super-imposed his son's face onto a certain white-haired, crimson-eyed monster from the village. Fukashi violently shook his head in immediate contempt and regret.
'How could I ever compare my Shinichi to that inherently evil, albino Senju bastard, Tobirama!' Fukashi scolded himself internally.
Clearing his throat, he looked at Shinichi with an overwhelming mixture of paternal pride and deep affection. He reached out, ruffling Shinichi's hair once more. "This jutsu... it must carry an astronomically high requirement to execute, correct?"
Shinichi nodded slowly, his expression serious.
"Yes… Onmyo Sozofukuki 陰陽 創造復歸 (YinYang Creation Restoration) requires massive volume of both Yin and Yang chakra. For us Uchiha, generating Yin chakra is effortless. However, Yang chakra is a different matter. Even with my reserves, I do not possess enough refined Yang chakra to complete this restoration on a full-grown human. Healing—no, completely restoring the physical state of small animals from the brink of death is within my current capabilities. However, even so for small subjects like hares, birds, or cats, I am forced to expend nearly half of my total chakra reserves just to execute a single cycle. I cannot even fathom the sheer volume required to fully revive a human being. I simply hypothesized that if I restricted the target area solely to your eyes... it might fall within my current operational limits."
As an Uchiha, Shinichi possessed an innate abundance of spiritual Yin chakra within his cells. Furthermore, his conversion efficiency for Yin chakra reached one-to-one ratio—a rare, highly optimal trait shared by all fully awakened Mangekyō Uchiha. By comparison, three-tomoe clansmen typically possessed a conversion efficiency of roughly 1.3 to 1.5 units of raw chakra to one unit of refined Yin.
Conversely, when it came to physical Yang chakra, Shinichi possessed reserves that vastly eclipsed any standard Uchiha or ninja alive, rivaled only by the pureblooded Senju and Uzumaki clan. Yet, his conversion efficiency for Yang chakra still sat at a steep two-to-one ratio. This was a monumental achievement he had spent over five arduous years of intense medical ninjutsu practice to master. Originally, his efficiency had been at five-to-one; five units of raw chakra were consumed just to generate a single unit of refined Yang energy.
"However, our eyes are unique," Shinichi continued, crossing his arms and stroking his chin in deep thought. "Attempting to reverse the specific structural decay of a Mangekyō Sharingan... I cannot guarantee its success. If it were a regular ocular degeneration, there wouldn't be a single issue."
Fukashi smiled warmly, clapping his son firmly on the shoulder to encourage him.
"Do not be impatient, Shinichi. You will undoubtedly master the jutsu and perfect it in the future. Besides, this war will be over soon, and you won't have to constantly worry about carrying the burden of my fading eyesight."
Shinichi nodded in quiet agreement. He already had an alternative, highly ambitious idea brewing in his mind to bypass his current chakra deficit for this life-saving technique.
He tilted his head back, staring up into the vast, dark sky as a vivid image flashed through his mind—the memory of a certain formidable, red-haired Uzumaki woman, and the distinct, diamond-shaped seal engraved upon her forehead.