Chapter 239 — Crimson Eyes
"From today onward, you'll study under her."
In the underground laboratory, Uchiha Kei stood beside Hyūga Ayaka, with young Iori hiding slightly behind him.
The girl's wide, bright eyes flickered with nerves as she looked at Ayaka.
Kei had always been a man of action—once he made a decision, he carried it through. After checking Iori's progress, he had simply brought the girl to Ayaka's side.
Ayaka, swamped with work, clearly needed another pair of hands. Kei also had no intention of slowing down.
"A child?" Ayaka arched a brow, though she looked neither surprised nor particularly bothered. "Still… starting her young might not be a bad idea. She's from an orphanage?"
"Yes. The best of them," Kei replied evenly. "In a sense, she's my sister now."
"Seems your parents were fond of her," Ayaka said with a faint smile. "But are you sure it's right to drag her into all this?"
"That's the only reason I brought her here." Kei's voice was flat, unyielding.
"She doesn't need to join ANBU or Root. She won't have to spy, assassinate, or live in shadows. She'll remain a normal person. That's enough."
"Normal?" Ayaka's smile twisted faintly.
If dissecting cells and conducting forbidden experiments counted as "normal," then the definition of the word had stretched far too wide.
She didn't bother arguing. The girl was lucky, after all. Root—Ayaka had already heard enough to understand what it really was.
The last operative Kei killed, the one with the cursed seal on his tongue, had been Root. Unlike ANBU, Root was harsher, crueller, stripping away individuality until nothing remained but obedience. Their loyalty was absolute—to the mission and to Danzō. Everything else, even their own lives, was disposable.
For orphans, Root was a home. But entering meant their lives were already over.
That infamous "Wandering Nun" who once ran an orphanage had disappeared again, and the implications were obvious.
Ayaka found Kei's decision amusing. Of course, she knew he would take precautions. If he hadn't, if he truly trusted her blindly, she'd question whether he was even worth working with.
Kei left Iori in the care of a clan member to show her around, drill her on what could and could not be said, and then turned to assist Ayaka with tests.
The low-intensity rejection within his body wasn't unbearable, but it still left him pale and drained. Fortunately, his resilience saw him through; within days, he was recovering, though his skin tone hadn't returned to normal.
Ayaka was already skilled with the procedures. Soon, she handed Kei a fresh report.
"Your body is adapting to the new cells. To be precise," she paused, choosing her words, "it's not just mutation—it's evolution. Your hidden genes are becoming more distinct."
"That so? Then I suppose that's progress." Kei glanced at his hand, then sighed. "Still… I'm far too pale."
"You should be glad you haven't turned into another Orochimaru." Ayaka shook her head. "Truthfully, most girls would kill for skin like yours."
Kei nearly rolled his eyes. Yes, his complexion was technically "normal"—even enviable. But knowing it stemmed from Zetsu's cells made it impossible to feel proud of. At least the whitening had stopped, and he hadn't sprouted grotesque faces across his body.
"And from what I observed, your chakra is refining faster. That's something to celebrate."
"True. My reserves are growing, but the changes are small." Kei exhaled, weary.
Fusion with White Zetsu cells was little more than a gamble—sometimes astonishingly high, eighty-two percent compatibility, other times catastrophic, with failure rates above ninety percent.
Ayaka had considered refining the process, but the sheer absurdity of Zetsu's biology made it near impossible. Progress was slow—too slow for Kei's liking.
Still, one tangible result encouraged him: when activating his Mangekyō, the drain on his ocular power was noticeably less. Before, he could feel his vision bleeding away with every use. Now, that sensation was faint, almost negligible.
A small step, but a real one. Proof that the cells were working, even if not yet powerful enough to trigger true evolution.
"Progress is progress," Ayaka said briskly. "It means we've succeeded. For now, I'll focus on training your 'sister' to handle the workload. There are plenty of cells harvested from Uchiha Shuu to process."
"Good. Handle the collection," Kei nodded. "When's my next injection?"
"Tomorrow," Ayaka replied after a moment's thought. "Why? What are you planning?"
"Nothing much." Kei's expression darkened, but his tone stayed calm. "I was considering paying someone a little 'visit.' But it can wait. First, I'll get through the side effects of this next dose."
Kei's gaze darkened.
Yes, he would pay someone a visit—someone with skin pale to the point of mockery.
Even if he couldn't obtain what he wanted, he could at least expose a few truths.
It would be for his own benefit… and, in a way, for the Fourth Hokage's as well.
---
"Sorry… it's been a while since I came to see you."
In the Konoha cemetery, Kakashi gently removed a withered bouquet from a grave, replacing it with fresh flowers still brimming with life.
Half-kneeling before a simple tombstone—one that bore only a name—his solitary eye softened.
"Rin," he whispered, "I never forgot you. I've just been… too busy lately."
"Sensei gave me a difficult mission. Troublesome, too. Village infighting, the kind you always hated. The kind you'd never want to see."
His voice lowered.
"These days, I've been managing… thanks to Kei. He's helped me more than I can say. He made me realize things I'd lost sight of."
He paused, drawing a long breath.
"Losing you and Obito—it was pain I couldn't bear. I wandered, hollow… less than human, really. Pitiful, isn't it? I'm sorry. I was lost."
"But Kei pulled me back. He showed me what it meant to carry on—not as a shell of a man seeking death at any cost, but as a shinobi who bears his comrades' will forward."
"He even used a genjutsu on me. I won't say what it was, but… it made me understand. If I had kept living the way I was, chasing death with no thought, then even in the Pure Land, you and Obito would have turned your backs on me."
His voice grew steady, though sorrow lingered beneath it.
"I'm sorry, Rin. I won't be joining you and that idiot just yet. Tell him for me—I said I'm sorry."
"I've lost enough. Losing you both was pain enough for a lifetime. I won't lose anyone else. Not if I can help it."
"When I finally cross over… I'll tell you both about my life, everything. And I'll carry your faith with me until then."
A faint chuckle escaped him.
"Oh—there's something else. Technically, it's classified, but… telling you is fine. Sensei's child is going to be born soon. October, most likely."
"They won't know war. They won't repeat our mistakes. They'll be the sparks that light Konoha's future."
Kakashi spoke softly, sharing his days, his regrets, his hopes. His voice, muffled by his ever-present mask, carried a warmth and tenderness absent for so long.
The graveyard was quiet, hushed and solemn. He was so absorbed, he didn't notice the presence lurking just beyond the treeline.
A man cloaked in black stood half-hidden in the shadows, an ominous swirl-patterned mask concealing his face.
From behind that mask, one crimson Sharingan glowed—a cold, merciless eye fixed upon Kakashi.