Chapter 94: The Legacy of the First
A profound, settled power hummed behind Ren's eyes, a constant, reassuring reminder of the transformation he had just undergone. The Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan was not just a tool; it was a part of him now, stable, limitless, and free from the specter of decay. With it, the terrifying ocular techniques he had wielded with such caution—Amaterasu's all-consuming black flames, Tsukuyomi's torturous illusions—could now be unleashed without a second thought. They were no longer forbidden weapons, but standard armaments in his burgeoning arsenal.
But his power, as immense as it was, felt… lopsided. The pinnacle of Uchiha prowess now resided within him, yet his overall ninjutsu library was lacking. He was a master of a few devastating, high-cost techniques, but he lacked the versatility and raw, foundational power that could make him truly unstoppable. His Susanoo, a spectral giant of immense potential, had always remained in its skeletal, most basic form, held back by the limitations of his original Mangekyō and his own chakra reserves. Now, with the eternal eyes, he could feel the potential stirring, the chakra construct yearning to advance to its next stage—the muscular, armored form that was only a single step away from the legendary, complete body. Visions of Uchiha Madara's Perfect Susanoo, a titan that could casually level mountains with a swing of its sword, flashed in his mind, sending a thrill of anticipation through him.
*Soon,* he vowed. *Soon, that power will be mine as well. And anyone foolish enough to stand in my way will be reduced to dust.*
Yet, for all his ocular might, he knew it wasn't enough. The greatest shinobi in history hadn't relied on eyes alone. His gaze fell upon the small, innocuous test tube he had retrieved from Orochimaru, now resting amidst a pile of stored items. Within it slumbered the cellular legacy of the God of Shinobi himself.
He picked up the vial, holding it to the faint, ethereal light of the Garel vein. "Wood Release," he whispered, the words filled with a deep, covetous reverence.
Wood Release was the stuff of legend, a bloodline limit so rare and powerful it was considered unique to one man: Hashirama Senju. It was a fusion of earth and water natures, a combination countless shinobi possessed, yet none could replicate. Not his powerful brother, Tobirama, a genius in his own right, nor his own granddaughter, Tsunade. Others had achieved a pale imitation—Yamato, Danzo, Obito, Madara—but only through the gruesome process of grafting Hashirama's cells onto their own bodies. It was a power that refused to be born anew, only borrowed.
*Perhaps it's tied to his status as the reincarnation of Asura,* Ren mused, his thoughts analytical. *Perhaps it requires his specific, life-affirming chakra. But I don't need to awaken it naturally. I have a more direct method.*
The potential risks, however, were grotesque. He recalled the twisted results of those who had attempted this fusion: Danzo's arm, riddled with alien faces; Madara's chest, morphing into a distorted visage of his rival. The idea of another man's face—especially the First Hokage's—sprouting from his own flesh was a violation he would not abide.
"System," he began, his voice tight with a mixture of desire and caution. "I possess the First Hokage's cells. My points are sufficient. Can I undergo the fusion process now?"
***Affirmative. Host meets the prerequisite conditions for cellular integration.***
"Good. But I have a critical question. Will this fusion cause... physical mutations? Specifically, will it result in the manifestation of Hashirama Senju's facial features on my body?" The very notion made his skin crawl. He was Uchiha Ren; his body would be his own, not a patchwork monument to another man's power.
***Negative. The system's integration protocol ensures perfect cellular symbiosis. The host's genetic integrity will remain dominant. No foreign physical characteristics will manifest. The process optimizes the donor cells' unique properties—specifically, the potent life-force and Wood Release capability—and assimilates them seamlessly into the host's biology without cosmetic alteration. The anomalies you reference are the result of flawed, incomplete, or forced integration methods.***
A wave of intense relief washed over him. The system's assurance was the final barrier removed. "Perfect. That is exactly what I require." He took a final, steadying breath, his decision absolute. "Then proceed. Fuse the First Hokage's cells with my own. And remember—no extra faces."
***Ding! Integration initiated. Cost: 50,000 points. Deducted. Host's remaining points: 121,000.***
The points vanished from his mental ledger. The glass test tube in his hand dematerialized into motes of light. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, a warmth bloomed deep within his core. It was not the searing, violent fire of the Mangekyō evolution, but something entirely different—a profound, soothing, and incredibly potent wave of vitality. It felt like the first rays of sun after a long winter, like a parched land drinking in a gentle rain. This warm current spread through his entire body, carried by his chakra network, infusing every cell, every fiber of his being with a vibrant, thrumming energy.
He gasped, not in pain, but in sheer, unexpected pleasure. His muscles, still aching from the earlier ordeal, relaxed completely. His mind, usually a whirlwind of calculation and tension, grew calm and focused. He felt… more *alive* than he ever had. It was an addicting sensation, a feeling of boundless health and potential. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the process, as his body eagerly absorbed and harmonized with the legacy of the Shodaime Hokage.
When the warmth finally subsided, settling into a new, permanent baseline within him, he opened his eyes. They were still his own, but he felt the difference instantly. His chakra reserves felt deeper, vaster, and thrumming with a lush, green potency he had never known.
Holding out his right arm, he focused. He willed this new, foreign energy to the surface.
It responded instantly.
His skin, from his fingertips to his shoulder, transformed. The texture changed, darkening and taking on the rough, fibrous grain of ancient bark. From his palm, slender, pale shoots erupted, growing with astonishing speed. They branched out, weaving around each other, sprouting vibrant, green leaves that unfurled towards the dim light. Within seconds, his arm was no longer an arm; it was a beautiful, miniature tree, lush and full of life, yet still intrinsically a part of him.
He stared, mesmerized by the effortless display of creation. This was the power that had built Konoha, that had subdued the Tailed Beasts. With a thought, he reversed the process. The leaves withered and withdrew. The branches retracted, shrinking back into his palm. The bark-like texture receded, fading until his arm was once again just his arm, unmarked and whole.
A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face, wider and more genuine than any before.
"This," he said to the silent, dark void, his voice filled with awe and grim satisfaction, "is the power of the First. And now… it is mine."
He was no longer just the heir to the Uchiha's ocular legacy. He had stolen the very essence of their greatest rival's strength. He had become a fusion of legend, a singularity of power the world had never seen.