The white light from the mental world faded, replaced by the dull, sterile white of a ceiling.
Ren gasped, his body jerking upright on the bed. A sharp, splitting headache hammered against his skull, and his eyes felt like they were burning in their sockets.
"Ren! Easy, easy!"
A pair of hands gently pushed him back down. Ren blinked rapidly, his vision swimming. As the blurriness subsided, the worried face of his mother came into focus. Behind her, his father stood with his back to the door, his posture stiff, arms crossed over his Jōnin vest.
"Water..." Ren croaked.
His mother quickly held a cup to his lips. He drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat.
"Where...?"
"Konoha Hospital," his father said, his voice low and serious. He stepped away from the door and approached the bed. "You've been unconscious for twelve hours."
Ren rubbed his temples. The memories of the Skill Tree were vivid—the Hōgyoku, the Quincy branch, the reishi acceptance. But before he could process that, he remembered the dinner. The awakening.
He looked at his father. "My eyes..."
His father's expression tightened. He glanced at Ren's mother, then back at Ren. Without a word, he performed a quick hand seal. A faint shimmering barrier erected around the room—a privacy jutsu.
"Ren," his father said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Listen to me very carefully. What happened at dinner... the change in your eyes... do you remember it?"
Ren hesitated, then nodded slowly. "I remember the despair. And then... power."
"It wasn't just power," his mother whispered, her hand trembling as she gripped Ren's. "The pattern changed. It wasn't the three-tomoe."
Ren's heart skipped a beat. They saw it.
He had hoped the chaotic spinning or the blood had obscured it, but his parents were experienced shinobi. His father was a Captain in the Police Force; he knew what a Sharingan looked like.
"Three points," his father described, tracing a shape in the air. "Like a shuriken. It only lasted for a few seconds before you passed out and they reverted to black."
Ren tense up. "Does the Clan know?"
If the Uchiha clan leadership found out a fifteen-year-old had awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan—a power not seen since the days of Madara—Ren would be dragged before the elders instantly. He would be weaponized for the war, or worse, studied.
"No," his father stated firmly.
Ren exhaled, his shoulders slumping.
"We told the medics and the clan representatives that you forced an awakening from one-tomoe directly to three-tomoe due to emotional stress," his father explained. "We said the strain was too much for your chakra coils, causing the bleeding and the collapse. That is the official story."
"And that is the only story," his mother added fiercely, squeezing his hand. "Ren, that eye... the legends say it comes with a terrible cost. It is a cursed power. If the Village elders or the Clan Head knew..."
"I know," Ren said softly. "They would use me."
"Or fear you," his father corrected. "We are in the middle of a war. A weapon like that changes the balance of power. You are not ready for that kind of target on your back."
Ren looked at his parents. In the original story, Uchiha parents were often depicted as distant or obsessed with clan honor above all else. But these two... they were putting his safety above the clan's glory. They were hiding a legendary power to protect their son.
"Thank you," Ren said, genuine gratitude swelling in his chest. "I promise, I won't use it unless absolutely necessary."
His father nodded, the tension leaving his shoulders. "Good. For now, you are Ren Uchiha, the genius who awakened a fully matured three-tomoe Sharingan at age fifteen. That is impressive enough to earn you respect, but common enough to keep the shadows off you."
He deactivated the privacy barrier.
"Rest now," his father commanded, his tone returning to that of a strict Captain. "The doctor said your chakra pathways are exhausted. You need to sleep."
"Your father is right," his mother said, tucking the blanket around him. "Sleep. We'll be right outside."
As they left the room, Ren lay back against the pillow. He closed his eyes, but he didn't sleep.
Instead, he focused inward.
The secret was safe. His parents were on his side. And thanks to their cover story, he had the perfect excuse for any sudden increase in his power—everyone would assume it was just his natural talent blooming with the three-tomoe Sharingan.
Perfect, Ren thought.
He shifted his focus away from his physical eyes and toward the sensation he had felt in the white world. The warmth of the Quincy branch.
Reishi Manipulation.
He held up his hand in the dim light of the hospital room. He didn't use chakra. Chakra was physical and spiritual energy combined, produced from within.
Instead, he reached out. He felt for the energy in the air—the nature energy, the spiritual particles that existed in the atmosphere.
Come.
It was faint, barely a trickle, but he felt it. Tiny, invisible motes of light began to drift toward his palm, attracted by his will.