Kagura stood within Root's shadow-drenched secret training ground, the air heavy with tension.
This was where Root shinobi were forged—mercilessly.
High walls blocked out sunlight and the outside world, sealing the grounds in perpetual gloom.
Before him stood Danzō.
"From today onward, I will personally train your Sharingan," Danzō said coldly. "Remember—every moment of negligence on the battlefield costs lives."
His voice carried unquestionable authority.
Kagura inhaled slowly.
He closed his eyes.
Chakra surged like a dark current beneath his skin.
When he opened them—
Crimson light burned in the darkness.
The two tomoe of his Sharingan rotated steadily, radiating a dangerous aura.
"The foundation of the Sharingan is perception."
Danzō formed hand seals.
Dozens of chakra-constructed shinobi materialized around Kagura.
They were faceless. Expressionless.
Yet murderous intent emanated from them as they attacked in perfect coordination.
Kagura's pupils contracted.
The Sharingan spun rapidly, attempting to track every movement.
At first, their assaults came like a storm.
He struggled to respond in time.
Chakra-infused strikes tore across his body, leaving shallow but painful wounds.
The pain sharpened his focus.
He forced himself to concentrate.
Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the cold stone below.
Gradually—
The chaos slowed.
Through the Sharingan's heightened perception, he began detecting micro-delays in their strikes.
Subtle openings.
He moved between them fluidly, dodging with precision and countering when necessary.
By the end of the exchange, his breathing was heavy, his body aching—
But his reactions were sharper.
Danzō tossed a kunai into the air.
"Track it. Strike it down before it lands."
The blade spun rapidly in a wide arc.
Kagura locked onto it instantly.
The world seemed to dim around him.
Only the kunai remained in motion.
The tomoe rotated faster.
He predicted the landing point—
And threw his own kunai.
Metal clashed midair.
The falling blade was deflected before touching the ground.
Danzō said nothing.
Next came genjutsu training.
Kagura found himself standing in a dense misty forest.
The air was thick with an oppressive presence.
From the fog emerged phantom beasts, lunging without warning.
Though intangible, their strikes carried overwhelming pressure.
A single hit would plunge him deeper into illusion.
Kagura activated the Sharingan, searching for distortions.
But the illusion was crafted with terrifying realism.
No matter how far he ran—
The forest remained endless.
He steadied his breathing.
Recalling the principles of ocular perception.
Then—
He noticed it.
A flicker of light.
Brief. Nearly imperceptible.
Without the Sharingan, it would have gone unseen.
He gathered chakra and struck toward the flaw.
The world shattered like glass.
The illusion dissolved.
As training intensified, Kagura's Sharingan grew more refined.
But he wanted more.
He wanted the three-tomoe stage.
To reach it, he began pushing himself beyond safe limits.
He demanded stronger simulated opponents.
He forced coordination between ninjutsu and visual prediction.
Every session ended the same—
Collapsed on the ground.
Eyes burning.
Chakra nearly depleted.
Yet his hunger for power only grew.
During one particularly brutal simulation, Kagura was driven to the brink.
The opponent's attacks crashed down relentlessly.
His defenses failed.
Blood stained his clothes.
His legs trembled.
With a roar, he forced more chakra into his eyes.
The two tomoe spun violently.
His vision sharpened further—
The tomoe began to distort.
Something within them shifted.
A new force stirred.
For a fleeting instant—
It felt as though evolution was imminent.
Then—
Agony.
Chakra destabilized violently.
The Sharingan shut down.
Kagura collapsed heavily onto the ground.
Danzō approached.
"The evolution of the Sharingan is not achieved through impatience," he said coolly. "Force it—and you invite backlash."
Kagura tried to stand, but pain forced him back down.
His eyes burned with frustration.
"Enough for today," Danzō concluded. "Rest. We resume tomorrow."
He turned and left.
Kagura remained lying on the cold stone, staring up at the narrow strip of sky visible above the training walls.
The path of the Sharingan was harsh.
Dangerous.
But he would not retreat.
Eventually, he pushed himself up and returned to his quarters.
After tending to his wounds, he lay in bed reviewing every mistake.
To awaken the three-tomoe Sharingan required more than chakra and will.
It required understanding.
Emotional depth.
Control.
In the days that followed, training continued relentlessly.
He experimented with tactical variations.
Refined ninjutsu integration.
Strengthened his body.
His chakra reserves steadily increased.
His Sharingan stabilized.
Its use became instinctive in combat simulations.
Still—
The third tomoe remained just beyond reach.
Yet Kagura did not grow discouraged.
He understood something now.
Evolution was not seized by desperation—
It was earned through endurance.
And one day—
He would cross that threshold.