Naruto Immersive Replay, The Curse of the Sharingan

As he left the room, he licked his bitten lip, revealing an expression that mixed pain and pleasure; he had plenty of patience and time.

After he left, you leaned against the window, your fingertips unconsciously rubbing the red mark on your wrist.

Looking down at his palm, he realized that he used to be able to easily form destructive hand seals, but now he couldn't even condense the most basic fire jutsu.

You close your eyes and sigh softly. Forbidden techniques, strategies, past pride...

Now, all of them have been crushed in Madara's palm, leaving only this empty shell, imprisoned in this Japanese-style room day and night, even its breathing seems to be calculated.

"How much longer can I... hold on?"

Cherry blossoms are falling outside the window, but you don't even have the right to reach out and touch them.

You're unsure how much tolerance you have left for yourself.

That man... no, he was no longer the proud and immature young clan leader of my memory, but a madman completely controlled by his obsession.

Contradictory, distorted, yet morbidly affectionate, you feel the cool morning breeze brushing your cheeks, slowly slide down to the ground, bury your face in your knees, you are extremely tired, but your mind is frighteningly clear.

He allows you to live, allows you to breathe, and even allows you to occasionally show a defiant look in your eyes, but he will never allow you to truly leave.

Madara Uchiha's obsession with you is terrifyingly deep, as if he wants to devour you whole, yet he always pulls you back from the brink of collapse.

His demands are never restrained; his kisses are like fire, his embraces like shackles. The more you resist, the more excited he becomes, until you are exhausted and have no strength left to even cry out...

When will Ban finally let himself go?

The answer might be... never.

You were woken up by a kiss in the middle of the night.

His lips were hot and urgent, like a blazing wildfire, branding your neck, collarbone, and lips. You wearily raised your hand to push him away, and the chains on your wrist rattled loudly, particularly jarring in the quiet Japanese-style room.

Ban's movements stopped.

He propped himself up, his crimson Sharingan staring at you in the darkness. Your fingertips were still pressed against his chest, and you could clearly feel his suppressed breathing.

"I'm so tired," you whispered, your fingers unconsciously running through his frizzy hair, like soothing a restless black panther.

Surprisingly, Ban did not get angry.

He lowered his eyelashes, like a satiated beast that had clenched its claws, buried its head in your neck, and murmured a soft "hmm".

His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a hint of reluctant compromise, yet also sounding like a subtle form of coquetry.

You were slightly taken aback; such spots are quite rare.

"Can I go see the moon?" you hear yourself ask, and you immediately regret it as soon as the words leave your mouth. This kind of unreasonable request will only anger him.

Sure enough, Ban's body stiffened instantly. He abruptly lifted his head from your embrace, all tenderness vanished from his eyes, replaced by a familiar ruthlessness. You held your breath, awaiting the impending rage.

In the end, Madara simply got up with a cold face and left the Japanese-style room without looking back.

"So...it still doesn't work?"

You watched his departing figure and sighed silently. You should have known that Ban would not allow you to step out of this room, not even to take a look at the moon.

Curled back into bed, just as consciousness was about to sink into darkness again, the door opened once more.

Ban stood in the doorway, holding a brand-new chain in his hand. Moonlight shone in from behind him, casting a long shadow that stretched all the way to your feet.

You notice that the chain is much shorter than the one in the room, and it gleams with a cold, silvery light in the moonlight.

"Give me your hand," Madara commanded.

You hesitantly extend your slender wrist. Ban's movements are surprisingly gentle. He unlocks the original chain and fastens a new chain on your wrist.

The click of the metal buckle closing sent a shiver down your spine. Then, Ban fastened the other end of the chain to his own wrist.

Madara raised his eyes, his Sharingan swirling with emotions you couldn't understand. "Let's go," he commanded in a hoarse voice. "Look at the moon."

Standing under the corridor, you look up at the crescent moon in the sky. Chains hang between you, neither too long nor too short, just enough for Ban to stand half a step behind you.

Suddenly, Ban's fingertips entangled around the ends of your hair.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his voice so low it almost blended into the wind.

You did not answer.

Ban chuckled and suddenly pulled on the chain. You stumbled and fell into his arms, your back hitting his hard chest.

His arms tightened around your waist like iron hoops, his lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot as he asked, "Now?"

"Thank you." You're unsure why you're thanking me, "but why me?"

Ban raised his other hand, his fingertips gently tracing the old scar on your collarbone. "Because from the first moment I saw you, I knew—it was either you or I would destroy you."

Your heart skipped a beat. Ban's thumb pressed on the old wound, the pressure just right—between pain and soothing. "And now, I've done both, haven't I?"

A few strands of freckled hair brushed against your cheek, tickling you like a silent tease.

"Do you hate me?" Ban asked abruptly.

You didn't answer immediately, looking down at the chains that were about to connect. Moonlight flowed across the metal surface like liquid silver.

"Of course I hate it," you finally say honestly.

Ban seemed satisfied with the answer; the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, revealing a rare, genuine smile.

That smile made him look much younger, almost like the boy by the Namka River back then.

“Very good.” He leaned close to your ear, his breath brushing against your earlobe. “Hate is also a kind of emotion. I want all your emotions, Nagi. Whether it’s love or hate, you can only give them to me.”

The night wind suddenly picked up, ruffling your long hair. Ban frowned, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your lips. His movements were unexpectedly gentle, as if he were handling some fragile treasure.

"It's time to go back." His tone left no room for argument.

But Madara had already wrapped you completely in his haori, with one end of the chain still attached to his wrist, making a crisp sound. Madara picked you up horizontally, and the chain swayed with his movements.

You didn't resist, leaning against Ban's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. From this angle, you could see his Adam's apple, his sharp chin, and those eyes that always burned with ambition.

"This... is also good."

Madara's pupils dilated slightly, and after a moment of silence, he placed a light kiss on your forehead, his movements so gentle that they were unlike the fearsome ninja demon he was known for.

As the night wind swirls withered cherry blossoms into the Japanese-style room, Madara Uchiha traces the lock mark on your neck with his fingertips. That red mark, stretching across your pale skin, is the mark he personally branded.

His hand gripped your waist, and the moment his knuckles tightened, you almost thought your bones were going to be crushed.

But then he slowly loosened his grip, as if restraining some kind of impending rage. "I just want you to see the world I created and to acknowledge my beliefs."

You suddenly laughed.

The laughter was soft, not mocking, but something deeper, more painful, like the last gasp squeezed out after a thousand needles pierced the heart.

"Madara." Your voice, as cool as moonlight, calls him. "You can only ever see your own ideals, but you can't see the suffering of those around you."

The air suddenly froze, and Ban's eyes changed, like an enraged beast, with a kind of almost morbid coldness surging deep in his pupils.

The next second, he forcefully pushed you down onto the tatami mat. "Your so-called 'pain' is just leaving again and again?"

His body pressed down, so heavy it felt like he was going to crush you.

You struggled, the chains on your wrists digging deep into your flesh, drawing blood, but you didn't even flinch.

"I left to stop you from making an even bigger mistake! Infinite Tsukuyomi will only bring destruction, why can't you understand that!"

"What do you think you saw? A few fragmented glimpses of the future made you betray your people and me?"

His voice was as cold as a knife, cutting through your defenses word by word, "You never believed me, not from the beginning."

Memories suddenly surged back: under the cherry blossom tree, Ban's lips pressed against yours, warm and soft, his fingers running through her hair as if holding a fragile treasure.

He was a completely different person back then compared to the cold-hearted clan leader he is now.

“I believed you,” your voice was almost swallowed by the darkness, “until I discovered your plan would kill everyone.”

The patterns of the Mangekyou Sharingan suddenly appeared in his right eye, but the next second, the sealing talisman on his face lit up with a dazzling red light, forcefully suppressing the power of his eye.

Ban's thumb rubbed against the talisman on your left cheek, the skin beneath his fingertip burning slightly.

“Even the Eyes of Foresight can’t save you,” he whispered. “Tell me, what exactly do you want?”

You turned your face away, your stray hairs obscuring your reddened eyes. "Everything I've done has nothing to do with you."

The moment the sawdust exploded like snowflakes, you smelled the scent of sandalwood mixed with blood.

With a single blow, Ban shattered the low table beside you. The flying shards grazed your cheek, and warm drops of blood rolled down like a belated tear.

"None of my business?" His voice crackled with rage and something even darker. "You betrayed your family, you betrayed me, and now you dare say it has nothing to do with me?"

You raised your hand to wipe away the blood, and finally looked him straight in the eye.

"What do you want? My life?" You tugged at the chains, the clanging of metal sounding like a mockery.

The next second, he leaned in close, his nose almost touching yours, his hot breath mingling with your lips and teeth.

I want your heart.

His voice was so low it was almost sickly, like a demon crawling out of an abyss, obsessed and relentless.

"Just like you took my heart away back then."

Ban's thumb crushed heavily over the crack on your lips, the smell of blood filling the air between their mingled breaths.

"You've turned me into this..." Madara suddenly laughed, a chillingly gentle laugh, "and now you want to run away?"

The chains rattled with his movements, and your wrist bones were already bleeding, but Ban seemed not to see it—or rather, he didn't care at all.

His hand slid down your neck and stopped at your heart. Through the thin fabric, he could feel your rapid heartbeat.

"Can you feel it?" He leaned down. "It's beating so fast...is it because of hatred, or because..."

He suddenly ripped open your clothes, and the moonlight shone like flames on your bare skin. His stigmata-like gaze seemed tangible, licking over those old scars inch by inch—the kunai wounds, the burn marks left by fire-style techniques, and…

His pupils contracted sharply; below your collarbone, a brand-new sealing technique was bleeding.

"I see." Madara's voice suddenly became chillingly calm. "The future seen by the 'Eyes of Foresight' is worth using this forbidden technique to change?"

Your eyelashes trembled, but you didn't speak. Ban's fingertips traced the seal, then suddenly pressed down hard.

"Ugh...!"

You arched your back in pain, but he pressed you back down onto the tatami mat with even more force. Blood gushed from the seal, dripping through Ban's fingers, and under the moonlight, it shone with an eerie black hue.

"This is the Uzumaki clan's 'fate swap'..." Madara's Sharingan spun wildly. "Whose life do you want to trade for whose future?"

The room suddenly became eerily quiet.

The hooting of owls echoed from afar, and the swaying tree shadows on the paper door resembled countless prying hands.

As you gaze into Ban's crimson eyes, you suddenly recall a snowy night when Ban carried you across the battlefield, blood flowing from his wounds down to your sleeves, warm and sticky.

"I'll give you my life," you finally spoke, your voice as soft as a sigh, "to bring you back to your senses."

Chapter 64 - Imprisoned Love (7)

"Don't even think about it!!"

You were held tightly by Madara amidst the whirlwind of chakra, his arms squeezing your ribs so hard it hurt, as if he wanted to knead you into his flesh and blood.

“Listen…” Madara bit your ear, his voice trembling with the urge to collapse, “Even if I have to lock you in a genjutsu and make you watch the Infinite Tsukuyomi descend, I will never let you die.”

The moonlight was suddenly obscured by dark clouds.

In the utter darkness that descends, you feel Ban's tears fall onto your collarbone, hot as lava.

"Hate me if you want..."

"I want you to live...to live forever in the world I created..."

The tangled chains are like an inescapable fate, or like shackles that have been melted away.

The morning light slanted into the Japanese-style room, and the freckled fingertips brushed against your collarbone, where traces of last night's bloodstains still lingered.

He slowly and deliberately tied the ties of your inner garment, his movements as gentle as if he were handling fragile porcelain, but his eyes were as cold as if he were examining a trophy.

“There’s a clan gathering tonight.” He lowered his head and bit off the extra sash, his canine teeth brushing against your neck. “You will attend as the clan chief’s fiancée.”

Your lips were pressed into a pale line.

Ban suddenly smiled, hooked his finger and pulled open the collar of your newly put-on clothes, revealing the intact skin below your collarbone.

“Not satisfied?” His voice carried a dangerous pleasure. “My name should be engraved here.”

"I disagree," you said, emphasizing each word.