Naruto Immersive Replay, The Curse of the Sharingan

Madara was not angry. He simply formed a hand seal, and chakra condensed into a ghostly blue flame at his fingertips. The temperature was so high that it distorted the air, but strangely, it did not burn any fabric. It seemed to only scorch flesh and blood.

"You have no choice, my lady."

The moment the flame touches your skin, your pupils contract violently, and pain, like a living snake, burrows into your flesh, winding out a 'spot' below your collarbone.

Sweat rolled down your forehead and fell onto the tatami mat, but you kept your eyes fixed on Madara's, without even a tremor in your eyelashes.

The moment the branding was complete, Ban stroked the freshly written words, a drop of blood glistening on his fingertip. "Do you hate me?"

"No, I pity you." You gasped, your voice hoarse. "The dignified Uchiha clan leader has to resort to such means to keep a woman."

The next second, your throat was grabbed tightly, and Ban pressed you into his arms. The two of you were almost in sync under the violent pressure.

"You think this is just about a woman?" Ban's voice was extremely low, like the deathly silence before a storm. "Your betrayal, your concealment, you refused to tell me why until your death!"

Your vision blurred from lack of oxygen, and you weakly continued to provoke him, "Please... kill me..."

"Just like when I slaughtered all the old ministers, that felt so satisfying!"

Ban suddenly let go.

You slid to the ground, panting heavily, the finger marks on your throat glaringly red.

Ban had already straightened his cuffs and regained his calm and composed demeanor, as if his earlier loss of control was just an illusion.

“No,” he looked down at you, “death is too easy. I want you to watch me create a world without war and without betrayal.”

You raise your head, and the sarcasm in your eyes gradually fades, replaced by a calm that is almost compassionate.

“…Spot,” you whispered, “you have no idea what you are creating.”

The maids silently carried rouge, combs, and silks, fluttering around you. Their movements were respectful yet distant, as if you were truly just a wife the clan chief had taken on a whim.

When someone tried to cover the finger marks on your neck with lead powder, you raised your hand to stop them.

The woman reflected in the bronze mirror was as pale as a ghost, and the character "斑" (ban, meaning spot) on her collarbone gleamed with a sinister dark red in the candlelight.

"That's fine then." You gently stroked the brand. "Let the chieftain admire his masterpiece."

The banquet hall was brightly lit with candles at dusk, and all the important figures of the Uchiha clan were present. When you appeared at the end of the corridor, whispers spread like a tide.

Uchiha Rei clenched his fist tightly, but Uchiha Ryoei beside him held his wrist firmly.

"Don't be impulsive." Liangying's voice was very low. "Big brother won't hurt Elder Nagi."

But even he himself didn't believe that.

Ban stands on the high platform in the main seat, he extends his hand to you, his fingertips gleaming like cold jade in the candlelight.

You approach him step by step, but just as you are about to touch his palm, an invisible force suddenly pulls you into his arms!

My fiancée seems a little shy.

Ban's voice, though tinged with laughter, caused the temperature in the entire banquet hall to plummet.

His arms tightened around your waist like iron hoops, his fingertips pressing against the protrusion of your third vertebra. "But we'll get to know each other again soon..."

Your back is ramrod straight until Ban's lips touch your earlobe, his hot breath carrying a threat, "Smile, Nagi."

His canines gently rubbed against your ear cartilage, "Unless you want me to prove your obedience to me right now in front of everyone."

A mechanical smile played on his lips, a smile that looked like a mask forcibly sewn on. Ban, however, pinched your waist with satisfaction and raised his cup to toast his clansmen.

The entire banquet felt like a long, drawn-out torture.

Ban picks out the tenderest piece of fish belly for you in front of everyone, wipes the wine stains from your lips with his fingertips, and even holds the back of your neck for a deep kiss in front of the whole clan.

The Uchiha clan members lowered their heads, as if they couldn't see your hands clenched so tightly under the table that your knuckles turned white.

Every touch felt like a branding iron burning my skin.

Every breath he took was mixed with the smell of pine wood and blood.

You broke free from his embrace the moment you stepped into the bedchamber, the sash of your twelve-layered kimono coming undone with the movement. "Have you finished your act?"

Ban slowly locked the door, the click of the metal reminiscent of a kunai piercing a rib. As he turned, the kaleidoscope patterns swirled in his eyes, more distorted than at the banquet.

"Acting?" He stepped closer, his foot brushing against your clothes. "You think that was acting?"

"When I kissed you in front of the entire clan..." Madara's fingers tore open your collar, the brand seeping blood in the darkness, "I was thinking about how to chain your ankles, under the banquet..."

He suddenly threw you onto the bed, and as you struggled to get up, Madara had already pressed one knee against your lower abdomen, holding a shuriken he had taken from your sleeve pocket.

It was the one you tried to hide at the banquet.

Your overlapping shadows are nailed to the wall, like a cruel ukiyo-e painting.

You watched as blood dripped onto your snow-white undergarment and spread, then suddenly reached out and grabbed Ban's collar, pulling him close until you could smell his breath.

"Let me go..." The deepest longing finally surfaced in your eyes, "Or let me die."

Madara burst into maniacal laughter, tossed aside the shuriken, and plunged his bloodied fingers into your hair. "I choose the third option—"

The lights in the bedroom suddenly went out, leaving only the Sharingan glowing a scarlet light in the darkness.

"I want you to live and hate me..."

"Hate me so much that you'll fall into hell with me."

The moonlight suddenly pierced through the clouds, illuminating the tears streaming down your face. Ban paused, then his rage instantly transformed into something even more terrifying.

He lowered his head and licked away the tear, murmuring with a sigh, "Finally, you cried... I almost thought you wouldn't even bother to hate me."

Outside the window, the last cherry blossom petal fell into the mud.

“Madman.” Your breath broke between Ban’s lips and teeth, and the toe of your foot that was kicking at his knee was easily caught.

The force with which Ban gripped your ankle made your joints crack under the strain, yet he lifted your leg to his waist, pressing your bodies tightly together, the intense heartbeats creating a strange resonance between your skin and flesh.

“Yes, I’m a madman.” Ban’s low chuckle was like a dull knife scraping against your spine, his hand sliding down your trembling waistline. “That’s why I locked you here—”

The chains rattled, and Ban suddenly lowered his waist in that position.

“My traitor.” He bites your trembling throat.

"My lady." He licked the blood-stained brand on your collarbone.

The rattling of the chains continued all night.

The clanging of metal mingled with gasps of breath; kimonos scattered on the tatami mats, broken sashes, overturned candlesticks... everything was bathed in moonlight.

"Say it again."

Ban pressed his face against your sweaty forehead, his hoarse voice a mixture of desire and threat.

“Say you’re mine, Nagi.”

His fingers gripped the back of your neck, forcing you to look directly into his Sharingan, where an obsession deeper than the night surged.

"Otherwise, I'll make you pay the price for betraying me."

You struggle helplessly in the agonizing pleasure, your fingernails digging deep into the old wound on his back.

He bent down and bit the brand on your collarbone until the taste of blood filled his mouth.

"My name is engraved here..."

His tongue licked the wound, “Your blood, your tears, your breath—it’s all mine.”

In the darkest hour before dawn, you finally drifted off to sleep, exhausted and weak.

Madara gazed at your pale face and gently covered you with a haori.

The haori embroidered with the Uchiha clan crest is like an impenetrable net, completely enveloping you in his aura.

As the morning light seeps through the curtained door, you open your eyes and meet Ban's gaze fixed on you.

He lies on his side beside you, a strand of black hair twirling between his fingers, slowly making circles as if playing with some precious trophy.

You instinctively shrank back, your back pressed against the cold wall, and the wariness in your eyes pierced Ban like a knife.

Ban's fingertips paused. "I won't touch you tonight."

He suddenly spoke, his voice low and hoarse as if it had been scorched by fire, "Let's do something else."

Before you could even react, he pulled you into his arms.

The heat from Ban's body seeped through your thin undershirt, and the lingering pain from last night made your muscles tense instantly.

Until a flute is handed to you.

It's emerald green, with a tiny crack etched on the end of the flute. It used to be yours; he took it years ago and never returned it.

"Anagi," Madara's breath was hot, "how about teaching me to play the flute?"

"I'm not good at teaching," you replied softly, your voice a little hoarse.

A shadow of gloom flashed in Ban's eyes as he gripped the flute tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

"Where's that white jade flute?" he asked, his voice as soft as a feather, yet it sent chills down your spine. "I haven't seen it."

"I forgot," you lied without batting an eye.

Ban chuckled softly, but his laughter carried a hint of near-explosive madness. "Forget?" His fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look up.

"Whether you forgot it or abandoned it in Canglan City, you know the answer yourself."

His voice grew lower and lower, and more and more frantic, like a volcano that had been suppressed for a long time finally erupting.

“Tell me, Anaga.”

"What were you thinking when you threw the flute I gave you into Canglan City?"

Ban's fingertips traced the artery on the side of your neck, the throbbing revealing your panic. His eyes grew darker, like a beast lurking in the abyss, ready to tear you apart and devour you at any moment.

"You're thinking—" he said, looking down, "that you can finally get rid of me, aren't you?"

You closed your eyes and didn't answer.

“It’s alright.” He suddenly smiled and pressed the emerald green flute to your lips. “I can help you remember.”

The next second, he lowered his head and bit the other end of the flute.

Their lips met through the cold flute, their breaths mingling, yet neither truly kissed the other.

A twisted obsession surged in Ban's eyes, as if he wanted to devour you whole, or as if he wanted to knead you into his very bones.

"Blow," he commanded, his voice hoarse.

You two used to be so close.

Now all that's left is an absurd game.

As the mournful sound of the flute rises, you ultimately succumb to this love.

“I will find everything you’ve thrown away, piece by piece.” His voice, mingled with the broken melody, sounded like the gentlest curse, “including yourself.”

Three months later, the moonlight silently pierced the corner of the Japanese-style room. You stared at the shifting light, which happened to illuminate a small, dark compartment in the corner of the wall.

That was a crack you secretly created using your metal magic; hidden inside was the last hope.

The chains creaked softly with the slightest movement. You held your breath and slowly moved toward the hidden compartment. With each inch you moved, the chains jingled softly, like some kind of malicious reminder.

When your fingertips finally touch the edge of the hidden compartment, your back is already covered in a layer of cold sweat.

The sound of the hidden compartment being pried open was like a thunderclap in the silent night. Your fingertips touched the cold metal, and just as you were about to grasp the kunai—

"I knew it."

The paper door was suddenly pulled open, and Madara's tall figure stood in the doorway. In the backlight, only the Sharingan burning in his eyes could be seen. His voice was low and calm, yet it was more chilling than any roar.

You didn't turn around, but instead reached for the kunai even faster. But Madara was faster. He stepped behind you and grabbed your wrist with his iron-like hand, the force almost crushing your bones.

"So you were hiding weapons after all." Madara's voice rang close to your ear, his warm breath brushing against your neck, creating an eerie contrast with his cold tone.

Suddenly, your left hand pulls out a kunai from a hidden compartment and thrusts it backward without hesitation. The sharp tip slices through the air, aiming straight for Madara's throat.

Ban turned his head to avoid it, but the kunai only tore his collar, revealing an old scar on his collarbone. He twisted it forcefully, and his bones made a teeth-grinding sound.

You bit your lower lip until you tasted blood, forcing yourself to swallow back your cry of pain.

The kunai fell to the ground, making a clear, mournful sound.

"You'll never learn to obey, will you?" Ban's voice was so deep it seemed to come from underground. He pushed you to the ground, pressing his knee into your abdomen and gripping your slender neck with one hand.

Chapter 65 - Imprisoned Love (8)