Naruto Immersive Replay, The Curse of the Sharingan

You shake your head, but Ban isn't annoyed. Instead, he chuckles and deepens the embrace. "It's okay, we have a whole night... a lifetime."

The downpour outside the window intensified, the raindrops pounding on the tiles like thunderous war drums.

You vaguely see fifteen-year-old Madara standing by the Naka River, holding a wildflower and smiling at you. At that time, neither of you knew what kind of abyss fate would push you into.

The moment the gauze curtain was torn down, all twelve red candles went out.

Only when lightning rips through the night sky can one glimpse the figures entwined on the bed—

The morning light slanted into the study through the high window, illuminating every detail of the floating dust.

You kneel in the center of a mountain of scrolls, your black hair cascading down like a waterfall. Your fingertips are tracing the faded words on an ancient scroll. You are so engrossed in reading that you don’t even notice the sound of the paper door being pulled open and closed.

Did you find what you were looking for?

Madara's voice suddenly sounded from behind, along with the click of a door lock closing. You didn't look up, but simply loosened your tightly clenched right hand, and the scroll in your palm suddenly ignited with a ghostly blue chakra flame.

"you--!"

Madara's expression froze instantly. Among the scattered ashes, the sealing runes of "Ibo no Mijutsu" were clearly visible, a forbidden technique in legend that could reverse life and death, but at the cost of the caster's soul.

"Are you crazy?" Madara grabbed your chin, his fingers trembling uncontrollably. "Using forbidden techniques to resurrect the dead will..."

"Will you be punished by the heavens?" A mocking smile played on your lips. "Then what are you, who created a false peace with Infinite Tsukuyomi?"

The air froze instantly, leaving only the sound of ashes slowly falling, like a black snowfall.

After a moment of deathly silence, Ban suddenly released his grip, slowly walked around behind you, bent down and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your thin shoulder, his posture so intimate that it was as if the conflict had never happened.

"To revive your brother?" He felt the body in his arms stiffen instantly. "I know that Uchiha Suku's death was a great blow to you, but the dead cannot be brought back to life, Nagi."

"Let go." Your voice was like ice.

Instead, Ban tightened his arms and pressed his lips against the sensitive spot on the back of your neck. "Now you are my wife."

His fingers traced the incomplete sealing formula on the scroll. "I can help you complete this forbidden technique, but the price is that you must truly become Uchiha Nagi."

You suddenly turn around, and the kunai is instantly pressed against Madara's throat. The sharp tip of the blade pierces his skin, and a drop of blood slides down his neck, spreading into a dark red flower on his black collar.

"Don't think that a ritual can change anything."

Madara didn't dodge or flinch; instead, he leaned forward, allowing the kunai to penetrate even deeper, causing more blood to gush out and drip onto your white kimono from the gleaming blade.

“Kill me, and the secret of the forbidden technique will be lost forever.” Madara’s voice was unusually calm, as if he himself was not the one whose throat had been slit. “You know that I am the only one in the entire Uchiha clan who can complete this technique.”

Their breaths mingled at an extremely close distance. You could see every bloodshot vein in Ban's eyes and smell the familiar gunpowder scent mixed with the fresh stench of blood on his body.

This distance is too dangerous. You should retreat immediately, but for some inexplicable reason, you pushed the kunai forward a little further.

“I saw it…” you said coldly, “the way you were crying in the Valley of the End, holding my corpse.”

Ban's breathing suddenly stopped; those words were like a blunt knife, stabbing deep into his internal organs and stirring them up.

The Valley of the End is where Indra and Ashura fought their final battle, but it hasn't happened between him and Hashirama yet—unless you actually see something.

"You're lying to me!" Ban slammed the kunai out of your hand, the sound of metal hitting the ground was particularly jarring in the closed study.

He roughly stopped you from saying anything more, pressing you down onto the scrolls scattered on the floor in a manner bordering on panic.

The scattered scrolls prickled your back, but the pain was worse from the grip Madara had on your wrist. His Sharingan spun wildly, almost transforming into a kaleidoscope. "You can't see that future... unless..."

Unless you have actually tried the Ibuse no Mijutsu and successfully glimpsed the river of time, this realization caused Madara's heart to clench violently, as if it were being gripped by an invisible hand.

"Unless what?" You looked up at him defiantly, your black hair spreading across the scroll like moonlight. "Unless I've died once? Or unless you actually knew the cost of this technique all along?"

Cold sweat beaded on Ban's forehead. He knew for certain—the Ibaku-meijutsu required the caster's life as a catalyst to summon the soul from the Pure Land. If you truly witnessed your own death...

"No!" Madara's voice suddenly became hoarse and barely audible. "You're not allowed to use that technique, do you hear me?"

You sneered, "On what grounds? Because of the marks you left on me last night? Or because of that ridiculous wedding?"

Ban suddenly leaned down and bit your lips hard. The kiss was a bloody punishment, as if to shut up all those disrespectful words.

You struggled, scratching bloody marks on his back with your fingernails, but only received more forceful suppression in return.

"Just because of this." Ban released her swollen lips, his fingers tracing the brand on your collarbone. "You bear my mark, your life is mine. You are not allowed to die without my permission, do you hear me?"

Your chest heaved violently, and your eyes flashed with furious rage. "What right do you have to decide how I should live and how I should die?"

"Because I love you." Ban's voice was so soft it was almost inaudible, yet it carried immense weight.

This statement stunned you. Ban had never spoken the word "love" so openly before, and even in the most intimate moments, this realization made you more uneasy than any threat.

Madara seized the opportunity to pull you up, ran his fingers through your black hair, and forced you to look directly into his eyes. "I will help you complete the spell, but you must promise me that you will never use it."

"Why?" Your voice began to tremble. "Because you can't bear to part with me, this weapon?"

A flicker of pain crossed Ban's eyes. He released his grip on you and picked up the tattered scroll from the ground. "Because I need my living lover more than my dead enemy."

The sunlight suddenly shifted, illuminating half of Ban's face, and you then noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

"How long will it take to complete the spell?" you finally asked, as if giving in.

A victorious smile curved Ban's lips. "Three days. You're not allowed to go anywhere for the next three days. You'll stay right under my nose."

You know this is a form of house arrest, but you have no choice. You reach out and touch the wound on Ban's neck, your fingertips stained with warm blood. "You're bleeding."

Ban grabbed your wrist, put your fingers in his mouth, and licked the blood off them with his tongue. "This little injury is nothing."

His eyes darkened. "Compared to the fear of possibly losing you, this is nothing."

The sudden cawing of crows outside the window shattered this eerie, tender moment.

Ban released you, turned and walked to the desk, and began to tidy up the scattered scrolls. You looked at his back, tall and straight like a pine tree, yet inexplicably exuding a sense of loneliness.

You look down at your blood-stained white kimono and suddenly remember Madara's words, "To grow old together and never be apart." Now, this vow seems both romantic and terrifying, just like your relationship, which forever teeters on the edge of love and hate.

Ban suddenly turned around, meeting your complex gaze. Sunlight formed a halo behind him, making him appear both like a god and a demon.

“Come here.” He held out his hand, his palm still stained with undried blood. “Let’s complete this spell together.”

You took a step forward as if possessed, then another, until you placed your hand in his palm.

Ban's hands were warm and rough; when you gripped them, you could feel the calluses left from years of battles.

At this moment, you can't tell whether you're heading towards salvation or deeper hell, but one thing is certain: no matter what lies ahead, Madara Uchiha will hold your hand tightly until the two of you fall into the abyss together or climb to the peak together.

The crow cawed again outside the window, then flapped its wings and flew towards the distant Valley of the End, where perhaps there really will be a future where Madara clings to your corpse and weeps.

But now, you are still alive, still hurting each other, and still needing each other.

That's enough, you think, at least for now, that's enough.

He hadn't slept for three days straight, his fingertips stained with ink and dried blood—proof that excessive chakra consumption had caused his capillaries to rupture.

You lean against the soft couch by the window, the rejection reaction of the cells in your body making you feel hot all over, unable to even do the simplest hand seals.

"Cough...cough cough..." You suddenly coughed violently, a metallic taste rising in your throat.

Ban's back tensed instantly. He didn't turn around, but paused for a second before continuing to draw complex runes on the scroll.

But you notice that he gripped the pen harder, and his knuckles turned an unhealthy pale.

"Stop writing," you whispered, your voice hoarse from the fever. "You need to rest."

Ban finally put down his pen, and the last rune on the scroll glowed with an eerie red light in the candlelight.

He slowly turned around, his eyes, which had been bloodshot from not sleeping for three days, were dark and swollen, but his Mangekyou Sharingan was still frighteningly bright.

“It’s done.” Ban’s voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded. He carefully rolled up the scroll, tied it with a special sealing rope, and walked towards you with slightly unsteady steps.

You reach out to take it, but the moment you touch it, you realize that Ban hasn't let go.

The scroll was held taut at one end by the two men, like a bowstring.

“Anagi,” Madara’s fingertips trembled slightly, “you swear that you will never use the Ibami no Mijutsu.”

The candlelight suddenly crackled and popped, casting a flickering shadow between the two.

Looking into Ban's almost pleading eyes, you see a vulnerability in this arrogant man that you've never seen before.

You didn't speak, but simply raised your other hand and gently stroked Ban's cheek. The texture was rough, covered with stubble that hadn't been shaved for three days.

Your movements were so gentle, yet your eyes were calm to the point of being sorrowful.

“Because I don’t want to lie to you,” you said, rubbing your thumb against your chapped lips, “so I won’t swear, Madara.”

The veins on Ban's hand, which was gripping the scroll tightly, suddenly bulged, and the bones creaked together, making a teeth-grinding sound.

In the candlelight, you could clearly see the throbbing veins in his temples, and the surging violence and pain in his eyes.

Just as the atmosphere was about to become tense, you suddenly leaned forward and hugged Ban's stiff waist. Your face was pressed against Ban's chest, listening to his rapid, drum-like heartbeat.

"Please give it to me," your voice muffled inside the patched clothes, "regardless of the final outcome."

Ban's body was stiff as iron at first, then began to tremble slightly. He released the scroll, grabbed your shoulders with both hands, and squeezed so hard that he almost crushed your bones. "It is so cruel to make me watch you walk towards death."

You look up at him, moonlight streaming in through the window, gilding his pale face with a silvery edge. "Madara, some things are destined, and you can't stop them."

Ban's breath hitched; those words were like a blunt knife, slowly and cruelly piercing his heart.

Madara Uchiha, who defied fate his entire life and never believed in destiny, now, facing your resolute gaze, tasted the bitterness of powerlessness for the first time.

"Do you remember that question you were curious about at the shrine?" you suddenly asked.

Ban stood there, his brows furrowed. Three days of intense work without sleep had made his thinking a little sluggish, and he couldn't remember what you meant for a moment.

"About my kaleidoscope ability," you whispered, subtly slipping the scroll into your sleeve.

A flicker of realization crossed Madara's eyes. It was years ago, when you were exploring the shrine, that he had asked you what your kaleidoscope ability was.

At the time, you just smiled mysteriously and said, "You'll find out someday."

"Your abilities..." Madara's voice suddenly tightened, "are they related to this?"

You didn't give a direct answer; the hand that could destroy a city, now held by Ban, trembled slightly with exhaustion.

You guide his palm to place it on his cheek, which is where the Mangekyou Sharingan is located.

“Look into my eyes, Madara.” Your voice suddenly became ethereal. “This time, it’s my turn to show you a future.”

Ban instinctively tried to resist, but it was too late.

Your kaleidoscope pattern began to spin wildly, a pattern he had never seen before, like intertwined threads of fate, or like a shattered crack in spacetime.

The surrounding scenery suddenly distorted, and Ban felt a strong dizziness. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing on the edge of the cliff of the Valley of the End, with a huge moon hanging in the sky, which was ominous and blood red.

Then he saw himself, kneeling on the edge of the cliff, holding you lifeless in his arms.

That "he" was crying, tears mixed with blood sliding down his face, leaving shocking red marks on your pale face.

"No...this is impossible..." Madara heard his own hoarse voice.

The scene shifts again, this time to the Uchiha shrine. You stand in the center of a complex jutsu formation, your hands forming the hand seals for the Ibami Munechika ritual, your body gradually dissolving into specks of light. Opposite you, a blurry figure of a young boy slowly takes shape...

Chapter 67 Plague

"Stop!" Ban suddenly broke free from your mental illusion, staggered back two steps, and knocked over the candlestick.

The flames instantly engulfed the tablecloth, but he didn't care, just stared intently at you. "Is this your kaleidoscope ability? Predicting the future?"

You shook your head, a complex light flickering in your eyes. "It's not foresight, it's 'destiny weaving.' I can see the threads of fate of all living beings and, in a short time... change their course."

Ban's blood froze instantly; this ability was more terrifying and dangerous than he had imagined.

No wonder you're so sure that some things are 'predestined'; you can really see the web of fate weaving around you.

"How many times have you seen it?" Madara suddenly asked, his voice low and terrifying. "Seeing the scene of your own death."

You paused for a moment, then said, "Seventeen times. Every attempt to change things leads to a different outcome. Just like your attempt to create peace with Infinite Tsukuyomi, it only brings about a greater war."

“A prophet should learn to be silent.” He pinched your chin, his thumb pressing against your pale lips, and at that moment you were like a crane with broken wings, trapped in his shadow.

You suddenly chuckled, the talisman at the corner of your eye flickering in the candlelight. "You're afraid to hear the truth, just like you were afraid to admit Hashirama Senju's ideals back then. Infinite Tsukuyomi isn't salvation; it's the Sharingan's coffin offered to the world."

These words struck Ban like a hammer blow to the chest. He suddenly understood why you always looked at him with that pitying gaze.

In your eyes, all his plans and ambitions may just be futile struggles already destined in the web of fate.

The flames had spread to the bookshelf, and thick smoke began to fill the room, but the two remained motionless, as if engaged in a silent standoff.

"So you believe," Madara's voice held a dangerous calm, "that no matter how hard we try, we can't escape our predetermined fate?"

You look out at the moon and say, "No. I just believe that some prices are worth paying, and some love... is worth dying for."

“At least tell me,” Ban pressed his forehead against yours, “how much time do you have left?”