In the days that followed, Uchiha Cang spent his time bedridden in the Medical Corps. Time seemed to grow thick and sluggish, every minute and every second filled with the throbbing pain of his wounds and the bitter taste of medicine.
The atmosphere in the clan compound had grown noticeably more tense. Patrols had increased, and the approval process for missions outside the compound had become much stricter. Details of that night's operation and the casualties were tightly controlled, but rumors like "Tobirama Senju's ambush" and "targeting Uchiha youths" still circulated in private, stoking even greater outrage and solidarity among the clan members.
As an eyewitness to the incident and one of its "focal points," Uchiha Cang drew plenty of attention. Familiar clan members came to visit from time to time, offering their condolences while inevitably probing for details out of curiosity. Cang mostly brushed them off, citing his severe injuries and exhaustion. He repeatedly emphasized Tobirama's strength and ruthlessness, crediting his survival to Izuna's timely rescue and sheer luck, while carefully hiding his uneasy suspicions about "Causality."
He spent most of his time with his eyes closed, seemingly dozing, while in truth he immersed his entire mind in his body.
He couldn't do anything about his weakness right away, but he still had his eyes.
The Dōjutsu Power awakened at the brink of life and death had not faded completely. Instead, like steel tempered in a furnace, its quantity had diminished with his weakened body, but its "quality" had grown purer and easier to control. He could clearly "feel" the Single Tomoe Sharingan rotating slowly on its own in the darkness, drawing in the meager Chakra he refined like a dormant beast waiting to awaken once more.
He began trying to recall and recreate the insight he'd experienced in that split second between life and death, relying on perception alone without activating his Sharingan. Tobirama Senju's kunai trajectory, the shape of the Fire Chakra burst when Izuna came to his rescue, even the angles at which dust had risen around them... Every detail played over and over in his mind as he dissected it.
This purely mental training was extremely taxing, but it gave him a deeper understanding of the Sharingan's power of insight. It wasn't simply about seeing more clearly and quickly; it was about rapidly receiving and processing information, and even anticipating what would happen next.
At the same time, for the first time, he truly quieted his mind to examine and try to control the faint ability to "set Causality" that occasionally surfaced like an instinct.
He asked the medical ninja tending to him to bring him some withered leaves and grains of sand.
When no one was watching, he focused all his attention on a brittle, dried leaf in his palm, trying to infuse it with his "intent"—not to destroy it, but to set an extremely subtle "cause": that the next breeze through the window would happen to blow it from his palm.
His eyes grew faintly warm, and his mental energy flowed out like a thread, clinging to the leaf. The sensation was profoundly mysterious and hard to grasp, and his success rate was pitifully low. In ten attempts, perhaps once or twice the leaf would actually drift down from his palm when an inconsequential breeze happened to pass.
Trying the same thing with sand was even harder. He aimed to make the grains he scattered tend toward some extremely simple pattern. The results were even less promising; there was almost no visible effect, and it took a tremendous toll on him. After a few attempts, he was left dizzy.
"So... at my current limit, I can only nudge events with an extremely high probability by an insignificant amount—and even that takes a huge toll and is hard to control?" Uchiha Cang rubbed his aching temples and looked at the withered leaf he had finally "successfully" blown from his palm. He felt both helpless and faintly enlightened.
This wasn't an ability he could rely on at his current level. But it did exist, and it was closely connected to his Sharingan—or rather, to his "soul."
"Maybe... it needs stronger Dōjutsu Power and mental energy to support it?" he wondered.
This discovery made him yearn even more urgently to evolve his Sharingan.
Ten days later, thanks to the medical ninja's careful treatment and the Uchiha's natural resilience, the wound on Uchiha Cang's chest had finally healed and scabbed over. Vigorous exercise still made it hurt, but he could move freely again.
He eagerly requested permission to return to his own quarters, refusing the suggestion that he continue resting.
He knew the clan wouldn't give him much more time to recover in peace. Tensions with the Senju were escalating, and he needed to regain his strength as soon as possible—if not become even stronger.
He began an intense recovery regimen.
Before dawn, he would get up and carefully limber up, practice refining and controlling his Chakra, and feel his strength gradually returning.
In the morning, he practiced throwing shuriken and kunai. Rather than aiming for power, he focused relentlessly on accuracy and timing while still weak, repeatedly recalling the subtle feeling of infusing his intent into each throw.
In the afternoon, he slowly worked his way back into Taijutsu, careful not to aggravate his old injury. He made sure each movement was precise, reviewing it with the Sharingan's insight and refining his techniques for striking and dodging.
At night, he worked without fail on nourishing his Chakra and tempering his Dōjutsu Power. He no longer tried to "set" anything, instead concentrating all his attention on his eyes, sensing their restless desire to evolve and nourishing them with pure Chakra, as if honing a peerless weapon of destruction.
Izuna came to see him several times. Seeing how hard he was pushing himself, he felt relieved, but also warned him to take care of his health and avoid reopening his old wound. But when he saw the growing resolve in Uchiha Cang's eyes and the increasingly smooth, effortless rotation of his Single Tomoe Sharingan, he finally stopped trying to dissuade him. He simply instructed people to bring more medicine to replenish his strength.
The days passed. Uchiha Cang's body gradually recovered, and his Chakra reserves and control even improved slightly from the training he underwent after his serious injury. The barrier holding back his Sharingan had grown as thin as a cicada's wing; its evolution seemed imminent.
All he lacked was a catalyst, a stimulus to ignite the final spark.
One evening, he had just finished a round of shuriken practice and was sitting by the training ground, wiping away his sweat. The setting sun stretched his shadow long across the ground.
Suddenly, a commotion rose from the entrance to the clan compound, accompanied by muffled sobbing.
Another patrol had returned from outside the compound. But something was wrong.
Uchiha Cang stood up and saw several clan members carrying a stretcher. The person lying on it was completely covered by a white cloth. The other ninja in the patrol were all injured, their faces twisted with grief and their eyes burning with mad hatred.
"...It was the Senju! They ambushed us!" "...It was horrible... The captain died protecting us..." "Those damned white-haired bastards! We'll never forgive them!"
Broken sobs and furious shouts drifted over on the wind.
More and more clan members gathered around. The atmosphere grew heavier and more sorrowful. The pain of losing family and comrades spread like a plague.
Uchiha Cang watched as the stretcher was carried away. He looked at his blood-soaked clansmen, their eyes brimming with tears and their faces etched with hatred.
A familiar, icy shiver crept up his spine once again.
Hatred was taking root. Pain was spreading.
This was the Warring States period: an endless cycle.
And amid the pervasive grief and hatred, he felt his eyes suddenly grow hot! The barrier that had held him back for so long cracked under the strain of this intense emotional resonance!
He clutched at his eyes, his body trembling slightly.
It wasn't his own direct hatred, but the intense negative emotions permeating the entire clan that had become the final catalyst!
When he raised his head again and lowered his hands—
The world in his vision had never been clearer! His dynamic vision had improved by more than a single level! He could even make out the glimmer of tears in the distant clansmen's eyes, and the faintest twitch of their muscles as anger coursed through them!
There was no longer just one tomoe in his eyes.
Two pitch-black tomoe rotated slowly like living things against the scarlet of his eyes, radiating a cold and powerful force.
The Double Tomoe Sharingan had awakened!
Power welled up within him, but with it came a deeper chill and a new clarity.
Standing in the afterglow of the setting sun, surrounded by hatred, he watched everything before him with an unusually calm heart.
He understood: the power of these eyes would always be inextricably linked to the hatred and pain of this world.
And his path had only just begun.
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