Mikoto's Complete Submission, Sharingan Bloodline Reward

Wind poured into the canyon, sending white blossoms fluttering down from the trees.

Mikoto pressed her forehead against Nawaki's chest, her shoulders trembling silently. Nawaki could feel the fingers clutching his lapel tightening, like a drowning person grasping their last piece of driftwood.

He did not rush her.

Nor did he offer any pointless comfort.

What she needed was not airy words like "It's okay" or "Don't be afraid." She needed a definite answer.

Mikoto spoke first.

Her voice was muffled against his chest, coming out in broken fragments. "I... started training my Sharingan when I was six."

Nawaki did not move.

"The clan elders said my talent was the best of Mikoto's generation. That was why they betrothed me to Fugaku." She sniffled. "It wasn't about whether we liked each other. It was because if two geniuses came together, the next generation's Sharingan would be stronger."

"Breeding."

Mikoto's shoulders stiffened.

"The clan elders definitely put it more elegantly than that, but that was what they meant." Nawaki's tone was as even as if he were commenting on the weather.

Mikoto did not argue.

Because he was right.

"I thought it would be fine if I just accepted it." Her voice grew softer. "Marry Fugaku, have children, complete my duty. Isn't that how shinobi live? You do whatever the clan arranges."

"Then he told you to die."

Mikoto said nothing.

Nawaki lowered his head and looked at the swirl of hair atop hers.

"Mikoto, let me ask you something."

"...Mm."

"Are you living for the Uchiha Clan?"

Three seconds of silence passed.

"Not anymore." Mikoto raised her head. Her eyes were reddened, but the Three-Tomoe Sharingan had vanished from her pupils, leaving only pure black beneath. "Starting today, no."

Nawaki looked into her eyes.

They were clear now.

Before, in the classroom, on the streets, on the march, there had always been something in her gaze. It was not wariness, but something deeper—resignation. The kind of resignation no twelve-year-old girl should have had.

Now, that layer had shattered.

In his mind, the system panel lit up.

[Ding! Interception successful!]

[Uchiha Mikoto bond value has exceeded 100—Together through life and death!]

[Mission reward distribution in progress: Pure Uchiha Blood Fragment ×1, Three-Tomoe Sharingan Pupil Power Adaptation Module ×1.]

[Notice: The pupil power module will merge into the host's Sage Body. It will not manifest as Sharingan eyes, but will greatly enhance mental power, dynamic perception, and resistance to genjutsu. Fuse immediately?]

Nawaki silently thought, Fuse.

The next instant, a cool force surged in through his brow and spread throughout his body along his chakra pathways. It was not the fiery swelling sensation of a sudden surge in chakra. Rather—it was like someone had fitted his eyes with a new pair of lenses.

Everything in the canyon suddenly became different.

The veins on the leaves, the cracks in the cliff walls, the angle at which flower petals spun through the wind, the frequency of Mikoto's fluttering eyelashes—all of it broke down into streams of clear information flowing into his mind.

His vision did not change color, and no tomoe appeared. Yet he could "see" the world more clearly than before.

The system added another notification.

[Bloodline fusion reaction detected: A trace amount of "Yin Release" attribute has been injected into the host's Wood Release chakra. Hardness of Wood Release constructs increased by 23%, with an added mental suppression effect.]

Nawaki flexed his fingers.

Mental suppression.

That meant that from now on, if he trapped someone with Wood Release, they would not only be unable to break free—the mental energy within the Wood Release would also interfere with their nerves, making them weaker the more they struggled.

Good stuff.

He closed the panel and crouched down.

"Let me see the wound."

The gash on Mikoto's left leg was still bleeding, and the bandage had already been soaked through. Nawaki untied it and pressed his palm against the edge of the wound. Chakra from his Sage Body seeped from his palm and slowly flowed in.

The edges of the wound began to close at a visible rate.

It was not medical ninjutsu—Nawaki did not know that. But the life force of the Sage Body was enough to stimulate cell regeneration. Crude, but effective.

Mikoto lowered her head and watched his hand. His palm was hot, and where it touched her wound, she felt a strange tingling as the pain faded.

"You can heal wounds too?"

"Not really healing. More like stimulating them. Same principle as my Wood Release—making cells grow faster." Nawaki did not look up. "But I can only handle external injuries. For anything involving internal organs, we'll need my sister."

Mikoto was quiet for a few seconds.

"Nawaki."

"Mm."

"Why did you save me?"

Nawaki's hand paused.

"Was there a system mission telling you to save me?"

Nawaki looked up at her.

This girl was smarter than he had thought. Or rather, Uchiha Clan members were naturally sensitive to being used—because they had spent their entire lives being used.

"There was a mission." Nawaki did not lie. "But when I fought through thirty people to reach you, I wasn't thinking about the mission."

Mikoto stared at him.

Her Sharingan was not active. Yet those black eyes seemed even better at seeing through people than the Sharingan.

"What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking—seeing this woman hold a kunai to her own heart really pissed me off."

Mikoto pressed her lips together.

Nawaki stood. The wound had closed seventy percent of the way, and he would let the rest heal on its own. He reached out, grasped Mikoto's wrist, and pulled her up from the ground.

"Once we get back, the engagement will be dissolved immediately."

"I know."

"From now on, you'll follow me. Not as some clan matriarch or lady, all that empty nonsense." Nawaki's voice was not loud, but every word struck with force. "The Senju Clan is going to form its own assassination unit. You'll lead it."

Mikoto froze.

"I don't want some pretty ornament hiding at home and having children. I want a blade." Nawaki released her wrist. "Are you willing to be that blade?"

Mikoto was silent for two seconds.

Then she took a step back, raised her right hand before her chest, and lowered her head slightly.

This was the Uchiha Clan's oath of loyalty to a direct superior. But the one she saluted was no longer any member of the Uchiha Clan.

"My life and my eyes are both yours."

Nawaki nodded. "Keep your life safe. I'll need it. And don't go giving your eyes away either. You're better off keeping them to cut people down."

The corner of Mikoto's mouth curved upward.

It was only a slight curve. But it was the first time Nawaki had seen her smile.

Not the polite smile she maintained in front of others, not the perfunctory one she gave Fugaku. She had truly—smiled.

"Come on." Nawaki turned toward the mummified corpse of the bearded jōnin. "Clean up the battlefield. Those Hidden Stone bastards must have something on them."

Mikoto followed him.

Nawaki searched three corpses and found nothing of value. Hidden Stone shinobi removed all identifying marks before carrying out missions. It was standard procedure.

The fourth corpse.

A chūnin whose chest had been pierced by tree roots. Nawaki pulled the root out, opened the shinobi vest, and undid the hidden clasp on the lining. His fingers found a hard shell.

A hidden compartment.

Nawaki tore it open. Inside was a wax-sealed bamboo tube.

He twisted off the lid and poured out a thin scroll of paper.

The paper was small and tightly rolled, written with special waterproof ink. Nawaki unfolded it and scanned it line by line under the moonlight.

Mikoto stood behind him, her dynamic vision catching the writing on the page.

Her expression changed.

The contents were brief, but every word sent a chill down the spine.

At the bottom of the secret letter was a seal Nawaki knew all too well—the coded stamp of Konoha's Root.

There were only three lines.

"Test subject numbers have been prepared. Live-cell collection requires the remains of the original bloodline holder. Deliver the target corpse intact without delay. Do not damage the head or spine. First Hokage cell cultivation data will be transferred within three days after delivery."

Target.

Corpse.

First Hokage cells.

Nawaki turned the letter over. There was another line of small writing on the back in different handwriting, apparently a receipt from Hidden Stone.

"Third batch of experimental data received. Bloodline Limit fusion progress: 27%. Project proceeds will be settled once the physical materials arrive."

Mikoto's breath caught.

"Danzō is using the First Hokage's cells for human experiments... and even selling the experimental data to Hidden Stone?"

Nawaki did not answer. He stared at those three lines for five seconds.

Then he smiled.

Mikoto took half a step back when she saw that smile. Not out of fear—it was instinctive. The expression was completely different from the one he had worn while gently treating her wound.

"Nawaki?"

"Mikoto." Nawaki folded the secret letter and carefully tucked it into his clothes, his movements as gentle as if he were handling a priceless treasure.

"Do you know what this piece of paper means?"

Mikoto shook her head.

Nawaki raised his head. Moonlight poured down through the canyon's fissures, illuminating his face.

"Why did the Senju Clan decline? Why am I the only one left? Why did the clan's shinobi die one after another in 'accidents' during missions—"

He patted his chest, where the secret letter rested.

"The answer is all here."

Footsteps sounded from the canyon entrance.

Fugaku's voice drifted over from afar, his tone suppressing anger. "Nawaki! The mission isn't over yet! Get back here and assemble!"

Nawaki tucked the secret letter deeper into his clothes and turned toward the canyon entrance.

After taking two steps, he tossed out a sentence without looking back.

"Mikoto, when we get back to the village, arrange a meeting for me."

"With whom?"

"Konoha's White Fang, Sakumo Hatake."