The Night of the Clan Massacre (4)—Mother's Smile

Mother leaned against the corner of the wall.

Her posture did not look like that of someone injured. She looked more like she was tired and had sat down to rest. Her legs were together and slightly bent, one hand resting on her knee, the other hanging at her side. Her skirt was soaked through with blood, and the dark fabric no longer showed its original color.

Behind her was a shattered vase. Fragments of white porcelain littered the floor, while spilled water traced irregular shapes across the boards. Petals—white morning glories—had fallen onto her shoulders, into her hair, and beside her knees.

Those were the flowers Shuo Ye had given her.

Yesterday. Yesterday morning, before he went to the training grounds, he had picked them from the courtyard wall. Mom had laughed at him and said, "You picked my flowers. What am I supposed to look at tomorrow?" He had said, "I'll pick fresh ones tomorrow."

Tomorrow had come.

Uchiha Shizuka's eyes were open. Something was turning within her pupils—slowly, stiffly, like a broken clock.

The Sharingan.

She had awakened the Sharingan before she died.

One tomoe. A solitary one. It had only just awakened and was slowly fading. She was looking at Shuo Ye. She saw him. She had never used the Sharingan to look at him—she had said that mothers did not need this to look at their children. Yet her eyes were turning now. That single tomoe was turning.

She wanted to use it. She did not know what for. She had no chakra left. The wound in her abdomen was deep. She had only used the last of her strength to lean herself against the wall.

She had used her last chakra to activate the Sharingan.

Shuo Ye knelt before her, too afraid even to touch her. Her face was far too pale. Her lips had turned blue. Blood flowed from the wound in her abdomen, over the fingers resting on her knee.

"Don't cry."

Her voice was soft. So soft it was like a leaf landing on water. Yet every word was clear.

"Shuo Ye... don't cry."

Shuo Ye opened his mouth. His face was wet. He wanted to say, I'm not crying. But the tears would not stop.

"Since when... did you start shedding so many tears...?"

The corners of her lips lifted. It was not a smile—she was truly smiling. It was faint, and even her brows did not move. Only the corners of her lips rose, just a little.

That was the kind of person she was. Ever since Shuo Ye could remember, she had always been like this. Nothing major could make her panic. Nothing minor could escape her notice. She watched over this home, watched over Shuo Ye, watched over Takuma. Quietly. She never said an unnecessary word. Yet everyone remembered every word she did say.

"Come here."

She beckoned with the hand resting on her knee. Her fingers were covered in blood.

Shuo Ye moved closer.

Her fingers touched Shuo Ye's face. They were cold. Blood smeared across his cheek. She gently wiped away his tears, but she could not wipe them clean—her hands were bloody, and so was his face.

"Let's not wipe them anymore."

She smiled faintly. There was a helpless tenderness in her voice. She lowered her head and pressed her forehead to Shuo Ye's. Very lightly. She had little strength left now.

"You are Mother's pride."

She said it twice.

"You are Mother's pride."

"No matter what you become in the future—"

Her voice began to tremble. Not from emotion—she simply had no strength left. But she kept speaking.

"No matter whether others call you an Uchiha, a genius, or a monster—"

Her eyes were still looking at him. The Sharingan was fading. That lone tomoe was nearly invisible now.

"You are you."

"You are Mother's child."

"That is enough."

Shuo Ye was trembling all over. From the soles of his feet to the top of his head, every muscle spasmed. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to bear this in her place. He wanted to return to yesterday morning. To any day. To that morning when he had picked the flowers.

"Mom—"

"Don't cry."

The third time she said it, her voice was so soft that only breath remained. Her forehead was still pressed to Shuo Ye's. Her hand slid from his face and fell onto his shoulder.

"Don't cry... Shuo Ye..."

Then she stopped speaking.

Her eyes were still open. She was still looking at him. But the light inside them was gone. Just like Father's. Like a candle snuffed out by the wind.

The curve of her lips remained.

She was smiling.

Shuo Ye knelt there.

Then the world shattered.

It was not a metaphor—his eyes shattered first.

Pain. A pain unlike anything he had ever felt, deep within his eyeballs. More than pain—it was a tearing sensation. Something cracked inside his eye sockets. Warm liquid—blood—flowed from the corners of his eyes. Not tears. The color was wrong. Too heavy.

Then he saw.

Not with his eyes. With some deeper sense. He saw his own chakra rampaging through his meridians like boiling lava. He saw his own brain—some region had been activated. A special chakra. Yin Release. Yin Release at its utmost limit. It surged from the depths of his brain and poured into his eyes.

The Sharingan had gone out of control.

His eyeballs were turning. The tomoe were turning. Not under his control—the eyes were changing on their own. In his mother's pupils, he saw himself—both eyes blood-red—two tomoe—three—still increasing—still spinning—three tomoe connecting in a line—and then—

Then they changed.

They were no longer evenly spaced black dots.

The three tomoe spread outward—lengthening, curving, merging. In his left eye, they transformed into three crescent-shaped arcs, folding inward along the edge of his pupil. It looked like a clock face closing shut. Its hands had stopped at some irreversible moment.

Time Retrace.

His right eye changed at the same time. The three tomoe did not merge—they twisted into the shape of flames. Black flames. Burning across his blood-red iris. At the center of his pupil was an even deeper black. It was not a pattern—that thing was moving. Slowly turning in the depths of his eye.

Void Flame.

He did not know when he had sensed those names. They had simply appeared in the depths of his mind. Naturally. These eyes had been his from birth. From the moment they awakened, the ability of each eye had been etched into his bones.

Left eye. Time. Three seconds.

Right eye. Flame. Chakra flame.

He knelt on the ground, covered in blood. Blood streamed from his eyes, while Father's blood and Mother's blood stained his body. He was only seven years old. He had gained the rarest eyes in the world. Throughout the history of the Uchiha Clan, those who had awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan could be counted on two hands.

He could not feel any power.

He only felt empty.

He simply remained kneeling there. Mother's hand was still resting on his shoulder. Petals still lay in her hair. The corners of her lips were still curved. She was still smiling.

Shuo Ye lowered his head.

His forehead pressed against the floor.

He did not scream. He did not cry. He knocked his head against the floor and remained motionless. The back of his head was exposed beneath the ceiling light. Small. The back of a seven-year-old child's head.

At the end of the corridor, the wind chime rang once more.