Chapter 86: Foundation Strengthened
Listening to Shisui's report, Uchiha Fugaku's face was lit with a genuine, deep-seated smile. Compared to the potential for Wood Release, this news—the restoration of clear sight—was the true prize. The Uchiha's foundation, their pride and power, was rooted in the Sharingan and its evolutions. The Mangekyō was their ultimate weapon, and its curse of blindness had always been the clan's hidden shackle.
At this stage, an Uchiha openly using Wood Release would be an unmanageable political disaster. Furthermore, Wood Release gained through cellular transplantation could never match the god-like prowess of the First Hokage himself. In Fugaku's calculation, the true, transformative value of Hashirama's cells was not in granting a new power, but in preserving their existing one. They were the key to using the Mangekyō without fear, a foundation upon which the clan's future could be securely built.
"Is there anything else?" Akira pressed, steering the assessment forward. "Can you feel the potential for Wood Release?"
Shisui closed his eyes again, his focus turning inward. After a long moment of silent concentration, he opened them. "The sensation is there… a new kind of vitality, a different texture of chakra. But I don't know the hand seals for Wood Release techniques. It will take time, trial, and error to understand if I can truly manifest it and how."
"There's no rush for that," Akira said calmly. "Master your current state first."
"He's right," Fugaku agreed, his tone firm but satisfied. "Your priority is rest and full recovery. You will remain here at the institute until your body has completely stabilized and you have full control. Only then will you return to active duty."
"I understand, Lord Fugaku," Shisui nodded. As the two men turned to leave, a flicker of concern crossed his face. "Lord Fugaku, Senior Akira… what should I say if the Third Hokage or the Council ask how I recovered? They will certainly inquire."
After his conversation with Akira, Shisui's instinct was to protect the clan from any connection to the external threats of "Madara" and Nagato. The last thing he wanted was to give the village leadership a reason for deeper suspicion.
"You say you don't know the details," Akira answered smoothly, without hesitation. "Refer them to Lord Fugaku. The clan head oversaw your treatment using clan resources."
This had been pre-arranged. The political shield of clan sovereignty and medical privacy was a robust one. Sarutobi Hiruzen might be suspicious, but he would find it difficult to demand answers from the Uchiha head about internal clan healing methods without severe provocation. Fugaku could easily deflect with generalities about experimental medical ninjutsu and the clan's investment in its own shinobi.
Leaving Shisui in the secure ward, Akira and Fugaku moved to a private, sealed laboratory deeper within Shentian Biologics. The purpose was clear and urgent. Fugaku needed the transplant, and he needed it now.
His eyesight had deteriorated sharply since the Nine-Tails battle. In his current state, a prolonged, high-intensity fight risked permanent blindness mid-conflict. With Shisui's successful procedure as proof-of-concept, the risk was now a calculated one.
Akira had no objection. Their logic was sound: if the transplant could pull Shisui back from the very brink of death, it should work flawlessly for someone in a stable, if degraded, condition.
Fugaku lay down on the sterile examination table. Akira produced another injector of the vivid green solution. Without ceremony, he administered the dose.
The effect was instantaneous and violent.
Fugaku's body went rigid. A strangled gasp escaped his lips as his face contorted in agony. Sweat erupted from every pore, beading and streaming down his temples and neck. In seconds, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to him as if he'd been drenched in water. His muscles corded, straining against an invisible torment.
"Aaaagh—!" A raw, guttural roar tore from his throat, his back arching off the table. The pain was evidently far beyond anything he had anticipated.
'So the conscious experience is this intense,' Akira observed clinically, watching closely. 'It was a mercy Shisui was unconscious for his.'
As Fugaku roared, his Sharingan burst to life in his sockets—first the three spinning tomoe, then shifting, swirling, and resolving into the unique, jagged pattern of his Mangekyō. With its activation, a potent, cold wave of Yin-release chakra surged from him, a natural counterforce to the overwhelming, life-giving Yang energy of the Hashirama cells. The two forces clashed within him, then began to seek a turbulent equilibrium.
The agonized roaring subsided into ragged, heaving breaths. Fugaku lay on the table, utterly spent, his face pale but etched with the memory of extreme pain. Fear, a rare emotion for the clan head, lingered in his eyes.
Akira waited patiently, monitoring Fugaku's chakra as it stabilized.
Over ten minutes later, Fugaku slowly, carefully, pushed himself up to a sitting position. His voice was hoarse. "The pain… it was horrific. Like being unmade at a cellular level. I nearly lost my grip on consciousness."
"And the results?" Akira asked.
Fugaku took a moment, turning his senses inward. "As Shisui described. Vitality restored. Chakra reserves and quality enhanced." He paused, a new, sharper understanding dawning on his face. "But there is one effect he hasn't realized yet, or perhaps cannot yet test. Senju Hashirama's cells… they drastically shorten the cooldown period for Mangekyō techniques. The strain is lessened."
Akira simply nodded. He was already aware of this particular benefit from his future knowledge, so he showed no surprise.
Seeing his calm acceptance, Fugaku's expression shifted to one of realization. "Of course. Your Kamui has no such cooldown limitation. For you, this aspect is less critical." He had connected the dots to the wrong conclusion, but Akira didn't correct him. A simple, non-committal smile sufficed.
After Fugaku cleaned up and changed, it was Akira's turn. He lay on the same table, took a steadying breath, and injected himself with the third and final prepared dose.
The tsunami of pain hit instantly. It was a white-hot, all-consuming fire, a sensation of every cell in his body being dissected and reassembled against its will. His face twisted into a grimace identical to Fugaku's.
Instinctively, Akira activated his Sharingan.
The moment the crimson hue filled his vision, a strange, cooling clarity washed over the agony. The searing pain didn't vanish, but it became manageable, pushed back from the brink of madness. The potent Yin-release energy of his own ocular power was interacting with the transplant, mediating the integration far more smoothly than it had for Fugaku.
'It seems I don't need the Mangekyō active to mediate it,' Akira thought, almost analytically, even through the discomfort. 'The base Sharingan's Yin chakra is sufficient. The stronger the inherent Yin nature, the easier the assimilation.' His theory was proven as the pain settled into a severe but tolerable ache, a far cry from Fugaku's near-breaking point.
He rode out the process, focusing on his breathing and the flow of chakra. After half an hour, the last echoes of discomfort faded, replaced by a profound sense of… wholeness. He sat up, feeling a deep, resonant vitality humming within him. Every sense was sharper, every muscle responded with effortless precision. It was a state of peak condition he had never before achieved.
"How do you feel?" Fugaku asked, his own energy visibly restored, his gaze keen.
"Perfect," Akira said, a genuine smile touching his lips. "I've never been better."
The transplant had granted him a moderate increase in chakra—less dramatic than Shisui's, likely because his own reserves were already substantial. The more significant boost was to the potency of his ocular powers; the Kamui felt even more responsive, the spatial boundaries more palpable to his senses. As for Wood Release, it was a latent potential, a bonus tool for a very specific toolbox.
Now, armed with dual Kamui and the stabilized power of Hashirama's cells, he felt a surge of confidence. He could stand against any foe in the current world. Even Nagato, with his Rinnegan and newfound Wood Release, no longer seemed an insurmountable threat.
There was only one complication. His attempts to locate Nagato or the Gedo Statue using the Spiritual Transformation Technique in recent weeks had yielded nothing. Their chakra signatures had vanished from his spiritual perception entirely. This wasn't a recent development; it had begun shortly after Shisui's injury. 'Black Zetsu,' Akira mused silently. 'That ancient relic undoubtedly has methods far beyond Madara's knowledge. Hiding from spiritual senses is well within his capabilities.'
His thoughts were interrupted by Uchiha Fugaku. The clan head's posture was different now—straighter, more authoritative, the shadow of blindness lifted from his gaze.
"Akira," Fugaku began, his voice low and intent. "Our greatest internal weakness has been addressed. The path ahead is clear. It is time we turned our attention to Konoha's leadership. We must begin maneuvering in earnest to convince Sarutobi Hiruzen to step down. The position of Hokage must come to the Uchiha. It is time for you to claim it."
(End of Chapter)
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