Age Sixteen (continued)
The weeks after Uzushio's fall were a blur of recovery and grief.
My body healed faster than my eyes. The Uzumaki vitality that had kept me alive through countless battles now worked overtime to repair my broken bones, my torn muscles, my burned chakra pathways. Within a month, I was physically whole again.
But my eyes were another matter.
The left eye was nearly useless—just a blur of light and shadow. The right eye had retained some vision, but it was like looking through frosted glass. I could see shapes, movement, the general outlines of things. But reading was impossible. Recognizing faces from a distance was impossible.
Tsunade examined me every day, her hands glowing green, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"The damage is extensive," she said. "The Mangekyo's curse is accelerating. Every time you use it, the degeneration worsens."
"How long do I have?"
"At this rate? A few years. Maybe less."
"And if I stop using it?"
"Then you might have a decade. But you won't stop using it. I know you."
She was right. I wouldn't stop. There were people who needed me. A war that needed fighting. A father who needed finding.
"Then we find another way," I said.
"What other way?"
"The Eternal Mangekyo."
Tsunade's hands stilled on my face. "Ren—"
"I know. It requires a close blood relative's eyes. I know. The donor dies. I know." I took a breath. "But my father is already dying. The Mangekyo is consuming him. Even if I don't take his eyes, he won't live much longer."
"That's not a justification."
"It's the truth."
She pulled her hands away. "I won't perform that surgery. I won't kill your father."
"Then I'll find someone who will."
"Who? Orochimaru? He'd love to get his hands on Uchiha eyes. But he wouldn't do it to save you. He'd do it for the research."
"Then I'll do it myself."
"You can't perform eye surgery on yourself!"
"I'll figure it out."
She stared at me, her brown eyes blazing. "You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
She turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
I sat in the silence, staring at the blurry shapes of the room, and wondered if I had just lost her.
---
She came back an hour later.
I was still sitting in the same spot, my hands in my lap, my thoughts spiraling.
"I'm sorry," she said. Her voice was quiet. "I shouldn't have yelled."
"You had every right."
"I'm scared, Ren. I'm scared of losing you. I'm scared of what you're becoming."
"What am I becoming?"
"I don't know. Something I don't recognize." She sat down beside me. "The Ren I met on the dock was a boy who wanted to protect his sister. The Ren I see now is a man who's willing to sacrifice anything—including himself—to win."
"I'm still that boy."
"Are you?"
I turned to face her. My blurry vision couldn't make out her features, but I knew her shape, her warmth, her presence.
"I'm still the same person. I've just... learned that protecting people sometimes means making hard choices."
"Like taking your father's eyes?"
"Like taking my father's eyes."
She was silent for a long time. Then she took my hand.
"I won't perform the surgery," she said. "But I won't stop you from finding someone who will. And I'll be there to make sure you survive it."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. I still think it's a terrible idea."
"It probably is."
"But you're going to do it anyway."
"Yes."
She sighed. "Then let's get to work."