I'M NARUTO UZUMAKI

The Taste of Sharingan

"My brother has been acting strange lately, like he's become a different person."

"In the past, whenever I asked for something, you would say no but always made time for me the next day. Now, you just say 'next time' and never keep your promise."

"I originally wanted to find Brother Shisui to ask him about it, but he seems to have disappeared."

"People in the clan say that Brother Shisui died during a mission, but I can tell they're hiding something from me. No one will tell me the truth…"

---

In class, Sasuke sat quietly, lost in thought. His expression was troubled as he muttered to himself.

Next to him, Naruto raised an eyebrow. Was this really the cold, distant Sasuke he knew?

Naruto's gaze lingered for a moment, but as soon as Sasuke noticed, his usual aloof demeanor returned. He straightened up and refocused on Iruka's lesson, as if nothing had happened. No matter what, he saw Naruto as a rival—he wouldn't let himself appear weak in front of him.

Sakura, sitting beside them, also sensed something unusual about Sasuke. She hesitated, then reached out to ask him what was wrong—only to be met with a sharp, icy glare.

Her hand froze midair before she withdrew it, her face slightly aggrieved. She didn't understand why Sasuke treated Naruto differently from her.

On the podium, Iruka observed the scene with quiet relief. Lately, Naruto had been behaving more normally.

He no longer caused trouble for his classmates and had even started making friends. There were no incidents, no disruptions—nothing like the mischievous troublemaker he used to be.

Perhaps it was because the focus of the village had shifted. The Uchiha Police Force had become a hot topic lately. Instead of whispering about the Nine-Tails, the villagers were more concerned with the increasingly aggressive conduct of the Uchiha officers. It was something that directly impacted their daily lives.

But neither Iruka, Sasuke, nor anyone else in the classroom realized that the Naruto sitting among them was merely a shadow clone.

---

Forest of Death

Deep within the Forest of Death—a restricted zone teeming with dangerous creatures—Naruto moved swiftly.

For ordinary villagers, the beasts here were deadly. Even for Genin, they posed a serious threat. But to Naruto, who already had the strength of a Jonin, this place was a sanctuary.

No Anbu surveillance. No prying eyes. Just the untamed wilderness. He didn't even need to fight most of the time. A mere display of his strength kept the beasts at bay, and those foolish enough to challenge him became his prey.

Returning to his hidden base with freshly hunted meat, Naruto prepared a meal, stirring a simple stew over a small fire. As he ate, he occasionally passed food through the bars of a cage—feeding the blindfolded prisoner inside.

Shisui Uchiha.

His eyes were gone. His chakra was suppressed. His only means of perceiving the world were touch, hearing, and smell.

Judging by the damp air, he deduced they were underground, still somewhere in the Land of Fire. His captor, based on the scent of the food alone, was skilled in cooking—an unusual trait for a shinobi.

Beyond that, information was scarce.

Whoever had captured him was undoubtedly a Jonin. Someone with both Hyūga and Uchiha techniques—a contradiction in itself. The Hyūga and Uchiha had never been allies, let alone exchanged jutsu. Could this person be from the Anbu? Or worse—Danzo's Root?

If so, Itachi would know.

But if Root had a shinobi of this caliber, they wouldn't have needed to manipulate him in the first place. Danzo would have simply taken his eyes himself. That meant… this person was an unknown variable.

Regardless, it didn't change his predicament.

Even if he discovered his captor's identity, there was only one course of action available to him: suicide.

At first, he had considered it. But as the days passed, that impulse faded.

Killing himself wouldn't change anything. The clan's resentment toward the village had been festering for decades. The idea of a coup was already ingrained in every Uchiha. His death wouldn't stop it.

If he wanted to change things, he had to survive. But escape? Without his eyes and with his chakra flow blocked, how could he possibly evade a Jonin-level guard—let alone whoever might be outside?

Shisui exhaled slowly, deep in thought.

He hadn't realized it until now, but without his Sharingan, his mind was clearer. Thoughts flowed more freely, uninhibited by the weight of his own doujutsu.

---

After finishing his meal, Naruto stretched, rubbing his full stomach before walking toward Shisui's cage. He stood there for a long moment, simply watching.

Then, he finally spoke.

"You've given up on suicide. Now you're thinking about escape, aren't you? That's the legendary Body Flicker Shisui for you."

Shisui's bandaged head turned slightly toward the voice. His expression remained unreadable.

"Who are you?" he asked, his tone calm. "Are you one of Captain Fugaku's hidden Jonin? Or a subordinate of the Third Hokage?"

Naruto smirked. "Neither."

"Then what are you?"

"A nobody," Naruto replied, crossing his arms. "Someone no one cares about. If I died tomorrow, no one would even notice."

Shisui frowned slightly. "A 'nobody' wouldn't have the strength to capture me."

"You're right," Naruto admitted, a grin playing at his lips. "But what's more interesting is how you're adjusting. Losing your Sharingan… don't you feel like you see the world a little clearer now?"

Shisui remained silent.

Naruto's words weren't entirely wrong. Without his Sharingan, certain things had become… different. He had spent the past few days reevaluating everything.

But that didn't mean he trusted his captor.

This person wanted Kotoamatsukami—that much was obvious. But what else?

---

Surgery

Naruto left Shisui's cell and entered another room. Inside, a simple stone bed and a workbench cluttered with surgical tools awaited him.

Summoning a shadow clone, he lay back, exhaling slowly.

This was the moment he had prepared for.

He had spent countless hours studying medical ninjutsu, knowing that one day he would need to transplant the Sharingan—and eventually, the Rinnegan. He understood the risks. But he also understood the rewards.

The procedure went smoothly.

Half an hour later, he sat up. His original blue eyes were gone. In their place—Shisui's Sharingan.

The moment he activated them, his vision sharpened. The world slowed—not because time had changed, but because his perception had evolved.

He turned toward the mirror, gazing at his reflection.

The Sharingan he now possessed resembled Kakashi's in one crucial way—it wouldn't close. It remained active, constantly draining his chakra. Even a seasoned Jonin would be exhausted in minutes.

But that wasn't what stunned him.

As he attempted to use Kotoamatsukami, an unexpected sensation flooded his mind.

Something was… wrong.

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