Naruto: Mixed Heritage(Rewrite)

Renjiro's living room was quiet except for the faint creaks of the wooden floor beneath him. The dim light of the lantern cast flickering shadows on the walls, its soft glow lending an almost ethereal aura to the scene before him.

He was staring intently at the jar resting on the table before him. The blue liquid within shimmered faintly, catching the light from a nearby lantern. Suspended in the liquid was a Sharingan— the one he had stored a month ago and a reminder of the power he craved and the lengths he was willing to go to achieve it.

The thought of awakening the Mangekyou Sharingan filled him with a palpable excitement that he couldn't entirely suppress.

"Tap-tap-tap"

He drummed his fingers lightly on the table, the rhythmic sound blending with the faint creaks of his house settling around him.

The Sharingan was more than just a weapon; it was a symbol of the Uchiha's legacy, a birthright that carried both prestige and a curse. To evolve it into the Mangekyou Sharingan, however, came at an unspeakable cost: the loss of a loved one, particularly a parent or sibling.

Renjiro smirked bitterly. "Lucky me," he muttered, his voice echoing faintly in the quiet room.

"I don't have anyone close enough to get their eyes."

Still, the allure of the Mangekyou was undeniable. In a world as cruel and unforgiving as theirs, any edge could mean the difference between life and death. Renjiro's mind raced as he contemplated the next steps. He walked over to another table, placing the jar down gently before taking a seat. The chair creaked under his weight as he leaned back.

"Do I need to get Miwa's eyes?" he wondered aloud, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty.

Miwa was his only living relative since his grandparents had long died during the two shinobi wars. He wasn't even sure if she had awakened her Mangekyou Sharingan, and if she hadn't, her eyes would be useless for his purposes. Renjiro sighed heavily, running a hand through his red hair.

"Even if she had..." He trailed off, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "There's no way I'm killing her for this. So I need to find other ways."

His mind churned with possibilities. "But do I really need the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan?" he asked himself, leaning forward and resting his chin on his clasped hands.

No, Renjiro was not in denial. The Eternal Mangekyou was an upgrade that not only amplified the power of the Mangekyou but also removed its debilitating side effects, like the progressive blindness that came with overuse. Yet, Renjiro wasn't ready to go down the traditional path to achieve it. Partly because he couldn't.

"For the improvement in power," he murmured, "I can just use my Mangekyou with the eight gates."

Renjiro's Sharingan already evolved when he opened the Eight Gates. The fourth tomoe that appeared in his eyes whenever he accessed this power greatly enhanced his genjutsu and perception. He reasoned that if his base Sharingan became stronger with the gates, his Mangekyou might follow suit.

Slapping his thigh, he exclaimed, "That reminds me! I need to work on opening more gates." He clenched his fists, the veins on his arms standing out.

"If I can open up to the fifth or even the sixth gate before my next mission, I'll be near unstoppable."

Taijutsu training, especially mastering the Eight Gates, had taken a backseat recently, and Renjiro realized he needed to refocus. The Gates was a guaranteed path to increasing his combat prowess in the short term, something he couldn't afford to ignore.

"As for the blindness…" Renjiro smirked, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "I'll just keep storing extra eyes. If one pair gets ruined, I'll replace them. Infinite Mangekyou."

The idea brought a wicked grin to his face, but a sliver of doubt crept in. "Wait," he muttered, frowning.

"Will the regenerated eyes still have the Mangekyou? Or will they revert to the base Sharingan?"

There was a possibility that his regeneration could not handle regenerating Mangekyous as it does with his base Sharingan.

He tapped his fingers against the table, deep in thought. "Well, that's not an issue right now. If I can force my Mangekyou to awaken by combining two pairs of Sharingan, it might work like the Eternal Mangekyou process."

The sound of his chair scraping against the floor filled the room as Renjiro stood and walked to the kitchen for a glass of water. As he filled the glass, he muttered,

"If that doesn't work, I'll just have to think of another way to awaken it. Maybe I could use fuinjutsu to create a loop of negative memories, enough to extract the emotions needed for the evolution. A forced Evolution"

He chugged the water down in one go, his throat bobbing with each gulp, and slammed the glass down on the counter.

"And if all else fails," he said, shaking his head, "I'll keep the extra Sharingan for Izanagi and Izanami."

The thought of mastering those forbidden techniques brought a sense of satisfaction. Daichi had recently increased Renjiro's access to the Uchiha clan's private library due to his 'services', and it was only a matter of time before he learned them.

"But why am I getting ahead of myself?" Renjiro muttered, smirking. "I don't even have a Mangekyou yet."

Rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt, he strode purposefully back to a nearby sink. He placed his left hand on the table to steady himself and held out his right hand, focusing his chakra.

A faint blue glow enveloped his hand, crackling softly like distant thunder.

Taking a deep breath, Renjiro activated his Sharingan, its three tomoe spinning lazily in his eye. Without hesitation, he plunged his glowing hand toward his face.

"Schlick!"

The sound of flesh being torn echoed in the room, followed by a sharp, guttural groan of pain as Renjiro wrenched his right eye from its socket.

Blood spilt freely, warm and viscous, running down his cheek and onto his shirt. His vision blurred, and his knees buckled slightly, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to collapse.

"Drip."

"Drip."

The crimson drops fell onto the wooden floor, staining it with splatters of blood. Renjiro held his eye carefully in his glowing hand, his breathing ragged as he forced himself to move. He used the Chakra on his hand to sterilize it.

He opened the jar, the faint scent of preservative fluid wafting out, and carefully dropped the freshly extracted Sharingan into the liquid. It sank slowly, joining its counterpart in an eerie, almost ceremonial moment.

Grabbing a roll of bandages from a nearby drawer, Renjiro pressed them firmly against his empty socket. The bleeding slowed as his body's regenerative abilities kicked in, though the pain was still sharp and unrelenting. He wrapped the bandages tightly, securing them in place, before turning his attention to the bloody mess he'd left behind.

Renjiro cleaned methodically, scrubbing the blood-stained sink and floor with a wet cloth. The repetitive motion allowed him a moment to centre himself, the sharp sting of his wound a constant reminder of what he had done.

Once the room was spotless, he sat down in front of the jar, his single remaining eye fixed on its contents. The two Sharingan floated side by side, their crimson hues glowing faintly in the blue liquid.

Excitement and fear churned within him, a volatile mix that left his stomach in knots. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward until his face was inches from the jar.

"This is it," he whispered. "I'm one step closer. I just need to wait for my to heal and then I can begin."

But as the minutes passed and his thoughts settled, a new realization dawned on him.

"I might have made a mistake," he muttered bitterly, slumping back in his chair.

The truth hit him like a ton of bricks.

"How exactly am I going to combine these two pairs of Sharingan?"

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