Life had settled into a quiet, repetitive rhythm.
Before she knew it, Hikari's main body had been in seclusion for a full month. There had been a stretch where exhaustion forced her to rest for several days, cutting down her shadow clones by nearly half. Even so, the accumulated time spent in research still amounted to over two years.
Of course, shadow clones weren't time chambers. The "two years" was just a mathematical calculation—the actual training efficiency was likely halved. But that still meant a solid year of work.
The fact that Reverse Eight Gates still wasn't complete after all this time meant a new obstacle had emerged.
The yang-shell constructed from ocular power could already filter out the impurities in external life force. The remaining issue? Efficiency.
If the filter was too strong, it blocked most of the life force, leaving only a trickle. If it was too weak, impurities slipped through, risking the main body's safety.
Hikari's ideal version of Reverse Eight Gates was a perfect balance—filtering only the impurities while letting pure life force flow freely. But achieving that required time and experimentation.
Most human experiments in jutsu development weren't conducted from the start—they were saved for the final stages, as a safety check.
Which meant…
The creatures of the Forest of Death had suffered greatly. Hikari had been extracting life force from one animal, filtering it, and transferring it to another, trying to refine the perfect structure.
And now, she was one step away.
Maybe today. Maybe tomorrow. Reverse Eight Gates would finally be complete.
Hearing the good news from her main body, the yang-release clone finally relaxed a little.
She knew impatience wouldn't help, but after so long without progress, anxiety had been inevitable.
Lately, she'd been stomping through Root's halls with a murderous aura, scaring the doctors and nurses into silence. Rumors of her "Corpse-Cutting Maniac" exploits at Thunder Drum Mountain had spread, and one unlucky soul who dared say it to her face had been dismembered into five pieces before being stitched back together with medical ninjutsu.
Strangely enough, the stress relief had been immense.
The downside?
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor. Masked Root agents froze, bowing their heads until she passed.
Hikari, Samehada resting on her shoulder, sighed as she reached the experimental division.
Ever since that doctor had been "rearranged," everyone treated her like a walking massacre. Even the guards had picked up the habit.
"I'm not a psychopath!"
Not that she could explain—no one dared spread rumors where she could hear them.
CREAK—
She pushed open the door.
A gust of cold air soothed her irritation—until she spotted Danzō, Muta, and Chihaya Tōru standing in the center of the room.
The entire division was eerily quiet. Doctors and nurses huddled in their workstations, while Root operatives stood guard at regular intervals.
What's going on?
Did Danzō come to demand results on the Sharingan evolution?
Her main body was in a critical phase. She hadn't even touched the Kotoamatsukami research, let alone the Sharingan project.
Danzō and Chihaya Tōru were deep in discussion, but Muta sensed her chakra and gave a slight nod.
She returned it.
She still didn't know why Muta had turned against Danzō, but an enemy's enemy was a friend. Sooner or later, she'd clash with Danzō—having allies would help.
She was about to slip past them to the basement when—
"Wait, Hikari."
Chihaya Tōru's eyes lit up. "Lord Danzō needs to speak with you."
Suppressing a groan, Hikari turned. "The Sharingan evolution research hasn't yielded results yet. More time is needed."
"Not about that."
Chihaya subtly winked behind Danzō's back.
As the only one who understood what Hikari was actually doing, he knew she hadn't touched the Sharingan project.
And why hadn't he ratted her out?
Because neither had he.
The "Sharingan evolution" was just a cover for their real research—Chihaya was trying to fuse Hashirama's cells with the Sharingan to halt cellular decay.
Danzō's dream of a Mangekyō army?
A pipe dream.
But neither of them would say that.
"Then what is it?"
Danzō's lone eye gleamed with rare approval.
Talent. Brilliance. Ruthlessness. And relentless effort.
According to Muta's reports, Hikari had been obsessively researching the Sharingan evolution—skipping sleep, skipping meals, even sleeping in the lab.
At first, he'd been skeptical.
So he'd cross-checked with Chihaya Tōru and Tsubaki—both medical experts.
Their answers?
Different, but consistent.
Muta praised her dedication and noted her chakra growth.
Chihaya spouted technical jargon and asked for more test subjects.
Tsubaki confirmed she was working through the night.
That sealed it.
Three trusted veterans, all confirming the same thing—Hikari was fully committed to his cause.
"What's the matter?"
Hikari eyed Danzō's unusually bright emotional aura. Was there good news she didn't know about?
Danzō, in high spirits, ignored her blunt tone.
"Yesterday, the Sharingan on Orochimaru's arm were all evolved to three tomoe. The suppression effect on Hashirama's cells is stable. The transplant can proceed."
Hikari blinked.
A month for ten eyes?
Normally, evolving a two-tomoe to three took two to three hours. Even accounting for all ten, three days should've been enough.
She glanced at Chihaya, who subtly blinked—as if dust had gotten in his eye.
"Don't say anything. I didn't mention you."
Hikari suppressed a smirk.
Danzō, oblivious, continued.
"I've decided to proceed with the transplant. You will be the lead surgeon."
"Me?!"
Chihaya stepped in.
"Your surgical skills surpass mine. Your chakra control is unmatched. For a procedure this delicate, you're the best choice."
Hikari studied Danzō's expression—thinly veiled trust, buried under layers of suspicion.
Letting her operate on him was a test.
A show of faith—or a trap.
Refuse, and she'd reveal her disloyalty.
Accept, and she'd have his life in her hands—with every Root agent ready to kill her if she slipped.
"...Fine."
Danzō smiled. "No need to be nervous. Chihaya says your medical skills rival Tsunade's. Just do your best."
Translation: "Screw up, and you're dead."
Typical Danzō.
The surgical team arrived, doors swinging open.
Three green-gowned nurses stepped out—one flinching when she saw Hikari.
It was the same nurse who'd mistaken her for a test subject months ago.
Life's first major surgery: limb reattachment.
Memorable.
Danzō ignored them, striding into the operating room without hesitation.
After years of experiments, countless resources spent—he could finally grasp that power.
The doors sealed behind them.
BEEP.
The "SURGERY IN PROGRESS" light flickered on.
Outside, guards stood ready. Inside, shadows stretched across the walls—two pairs of spinning tomoe monitoring every chakra fluctuation.
Muta stood by, holding Danzō's cane, watching as the old man's bandages were unwrapped—revealing charred, withered flesh.
Scars from an ambush long ago.
"Cut here."
Hikari marked the incision line. Chihaya handed her the scalpel.
They were about to begin when—
"Wait."
Danzō sat up.
"Administer anesthesia first."
Chihaya frowned. "Anesthesia affects the results."
"Administer it."
Hikari and Chihaya exchanged a glance.
Even the darkest schemers feared pain.
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