The Aragon training field echoed with the sound of fists and focused breath. Fighters clashed, sweat flew, and power radiated with every strike.
Ash was in the center of it all. This time, he didn't avoid the spotlight.
He studied each fighter with unnatural precision footwork, breathing, shoulder rotations. Then, without hesitation, he mimicked every technique flawlessly.
Styles from opposing clans. Rare forms that took years to master. Ash copied them all after a single glance.
"What the hell…?" murmured one of the instructors.
Ash had activated the Sharingan in both eyes, keeping it dim to avoid suspicion. But in the middle of a spar with Iria, as he anticipated her feint, he let the power flicker fully for just a moment.
It was enough.
A wave of dread swept the field. Fighters stepped back. A veteran reached for his sword on instinct.
"…your eyes…" Iria muttered, frozen mid-motion.
Crimson red. Twin eyes. Each with three tomoe, spinning like the wheel of fate.
"What… are those?"
They weren't just strange. They were terrifying.
Ash's eyes radiated something ancient. Rage, sorrow, and darkness compressed into a gaze so heavy that it made warriors trained killers feel the urge to run.
"That's not normal…" one instructor said under his breath.
Some whispered of "soul mutations" rare awakenings of strange abilities among martial artists. But most were useless: odd eye colors, heightened smell, sensitivity to music.
Useful combat mutations were nearly unheard of.
And this? This was beyond any record.
Ash blinked and dismissed it.
"Just the light. Probably a reflection."
But doubt had already taken root.
That night, the training ground murmured the same question:
"What is Ash Aragon hiding?"
"Those weren't human eyes…"