Uchiha Shigure sat cross‑legged, expression calm, as if the entire clan's heated stares rolled off him like summer rain. He gave a little shrug and spoke with an innocence that was anything but genuine.
"Well then, forget what I said earlier. Just prepare… let's say… three hundred million ryō for me. Immediately."
The words struck like a kunai buried to the hilt. Even with the Uchiha's vast influence, three hundred million ryō in three days was an impossible demand.
Uchiha Fugaku, ever the steady voice of the elders, frowned heavily. "Three hundred million… Shigure, that amount is—" He stopped himself mid‑sentence, then sighed. "It seems… we have no other choice."
He thought for a moment, then added with deliberate care, "Perhaps… we can raise the funds slowly. In the meantime, you could develop our people's potential afterward, once the wealth is gathered?" His eyes lit at what he believed to be a clever compromise.
But Shigure was already shaking his head.
"Of course that's possible. But you see, I'll be busy. Tomorrow, I depart for eight or maybe ten S‑rank missions in succession. I won't return to Konoha for five, maybe even eight years. By the time you've scraped the money together… well, I'll already be gone."
"You—!" Fugaku nearly choked on the accusation clinging to his throat. "You're clearly trying to trick us!"
"How could you call it a trick?" Shigure's smile was disarmingly polite, though every word was a blade. "First, my interest rate is far lower than true usury. It's simply a normal loan. Second, you borrow from me now, then pay in installments later—I'm allowing all of you to benefit before spending a single ryō. Third, it's voluntary. If you choose not to unlock your clan's potential, then don't. Just know that once this chance passes, it will never come again."
His argument was airtight, dressed in reason. Yet every Uchiha in the room understood they were walking into a trap with eyes wide open.
Lending institutions hardly existed in the Land of Fire. The Fire Daimyō's bank only issued notes and handled deposits, little more. Loans? Line of credit? That was nonsense to shinobi ears.
Still, the hunger for growth outweighed suspicion. Uchiha Masamune, head elder, clenched his fists. He was no fool, but the clan's treasury simply lacked three hundred million on hand. They had no choice.
"Fine," Masamune said at last. "Bring the agreement."
The parchment was drawn up. Shigure signed first, his handwriting fluid and confident. Masamune scoured the lines for hidden poison, yet found none, and in the end, added his signature.
"What of the second condition?" Shigure asked smoothly, never missing a beat.
Masamune's lips thinned. "We'll do as you ask. Your father's name will be engraved upon the Uchiha memorial stele. His honor will be restored, his place exalted. From this day, he shall be remembered as one of our clan's honorary elders. Is that enough?"
Shigure's expression softened ever so slightly. "It will do."
The elder drew himself tall, voice resonant for all gathered to hear. "So be it. The old grudges end here. From today onward, none of our clan may bring harm or trouble to you, Uchiha Shigure. Should any try, they'll answer before the family laws. Also know this: our Uchiha clan now owes you a great debt. If one day you call, we will return this favor."
The words struck deep. The Uchiha were a proud clan, yet Shigure's mysterious ability to stir hidden talent was undeniable. Already, upon his mere touch, barriers were crumbling—Sharingan evolving from twin tomoe to triple. Bottlenecks years in place shattered within moments. The temptation was too great to resist.
Shigure's eyes glinted, satisfaction radiating in his calm voice. "In that case, this trip was well worth the effort."
With that, he departed with one hundred million ryō in hand and the clan's signed installment contract tucked away, as though carrying nothing more than scraps of paper.
The next few days turned into a whirlwind. One after another, Uchiha streamed through Shigure's doors, eager for his terrifying gift. With every drop of their blood he absorbed, their potential flared into blooming fire. One after another, their Sharingan spun to new heights.
Among them came a boy with wide, eager eyes—Uchiha Obito. Shigure clasped his arm, their blood mingling, potential surging. Both gained from the exchange. Strength spread like wildfire through the clan.
At last, when the final torch had been lit, Shigure slumped back onto his futon, exhaling. "It's finally over…"
He closed his eyes and called into the silence of his mind. "System. System, are you there?"
"Present! Always present, host!" The familiar voice chirped with unnecessary cheer.
"I've drunk deep of the clan's strength," Shigure murmured. "Can you fuse the bloodline powers now? It feels like my body's on the edge."
There was silence. Then, the system gasped. "Testing… oh heavens! How much blood have you consumed, host?!"
Shigure chuckled faintly. "Enough to nearly collapse me these past few days. So? Can it be done?"
"No issue. I can weave it together at once, though your veins are already bursting with power. Delay further, and your body might rupture under its own weight."
"Understood." Shigure's eyes sharpened in thought. "Better done safely. I'll return to Ryūchi Cave."
Swift hand signs blurred. Leaves rustled, space twisted, and in a heartbeat he stood within the cavernous sanctum of the serpents.
The three goddesses—Ryūchi Cave's divine sisters—bowed with unexpected humility. Even the one who had once scorned him stepped forth, offering apology.
Shigure waved away the gesture with casual grace. "The White Snake Sage has already departed, hasn't it? I intend to break through. I'll need protection."
"As you will!" they chorused, absolute loyalty blazing from their serpent eyes.
He inhaled deep, retreating into himself. "System. Begin fusion. I am ready."
The countdown whispered through his mind.
"Three… two… one…"
Darkness swallowed him in an instant. Even his heartbeat stilled as heat ignited in every bone. His body collapsed on the cavern floor, skin glowing with fever. The three divine sisters gasped, thinking madness had consumed him.
But inside his flesh, something else entirely was occurring.
Cells shifted, clashed, roared. Otsutsuki blood—ever the core of his being—pressed outward like a raging ocean. The countless Uchiha cells he'd swallowed twisted and melted, merging and reshaping to match the white‑hot purity of Indra's inheritance. From another corner surged the Hyūga blood, flowing with the calm, terrible strength of Hamura, Kaguya's true line.
Three rivers converged, colliding violently within the hollow of his veins.
Lightning crackled. His muscles seized, sweat pouring in sheets. The Uchiha's fire raged. The Hyūga's calm struck back with indomitable resolve. Together, they pressed against the devouring white tide of the Otsutsuki cells.
For long moments, the balance rattled on the razor's edge of ruin.
And then—eruption.
The Otsutsuki essence, supreme and inexorable, bit down with godlike hunger. The Sharingan's flame was devoured. The Byakugan's clarity swallowed whole. Thread by thread, their uniqueness wrapped itself around his ancient blood, not destroyed, not erased—but reforged into something greater.
The backlash slammed through him with ferocity. Shigure convulsed, lips gasping for air that would not come. Yet his body endured. His Uzumaki vitality knitted seams before they tore apart. His heart beat against annihilation, refusing surrender.
Seconds? Hours? An eternity? He could no longer count the time. Only the ceaseless storm within.
Then… silence.
Sweat cooled against his skin. His burning flesh relaxed to a frigid shiver. He took a single trembling breath—and froze.
Even with eyes closed, he saw. He saw walls, stones, and the three goddesses standing vigil, their serpent auras like blazing flares before his vision.
The world itself opened to him, unblinking.
What had he become?
--
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