The procedure unfolded like a controlled storm for some time.
Akane's body twitched faintly as Emi's pinpoint strikes rippled across her neural map.
Reika adjusted seals as fast as they shifted, fingers steady even when the sigils pulsed violently at the edges.
Saya maintained the flow of essence with a level of focus unusual even for her, sweat gathering at her brow as the chalice's liquid writhed like living fire.
And Kimimaro, half-present in the physical chamber, half descending through the spiraling folds of Akane's mindscape, felt the strain pulling at the edges of his consciousness.
Inside her mind, the illusion he crafted was already unfolding.
A dreamscape stitched from her deepest memories and fears.
In that illusion, everything she remembered since the day he saved her was rewritten.
Her father had not survived that day.
There had been no rescue, not from Kimimaro, not from any of them.
Their months together, the training, the safety she found here, the growing closeness, all of it was painted as a fragile dream she desperately clung to.
Kimimaro did not use cruelty for cruelty's sake.
He used precision.
Memory manipulation, emotional pathways, and soul stimuli were woven together until the illusion felt like truth.
And for a moment — a terrifying moment — the Mangekyō stirred.
The chakra around Akane's optic nerves surged, a violent crimson spark racing through the pathways behind her eyes.
Kimimaro could see it from inside her mindscape.
Emi saw it physically with her Byakugan.
Even Reika, sensitive to chakra shifts, felt the brief pulse as if the room inhaled sharply.
But then — resistance.
Akane's soul recoiled, not breaking, but refusing to shatter in the way a normal Uchiha's typically would.
The ritual stumbled.
Her brainwaves spiked erratically.
Her seals flared unevenly.
Her soul's resonance, normally steady, convulsed like a storm-tossed sea.
Kimimaro felt the backlash inside her mindscape first, like the whole world was collapsing.
A shudder through the illusion.
A tremor in the artificial dream of her father's death that was developing there so far.
A surge of something wild and instinctive pushing back, as if Akane herself rejected a second intrusion.
Her soul did not want him returning deeper.
Another push could break her — mind or body.
Kimimaro withdrew immediately, ripping his consciousness back with controlled force just as the seals began to destabilize.
Emi snapped two fingers, cutting chakra flow.
Saya froze the ritual essence mid-stream.
Reika slammed her palms onto the ground, activating a stabilizing ring that drowned the chamber in pale blue light.
Silence.
Then a long exhale passed through them all.
They had stopped just in time.
She had not awakened the Mangekyō — not fully.
But something changed.
Kimimaro studied her through half-lidded eyes as he steadied his breathing.
The pathways behind her eyes were different — charged, sensitized, reshaped.
Her soul's flow, once uniform, now had a denser, darker undertone, the kind seen in Uchiha only moments before evolution.
In a standard Uchiha, a single shock of sufficient magnitude was required. But now?
For Akane, even a far lesser emotional event in the real world might be enough to trigger the awakening.
The groundwork was laid.
But a second forced attempt?
Impossible.
Kimimaro knew her mindscape wouldn't accept him again, not soon, perhaps not ever.
It reacted to the intrusion like a closed fist, instinctively protecting itself.
Any further push risked damaging her beyond repair.
He straightened and let the last of the ritual chakra dissolve.
Behind him, Saya muttered, "If she doesn't kill us after waking up, it'll be a miracle."
Emi wiped her brow. "She's definitely going to yell at you first."
Reika stayed silent, gaze fixed on Akane.
Then Akane inhaled sharply — a broken, gasping breath, as if surfacing from drowning.
Her eyes snapped open, wild and unfocused, and she bolted upright on the platform — chest heaving, hands trembling.
Her breathing then came in ragged bursts, her eyes darting wildly as if searching for something that wasn't there.
Her hands trembled against the stone.
Sweat ran down her temple.
For a second, she didn't even seem to recognize the chamber, or them.
Kimimaro moved before anyone else could.
He stepped in, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close in a firm, grounding embrace. Not gentle, not loose, but steady. Solid.
The kind of contact that told the body it was real, that she was here, alive, safe.
Her sleeveless dark one-piece clung in all the right places, the fabric warm and a little damp from all the strain, and the scare she'd just pushed through.
When he drew her in, he could feel how tight her frame had gone, thin breath, trembling muscles, yet she still had that disarming softness pressed to his chest, the kind that made his grip falter for half a heartbeat before he steadied it again.
Akane stiffened at first.
Then her fingers curled weakly into his shirt, as if confirming he wasn't another illusion.
Only then did she finally settle enough to breathe.
Kimimaro's voice was calm, low, each word slow enough for her panicked mind to latch onto.
"You're safe. The ordeal is over. Nothing in your memories just now was real. We manipulated it for the ritual."
Her breath caught, a tiny sound, part shock, part leftover grief from the illusion she still felt lingering in her bones.
He kept holding her as he continued.
"You didn't awaken the Mangekyō yet, but something important changed. The pathways behind your eyes, the resonance in your soul. You are far closer now. A smaller emotional trigger may be enough in reality."
Akane trembled again, swallowing hard. "So… my father… he's still… alive?"
"Yes," Kimimaro said softly. "He's in the upper quarters. Sleeping. Safe."
It was only then that a visible shudder ran through her — not the violent kind, but a slow, releasing one, like tension draining after a blade had been at her throat.
Emi stepped closer, hands on her hips, forcing a bright grin despite looking exhausted.
"You scared us, you know. You almost flung half the seals off the walls. Even my Byakugan started hurting."
Akane blinked, still dazed. "Emi… you struck me at that time?"
"Only in the brain," Emi said cheerfully. "Microscopically. A lot. You're welcome."
Saya leaned in with a wicked little smirk. "I was sure you were going to wake up swinging."
She nodded toward Kimimaro. "But look at you. Hugged like a lost kitten."
Akane flushed scarlet, but she didn't push him away.
Her voice came out thin, shaky. "I… wasn't crying."
"Of course not," Saya said dryly. "These are just your eyes sweating."
Reika stepped forward last, her expression calm, composed.
She placed a cool hand on Akane's shoulder.
"You handled it better than expected. Most Uchiha would have completely broken somewhere in the middle."
Akane swallowed again, staring down at her trembling hands. "It felt so real… all of it…"
"That was the point," Kimimaro murmured. "And you endured. You adapted. You didn't shatter in the end. That alone is proof of strength."
She raised her head at that; eyes clearer now, steadier, searching his face as if confirming the truth behind his words.
"You all did this… for me?"
Kimimaro didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Emi nodded enthusiastically.
"We want you alive and stronger, obviously."
Reika simply added, "You're one of us. That's reason enough."
Akane looked at each of them slowly, then back at Kimimaro — still holding her, still anchoring her.
A breath escaped her, soft and unsteady.
"…Thank you."
Kimimaro finally loosened his hold, just enough to let her sit up on her own, but his hand stayed on her back until she stopped shaking.
"Rest," he said. "We'll discuss the next steps when you've stabilized."
Akane nodded weakly.
Internally, the truth hit her with a quiet, miserable clarity she never voiced aloud.
She did want more power.
Not out of greed, not even out of vengeance alone, but because every day spent here as the weakest among them gnawed at her pride like a slow poison.
She hated the feeling.
Hated knowing she lagged behind.
It wasn't jealousy.
It was a shame.
A quiet, bitter shame whispered that she was falling short.
That she wasn't enough.
That she couldn't stand next to them on equal footing unless something changed.
For some reason, it had always felt natural that Kimimaro was stronger than her.
Even… acceptable.
He was an anomaly, and a force she instinctively acknowledged, even respected.
Her pride could bend around him without breaking, always for some reason.
But the other three girls around him…?
Why were they ahead of her, too?
Why them — when she was a Uchiha?
When she carried a lineage feared for centuries?
And that shame, that ache, was why she hadn't blamed anyone now, despite the situation.