They escorted Akane back through the winding corridors, her steps uneven, almost drifting.
She could barely walk at first; the sharp, confident stance she always carried had collapsed into something unsteady and unfamiliar. Kimimaro slipped an arm around her bare shoulders to steady her, guiding her gently forward.
Beneath the longer bangs half-covering her face, she looked strangely flustered, her usual fair color flushed faintly, perhaps from the lingering residue of soul excitation. To him, she was definitely even more enticing than usual.
Her hair had shaken loose during the ordeal, strands flowing in multiple directions, giving her a wild, untamed look, even more that only emphasized what Kimimaro already believed: Akane was beautiful in a bold, defiant way, a kind of charm that carried danger like a scent.
Her outfit, mesh underlayer, short dark dress, fingerless gloves, thigh-high stockings, was its usual mix of traditional Uchiha tones and her own flair.
Practical, sharp, unapologetically confident.
She never hid her strength or her femininity; she wore both openly, like weapons.
As she recovered piece by piece from the illusion, her posture straightened, her breathing slowed, and that familiar haughty glint crept back into her eyes.
The first smirk returned soon after.
"Don't stare at me like that," she muttered, though the corners of her lips betrayed her.
Emi snorted immediately. "You should've seen your face two minutes ago. I thought you were going to melt."
Saya leaned over Akane's shoulder with a grin. "If Kimimaro carried me like that, I'd melt on purpose."
Akane groaned. "You're all insufferable."
But when she looked at Kimimaro, at the way he hadn't let go until she could stand fully on her own, something warm flickered through her expression.
Genuine, unguarded gratitude. The kind she never shared with just anyone.
Soon after reaching her room, she eased down onto her bed, finally steady enough to let the fatigue wash over her.
They exchanged a few more words, a few final reassurances, and then parted temporarily.
Before stepping away, Kimimaro glanced toward the others.
"Reika, Saya — go take care of your tasks. Emi and I are heading to the laboratory, as usual."
The responses were immediate.
Saya clicked her tongue. "Of course you're taking Emi. Figures."
Emi threw her a triumphant grin. "Sorry, Saya, science requires brains."
Reika, usually composed, let a tiny sigh escape — the closest she came to jealousy. "Try not to spend the entire day there. You both forget the time."
Kimimaro raised a brow slightly. "Noted."
Saya waved them off dramatically. "Fine, fine. Go play scientist. I'll be here not blowing anything up."
Reika added, "I'll be reviewing the next fuinjutsu array. Overseeing Saya as well… if possible."
Saya scoffed. "I don't need supervision."
"You do," Reika replied simply.
And with that, they drifted off in their separate directions.
It wasn't as if Kimimaro was already "picking favorites" among them based on who spent the most time at his side, thanks to the planned research.
Their roles had simply fallen into place on their own.
Reika's natural domain outside combat was fuinjutsu.
She excelled at it with a calm, methodical talent and specific innate chakra quality that likely came from her quarter Uzumaki lineage and her ongoing connection to Ashina's teachings.
She lacked Emi's instinctive knack for biology, yang release, human body, and scientific intuition, but it hardly mattered.
Emi was more than enough, almost suspiciously perfect, as if some divine hand had designed the ideal vessel for Kimimaro to launch any biological experiment under the sun.
Her amazing vision, previous independent Yang research, and Hyuga's precision in general, alone made half of their work possible.
And Saya…
Well, Saya was many things.
A scientist was not one of them.
Even when she pretended to try, which was rare, Saya always looked a little too excited, hovering over equipment like she was choosing which part to stab first.
During Kimimaro and Emi's early practice sessions a year and a half ago, she got so impatient she nearly dissected the wrong organism twice, purely out of enthusiasm.
After the third near-catastrophe, they politely suggested she "focus on field work instead," which was the diplomatic way of saying:
Please never come back in here again.
So, having free time or not, the laboratories simply did not suit her.
Her nature thrived in movement, heat, confrontation, not sterile rooms and delicate measurements.
So their routines fell naturally into place.
Reika spent her free hours doing fuinjutsu or testing, refining, and drilling her Ice Release variations.
Saya, on the other hand, mostly oversaw the cult's "discipline," which usually meant beating sense into anyone who annoyed her, or sparring with Kimimaro whenever he had a moment to spare.
Her strength grew through raw experience and the Yin–Yang rituals she had undergone.
She didn't need theoretical breakthroughs. She just needed more ritual 'sacrifices' and fights.
...
Akane, meanwhile, watched them leave from her doorway, still slightly unsteady, but finally herself again, fire restored, pride intact, and something new burning quietly behind her eyes.
She still sat on the edge of her bed a moment longer after they left, her breath and pulse completely steadying.
Then, slowly, she opened her eyes.
The room sharpened instantly.
Her Sharingan didn't just activate — it flared.
The three tomoe spun with a depth she had never felt before, and she knew her eyes the best. It wasn't Mangekyō… not yet.
But it wasn't her old Sharingan either.
It felt stronger. Denser.
Halfway evolved, like a door cracked open from the inside.
Her fingers curled into the sheets.
"So it really worked…" she whispered to herself.
Not complete, but close.
Closer than she had ever been to that legendary state.
The thought sent a tremor through her chest — not fear, but fierce, focused resolve.
'I won't be left behind ever again,' she muttered inwardly.
Her Sharingan sharpened further, catching the dim light.
'Not by Reika. Not by Saya. Not by Emi.'
'Companions or not… I refuse to remain beneath.'
'And not the fate. Definitely not the Konoha. Not beneath those bloodthirsty hypocrites who destroyed the clan...' Her jaw tightened.
Her eyes glowed brighter, a quiet flame of Uchiha vengeful type determination burning where the vague uncertainty once periodically lived during the recent times.
'I'll reach it. No matter what it takes. I'll reach it, and then… You all will slowly answer for what you did then, one by one, in agony...' She closed her eyes again, letting the power settle.