209. Concoct Scheme

Uchiha Haru, nearing eighty years old, wore a faint look of surprise on his aged face. His drooping eyelids partially covered his eyes, revealing only faint red glimmers that exuded an unspoken authority and seriousness.

“I’m not donating mine, but I believe we both have the same goal—our cousin’s Mangekyo Sharingan, right?”

Uchiha Gin shook his head, indicating he had no intention of donating his eyes for now. After all, Uchiha Madara didn’t want the transplant himself, and no one could force him.

“Gin, Madara’s vision has deteriorated to the point where he can barely see objects a few meters away.”

Hearing Gin’s response, Uchiha Tajima let out a sigh of relief before adjusting his glasses and speaking slowly.

“So, you’ve decided to give your eyes to Madara?”

Pulling out a chair and sitting down, Uchiha Gin looked at his uncle with a deep sense of helplessness in his eyes.

“Yes. Even if unconventional methods are required, I will transplant my Mangekyo Sharingan to him.”

At fifty-four years old, Uchiha Tajima felt he had little use left for the clan. Years ago, he had handed over all administrative responsibilities to Madara and his younger brother, choosing instead to live a quiet, retired life.

However, seeing his brilliant son on the verge of blindness, Tajima resolved to do whatever it took to give Madara his vision back—even if it meant sacrificing his own eyes.

“Elder Haru, do you think it’s possible?”

Faced with his determined uncle, Gin didn’t bother arguing further. Instead, he turned to the scientist Uchiha Miao beside him.

“I can’t guarantee success. After all, there’s only been one successful case of fusion in the past.”

Uchiha Haru shook his head, acknowledging the scarcity of data and the uncertainty surrounding the replication of prior success. As he mentioned the previous case, his gaze lingered on Uchiha Gin.

After all, Gin was the subject of the experiment that had resulted in the birth of the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan.

“It will succeed!”

Unlike Haru's hesitation, Tajima seemed brimming with confidence, piquing Gin’s curiosity. Without delay, he asked bluntly,

“Uncle, why are you so certain?”

Within the Uchiha clan’s records, only one person had ever obtained the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan: Hikari, who had received eyes from someone without any blood relation. What made Tajima so sure his own eyes could help Madara achieve the same?

“Well, since we’re family, I won’t hide it anymore.”

Under his nephew’s persistent questioning, Tajima hesitated for a moment before lifting his head and speaking.

“Our Uchiha clan possesses a stone tablet passed down for thousands of years. Its inscriptions can only be deciphered with the Sharingan. A standard three-tomoe Sharingan can only read the title, but my Mangekyo Sharingan has revealed more, including the method to awaken the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan.”

Gin froze upon hearing this, a sense of unease creeping over him as if a shadowy figure lurked nearby, eyeing him intently.

Great, I almost forgot about that cursed stone tablet. According to the timeline, it’s already been tampered with by Black Zetsu. Whatever my uncle saw is likely what Black Zetsu wants him to see.

“It seems someone else is more anxious than we are.”

Gin quickly pieced everything together. Among those eager for Madara to awaken the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan, Black Zetsu was the most desperate.

While Asura’s reincarnation had gathered all the necessary conditions, Indra’s reincarnation had hit a snag. Without Madara’s Eternal Mangekyo, the stone tablet’s deeper secrets couldn’t be revealed, and the Rinnegan’s awakening remained out of reach.

“The tablet records that the light of the Mangekyo Sharingan will gradually fade until blindness unless it absorbs the light from another pair of glowing eyes. The closer the blood relation, the higher the success rate.”

Seeing Gin deep in thought, Tajima rattled off the information he had gleaned from the tablet.

“Indeed. Scientifically speaking, closer blood relations result in lower organ rejection rates.”

Haru nodded in agreement. As a man of science, he believed that advancements in technology might one day allow Mangekyo Sharingan to function with artificial eyes.

“Alright, so what’s your plan, Uncle? Even if Madara is on the verge of blindness, you won’t be able to approach him, will you?”

Gin wasn’t underestimating Tajima, but at over fifty years old, his trembling hands and feet weren’t exactly combat-ready. Even blind, Madara could activate Susano’o and defeat Tajima without breaking a sweat.

“That’s why I plan to transplant my eyes while Madara undergoes his routine check-up with Elder Haru.”

So, this was the reason Tajima sought out Haru.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Gin immediately shook his head, rejecting the plan.

“Why not?”

“Uncle, do you not understand Madara’s personality? Unless he consents, even if you secretly transplant your Mangekyo Sharingan, he’d likely pluck them out on the spot and hand them back to you.”

The Uchiha clan was naturally stubborn—a one-track mind disguised as cunning but fundamentally straightforward.

“Still, isn’t it worth a try? What if it works?” Tajima sighed, unwilling to give up.



Uchiha Tajima let out a sigh, his dull eyes filled with helplessness. He knew his son’s temperament all too well, but in this extraordinary time, for the sake of the clan’s future, he was willing to take a risk.

“Stop it. Don’t try it. The moment you do, our cousin will yank those eyes out and toss them back at you in no time.”

Uchiha Gin raised his hand to cut off Tajima’s words. Raising an eyebrow, he spoke with a peculiar expression,

“Actually, it’s not that difficult... it’s just—”

“Stop beating around the bush! Spit it out already!”

Seeing the teasing look on Gin’s face, Tajima’s temper flared, and he scolded him loudly. This is your uncle you’re teasing—what kind of nephew does this at a time like this?!

“Uncle, do you still remember what my previous profession was?”

“A lazy bum?”

“Tsk! Not my current one. Think carefully. What did I do before this?”

“A water carrier for widows?”

“No!”

“Then I’m out of ideas.”

“A director! You forgot?”

“Oh?”

Gin’s reminder jogged Tajima’s memory. His nephew had once directed a textbook-worthy masterpiece that successfully helped Tajima’s two sons awaken their Mangekyo Sharingan.

“You’ve got another script?”

Tajima’s eyes lit up as he quickly asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Of course!”

Gin squinted confidently and flashed an “OK” sign, indicating that he had everything under control.

“Then tell me quickly!”

Tajima, now fully intrigued, demanded spoilers on the spot. Even Uchiha Haru, who had been silently listening, leaned in to catch what Gin had in mind.

“Ahem. This time, the plot is simple: Uncle, you head to the battlefield for a stroll. I’ll play the role of that white-haired Senju guy and stab you in the kidney. You pretend to be on the brink of death, and with your dying wish, you entrust your Mangekyo Sharingan to our cousin, telling him to lead the Uchiha clan to victory!”

Without holding back, Gin laid out the basic outline of his plan. Though simple, it was practical.

“I think it works. The plot is quick-paced, realistic, smooth, and not overly dramatic. Most importantly, it doesn’t rely on acting skills.”

Before Tajima could react, Uchiha Haru chimed in, nodding as he shared his thoughts.

“Well, uh… I guess it’s good.”

Having nothing else to add, Tajima awkwardly agreed, though he soon frowned and asked,

“But after I fake my death, how do I come back to life? I haven’t learned the Yin Seal, you know!”

“No need. Just go through with it and die for real.”

Gin shook his head, his blunt words sending chills down the spines of the two elders. They looked at him with a mix of alarm and suspicion.

“W-what? Don’t look at me like that! I have my reasons,” Gin quickly defended himself, waving his hands.

“Say it. I won’t beat you to death.”

Tajima rolled up his sleeves, clearly ready to teach his rebellious nephew a lesson.

“Ahem. Uncle, surely you’ve noticed the current situation, right?”

Gin scratched his messy curls and spoke slowly, addressing the doubtful Tajima.

“Senju Hashirama’s determination to unify the Fire Country and the ninja world is clear as day. Aside from the Uchiha, all other opposing clans have either been destroyed or submitted. It’s only a matter of time before our cousin also concedes, right?”

Tajima’s face visibly stiffened at Gin’s analysis. He knew the complicated history between Madara and Hashirama. The only reason the two clans had fought for so many years was because his son wanted to surpass his rival. But reality was harsh. Madara’s performance in battle had been less than stellar. If things continued, his resolve might crumble, forcing peace between the two clans.

“Impossible! Once Madara transplants my Mangekyo and gains the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan, he’ll surely win!”

Unwilling to admit his son’s inferiority, Tajima stubbornly argued.

“Ha! Haven’t you already been knocked on the head by Hashirama’s wood golems?”

Gin rolled his eyes, unceremoniously exposing Tajima’s embarrassing losses.

“If we can’t win, what’s the point of faking my death?!”

Tajima, now visibly flustered, retorted with a reddened face, his confidence waning.

“Uncle, the reason I insist on your faked death ties into another plan of mine.”

Gin’s teasing demeanor suddenly turned serious. His dull eyes carried an unusual intensity as he addressed his uncle.

“Uncle, I have a path at sea. If this succeeds, the benefits you’ll receive are beyond anything you’ve ever dreamed of. I hope you’ll seize this opportunity.”