Naruto Immersive Replay, The Curse of the Sharingan

A sharp pain came.

Looking down, I saw that the sharp edge of the kunai had already cut through my tightly clenched palm, and bright red blood was seeping from between my fingers, condensing into beads, and then silently dripping onto the light-colored floor, spreading into a small, glaring blood flower.

Is accepting the Hokage's suggestion the only option?

Just as you were staring at the bloodstains on your palm, your gaze growing increasingly deep and cold, clear and light footsteps came from the corridor outside and stopped at the door.

"Nagi, are you back?" It was Sakura's voice, filled with a cautious probing and an undisguised anticipation.

You almost instantly hid your bleeding hand inside your wide sleeve, your movements swift and without hesitation.

He got up and calmly opened the door with his other hand.

"You're back." Your voice was as calm as ever, without any discernible emotion.

Sakura Haruno's eyes immediately lit up outside the door, as if they were filled with starlight.

She held up her hand as if presenting a treasure, with a hair tie lying in her palm. Its color was an extremely pure and bright vermilion red, which looked like a small burning flame in the afterglow of the setting sun.

"This is a hair tie I bought for you. Do you like it?" Sakura's cheeks flushed slightly, with a hint of shyness and anticipation.

She felt that this vibrant color might dispel some of the overly somber aura you exuded.

Your gaze fell on that vermilion red hair tie.

The color is striking, almost dazzling, and you don't have a particular preference for it; you might even feel that the color doesn't suit your personality.

But without any hesitation, you nodded gently, "I like it."

Those two simple words instantly made Sakura's smile bloom like a flower, her joy almost overflowing.

"Great! Shall I do your hair?" she suggested excitedly, as if she had received some great permission.

Sakura naively thought you really liked this hair tie.

What she didn't know was that whatever she gave away, even a stone, would be considered a gift from Haruno Sakura.

Your answer will always be these two words—"I like it."

It's not just politeness or courtesy, but stems from possession and response; it's a unique recognition of this 'warmth'.

With permission granted, Sakura happily stepped into the room.

Almost immediately, her small nose twitched slightly, and a hint of suspicion flashed across her face.

"Hmm? Nagi, are you feeling unwell? I think I smell something..." Sakura paused, then said uncertainly, "...the smell of blood?"

Your heart sank slightly as you realized that the smell of the blood that had just dripped down had not completely dissipated.

His reaction was astonishingly fast; his expression remained unchanged as he simply walked naturally to the window and quickly pushed it open.

A cool evening breeze rushed in, stirring the curtains and quickly carrying away the faint smell of rust from the room.

"No." You turned around, your dark eyes looking at Sakura without any flicker.

The smell of blood quickly dissipated, as if it had just been an illusion.

Sakura looked at your still expressionless face and wondered if she had smelled something wrong, or perhaps... you had some secret you didn't want to tell her.

Although she was somewhat disappointed by your concealment, she considerately didn't ask any more questions. She was already used to your deep thoughts.

"Maybe I smelled it wrong." Sakura shook her head, smiled again, and focused her attention back on her original purpose.

“Sit in front of the dressing table, and I promise I’ll do a beautiful haircut for you!” Her eyes sparkled, filled with eager excitement.

You didn't spoil her mood and did as she asked, sitting down in front of the dressing table.

The cold mirror clearly reflected her image. Her loose black hair, like ink splashed over her shoulders, made her skin appear even paler. And the face hidden beneath her hair was one of inhuman indifference and emptiness.

This formed a stark contrast to the pink-haired, green-eyed, and passionate girl behind him.

Sakura stands behind you, picks up a comb, and gently combs your silky black hair.

My fingertips occasionally brush against your cold nape, bringing a faint warmth.

The atmosphere in front of the dressing table suddenly became somewhat strange—quiet, yet not entirely peaceful.

You look through the mirror at Sakura's focused and gentle expression, and at how carefully she treats her hair.

You suddenly spoke, breaking the silence, "Why?"

Sakura paused slightly as she combed her hair, meeting your unfathomable black eyes in the mirror. For a moment, she didn't react, "Huh? What? Why?"

"Why... are you helping me tie my hair?" you ask.

You are indeed curious; this seemingly trivial and selfless act of intimacy is somewhat difficult for you to understand.

Sakura blushed slightly, lowered her head, and continued what she was doing, her voice soft, "I think... Nagi is clearly very pretty, but it's such a pity that most of her face is always covered by her hair."

She paused, lowered her voice even further, and said with a hint of embarrassed honesty, "And sometimes the way you wear your hair down looks a little... um... scary."

"Scary?" You tilt your head slightly, an angle that makes the reflection of your dark eyes in the mirror appear even more profound.

Sakura, as if afraid you'd be angry, quickly explained in a low voice, "It's... kind of like a... very beautiful but very powerful... female ghost from a horror movie..." Her voice grew softer and softer until it was almost a murmur.

"..." You fell completely silent.

You turn back and look at yourself in the mirror again. A female ghost?

I never imagined that you would be seen this way in Sakura's mind. It's not disgust, it's not fear, but a strange feeling that's mixed with amazement and a little bit of unease.

This evaluation didn't make you feel uncomfortable; instead, it gave you a strange, poignant feeling. Sakura unintentionally revealed a certain essence that she herself hadn't even realized.

Seeing that you weren't speaking, Sakura assumed you didn't like the metaphor and hurriedly tried to explain, "Ah! That's not what I meant! I meant it's really beautiful! Very unique! Very impressive!"

Looking through the mirror at the girl behind you, whose face was flushed with anxiety, you smiled with a hint of pleasure.

Without saying anything more, you simply sat up straight again, tacitly allowing the girl behind you to continue her actions in your hair.

Sakura breathed a sigh of relief, picked up the vermilion hair tie, carefully gathered your loose black hair, and began to focus on tying it up.

She didn't see the cold yet burning possessiveness that gradually filled the dark eyes in the mirror that were staring at her.

Sakura's nimble fingers finally secured the vermilion hair tie in your hair, completing a neat high ponytail.

Without the bangs covering your face, your features are fully revealed, with clear and sharp lines, and the distance between your eyebrows and eyes is just right.

However, those overly calm and eerie black eyes and naturally pursed thin lips did not add any gentleness; instead, they amplified his innate ruthlessness and arrogance to the extreme.

The change in hairstyle did not diminish his gloomy aura in the slightest; instead, it resembled a long sword drawn from its sheath, sending chills down one's spine.

Sakura took two steps back, examining the artwork closely. Finally, she sighed helplessly and muttered to herself, "Why...it still looks a bit fierce..."

It seems that no matter how you dress up, you can't hide the aloofness and coldness in your bones.

Just then, you suddenly stood up from the dressing table and turned to Sakura.

The movements weren't fast, but they carried a suddenly concentrated aura, as if a sleeping beast had quietly opened its eyes.

Sakura could clearly feel that the oppressive feeling that belonged to you reappeared, permeating the air between the two of them as if it were a tangible thing.

In the past, Sakura might have instinctively taken a step back, intimidated by this fierce aura.

But now, she doesn't.

A strange, deep-seated certainty kept her firmly in place; she was absolutely convinced that you would never hurt her.

This trust came without reason, yet it is unbreakable.

“Sakura,” you look directly at Sakura, your dark eyes seeming to absorb her soul, “I have something to tell you.”

"Wh...what is it?" Sakura was puzzled by the sudden seriousness and a sense of unease rose in her heart.

Your voice was calm and even: "I will join the Dark Side."

Sakura's emerald green eyes widened instantly, her pupils contracting sharply in shock.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, as if an invisible hand was choking her.

Join the Dark Side? That legendary Dark Side, where they carry out the most dangerous missions, walk the line between life and death, and are ultimately reduced to weapons?

After a long silence, she seemed to finally find her voice, retorting sharply and urgently, "No! No! Absolutely not! The Anbu is too dangerous! I'll die there!"

She rushed forward excitedly, forgetting all propriety, and grabbed both of your wrists tightly, as if that would keep you firmly by her side.

"And didn't we agree to go to the Ninja Academy together next year? You went to the Anbu, what am I supposed to do?"

Sakura's voice was choked with sobs, filled with the panic and incomprehension of being abandoned.

Just as she excitedly lowered her head, her gaze suddenly fixed on your two wrists. Through the slightly slipped cuffs, she clearly saw a fresh, slowly bleeding wound in the center of your right palm.

The shape of the wound didn't resemble that of a fight, nor did it look like an accidental cut. The edges were neat, and the depth was uniform, making it seem more like intentional... self-harm.

Chapter 258·Anbu

Sakura suddenly looked up at you in disbelief, her voice trembling, "You...! Your hand!"

Under her shocked and heartbroken gaze, your expression remained unchanged. You simply raised your hand and unbuttoned the collar of the cloak you always wore, in a self-destructive manner.

The collar was slightly open.

Sakura's breath caught in her throat.

On your slender, delicate neck, a cold, black metal shackle clung tightly to your skin.

It was engraved with complex and obscure runes, exuding an extremely uncomfortable aura of confinement and oppression, and one could even faintly sense a faint fluctuation of chakra.

“Sakura,” you tilted your head, revealing the section of your neck bound by shackles, your tone revealing little emotion, yet strangely mixed with a cold despair and barely perceptible pain, “I had no other choice.”

Your gaze is cast out the window, yet it seems you're not looking anywhere at all.

"They all see me as...a taboo." The last two words were spoken very softly, yet they felt like the heaviest shackles, slamming into Sakura's heart.

"No! You're not!" Sakura almost screamed as tears welled up and blurred her vision.

She suddenly reached out, not to touch the terrible shackles, but to forcefully cover your lips, as if this could silence the negative words and block all the malicious labels imposed on you.

"I don't care what others think of you! I don't care what they say!" Sakura's tears rolled down her cheeks, landing right on your slightly open collar.

“In my heart, you are just Nagi! Just Nagi!” she choked up, but her voice was unusually firm.

Feverish tears dripped onto the equally slightly hot curse mark, as if some frozen mechanism had been activated by the scalding liquid.

Sakura's pure and passionate tears, and her relentless protection, were like a ray of light, briefly piercing through the thick fog and gloom surrounding you, giving you a moment of clarity from that self-imposed exile and obsession.

Looking at the pink-haired girl crying uncontrollably in front of him, his usually vibrant green eyes were now filled with tears, brimming with genuine worry and heartache for him.

You slowly raised your uninjured hand, your cool fingertips gently wiping away the tears on Sakura's face. The movement was clumsy, yet it carried an unprecedented tenderness.

“...I thought,” your voice had a hint of indescribable hoarseness, “that you would be afraid of me.”

Looking at the dampness on your fingertips, you whispered, "Thank you, Sakura."

Just then, Sakura felt a few drops of cold liquid fall onto her cheek.

She looked up in surprise, her eyes filled with tears. As if devoid of normal human emotions, a few tears silently slid down her calm, dark eyes.

Tears are cold and devoid of body temperature, yet they carry a weight that can scorch the soul.

There were no cries, no sobs, only a silent flow, like a crack suddenly appearing on an ice field, revealing the unfathomable pain and loneliness beneath.

This moment was far more shocking and heartbreaking than any intense emotional outburst.

Sakura felt that these tears were like a silent curse, deeply imprinted on her soul, unforgettable for life.

"Nagi..." Sakura couldn't hold back any longer, and suddenly opened her arms and hugged you tightly, "I will always be with you! Forever!"

She spoke as if making a vow, her voice choked with sobs, yet carrying an undeniable resolve.

Sakura's words quickly replaced the fleeting clarity that had just appeared in your eyes with a deeper, more distorted, morbid light.

Forever? What a touching promise.

Then let's tie ourselves together completely.

You suddenly reach out, your cold fingers gripping Sakura's neck. The force isn't enough to truly harm her, but it carries an irresistible sense of control.

Sakura was caught off guard, her breath hitched slightly, and a hint of surprise flashed in her green eyes, but she did not struggle or resist.

She just looked at you like that, her eyes still filled with tears and...unwavering trust.

Then, you lowered your head, opened your lips, and bit down on the side of Sakura's slender neck.

"Ugh!" Sakura groaned in pain, her body tensing instantly. The sharp pain of her teeth piercing her delicate skin was clear, accompanied by an intimate feeling mixed with fear and trembling.

You tasted a faint metallic taste of blood on your tongue.