At first, there was only heat. A black fire that didn’t burn the flesh but seared the soul. Sasuke’s vision swam in strobes of violet and crimson as three tomoe-shaped markings bloomed across his shoulder, spreading like cracks in a dying sun. The Cursed Seal of Heaven was not a jutsu. It was a second self —a hungry shadow that had been waiting inside him all along.
The transformation was not heroic. It was wrong . Skin grayed to ash. Hair darkened to ink. From his back, membranous wings of pure chakra tore through his shirt—not to fly, but to loom . He moved like a puppet whose strings had been cut, yet faster than any living thing. Against the sound ninja, he didn’t fight. He unmade . Each strike was precise, cruel, and utterly without hesitation.
He would open the door himself.
And that was the true curse. Not the power. Not the pain. The joy of becoming the monster his brother had always seen in him. The seal smiled with his mouth, and for the first time since the massacre, Sasuke didn’t feel alone. He felt complete .
