Chapter 88: Childhood Sweetheart vs. Sudden Rival

"I was that badass?" Uchiha Gin said, mouth agape, having polished off his third bag of sunflower seeds while listening to Tajima's tale. He'd learned from Yao that the original host awakened Mangekyo Sharingan, but this buried secret was news.

"Your eyes are restored. It's time to unseal your memories," Tajima said, turning to reveal crimson eyes, their cold, profound power palpable to Gin sitting across.

"Uh… maybe later?" Gin hedged. A sealed memory could mean the original host's consciousness resurfacing, leaving it unclear who'd control the body—him or the native.

"No worries. My Kotoamatsukami is painless, no side effects," Tajima assured, mistaking Gin's hesitation for fear of pain.

Kotoamatsukami, the ultimate no-fuss mind rewrite.

Ignoring Gin's reluctant expression, Tajima's three tomoe fused into a windmill pattern, unleashing a torrent of pupil power.

Caught off guard, Gin's vision blackened, plunging him into darkness.

"Damn it, conditioned reflex from getting ganked seven-on-one. I saw Mangekyo and dropped my guard," Gin muttered, sitting up in the void, kicking himself.

"Where am I?" After self-reproach, he scanned his surroundings. A large door stood nearby.

Drawn by a summoning force, he approached. The door was locked, a worn padlock faintly glowing.

He sensed something calling from beyond but couldn't budge the lock. "Unlocking a seal without a key? Did Uncle forget the steps?"

As the thought crossed his mind, a blood-red moon rose in the dark, adorned with a windmill pattern. Tajima's voice followed. "Sorry, forgot to unlock it."

Tajima's apologetic tone accompanied the moon's spinning windmill. Cracks spread across the lock, and with a crack, it shattered, the sealed door creaking open.

No escaping fate. Gin took a deep breath and stepped through.

A blinding light hit him. He shielded his eyes, lowering his hand as it faded, squinting to see.

"What? A TV?" The space was stark—a single sofa faced away, a television in front, playing footage.

Hesitant, Gin approached.

"You're finally here," a voice said, startling him. He scanned for the source, finding no one.

"Here," the voice repeated. Gin realized it came from the TV. A familiar face on-screen made his heart sink.

It was a younger him.

"Who are you?" Gin asked, steadying himself.

", it's me, buddy. I speak truth," the young Gin on-screen said, smiling.

Gin's jaw dropped. How did the original know his past-life name?

"Don't BS me. I'm no gullible idiot!"

"Sigh, loved too dumb, too naive…" The young Gin's face flashed with nostalgia, humming a tune.

Ally, don't shoot! Gin nearly sang along. "To mistake your loneliness for a kindred soul… Ah!!!" Doubts vanished. The TV figure was him.

The song, obscure, was his playlist's top pick.

"Enough stalling. Merge and see how I flexed back then. Haha, your goofy look cracks me up!" the young Gin said.

Gin rolled his eyes. "You didn't leave debts, right?" He didn't want memory recovery to come with bills.

"Uh… maybe… owe… Koharu… a…" The screen flickered, the young Gin's voice garbling, but "Koharu" stuck in Gin's mind.

Beep. The TV clicked, the young Gin vanishing. The screen shifted to a house's exterior, a familiar family of three appearing. Gin's transmigrated life played out like a movie.

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"Remember now?" Tajima asked, seeing a glint in Gin's dazed eyes.

"Yeah, thanks, Uncle," Gin said. Days of "TV" in the dark took minutes in reality. Digesting his true memories, he felt like he'd tasted a steaming pile of regret. How was I so dumb? My antics were insane, forcing a tragic ending. Pure idiocy.

Looking at the weary Tajima, Gin's emotions churned. Tajima, the true mastermind. His respect for his uncle soared.

"You've endured much, facing clan scorn and suspicion," Tajima said, bowing deeply to his nephew, heavy with years of guilt.

"Uncle, no more of that. It was my choice," Gin said, lifting Tajima. "I'm doing fine—healthy, eating well. We look forward, not back, right?"

"Every hardship I took was for…" Gin launched into his signature philosophical spiel, revitalizing the somber Tajima. Invigorated, Tajima slapped Gin's shoulder, eyes blazing.

"Gin, no more slumming in the dungeon with files. Back home, mentor Madara and Izuna's ideals. Make them progressive Uchiha like you!"

Gin waved it off, insisting he could shine at the grassroots. Teaching his cousins was duty enough—no need for a promotion.

A raise, though? He'd take it.

Midnight, Gin tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Koharu's image—a radiant glance, a smile—haunted him, stirring unrest. Scumbag, abandoning that sweet girl.

Cursing his past self's irresponsibility, he grappled with the looming issue: facing Koharu, soon unsealed. He'd delayed her rescue. A groveling apology was due.

His thoughts tangled, chaos mounting.

Thud, thud, thud. Urgent footsteps outside snapped him alert. Peeking from his tent, he saw Tajima's frantic silhouette vanish under the moonlight.

"What's Uncle rushing off for?" Before Gin could investigate, his sharp ears caught distant crackling.

Grinning, he flopped back, muttering, "That's what you get for underestimating my spicy base."

Moments later, Tajima rose from a hidden spot, wincing at the fiery sting, hobbling back on numb legs.

Below where he'd squatted, a rigid shadow clenched its fists. "Uchiha Tajima, you're dead!"

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