The council meeting had ended, the strategies set, the deceptions planted. But within Indra, a cold fire raged. It wasn't the hot, impulsive anger of his youth. This was a deeper, more dangerous thing—a plutonic fury at the sheer violation. Danzo's cockroach-like persistence. Obito's spectral arrogance, reaching into his very home, over his mother's defiant form. The knowledge that no matter how high he built the walls, the shadows would always try to slither in.
He didn't go to his lab. He went to the deepest, most fortified training ground in Kumo, a cavern carved into the mountain's heart, lined with seismic dampeners and barrier seals. In the centre stood his personal stress test: a single, flawless block of synthesised Adamantium, three stories tall. It was the same material he used for Rias's spear tip, denser than any earth, resistant to all but the most esoteric forces. It was meant to be unbreakable.
Indra stood before it, breathing slow and deep. His Sharingan wasn't active. He wouldn't give his anger that power. Not yet. This was purely physical. A need to feel impact, to translate the intangible fury into kinetic force.
Indra Uzumaki Uchiha POV –
The first punch was a thunderclap. My knuckles met the impossible metal, and the shockwave reverberated up my arm, rattling my bones. The block didn't move. A microscopic, hairline fracture was the only testament to the force.
Indra: Again.
Another punch. Same spot. The sound was a deeper boom. The air pressure in the cavern spiked. My muscles screamed, my Uzumaki-Fanalis hybrid physiology straining.
I saw Obito's masked face. His reaching hand. My mother's eyes, wide but unyielding.
PUNCH.
The Adamantium groaned. A web of cracks spread from the epicentre. My hand was a pulsing ache of shattered and regenerating bone; the healing factor pushed to its limit.
The diplomatic calculations, the strategic deceptions, the careful architecture of peace through overwhelming defence—it all felt like a fragile glass sphere in this moment. And the shadows kept throwing stones.
PUNCH.
A chunk the size of a boulder sheared off the front of the monolith and shot across the cavern, embedding itself in the reinforced wall with a deafening CRUNCH. My arm was a mess of torn ligament and muscle, knitting itself back together in a sickening, itchy rush.
Why couldn't they just stay away? Why did the legacy of a madman and a bitter ghost have to pollute my present? I built a haven. I offered safety, prosperity. And they saw only a prize to steal or a threat to erase.
PUNCH.
Half the block was gone now, sheared and scattered in jagged shards across the floor. My breathing was ragged, my body a tapestry of pain and regeneration. The fury wasn't subsiding. It was condensing, becoming a cold, dense singularity in my gut. It wasn't about them anymore. It was about the fundamental injustice of a world that rewarded predation. I would rewrite that world. I would make predation obsolete.
I pulled my fist back one final time. Chakra, not lightning or fire, but pure, unadulterated physical energy—a concentration of the Absolute Potential gift—coiled in my shoulder, down my arm, into my fist. My skin glowed with a faint, white-hot light.
Indra: ENOUGH.
The punch wasn't loud. It was a sound of cessation.
My fist connected. There was no shockwave. No deafening boom. The remaining Adamantium block, one and a half stories of the universe's most resilient material, simply… disintegrated. It didn't shatter into pieces. It vaporised into a fine, greyish mist that hung in the air for a moment before settling like metaphysical ash.
I stood there, fist extended, in a cavern now coated in dust. The silence was absolute. My anger, having been given a physical form and then utterly annihilated, finally bled away, leaving behind a hollow, trembling exhaustion.
A slow clap echoed from the cavern entrance.
Killer Bee: Yo, that's one way to handle a bad mood, little bro. But the cleanup's gonna be a drag, ya fool!
I turned. Bee was there, leaning against the doorframe. But he wasn't alone. Yugito stood beside him, her arms crossed, a knowing look in her calm eyes. Behind them, peering in, were Samui, Karui, Omoi, and Darui. And at the back, my mother, Delia, and Rias, their faces etched with concern, not fear.
The sight of them, this patchwork family I'd built and been adopted into, was a bucket of cold water on the last embers of my rage.
Indra: I… needed to clear my head.
Darui: (Deadpan) You cleared the entire budget for our metallurgy division, is what you did. That block cost more than my annual salary. Cool, though.
Samui: The Raikage felt the vibrations four levels up. He assumed it was another of your "contained experiments."
Omoi: (Munching on a rice cracker, looking at the dust) Do you think… the dust is edible? I mean, it was super-food-enhanced metal, right? Probably full of minerals… maybe not.
Karui: Omoi, shut up! Are you okay, Indra? Really?
My mother walked forward, stepping through the dust. She didn't say a word. She just took my bruised, bloody, and rapidly healing hand in hers, inspecting it with a medic's eye, then squeezed it.
Delia: The block can be replaced. You can't. Don't let them turn you into a weapon pointed at yourself. That's what they want.
Rias moved to my other side, her shoulder pressing against mine, a solid, silent support.
Yugito spoke, her voice softer than usual. Matatabi's faint, twin-tailed chakra presence seemed to brush against my senses, not with hostility, but with an ancient understanding of being hunted.
Yugito: The anger… It's fuel. But it burns hot and fast. The ones in the shadows want you to burn yourself out. To make decisions while the fire is high. Don't give them that.
Killer Bee: She's right, ya know? The rage rhythm is a solo track, but the symphony of success needs the whole crew! You got the beats, but we're your backing vocals, my dude! Don't go all screechy solo act!
A low, rumbling voice echoed not in the air, but directly in my mind. It was coarse, wise, and deeply amused.
Gyūki: Brat. Nice punch. Finally showing some octopus-worthy grit! But even the strongest tentacle gets tired if it's the only one fighting. You've got a whole weird, loud, colourful school swimming with you now. So stop trying to be the whole ocean.
The combined weight of their presence—the blunt friendship, the quiet understanding, the fierce loyalty, the familial love—did what destroying Adamantium could not. It soothed the last jagged edges inside. I wasn't alone in this. I wasn't a lone prince defending a castle. I was a cornerstone of a community that would defend its own.
Indra: (Letting out a long, shuddering breath) Thank you. All of you. I'm… I'm alright now.
Darui: Good. Because if you're done redecorating, we've got work to do. And I'm not sweeping this up.
A small, genuine laugh escaped me. The tension shattered.
The Inner World – Training Expanse
Later, cantered and calm, I stood in the heart of my Inner World. Here, the landscape was a blank slate of white, featureless ground under a starless, twilight sky. Time and space were my clay to mould. It was the only place safe enough to explore what my Eternal Mangekyō had truly unlocked.
I had felt the intuitions the moment my eyes stabilised. Two distinct, overwhelming authorities, housed separately yet intertwined. I activated my Sharingan. The intricate, geometric Mangekyō pattern glowed with a soft, inner light.
I focused first on the right eye. The power here was about location, separation, and dimension. I raised my hand, pointing at a distant point in the white void.
Indra: Palkia.
Space itself rippled. Not a tear like Kamui, but a gentle, fundamental bending. The point I indicated folded, bringing a distant mountain range I'd imagined into existence moments before to be right in front of me. I reversed the thought. The mountain was now kilometres away. I focused harder. With a grinding, silent shear, a cube of space, ten meters across, simply excised itself from reality around a phantom target, leaving a perfect, pitch-black void that quickly stitched itself back together. This was not just teleportation or portals. This was the authority to define what space was and where things existed within it. The ultimate defensive and logistical tool. Nothing could touch me unless I allowed space to permit it.
Next, the left eye. This power was about duration, sequence, and entropy. I looked at a simple, stone dais I'd created.
Indra: Dialga.
Time became a visible river around the dais. I reached in with my will and pulled upstream. The dais unravelled. It didn't crumble; it reversed its creation, dissolving into the raw earth and then into nothingness. I pushed forward. The rubble spontaneously reassembled at incredible speed, not just repairing, but weathering in fast-forward, showing moss and cracks before settling back to its original state. I could accelerate time in a localised field, ageing an enemy to dust in seconds. I could rewind injuries on myself or allies. I could create loops, freeze moments. It was the power of history and decay, of deadlines and delays, made manifest.
Then, the terrifying synthesis. I activated both eyes simultaneously. The geometric patterns in each eye flared, gold and silver light intertwining before me. The very fabric of my Inner World shuddered, as if afraid.
Indra: Arceus.
This was not an attack. It was a decree. A declaration of nullification. Before me, a simulated, chakra-construct of a target appeared. I focused the combined will of Palkia and Dialga upon it. The command was simple: Cease.
The construct didn't explode. It didn't die. It was unmade. Its space was erased from the coordinate system of reality. Its time was deleted from the flow of duration. It was banished not to another place, but to the non-place at the end of time and space, a conceptual void where neither dimension nor moment existed. It was absolute, irrevocable erasure. The power drain was instantaneous and colossal, a direct tap into my core templates and my own life force. Using this would be a last, absolute resort. A god's final judgment.
I deactivated my eyes, panting slightly. The understanding was clear. These were not tools for shinobi combat. These were the instruments of a nascent sovereign, powers to shape realms, not win battles.
Now, for the more tangible asset. I focused on the classic Uchiha manifestation. The feeling was different. Not an eruption of chaotic emotion, but a deliberate, majestic unfolding.
Purple and blue chakra, the traditional colours of the Uchiha, burst around me… and then shifted. The purple deepened, becoming a rich, royal amethyst, while the blue lightened and brightened into a vibrant, electric cobalt. They swirled together, not clashing, but intertwining like dual helices.
The skeleton formed—amethyst for the bones, cobalt for the ligaments. Muscle Armour followed the same scheme: plates of shimmering cobalt over a muscular underlayer of pulsating amethyst energy. It was massive, towering, a fusion of Uchiha pride and Kumo's stormy aesthetic. In one hand, it held a shield of crackling cobalt lightning. In the other, a long, slender blade of condensed amethyst energy that hummed with spatial distortion.
This was my Susanoo: The Storm Monarch. It wasn't a demonic avatar. It was the armoured will of a king who commanded time and space. I willed it to move. It was seamless, responsive, and an extension of my body and mind. I had practised katas, their movements causing gentle ripples in the very fabric of my Inner World's simulated space.
After an hour of rigorous testing, I dismissed the Susanoo and sat in the featureless white, meditating. The new powers were integrated, understood. They were part of my arsenal, but they would not define me. They were the final, decisive arguments in the treatise I was writing with my life. The main text was still built of seals, summons, technology, and the unwavering loyalty of the people outside this mental space.
Kumogakure – Raikage's Office, Later That Day
I stood before A again, this time completely calm, the events of the day having been processed and compartmentalised.
Raikage A: Darui told me about your… stress relief. I'm not even going to bill you for it. Consider it a village expense for maintaining the mental health of its most valuable asset.
Indra: My apologies for the disturbance, Lord Raikage.
Raikage A: Forget it. The report from the Intelligence division is in. The Fire Daimyo is apoplectic. He's confined Danzo to house arrest pending a 'full investigation,' which is political code for figuring out how to throw him to the wolves without causing a civil war in Konoha's own ANBU. Our diplomatic pressure is working. They're off-balance.
Indra: And Obito?
Raikage A: Ghosts are harder to pin down. But the fact that Konoha now officially knows he's alive and was collaborating with their rogue spymaster? It's a cancer in their system. Let them rot from within. Our focus is outward. Thunderhead Phase Two: Project Skyhammer.
Indra: The orbital surveillance platforms.
Raikage A: Exactly. You said you could create and deploy them from your… personal workshop. How soon?
Indra: The prototypes are already constructed in the Inner World. I can deploy the first three within the week. They'll give us real-time visual and chakra-mapping coverage of the entire continent. Nothing larger than a rabbit will move without us knowing.
Raikage A: (A savage grin) Good. We'll see how the other Kage like living in a fishbowl. But Indra… these new eyes of yours. The Mangekyō. In the fight with Obito, you used a spatial power.
Indra: I did. A limited form. The Mangekyō grants unique abilities to each wielder. Mine seem to be oriented towards… fundamental forces. Space. And, as I've since discovered, Time.
A's eyebrows shot up. Even for him, this was staggering.
Raikage A: Time? Can you control time?
Indra: In very limited, localised ways. Acceleration, deceleration, and minor reversal of non-living matter. It is not a casual tool. The cost is high. But yes.
Raikage A: (He let out a low whistle) No wonder Obito ran. And the blindness?
Indra: (I met his gaze squarely, trusting him with the full truth) A non-issue. The procedure was a complete success. My sight is eternal. But as per the Daimyo's order, that remains between us, you, him, and Bee.
Raikage A: Smart. Let the world think you're on a clock. They'll get careless. Now, one more thing. Your… emotional control today. It's good you have people to pull you back. Never forget that. A weapon that can't be sheathed eventually turns on its wielder. You're not a weapon. You're my Commander. Remember the difference.
Indra: I will, sir.
As I left the tower, the twin moons of the Elemental Nations were rising over the mountainous skyline. The fury was gone, replaced by a resolute, icy calm. I had explored the depths of my new, God-like power and the limits of my anger. Both were now measured, catalogued, and placed in their proper context.
I had people to protect, a village to elevate, and a world to reshape so that no shadow would ever again dare reach for what was mine. The path forward was clear. And with the combined strength of my bonds, my mind, and the eternal eyes that now saw all of time and space as my domain, I would walk it without hesitation.
The storm wasn't just gathering anymore. It was learning to think. And it was done, asking for peace.
[System Notification: Mastery of Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan progressing. Abilities catalogued: Palkia (Spatial Decree) – Novice, Dialga (Temporal Decree) – Novice, Arceus (Conceptual Unmaking) – Locked (Requires excessive power/emergency only). Unique Susanoo Manifestation: Storm Monarch stabilised. Template Synergy: Indra Ōtsutsuki – 85%, Ashina Uzumaki – 78%, Victor Von Doom – 39%.]
The quiet within the Jinchuriki mindscape was a different quality for each of them. For Yugito Nii, it was a silent, blue-flamed garden. For Killer Bee, it was a vibrant, ever-changing rap-battle coliseum. But within those spaces, the ancient beings known as Matatabi and Gyūki were contemplating the same young man, and the recent violence that had brushed against their shared home.
In The Blue Flame Garden
Matatabi's POV –
From within Yukito's mind, I watched through her eyes as she spoke to the boy, Indra, after he displayed destructive fury. The concern in my vessel's heart was genuine, a warmth that had grown over years of mutual respect, not mere coexistence. It was a far cry from the searing cages of fear and hatred I had known in centuries past.
My thoughts, like my flames, were cool and analytical. The moment Indra had used his power to lock space itself, a deep, ancestral memory had stirred within my chakra. It was a flavour, a pressure, I had not felt since the dawn of this wretched, beautiful world.
The Sage's first son.
The one who looked upon his father's peace and saw not unity, but a cage. The one whose chakra was a crackling, creative, lonely lightning. That same essence thrummed within this boy, but it was… redirected. Tempered. It did not seek to dominate the world in isolation; it sought to build a fortress for its chosen people. The irony of his given name was not lost on me. A human, named for a demigod, who had become that demigod's heir, yet was striving to fulfil the other brother's dream.
For decades, any whisper of Uchiha had made my flames sputter with distrust. Their eyes were tools of domination, their history a testament to the very loneliness that birthed Indra Ōtsutsuki. They were the clan most likely to seek to control me, to twist my power for their own mad ambitions. When Yugito first told me of the Uchiha refugee boy the Raikage had taken in, I had coiled in wary readiness.
But he never tried. He never looked at Yugito, or at Bee, with the greedy, calculating stare of a man seeing a weapon. He looked at them and saw… people. Comrades. When he spoke to us, through them, it was with the respectful tone one might use for esteemed, if irascible, elders. His first gift to us was not a demand, but an offer.
I remember the day he presented the theory to Yugito and Bee. He stood in this very garden, his form a chakra-projection in our shared space.
Indra: The seal is a prison, but its bars are also what tie your life-force to the beast's. Remove it entirely, and you die. But… what if we could create a temporary, secondary gateway? A controlled leak, not of raw chakra, but of conscious will.
Matatabi: (My voice, a flickering, dual-toned whisper) Explain, little Uchiha.
Indra: A technique. A collaboration between my Fuinjutsu, your consent, and the Jinchuriki's control. It would allow you to project a physical avatar, limited in size and power, into the world for a short time. To see it, feel it, directly. Not as a titan of destruction, but as… yourselves.
Gyūki: (Booming from Bee's mindscape) A vacation from this loudmouth's head? Sign me up, brat!
The work was intricate, a masterpiece of sealing that spoke of his Uzumaki heritage. He did not force it. He asked. For our input, our comfort. When it was complete, the sensation was… indescribable.
For the first time in my long existence, I chose a form. Not the towering, fearsome beast of blue flame, but a sleek, elegant feline form, barely 150 centimetres tall, my twin tails flickering like will-o'-the-wisps. I stepped out, not through a rupture of pain, but through a gentle, shimmering portal beside Yugito. The mountain air of Kumo was cold, thin, and utterly intoxicating. I could feel the grit of stone under paw-pads I never truly had before. I saw the awe in Yugito's eyes, not fear, but shared wonder.
He gave us a piece of our stolen autonomy back. Not to fight, but to live. For that alone, he had my loyalty deeper than any fear-based contract could muster.
Seeing his rage today, the cold, annihilating fury that disintegrated adamantium… it was not the rage of Madara, hungry and all-consuming. It was the rage of a protector whose sanctum had been violated. The same protective fury that now burned in Yugito's heart, and in mine, for this village that had, against all odds, become a home. When I brushed my chakra against his in that cavern, it was a message: You are not alone in your anger. We, too, remember what it is to be hunted. And we, too, will burn for this place.
Gyūki's POV – The Rap Coliseum
In the crazy, rhythmic chaos of Bee's mind, my thoughts are a steady, rumbling bassline. This kid, Indra. He's a real piece of work, ya know?
When Bee first started rambling about the "Uchiha prodigy with more brains than an octopus has suckers," I was sceptical. Uchiha meant trouble. It meant Sharingan, hypnosis, plans within plans. It meant getting stuffed into a statue for some fool's dream. I've had enough of that for a thousand lifetimes.
But this one… he was different. Didn't flinch from Bee's rhymes, just analysed the meter and offered a better one. Didn't look at me like a battery, but like a… grumpy old uncle who knew things. Hah! Respect.
Then, the chakra. That day, he fought Kakuz, and his eyes went red. I felt it. A ping on the oldest, deepest sonar I've got. It was Him. The First Brat. The one who started the whole "my power vs. our power" family drama that's been the world's worst soap opera for millennia. But the signal was… scrambled. The pride was there, the sheer creative voltage. But the loneliness, the bitter isolation? Nah. This signal was broadcasting on a frequency of "us." Weird.
He proved it with the Project. Not a weapon. A periscope. A way for me to stick my head out of the submarine that is Bee's brain and see the sun without causing a tidal wave.
Gyūki: (To Indra, during the design phase) So, let me get this straight, brat. Are you gonna make me a little body? What's the catch? Gotta wear a funny hat? Do chores?
Indra: (A rare, genuine smirk) The catch is you have to maintain the form with precise chakra control. And no, the hat is optional. I was thinking more… a cloak. To hide the tentacles in public.
Gyūki: Deal!
My little form is great. 150 cm of compact, eight-tailed terror. I look like a spiky, blue-black volleyball with eyes and tentacles. I can sit on Bee's shoulder, critique his lyrics in real-time, taste Dango without demolishing the stall, and headbutt Darui when he's being too lazy. It's a gift. A stupid, simple, wonderful gift no one else ever thought to give. Not the Sage, not any of the Kage. A kid who remembered we might be sick of only seeing the world through someone else's eyeballs.
So, when that space-warping creep Obito stuck his hand into the kid's house, into the space where his mother stood… yeah, I felt the kid's rage. It wasn't Uchiha rage. It was our rage. The rage of something ancien,t saying, "This is my herd. You do NOT touch my herd." I sent my voice to him then. Not just to calm him, but to echo him. We fight together.
Bee gets it. He's been my partner, my friend, my loud, annoying brother. But Indra… he's the mechanic who fixed the lock on our cage door. Not to let us out to rampage, but to let us out for fresh air. That deserves more than loyalty. That deserves a place in the herd.
So the kid's the First Brat reborn? Fine. The First Brat was a genius who invented ninjutsu because he thought he was better than everyone. This Brat is a genius who invents… well, everything else, because he thinks everyone can be better. I'll take this version. Way more interesting.
And if any more ghosts or roaches come for him, or for Bee, or for this noisy, sturdy mountain of a village… they'll find out this old beast isn't just along for the ride anymore. I'm invested. And I've got eight very pointy reasons why that's a problem for them.
Kumogakure – Rooftop, Later That Night
Under the twin moons, two small, impossible forms sat side-by-side on a rooftop overlooking the glittering village. A graceful, blue-flamed cat and a compact, spiky octopus-ball.
Matatabi: He is calm again.
Gyūki: Yeah. The herd soothed him. Good.
Matatabi: You felt it too. The lineage. It is unmistakable now.
Gyūki: The chakra's the same. The tune's different. I like this remix better.
Matatabi: A remix… an apt, if crude, analogy. He has taken the theme of lonely power and orchestrated it for a chorus. Our chorus.
Gyūki: He gave us legs, sister. Well, you got legs. I got… stubs. But the point is, we can walk with them now. Our partners, this village. That's worth more than all the tailed beast bombs in the world.
Matatabi: Indeed. When the shadow attacked today, it was not attacking just a human or a Jinchuriki. It was attacking the architect of our newfound peace. Our peace.
Gyūki: So next time, we don't just let the kid punch metal. Next time, the shadows get a face full of blue fire and ink.
Matatabi: (A soft, flickering purr) Agreed.
Below them, unaware of the ancient beings discussing his fate, Indra walked with Rias, their hands linked, talking softly. He looked up, his Eternal Mangekyō seeing not just their physical forms, but the gentle, grateful chakra of the two-tailed beasts, shining like benevolent stars against the night. He gave them a small, respectful nod.
They nodded back. Not a Jinchuriki to his beast. Not a weapon to its master. But one sovereign power to another, in silent, mutual accord. The storm had its guardians, and they were legends.
End of Chapter – 7