The official missive from the Land of Iron was dry and procedural: "Following adjudication, the criminal Danzo Shimura has been executed. Konoha accepts responsibility and reparations." But in the corridors of power across the shinobi world, the unspoken truths hissed like sand through fingers.
In Iwagakure, Tsuchikage Ōnoki floated before his council, a translated copy of Kumo's initial indictment in his hand. His brow was furrowed deep enough to plant seeds in.
Ōnoki: "Sabotage. Kidnapping. Collaboration with missing-nin. All proven. This… changes the math. Konoha's 'moral high ground' was a sinkhole." He tapped the page about Uzushiogakure. "Our forces participated in that assault. Were we… were we invited by this Danzo? Did he feed us the intelligence that made it possible?" The grim silence of his advisors was answer enough. The victory over Uzushiogakure now tasted of ash and manipulation.
In Kirigakure, Mizukage Mei Terumī read the report with a chilling sense of recognition. The description of ROOT, of children turned into mindless tools, echoed Kiri's own bloody history with the Bloodline Purge.
Mei: "He was doing what Yagura did… but in secret. While we drowned in our own bloody mist, Konoha cultivated a hidden, sterile one." Ao, his Byakugan eye covered, nodded grimly.
Ao: "The files mention 'procurement channels' for test subjects. Some of our missing nin, our victims of the purge… they may have ended up on his tables, my lady. Our tragedy was his supply line." Mei closed her eyes, not in grief, but in renewed resolve. "Then we double our reforms. We must be everything this 'ROOT' was not. Open. Accountable. Or we are no better than the monster they just put down."
In the far-flung hideouts of smaller nations and rogue elements, a different kind of rumour spread. Missing persons cases, old betrayals, mysterious benefactors who offered power for loyalty—many now had a potential face: the bandaged Konoha spymaster. A silent, global reassessment was beginning. The bogeyman of Konoha's darkness had a name, and he was dead. But the shadows he cast were long, and many were just starting to see their true shape.
In the Raikage's office, the strategy was proactive.
Raikage A: "Konoha is crippled, morally and diplomatically. Iwa is confused. Kiri is introspective. This is the moment to expand our influence, not through war, but through utility."
He pointed to a map of the Land of Wind. "They are the weakest of the Five, strangled by their Daimyo and poverty. Their weakness makes them volatile, a potential weapon for our enemies or a future burden. We offer them a hand, not an open one, but one holding what they need."
Indra, standing beside the map, understood. "The chakra-grains. They can grow in sand with minimal water input if infused with the earth-nature chakra. It won't make them fertile, but it could break the famine cycle."
Sirzechs Uzumaki, polished and poised in diplomatic attire, nodded. "The Wind Daimyo is pragmatic to the point of ruthlessness. He will see the economic and stabilizing sense. The Kazekage, Rasa, is proud but desperate. He will resist charity but may accept a 'mutually beneficial agreement.'"
Raikage A: "Indra, you go as the technical expert and… the implicit deterrent. Your presence says we are serious and capable. Sirzechs, you handle the formal negotiations. Take a small team. Be respectful, be firm. Show them the future, if they're smart enough to buy a ticket."
The Land of Wind –
The journey was made not in the Raijin vehicle, but via a swift, cloaked Kumo airship, another of Indra's designs that utilized low-chakra gliding and sound-dampening seals. They set down miles from Sunagakure, proceeding on foot as a sign of respect—and to avoid appearing as an invasion.
The heat was a physical wall. The air shimmered over endless dunes. The Kumo team—Indra, Sirzechs, Samui, and a quiet sensor-nin—were dressed in light, heat-dispersing cloaks. As they approached the giant, sand-scoured rock formations that housed Sunagakure, the poverty was evident. The buildings were carved from stone, worn thin by wind and despair.
They were met at the gates not by cheering, but by the wary, sun-squinted eyes of Suna shinobi and the imposing presence of Baki, the Kazekage's right-hand man.
Baki: "Kumo delegation. The Kazekage and the Daimyo's representative await you in the council chamber. Your weapons."
Sirzechs: (With a disarming smile) "Of course. Standard protocol." He handed over a ceremonial kunai. Samui and the sensor followed suit.
Indra merely raised an eyebrow. "I am my weapon, Baki-San. But I offer my word as a Commander of Kumo: I am here to talk, not to fight." His calm, assured tone, coupled with the reputation that preceded him, made Baki hesitate, then give a curt nod, allowing him to pass un-disarmed.
The council chamber was cool and dark, a refuge from the hammering sun. Kazekage Rasa sat stiffly on his dais, gold dust already shimmering subtly at his feet. The Wind Daimyo's representative, a thin, shrewd man in lavish silks that looked absurd in the desert, fanned himself nearby. Elder advisors, including the veteran Chiyo and her brother Ebizo, watched with hawk-like intensity.
Rasa: "Kumo. You come a long way to watch us bake. State your business."
Sirzechs stepped forward, executing a flawless, respectful bow. "Lord Kazekage, honoured representative. We come from the Land of Lightning, not with boasts of our clouds, but with an offer to help you with your sand. We bring a potential solution to your most pressing vulnerability: food."
He laid out the proposal. Samples of the chakra-grain seeds. Data on yield in arid soil. A draft trade agreement: Suna would provide access to certain rare desert minerals and a non-aggression pact, and Kumo would provide the seeds, the technical knowledge for chakra-infused cultivation, and a team to assist in the first two harvests.
The Daimyo's representative leaned forward, interest gleaming in his eyes. Rasa's face remained a stony mask, but the flicker of the gold dust betrayed his internal calculation.
Chiyo, her voice like grinding stones, spoke. "And the price? Beyond minerals and promises. Nothing is free, least of all from the clouds."
Indra spoke for the first time, his voice cutting the tense air. "The price is stability. A hungry neighbour is a desperate neighbour. Desperation leads to rash alliances, to wars of attrition that bleed both sides. We are not offering charity. We are offering an investment in a peaceful, prosperous border. A strong Suna is a predictable Suna. That is in Kumo's strategic interest."
His blunt geopolitical logic resonated more than any charity appeal ever could. Rasa was about to respond when a distant, familiar, and terrifying roar shook the very foundations of the chamber. A sound of pure, insane rage and grinding sand.
Baki burst in, face pale. "Lord Kazekage! The containment! Gaara… Shukaku has broken free! He's rampaging on the western plateau!"
The Rampage of the Sand
Chaos erupted. Rasa was on his feet, his gold dust coalescing. "Evacuate the western sectors! Mobilize all Jonin!"
Sirzechs: "Lord Kazekage, we can assist—"
Rasa: (Snarling) "This is a Suna matter! You will stay here!" His pride was a visible wall.
But Indra was already moving towards the exit. "A rampaging Tailed Beast is everyone's matter when it's at your gates. My team can provide support. Or we can observe. Your choice." He didn't wait for permission, striding out with Samui and his sensor.
On the western plateau, it was a scene from a desert nightmare. Shukaku, the One-Tail, a monstrous tanuki of living sand, was bellowing, whipping up hurricane-force sandstorms. Suna shinobi were trying to contain it with wind and earth techniques, but their attacks were swallowed by the swirling sand. At the beast's core, the faint outline of Gaara, unconscious or subsumed, was visible.
Rasa arrived in a swirl of gold dust, already forming hand seals for his Gold Dust Imperial Funeral. But the sheer volume of Shukaku's sand was overwhelming, dissipating his precious gold before it could fully form.
Indra observed, his Sharingan whirling to life, analyzing the chakra flow, the instability of Gaara's seal, the beast's elemental composition.
Samui: "Commander, his sand neutralizes their primary offence. They need a counter-element."
Indra: "Indeed. Water would solidify it. Trap it."
Sensor-nin: "But there's no water source for miles! The aquifer is too deep!"
Indra's eyes narrowed. He focused. Not on external water, but on creation. He combined the principles of his Creation gift, his mastery over all five natures, and the profound chakra reserves of his Indra and Ashina template, along with his creation ability. He didn't pull water from the desert; he manifested it from the chakra.
He raised both hands, a complex, silent weave of hand seals that was more mental than physical. The air around him grew heavy, humid. Then, with a sound like a crashing wave heard from a great distance, a colossal sphere of pure, shimmering water erupted into existence above the plateau, larger than Shukaku itself.
The Suna shinobi froze, stunned. Creating water on this scale in a desert was supposed to be impossible.
Indra: "Water Release: Tearing Typhoon Cascade."
The giant water sphere descended not as rain, but as a focused, crushing deluge directly onto Shukaku. The effect was instantaneous and dramatic. The rampaging sand beast let out a shriek of rage and confusion as its form was slammed into the ground. The torrential water saturated the sand, weighing it down, clumping it, robbing it of its fluid, destructive mobility. Shukaku thrashed, but it was like being trapped in cement. The water pooled around it, then began to spread, seeking the low ground of the plateau.
With the beast momentarily immobilized, Rasa saw his chance. His gold dust, now unhindered, shot forward and encased the struggling, waterlogged form, reinforcing the temporary prison.
The chaos subsided into a stunned silence, broken only by the hiss of settling, wet sand and the low, trapped growls of the One-Tail. Where there had been a dry plateau, there was now a vast, spreading lake of clear, chakra-infused water, shimmering under the desert sun.
Rasa stood panting, his eyes wide as he looked from the contained Gaara (now unconscious, Shukaku receding) to the newly formed lake, to Indra, who was lowering his hands, not even breathing heavily.
Chiyo and Ebizo had arrived, their faces etched with awe and deep suspicion.
Ebizo: "To create a lake… in the desert… with only chakra…"
Chiyo: "That is a power not seen since the days of the Sage, and the last one to create something like these was Hashirama and Madara. Boy… what are you?"
Indra deactivated his Sharingan. "A shinobi solving a problem. The water is permanent. It is conjured from a stable chakra; it will not evaporate unnaturally. You now have a freshwater source on your western border."
The implications were staggering. A lake. In the desert. A strategic resource worth more than any single trade deal.
Back in the council chamber, the atmosphere had transformed. The Daimyo's representative was practically salivating at the thought of the agricultural and economic potential of a permanent water source. Rasa's pride, however, was a festering wound. He had been upstaged, saved, in front of his entire village, by a boy from a rival nation.
Sirzechs, seizing the moment, smoothly returned to the proposal. "As you can see, Lord Kazekage, our intentions are constructive. The seeds will thrive near this new water source. We can help you build an irrigation system. Within a year, famine could be a memory."
Rasa's voice was tight, controlled. "Your… assistance with the beast is noted. But the Jinchuriki is a Suna weapon. Its containment is our affair. We do not require outside sealing."
Indra looked at him. "The seal is frayed. A result of poor design and the host's instability. I could reinforce it. Do not replace it. Make it so this doesn't happen again. It would be a gesture of goodwill."
Rasa: (Slamming a hand on the table) "I said NO! The seal is fine! It was a momentary lapse! We will handle it!" The offer of help with the Biju, the ultimate symbol of Suna's painful power, was a bridge too far for his pride.
Indra simply nodded. "As you wish." He could see the fracture lines in the man, the fear of appearing weak warring with the desperation of his situation.
The trade deal for the seeds was tentatively agreed upon, the Daimyo's representative overriding Rasa's reticence with cold economic logic. As the Kumo team prepared to leave, Rasa finally spoke again, his voice low.
Rasa: "That technique. The water. Could you… teach it?"
Indra: "It requires a specific chakra control and reserve that is… rare. But the principles of chakra-to-element conversion at scale could be documented. It would be part of a deeper technological and knowledge exchange. Perhaps in the future, when trust is built."
He offered a future possibility, a carrot, while making it clear Suna was not yet worthy of the full prize.
As they walked out of Sunagakure, back into the dunes, Sirzechs sighed.
Sirzechs: "Pride is a costly commodity in a desert."
Indra: "It's all he has left. He'll come around when the next crisis hits, or his council will force him to. We've planted the seed, literal and metaphorical. Now, we leave."
Once they were a safe distance away from prying eyes, Indra turned to his team. "Hold on." He placed a hand on Sirzechs's and Samui's shoulders. With a pulse of Palkia's spatial power, the space around them folded. There was no fanfare, no vortex. One moment, they were in the desert; the next, they were standing in the transport hangar back in Kumo, the smell of ozone and stone replacing dry heat. The sensor-nin stumbled, gaping. Samui merely raised a cool eyebrow. Sirzechs straightened his jacket.
Indra: "Report to the Raikage. The mission was a success. We have a deal, a new lake, and a very conflicted Kazekage."
Back in Suna's council chamber, Rasa faced the music. The Daimyo's representative had left, already drafting glowing reports about new water and food security.
Chiyo: "You are a fool, Rasa."
Rasa: "Watch your tongue, elder!"
Ebizo: "She is right! That boy offered to fix Gaara's seal! To give us stability with our own weapon! And you refused out of pride! What is pride worth when the beast breaks loose next time and destroys half the village because you were too vain to accept help?!"
Baki: "My lord… the lake. It is a miracle. But it is also a permanent reminder of our weakness, of his strength. It sits there, shining, mocking us. We must either embrace the hand that created it, or we must find a way to prove we do not need it."
Chiyo: "We do need it! Look at us! We are dying of thirst in a sea of sand! That Kumo boy, that Indra, he didn't just bring seeds. He brought a vision. A vision where Suna is not a barren wasteland of desperate shinobi, but a nation that can feed itself, that can control its weapons. He offered to make Gaara not a ticking bomb, but a stable guardian. And you threw it in his face!"
Rasa slumped in his seat, the weight of his office, his failures, and the dazzling, unwanted gift of the lake pressing down on him. "What would you have me do? Beg Kumo for scraps? Become their vassal?"
Ebizo: "No. Become their partner. From a position of admitted weakness, but with dignity. Send a formal envoy. Accept the sealing offer. Learn from them. Swallow our pride now so we may have strength later. Or would you rather watch Suna crumble into dust, just so you can say you never accepted help from the Cloud?"
The chamber fell silent. The truth was a desert wind, scouring and inescapable. Rasa looked at the reports of the new lake, at the tentative grain agreement, at the memory of Indra creating an ocean from nothing. The old world of brittle, prideful isolation was ending. A new world was being built by engineers and architects, and Suna was at risk of being left as a crumbling ruin in its shadow.
He made no decision that day. But the seed of doubt, of a necessary humility, was planted. And in the desert, even the smallest seed, with enough water, could grow into something that changed the landscape forever.
News, in the shinobi world, travelled on two tracks: the official, sanitized missive, and the frantic, hyperbolic rumour carried by spies, merchants, and summoned creatures. The report of the Suna incident arrived via both, and the latter version was far more seismic.
The Official Report (Kumo to Allied Interests): "During diplomatic talks in Sunagakure, a containment failure of the One-Tail occurred. The Kumo delegation provided auxiliary support to subdue the entity. No casualties. A trade agreement for agricultural technology was successfully concluded."
The Rumour Mill (From a Shaken Suna Chunin to a Gambling House in Tea Country): "The Kumo demon-brat, the Uchiha, he didn't even break a sweat! He looked at the sky and pulled an ocean out of it! Right there in the desert! He drowned Shukaku in a new lake! He didn't even need to fight it, he just… changed the landscape! And the Kazekage just stood there! They're giving Suna magic seeds that grow in sand now! Kumo owns the desert!"
By the time the stories reached the other great villages, the truth lay somewhere in between, but the implication was clear and earth-shaking: Kumo, through Indra, possessed power that could redefine nations, not just win battles.
Konohagakure –
In the quiet of the Hokage's anteroom, now Tsunade's office but still filled with Hiruzen's ghosts, the two of them pored over the intelligence packet. Jiraiya stood by the window, his face uncharacteristically grim.
Tsunade: "A lake. He created a permanent body of water in the Land of Wind. Not a jutsu that evaporates. A geographical feature." She looked at the sensor readings attached. "The chakra signature… It's not just dense. It's structured. Like he didn't just summon water; he wrote the concept of 'lake' into that patch of desert and reality agreed."
Jiraiya: "My contacts in the toad clan confirm it. It's Creation, with a capital C. Not quite the Sage's Truth-Seeking Balls, but adjacent. He's not manipulating elements; he's manifesting them from pure chakra conversion at a scale that defies physics."
Hiruzen, who had been silent, staring at a smaller, secondary report detailing the Water Release technique's chakra pattern, finally spoke. His voice was thin with memory.
Hiruzen: "Tobirama-sensei… he was the greatest Water Release user this village ever produced. He could create water in a desert. But it was a technique of volume and control, pulling moisture from the air, from the deep earth, from the opponent's own body. It was a masterpiece of efficiency and lethality." He traced a faint, replicated chakra diagram from the report. "This… this is different. This isn't pulling from a source. This defines the source. He didn't find water; he declared that there would be water. The chakra pattern… It's less a ninjutsu formula and more… a foundational seal, applied to reality itself."
He looked up, his aged eyes meeting Tsunade's. "My brother mastered the element. This boy is rewriting the environment to include the element. It's a difference not of degree, but of kind. Tobirama would have been… fascinated. And utterly horrified. This is power that makes a mockery of shinobi combat. You don't defeat an army with this; you tell the battlefield to no longer be a place where armies can exist."
Tsunade slammed a fist on the desk, a crack spiderwebbing out from the point of impact. "And this is the power that Danzo, that we, handed to Kumo on a silver platter! A boy with this capability, who should have been raised on the Will of Fire, now looks at Konoha as the village that murdered his father and betrayed his mother's clan! He didn't just give Kumo weapons; he gave them a god who can make deserts bloom! What in the seven hells are we supposed to do against that?"
Jiraiya: "We raise our own. Naruto and Sasuke. We pour every resource into them. Because the only answer to a sovereign-level power is another sovereign-level power, or an alliance with one. And right now, he's the only sovereign in the room."
Hiruzen: (Nodding slowly, a terrible certainty dawning) "His action was unintentional, the report says. A byproduct of dealing with Shukaku. He wasn't trying to demonstrate geopolitical power; he was solving a tactical problem. That is what makes it so terrifying. His baseline for problem-solving is the alteration of sovereign territory. He sees a rampaging Biju and thinks, 'I will create a lake to trap it.' Not 'I will suppress it.' Not 'I will fight it.' He changes the world to make the problem irrelevant." He looked out the window, towards the distant north. "He is not our enemy. He has made that clear. He is simply… a force of nature that has declared Konoha's soil toxic. And he is building his own ecosystem elsewhere. Our only hope is that he remains content with his mountains and his new lake."
Iwagakure –
In the rocky war room of Iwagakure, Ōnoki floated before a huge map, his grandson Kurotsuchi and aide Akatsuchi beside him. The report from Suna was annotated with furious red ink.
Ōnoki: "A master of all five chakra natures. Confirmed. He used a Water Release of mythological scale in a desert. This means his chakra control and reserves are not 'prodigy' level. They are 'historical anomaly' level." He turned to his head of intelligence, a grim-faced woman with stone-like skin. "Analysis of the chakra-grain deal?"
Intelligence Head: "It's a masterstroke, Lord Tsuchikage. Suna's biggest weakness is food. Kumo is removing that weakness. In exchange for minerals and a non-aggression pact. Within two years, Suna will be beholden to Kumo for their full bellies. They will not risk war with their benefactor. It neutralizes our southwestern flank as a potential ally or a chaotic element we could exploit."
Kurotsuchi: "So they're buying peace with full stomachs. And showing off a juggernaut to enforce it. What's to stop him from coming here and, I don't know, turning the Valley of the End into a beach resort?"
Ōnoki: "Nothing. That is the point. He is demonstrating that the old rules—armies, trench warfare, attrition—are obsolete. He can change the map. This 'lake' is not just a water source; it is a message carved into the continent. 'My will can make the impossible permanent.'"
Akatsuchi: "What is our response, Lord Ōnoki?"
The old Tsuchikage was silent for a long time, staring at the map, at the representation of the new lake near Suna—a blue blotch that shouldn't exist.
Ōnoki: "We… reconsider. We have spent decades hardening our stone, believing it was the ultimate defence. But how does stone hold against a power that can simply declare there is water to erode it, or fire to heat it to cracking, or wind to scour it away? Our Will of Stone is rigid. His will is… fluid, adaptive, generative." He let out a breath, the sound of an old dogma crumbling. "Open a back-channel. To Kumo. Not to the Raikage. To the boy's diplomatic wing, to this Sirzechs Uzumaki. Inquire… discreetly… about the possibility of geological stabilization techniques. The Earth Country has landslides, earthquakes. If he can create lakes, perhaps he can reinforce fault lines. Frame it as a… technological exchange. We must learn the shape of this new world, or we will be buried by the changing landscape."
It was a staggering moment. The most stubborn, militaristic of the Kage was contemplating asking for help from a teenager, because that teenager had proven that the very earth beneath their feet was now negotiable.
Kirigakure –
In the Mizukage's tower, overlooking the persistent mist and the bloody history it shrouded, Mei Terumī and her advisors studied the report. For them, the water was not just a display of power; it was a symbol with profound, painful resonance.
Chōjūrō, fidgeting with the hilt of Hiramekarei, whispered, "To create pure, life-giving water from nothing… in the heart of a desert. After the Bloodline Purge… after all the blood we spilled into our own waters…"
Ao, his Byakugan eye pulsating behind its bandage, finished the thought. "It is the antithesis of everything Kiri used to be. We took a land of water and made it a place of drowning—of dreams, of hope, of clans. He took a land of death and made it a place of life. It is a direct rebuke."
Mei leaned back, a complex mixture of bitterness and yearning on her beautiful face. "He is an Uzumaki. A clan we also hunted, whose remnants we likely drove into hiding or sold to monsters like Danzo. And he is a Uchiha, a clan another village massacred. He is a living testament to the failures of the old system—the system of fear, purges, and hidden wars that Kiri epitomized."
She stood, walking to the window overlooking the misty village. "He is not just powerful. He is correct. His method—building, creating, securing—it is the only path forward. Our reforms are just cleaning up a stain. He is building a new canvas altogether." She turned, her decision firming. "We will accelerate our outreach. We will be the first to openly congratulate Kumo and Suna on their peaceful, prosperous agreement. We will offer our own trade—unique maritime resources, intelligence on rogue nin from the Bloody Mist era. We will align ourselves with the new paradigm, openly and enthusiastically. Not out of fear, but out of recognition. The era of the Five Great Shinobi Villages, glaring at each other over fortified borders, is ending. It is being replaced by the era of the Fortress Village and those smart enough to seek its patronage."
Her words hung in the room. Kiri, the most insular and traumatized of the villages, was choosing to run headlong towards the new world, hoping to leave its bloody reflection behind in the mists.
In tea houses, merchant guild halls, and minor Kage offices across the smaller nations, the calculation was simpler and more urgent.
In the Land of Grass: "If he can make a lake in a desert, can he restore the fertile valleys the wars poisoned?"
In the Land of Rivers: "A non-aggression pact with food security? That is a better deal than any mutual defence treaty that just gets our people killed in someone else's war."
In the Land of Iron (Samurai Circles): "He solved a Biju crisis not with violence, but with… landscaping. He upheld the sanctity of the summit's judgment. There is an order to his power. A dangerous, immense order, but order nonetheless."
The image of the new lake, a sapphire jewel in the tan wasteland, became a potent symbol. It wasn't a weapon pointed. It was a gift left behind. An unintentional one, which made it seem all the more genuine, all the more indicative of sheer, casual capability.
Nations began to look at their own intractable problems—barren land, unstable geology, resource scarcity—and instead of seeing military targets in their neighbours, they began to see potential partners in the only village that seemed to have solutions. The Raikage's anand Sirzechssegan to fill with discreet inquiries, not for alliances, but for "technical consultations" and "knowledge-sharing initiatives."
Indra Uzumaki-Uchiha had gone to the desert to make a trade deal. He had ended up demonstrating a form of power so profound it made the very idea of war between great nations seem like a quaint, wasteful barbarism. He had not preached peace. He had simply made peace look like the only logical, profitable, and safe option.
And in his lab in Kumo, currently analyzing the silver of rock from the newly formed lake's bed to understand the permanence of his chakra conversion, he was only mildly interested in the geopolitical shockwaves. He had a more interesting puzzle to solve: the evolutionary matrix of a Tailed Beast. The world's reaction was just background noise to the architect, who was already sketching the blueprints for the next, greater renovation of reality.
End of Chapter – 16.