Land of Lightning – Northern Training Expanse, The Elephant Clan Grounds
The earth here did not merely shake; it remembered. In a hidden valley north of Kumo, a place where the mountains leaned close as if sharing secrets, the air thrummed with a deep, subsonic frequency. This was the primary muster-ground for the Elephant Clan within the Human Realm. The ground was not dirt and rock, but a complex, resilient biomaterial secreted by the elephants themselves—springy, shock-absorbent, and etched with faint, glowing pathways of chakra.
Indra stood in the centre, clad in simple training gear. Before him stood three elephant summons, each representing a different tactical archetype.
To his left, Bheem, a juvenile Elephantsaurus. Nearly eighty feet at the shoulder, his hide was a landscape of rocky plates and moss-like fur. He represented pure, terrain-altering power.
To his right, Lakshmi, a mature Regal Mammoth cow. Sixty feet tall, her tusks were swirling spirals of ivory and latent earth chakra, her eyes holding millennia of patient strategy. She represented fortified defences and seismic control.
Before him, Gaja, a fully grown Jack Elephant. The most agile of the three, fifty feet tall but built like a living battering ram, with incredibly dense bones and hide that could deflect chakra blades. He represented the mobile vanguard, the spearhead.
Airavat, the Great Elder, was not present in body. His consciousness, however, was a weight on the valley, a presence like a continental plate. His voice echoed directly in Indra's mind, a sound like grinding stone and deep roots.
Airavat (Mental Link): "The storm-child returns to the earth. Your rage still simmers, a volcano capped with ice. We will train the body today. The mind must settle its own accounts. Begin with Bheem. Your power is great, but control must be absolute. You may shatter a mountain, but can you lift a single pebble from its heart without cracking the stone?"
Indra: (Nodding, focusing) "Understood, Elder."
He faced Bheem. "Bheem. Seismic Stomp. Channel it, but I want the force focused in a conical wave, forward only. No lateral cracking. Target that marker."
A hundred yards away, a stone pillar stood.
Bheem let out a low rumble, lifted his colossal foreleg, and stamped. The earth didn't just shudder; it rippled. A visible wave of compacted earth and force shot forward like a tunnelling mole made of pure kinetic energy. It was precise, devastating, and contained. It struck the base of the pillar. The pillar didn't shatter; it was launched five hundred feet into the air, intact, before crashing down in the distance.
Indra: "Good. Now, Lakshmi. I need a defensive bulwark, but one with a reactive property. A wall that absorbs kinetic energy and releases it as a focused concussive pulse upon the next strike."
Lakshmi trumpeted softly. She placed her tusks against the ground. Chakra, deep brown and gold, flowed from her into the earth. A wall of interlocking hexagonal stone plates erupted from the ground, forty feet high and a hundred feet long. It hummed with a soft, resonant energy.
Indra: "Gaja. Test it. Full charge."
Gaja lowered his head, his legs pitoning. He became a blur of grey and muscle, a living avalanche. He struck the centre of the wall with a sound like a giant's gong. The wall absorbed the impact, glowing brightly for a second. Then, with a sharper CRACK, it released the stored energy in a single, forward-directed shockwave that knocked Gaja back a dozen paces, shaking his head but leaving him unharmed.
Lakshmi (Mental Link, gentle): "The earth remembers force. It can give back what it receives. Your anger is a force, Indra-sama. It has been absorbed. What will you release?"
Her question was not about the technique. It lingered in the air.
For hours, they drilled. Indra learned synchronise his own Earth Release with Bheem's stomps, creating localised fault lines. He practised layering his Lightning Release chakra over Gaja's charges, creating a devastating "Thundering Ram" effect that paralysed nervous systems on impact. With Lakshmi, he worked on integrating barrier seals into her stone walls, creating a hybrid defence that could filter out genjutsu waves or poison gas.
It was gruelling, demanding work that required not just chakra, but a profound empathy for the earth and the beings who were its incarnations. Through it, the cold knot of fury in his gut—the memory of Obito's hand phasing through his roof, his mother's defiant face—was momentarily quieted, not by ignoring it, but by channelling its energy into creation, into control.
As the sun reached its zenith, Airavat's presence focused.
Airavat: "Enough for the flesh. Now, for the sky. Garuda awaits. His lessons are less about weight, and more about perspective. Go."
Land of Lightning – Celestial Training Crag, The Eagle Clan Perch
If the Elephant Grounds were the earth's memory, the Eagle Perch was the wind's dream. A spire of rock jutting above the cloud layer, so high the sky deepened to violet. The air was thin, bitingly cold, and alive with the thrum of high-altitude chakra currents. Here, the Eagle Clan trained.
Garuda, the Great Elder, was present in avatar form—a majestic Braviary of immense size, his feathers the colour of a stormy sunset, his eyes holding the cold, piercing clarity of a star. He stood on the highest peak, flanked by two other eagles.
Talon, a fierce Picante Eagle, whose feathers shimmered with heat-haze, representing scouting, tracking, and debilitating precision strikes.
Zephyr, an elder Giant Five-Tail Eagle, larger than Garuda's avatar but less dense, a master of wind currents, atmospheric manipulation, and large-scale environmental disruption.
Garuda (Voice like cutting wind): "The earth teaches restraint and foundation. The sky teaches release and scope. Your anger is a lightning bolt, Indra. Uncontrolled, it strikes once and is gone. Controlled, it can illuminate a continent or be harnessed into a sustained current. Show me your sight."
Indra activated his Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan. The world exploded into hyper-detail. He could see the individual thermals rising from the valleys miles below, trace the chakra signatures of a deer herd in a distant forest, and count the feathers on a hawk circling over a neighbouring peak.
Garuda: "Good. Now, share it. Link with Talon. See not just what you see, but what he sees, and weave the perspectives."
Indra focused, extending a thread of his chakra and will. A connection snapped into place—a jarring, dizzying second of dual perception. His own view from the crag, and Talon's view from a spiralling dive three thousand feet above, covering a 360-degree panorama. He had to filter, to process both streams, distinguishing the critical from the mundane.
Garuda: "A threat approaches from the western cloud bank. Identify."
In Talon's vision, a dark speck against the white. Indra's Sharingan zoomed. Not a bird. A stealth-type reconnaissance scroll, disguised as a condor, propelled by wind chakra. Iwa design.
Indra: "Iwa spy scroll. Autonomous. Camouflage-grade."
Garuda: "Zephyr. Disable without destruction. I wish to study its seals."
Zephyr let out a silent cry. A focused vortex of wind, invisible but for the distortion it caused, shot from his wingtip. It didn't tear the scroll apart; it enveloped it in a sphere of hyper-compressed, tranquil air, freezing its propulsion and gently guiding it down to the crag like a leaf on a pillow.
Indra: "Perfect precision. No collateral."
Garuda: "Precision is the highest form of power. Your rage, when it comes, must be surgical. The attack on your den was a violation of the deepest law. The desire to burn the forest of your enemies is natural. But a true guardian burns only the diseased tree and saves the rest of the wood. Your Mangekyō grants you dominion over space. Use Talon's eyes. Mark a target on the southern peak."
Indra, through Talon's sight, focused on a particular boulder a mile away. He activated the spatial power of his right eye, Palkia. Space folded. Not to teleport himself, but to apply pressure. The boulder didn't move. The space around it twisted. With a soundless crunch, the boulder was compacted into a sphere the size of a grapefruit, and its molecular structure collapsed.
Garuda: "A clean excision. No blast, no shrapnel. The sky does not shout when it removes a cloud. It simply lets it fall. Your pain, Indra. It is a cloud. You can let it rage as a thunderhead, or you can learn to let it rain and then pass. The choice defines what grows beneath you."
The training shifted. Indra practised coordinating with Talon for instantaneous, line-of-sight spatial strikes. With Zephyr, he learned to combine his Lightning Release with controlled atmospheric ionisation, creating localised, targeted lightning storms that could disable electronics or disrupt chakra networks without widespread destruction.
Finally, as the day waned, Garuda spoke again, his tone softening from a cutting wind to a night breeze.
Garuda: "You seek the Sage's path. The blending of natural energy. We, who are born of it, can guide the first steps. But the path is yours. The rage you feel… it is a potent fuel. But Senjutsu requires balance, tranquillity amid the storm. You must find the eye of your own hurricane before you can command the world's energy. When you are ready, return here. We will show you the currents."
Exhausted but mentally clarified, Indra bowed to the Eagle Elder. The fury was still there, but it had been forged in the day's training into something sharper, colder, more deliberate—a scalpel being tempered, not a bomb being suppressed.
Kumogakure – Indra's Laboratory, in the Evening
He found Rias waiting for him, not in the living area, but in his main lab. She was wearing her new Jonin flak jacket, looking at a schematic for the *Raijin-2* transport with keen interest. She turned as he entered, her smile bright but her eyes holding the focused glint of a newly-promoted elite.
Rias: "Long day with the titans? You smell like ozone and petrichor."
Indra: "A productive one. And you, Jonin Uzumaki? Shouldn't you be celebrating?"
Rias: "Celebrating is boring. I'd rather train. I feel like I've caught up just enough to see how far I still have to go. Especially watching you."
He walked over, tracing a finger along the edge of her flak jacket. "How about a different kind of training? A mission. One that gets us out of the village."
He explained the Raikage's request—a merchant, loyal to the Daimyo, had a valuable stock of chakra-conductive silk and rare alloys stuck in the Land of Waves for a month due to local gangster interference. The merchant, a friend of Zeoticus, had pleaded for help. The mission was technically a B-rank escort/retrieval, but in a neutral, relatively peaceful country.
Indra: "A says it's a milk run. Thinks we need a… change of scenery. A working vacation."
Rias: "The Land of Waves? That's practically a resort compared to our usual postings. It sounds suspiciously like he's trying to get us to relax."
Indra: "I won't complain. A chance to train in a different environment, low stakes. We can work on your new spear techniques, maybe some collaborative jutsu. And if we happen to enjoy the beach after the work is done…"
Rias: (A genuine smile) "A mission with my boyfriend that doesn't involve fighting ROOT or Biju? I accept. When do we leave?"
Raikage's Office, Later
Raikage grunted as they stood before him. "The merchant's name is Tannen. Good man. Built half the bridges in the Land of Noodles, or something. His stock is in a warehouse in a port town. Some local thug named Gato is causing trouble, muscling in on shipping. Show our flag, get the stock, and see it onto one of our contracted merchant ships. Simple. Consider it a diplomatic courtesy with some light enforcement. Don't start a war. But don't let anyone push around Lightning's interests."
He leaned forward, a rare, almost paternal look in his eyes. "You both carry the weight of this village every day. Indra, you especially. That business with your mother… It's not settled in here, is it?" He tapped his own massive chest. "A mission like this is good. Reminds you what normal problems look like. Go. Be a brilliant Jonin and his clever partner. Not the Commander and his lieutenant for a week."
Indra: "Understood, sir. Thank you."
Raikage A: "Don't thank me. Just bring back the silk. My wife wants a new dress."
Land of Waves – Border Region, Three Days Later
The shift from Lightning's sharp peaks and electric energy to the Wave's humid, misty coastal flats was palpable. The air was thick with salt and the smell of decaying vegetation. They travelled light, in civilian gear over their shinobi attire, the sealed scroll for the merchant's goods secured on Indra's person.
They were on a wooded coastal road, a few miles past the border, when the atmosphere changed. The birds fell silent. The gentle sea breeze died.
Indra stopped, placing a hand on Rias's arm. His Sharingan activated instantly, spinning slowly.
Indra: "We're not alone. Two of them. Powerful. Not local thugs."
From the shadows of the dense foliage and the mist, they emerged. Itachi Uchiha, his posture relaxed but eyes closed, and Kisame Hoshigaki, Samehada slung over his shoulder, his shark-like grin wide and predatory.
Kisame: "Well, well. If it isn't the famous runaway prince and his little red-haired shadow. The boss said you might be in the neighbourhood. We were in the area… thought we'd say hello."
Rias: Her spear was in her hand in an instant, extending from its hairpin form with a sharp shing. "Akatsuki."
Itachi: (Opening his eyes, the Mangekyō Sharingan spinning lazily) "Indra Uzumaki-Uchiha. We have much to discuss. Your existence… complicates things."
The cold fury, so carefully controlled and tempered over the past days, surged forward. It didn't burn hot; it was a glacial wave, freezing his veins. This man. This kin. The instrument of the trauma that had defined his own life, that had left Sasuke broken, that had served Danzo's ends.
Indra: His voice was dangerously calm. "Itachi Uchiha. The clan killer. I've read the reports. I've seen the files Danzo kept. I know the 'choice' he gave you."
Itachi's expression remained impassive, but a flicker of something—strain?—crossed his features. "You know nothing."
Indra: "I know you slaughtered children. Newborns. Our family. In their beds. I saw the reports of the ruins of the police headquarters from Danzō and Kumo's file, Itachi. Even in the reports, I felt the echoes of their fear. My father died because of the plot you were a part of." The calm was cracking, a glacier calving. "So tell me, before we do this. Look me in the eye, you who have the same eyes as me. How do you justify it? How do you live with the memory of cutting down a newborn who hadn't even learned to walk? What grand, village-saving ideology makes that acceptable?"
The words hung in the misty air, sharp as knives. For the first time, Itachi's perfect composure showed a fissure. A minute tightening around his eyes. The revelation about Danzo's full manipulation, the unmasking of the puppet master behind the tragedy, had clearly reached him. The foundation of his unbearable sacrifice was revealed to be built on rotten lies.
Itachi: (His voice low) "The path to peace… is paved with…"
Indra: "Lies? Betrayal? Infant blood? Don't give me your sanctimonious platitudes! You had power! The Mangekyō! You could have found another way! You could have turned on Danzo! You could have protected them instead of becoming his butcher!"
The accusation was a physical force. Itachi said nothing. He had no answer. The truth he had clung to—that he had done a monstrous thing for a greater good—had been hollowed out. He was left holding only the monster.
Kisame: "Enough chit-chat. You're upsetting my partner." He hefted Samehada. "Let's see if you taste as interesting as you talk, little Uchiha."
Rias: "You'll deal with me first, fish-face." Blue chakra, dense with Uzumaki potency, flared around her spear.
The battle erupted in the confined space of the road.
Rias vs. Kisame – It was a clash of titanic physical forces versus sublime technique. Kisame moved with surprising speed for his size, Samehada humming with hunger. Rias didn't meet him head-on. She used her spear's reach, her agility, and precise, sealing-tagged kunai. She'd weave a quick barrier seal in the air to deflect a water bullet, then lunge to score a shallow cut on Kisame's arm. Samehada would writhe, absorbing the chakra from the wound, but Rias was careful, her chakra control so fine she gave it minimal traces to feast on. She used the environment, kicking up spray from a puddle to momentarily blind him, using Earth Release to create small, disruptive pillars under his feet. It was a masterful display of a Jonin using every tool to counter a brute-force S-rank missing-nin. She couldn't overpower him, but she held him, stalled him, turning the fight into a gruelling war of attrition that frustrated Kisame to no end.
Indra vs. Itachi: This was a different kind of fight entirely. A silent, deadly ballet of eyes and Genjutsu.
Itachi opened with Tsukuyomi. The world greyed, the familiar torture dimension forming. But Indra's Eternal Mangekyō spun, its geometric pattern flaring. "Break." The command wasn't vocal; it was spatial. Using Palkia's nascent authority, he didn't just resist the Genjutsu; he fractured the illusory space itself, shattering it like glass. Itachi's eyes widened a fraction—a minute show of shock.
Itachi: "You resist the Tsukuyomi…"
Indra: "Your illusions are built on pain and trauma. Mine are built on order and reality. They have no hold here."
Itachi responded with Amaterasu. Black flames ignited on Indra's chest. But before they could consume him, Indra's left eye glowed. "Dialga." He didn't rewind his own time. He rewound the flames' time. The Amaterasu sputtered, shrinking from a roaring inferno back to a spark, then to nothing, its very existence reversed a few seconds before it was born.
The cost was significant—a sharp pain behind his eyes—but he didn't flinch.
Itachi was now visibly strained. Using the Mangekyō techniques taxed him immensely, and they were having zero effect.
Indra didn't use his own Mangekyō techniques offensively. He closed the distance, his body a blur. He fought with Taijutsu infused with lightning, every strike precise, aimed at joints, chakra points. Itachi, a prodigy himself, parried and dodged, but Indra's physical strength, enhanced by Fanalis-Uzumaki's heritage and relentless training, was overwhelming. A glancing blow cracked Itachi's rib.
Indra: (Through gritted teeth, as they locked kunai) "You had a brother who loved you! You made him hate you! You made him live with a lie! All for what? For a village that let a monster like Danzo run free? For a 'peace' built on the graves of your own parents?"
Each word was a strike as potent as his fists. Itachi's defences, both physical and mental, were crumbling under the dual assault. He was a ghost fighting a storm, and the storm was armed with the truth.
Seeing his partner in trouble, Kisame roared and disengaged from Rias with a massive water shockwave, charging towards Indra. "Itachi!"
Rias: "Oh no, you don't!" She planted her spear in the ground. "Uzumaki Style: Four Pillars Binding Seal!" Chains of glowing chakra erupted from the ground, wrapping around Kisame's legs. They wouldn't hold him long, but they slowed him.
It was the opening Indra needed. He feinted high, and when Itachi moved to block, Indra's hand, wreathed in crackling, dense lightning chakra (Chidori, but refined, quieter, deadlier), shot forward. It wasn't aimed aat theheart. It was aimed for the shoulder, a disabling blow.
Itachi moved, but not fast enough. The lightning-charged hand pierced through his upper chest, just below the collarbone, with a sickening crunch and a sizzle of burning flesh and cloth.
Itachi gasped, blood spraying from his mouth. His Mangekyō faded, reverting to black. He stumbled back, collapsing against a tree.
Kisame: With a roar of fury, he tore free of the sealing chains. He didn't press the attack. He saw Itachi's state, saw the cold, relentless fury in Indra's eyes, and the determined, though panting, form of Rias ready to continue. This wasn't a fight they could win today.
Kisame: "This isn't over, brats!" He scooped up the grievously injured Itachi in one massive arm. "Samehada, we're leaving!" With a last, furious glare, he launched himself into the dense forest, moving with surprising speed for retreat.
Indra didn't pursue. He stood, breathing heavily, the lightning fading from his hand. The cold rage was still there, but seeing Itachi broken, speechless, and defeated… it left a hollow, unsatisfied feeling. Vengeance wasn't sweet. It was ash.
Rias stumbled to his side, leaning on her spear. She was covered in minor cuts and bruises, her chakra reserves low from the relentless fight with Kisame.
Rias: "He… he didn't have an answer, did he?"
Indra: (Looking at the blood on his hand) "No. He didn't. All that pain… for nothing but a lie." He turned to her, the fury finally receding, replaced by concern. "You're hurt."
Rias: "I'm fine. Just tired. Kisame is… a lot. But I held him." There was pride, but also deep exhaustion in her voice. "We need to find shelter. I need to rest before I collapse."
Land of Waves – Coastal Village, Nightfall
They found a small, poor fishing village a few miles down the coast. The inn was little more than a shack, but it was dry. After securing a room and Rias immediately passing out on the thin futon from chakra exhaustion, Indra sat by the window, watching the moon over the water. The fight played in his mind. Itachi's empty eyes. His own seething questions. The hollow victory.
Suddenly, from the direction of the beach, sounds carried on the night wind—the distinct clash of metal on metal, shouts, and the explosive fwoosh of Fire Release.
Shinobi.
Indra glanced at the sleeping Rias. She needed rest. But the noise was close, and it sounded like a serious fight. He left a subtle barrier seal on the door and window, then melted into the shadows, moving towards the beach with silent grace.
What he saw was a scene from a story he almost remembered.
On the misty beach, under a pale moon, Zabuza Momochi, the Demon of the Hidden Mist, towered over a kneeling, panting Kakashi Hatake. Kakashi's headband was pushed up, a Sharingan spinning in his left eye, but it was wide with strain and pain. Behind Kakashi, three Genin—a blond boy yelling, a pink-haired girl crying, and a brooding dark-haired boy in a hoodie—protected a cowering old man with glasses. A massive wall of water loomed behind Zabuza, and a silent, masked boy with a giant needle-sword stood ready.
It was the confrontation on the Wave brBridgeBut something was different. The timeline was skewed. The players were the same, but the context of the world had shifted massively.
Kakashi was on his last legs, the strain of overusing the Sharingan against Zabuza's silent killing technique and Water Clone jutsu evident. Zabuza raised his executioner's sword for a final blow.
Indra watched from the tree line, his Eternal Mangekyō taking in the scene. The old man was undoubtedly Tazuna, the bridge builder, the very merchant they were here to help. The Genin were Konoha's newest team—Team 7. Naruto Uzumaki. Sasuke Uchiha. Sakura Haruno.
His cousin. His… other cousin, in a way. And the son of the man his father had failed.
Zabuza's blade descended.
Indra didn't move. He watched.
And then, as in the story he recalled, the blond boy—Naruto—found his courage. With a defiant shout that echoed with a faint, familiar, desperate warmth, he and the Sasuke boy moved in a surprising, coordinated attack, forcing Zabuza to momentarily divert his attention.
It was enough for Kakashi to muster a last effort, a desperate strategy forming in his pained mind.
Indra leaned back against the tree, the mist curling around him. The cold rage from the fight with Itachi was gone, replaced by a profound, weary contemplation. Here, on this forgotten beach, was the old world's cycle—hatred, protection, struggle—playing out its small, tragic drama. And there, in the mountains to the north, was the new world he was building—a fortress against such dramas, a storm meant to make them obsolete.
He had come here for silk and a vacation. He had found a ghost of his past, a hollow victory, and now, an echo of the world's endless, painful song.
He would intervene if Kakashi truly fell. For now, he would watch. And he would wonder what this blond boy, this vessel of Asura's unclaimed chakra, and this brooding Uchiha heir, would become in a world where their destined roles had already been stolen by a boy from Kumo who remembered another story entirely.
The night deepened. On the beach, the battle for a bridge and a dream continued. In the shadows, the architect of a different future watched, his own storm momentarily still, as the tides of fate lapped at a new, uncertain shore.
[System Notification: Template Update: Indra Ōtsutsuki – 86% Completed. Reason: Confrontation and deconstruction of the previous 'Indra' vessel's legacy. Victor Von Doom – 42% Completed. Reason: Successful field test of refined abilities against S-rank threats, continued strategic consolidation. New Quest Available: Observe the Asura Vessel (Naruto Uzumaki).]
End of chapter – 18.