Indra Uzumaki-Uchiha POV
The quiet of my Inner World was absolute—a blank canvas of white earth under a starless twilight sky where time and space were mine to mold. Yet, for once, I wasn't here to train or create. I was here to think. To plan. To confront a ghost that had been whispering at the edge of my consciousness since I stood in the Uchiha compound with Sasuke.
My father's grave was in Konoha. A marker among hundreds, placed there by the village that killed him. The remains of the Uchiha clan—the children, the infants, the civilians who never lifted a weapon—were buried in a mass grave on the outskirts of the compound, their names unrecorded, their stories erased by Danzo's convenient narrative.
I had built a fortress to protect the living. But what of the dead? What of the stolen potential, the bloodlines extinguished not in war, but in a political purge dressed as necessity?
The Victor Von Doom template hummed in my mind, its completion now at 41%. Doom's genius wasn't just in invention—it was in defiance. Defiance of fate, of death, of limitations. He would look at a graveyard and see a library of lost knowledge waiting to be recovered. He would see injustice and respond not with mourning, but with correction.
The Ashina Uzumaki template whispered of vitality, of seals that could bind life and death, of a clan that had turned longevity into an art form.
The Indra Ōtsutsuki template thrummed with the power to shape reality itself.
Together, they formed a terrible, beautiful question: Why should I accept this loss as permanent?
I opened my eyes, back in my physical body, sitting in my private laboratory beneath Kumo. The hum of advanced machinery was a familiar comfort. Before me, on a holographic display, rotated a double helix—a perfect synthesis of Uchiha and Uzumaki DNA that I had mapped from my own cells. I had cured the Mangekyō's blindness. I had stabilized the genetic expression. The theory was sound. The methodology was within my grasp.
But I needed the source material.
Konohagakure – Uchiha Compound, Two Nights Later
Midnight. The moon was a sliver, casting minimal light. The compound was a ghost town, sealed and silent, patrolled by a token ANBU detail that Tsunade had posted more for form than function. They were no threat to me.
I stood at the edge of the forest, my chakra suppressed to absolute zero by a combination of my own skill and a seal-script woven into my cloak. I was a void. I watched the two ANBU—Cat and Boar masks—complete their lazy circuit and settle into a watch post atop the old police building.
My target wasn't the building. It was the earth. The southeastern corner of the compound, where the records I'd… liberated from Danzo's files indicated the "unidentified remains" had been interred. A pit, dug quickly, filled without ceremony.
My Sharingan wasn't active. My Mangekyō would be a lighthouse. This required something subtler.
I closed my eyes, reaching out with a different sense—one honed from the Absolute Potential gift and refined by Doom's analytical prowess. Biometric Resonance Scanning. Every living—and recently deceased—thing left a unique energy signature in its cells, a fading echo that could persist for years in bone marrow and tooth enamel. I was looking for the small, faint echoes. The ones that had been cut short over a decade ago.
There. A cluster of them, about six feet down. Small, fragmented, but distinct. Twelve signatures. No… thirteen. The records said twelve children under twelve were unaccounted for in the official massacre list. The thirteenth was likely an infant, overlooked even in Danzo's morbid accounting.
My jaw tightened. I pushed the emotion down, compartmentalized it. This was a recovery operation. I would grieve later. Now, I needed precision.
I focused on my left eye. The Mangekyō pattern—a complex, interlocking lattice of geometric shapes—glowed softly in the deep crimson, visible only to me. The power of Dialga, the Temporal Decree, stirred.
This wasn't about moving through time. That was still beyond me without catastrophic cost. This was about affecting time's flow in a localized field.
Indra: "Dialga: Stasis Point."
The words were a whisper, a command to reality itself.
A sphere of distorted, shimmering air erupted from me, expanding silently to engulf the entire Uchiha compound and a hundred meters beyond. To the ANBU on the roof, to the insects in the grass, to the very air molecules—time stopped. Absolutely. I saw Cat-mask frozen in mid-yawn, a moth suspended in flight, dust motes hanging like stars in the moonlight.
The strain was immediate and immense. A crushing weight settled on my soul, and my chakra reserves began to drain at an alarming rate. I had, at best, ninety seconds in real-world terms before I'd be forced to release it.
I moved.
A flicker of Body Flicker brought me to the spot. No seals, no digging. I placed my palm on the earth. Earth Release: Gentle Excavation. The soil parted like water, flowing upward and to the sides in a perfect, silent cylinder, revealing the pit below.
It was… sparse. Time and the elements had done their work. But there, among rotted fabric and discolored bone, were the smaller skeletal remains. Some still had tiny, tattered shirts, a hairclip, a small toy shuriken made of wood. The infant was just… a tiny bundle of bones.
No time for horror. No time for rage.
From my Inner World, I manifested thirteen specialized collection units—sterile, transparent capsules with robotic manipulators, guided by my chakra. They floated down, each moving to a set of remains. With delicate precision, they used laser scalpels to extract minute samples—from the petrous bone (the densest, best-preserved part of the temporal bone), from tooth roots, from any lingering hair follicle trapped in the soil.
Thirty seconds.
The capsules sealed, their precious cargo now in stasis fields. They vanished back into my Inner World. I took one more moment. My eyes, still in Mangekyō form, scanned the area. Chakra Echo Analysis. I was looking for one specific, familiar signature among the adult remains buried deeper. I found it. Faint, but undeniable. A chakra pattern that matched my own in key ways. Fujian Uchiha.
I directed another capsule. It extracted a sample from his remains as well.
Fifteen seconds.
I waved my hand. The earth flowed back into place, perfectly restored, no sign of disturbance. I was back at the forest edge.
Indra: "Release."
The temporal stasis collapsed. Time resumed. The ANBU guard completed his yawn. The moth flew onward. The dust motes continued their random dance. Less than a heartbeat had passed in their perception.
I was already gone, a phantom in the night, my mission complete.
Kumogakure – Deep Underground Laboratory, Sector Zero
This lab didn't exist on any Kumo blueprint. It was a pocket dimension adjacent to my Inner World, accessible only by me. Here, the technology was a blend of chakra-based fuinjutsu and something… else. Something gleaned from the bleeding edge of Victor Von Doom's template. Cloning tanks, genetic sequencers, cellular accelerators, soul-resonance calibrators—all humming in sterile, silent efficiency.
The thirteen capsules containing the Uchiha children's samples floated in a containment field. My father's sample was in a separate, honored place.
I began the work.
First, sequencing. The genetic maps of each child were reconstructed from the degraded samples. It was painstaking, even with my technology. But strand by strand, I rebuilt their DNA profiles. Then came the synthesis. Pure Uchiha DNA was robust in some ways—the Sharingan potential—but fragile in others: the propensity for emotional extremism, the chakra pathways that burned too hot, the Mangekyō curse.
That's where the Uzumaki DNA came in. Not as a replacement, but as a reinforcement. Using my own perfected hybrid genome as a template, I began weaving Uzumaki sequences into the Uchiha genetic code. Not a clumsy splice, but an elegant integration at the mitochondrial and telomere levels.
I was building them better. Stronger.
Key Modifications:
Uzumaki Vitality & Chakra Reserves: Enhanced life force, accelerated healing, massive chakra pools. Stabilized Chakra Pathways: The Uchiha neural-visual links were reinforced with Uzumaki resilience, preventing the feedback degradation that caused blindness. Emotional Regulation Enzymes: Introduced synthetic proteins that would moderate the extreme emotional spikes that triggered Sharingan evolution, allowing for more controlled awakening. Direct Evolutionary Path: The Mangekyō was no longer a cursed mutation. It became the natural third stage of the Sharingan, achievable without trauma, simply through intense focus and chakra mastery. And because the blindness flaw was removed at a genetic level, every Mangekyō would be Eternal from the moment of awakening. Physical Enhancement: Baseline strength, speed, and durability set at a minimum of low Kage-level. They would be powerhouses from physical maturity.
I designed each body to match the age they would have been had they lived—ranging from a newborn to a twelve-year-old. They would grow naturally in the tanks, their minds a tabula rasa, free of the horror of their deaths. They would have no memories of Itachi, of the massacre, of Obito's manipulations. They would know only what we chose to teach them.
For my father, I did something different. I sequenced his genome perfectly, flawlessly. I removed the Mangekyō curse, of course. But otherwise, I left him unchanged. Fujian Uchiha had been a formidable Jonin, a leader. He didn't need my "improvements." His strength was his own.
As his genetic map completed, my analytical systems flagged an anomaly. A latent genetic marker, dormant but present. I focused on it, running deep resonance scans.
My breath caught.
Indra: "A Mangekyō potential… fully formed but never awakened."
The data was clear. My father had possessed the genetic and chakra-capacity for the Mangekyō Sharingan. The trauma of the clan's ostracization, the fear for his family… it had been there, simmering. He had died before it could manifest.
A cross-reference with the fragmentary data I had on Fugaku Uchiha's genetics (gleaned from Sasuke's sample and Konoha's old records) revealed something even more poignant. Their Mangekyō patterns, had they awakened, would have been compatible. Brotherly eyes. They could have exchanged them, achieved the Eternal Mangekyō the old, brutal way.
I leaned back in my chair, the sterile light of the lab reflecting in my own Eternal eyes.
Indra: "All that power… wasted because they were pitted against each other by a system that feared them. What could they have done together? What could the Uchiha have been?"
A sigh escaped me, heavy with the weight of lost possibilities. I let the thought go. I couldn't change their past. I could only give them a future.
I set the growth parameters. The cloning tanks filled with amber nutrient fluid. From the microscopic cellular samples, the process began. Tiny specks of life, multiplying, differentiating. It would take approximately six months for them to reach their target physical ages. The mind would develop in tandem, a clean slate awaiting imprinting.
The hardest part was next. The soul.
Raikage's Office – Two Days Later
I stood before the Fourth Raikage's desk, having requested a private audience. Only Darui was present, lounging against the wall but listening intently.
Raikage A: "You look like you haven't slept. Lab rat got your tongue, kid? Spit it out."
I placed a sleek data pad on his desk. On it was a summarized, non-technical overview of Project Phoenix.
Indra: "I have recovered genetic samples from the slain Uchiha children and my father, Fujian Uchiha. Using advanced cloning and genetic synthesis, I am growing new bodies for them. They will be free of the Uchiha curse, enhanced with Uzumaki vitality, and possess the potential for the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan without the associated degradation or trauma requirement."
The Raikage's cup of tea stopped halfway to his mouth. Darui straightened up, his lazy demeanor gone.
Raikage A: "...You're cloning the Uchiha."
Indra: "I am restoring them. Their minds will be blank slates. They will have no memory of the massacre. They can be raised as citizens of Kumo, as part of the Uzumaki clan—which, genetically, they now are."
Raikage A: "That's a hell of a thing, Indra. A hell of a thing. The bodies are one thing. Souls are another. You planning to stick some random souls in there?"
Indra: "No. I intend to recall their own souls."
I brought up another schematic. An Uzumaki forbidden technique, one I had reconstructed from Ashina's template and cross-referenced with the scrolls my mother had saved. The Soul Recall and Transference Jutsu.
Indra: "When a person dies violently or before their time, their soul can linger near the Pure Lands, in a state of unrest, for decades. The technique uses a powerful focus—like a perfectly recreated body with identical genetic and chakra resonance—as a beacon to call that specific soul back. It then requires a vessel to transfer it."
Darui: "A vessel?"
Indra: "A living host. The soul is transferred from the lingering state into the new body. The host's soul is… displaced."
Raikage A: "You're talking about killing someone to make room."
Indra: "I am talking about using the condemned. The death row inmates from our prisons, or those from other nations who have committed atrocities and face execution. Their bodies would serve as the transfer medium. Their souls would pass on naturally; we would simply be… repurposing the vacancy a few moments earlier. It is a form of ultimate restitution. Their death gives life to those who were unjustly killed."
The room was silent. The moral calculus was brutal, stark, and utterly shinobi in its pragmatism.
Raikage A: "You can do this? For sure?"
Indra: "The theory is solid. The Uzumaki once used a lesser version to save their elders from terminal illness, using volunteer sacrifices. The technique was banned for its ethical implications. But the children and my father… they were murdered. This isn't extending a natural life. It is correcting a grievous wrong."
The Raikage stared at the data pad, his face a mask of stone. Then he looked up, his eyes sharp.
Raikage A: "What's the limit? How far back can you go?"
I knew what he was asking.
Indra: "The soul must still be lingering. Violent, untimely death creates the strongest anchor. Old age, prolonged illness… the soul moves on peacefully, beyond recall. There is also a time component. The fresher the death, the stronger the resonance. But with a perfect genetic match and sufficient power… decades are possible."
Raikage A: "My father."
He said it quietly. The Third Raikage. Died during the Third Shinobi World War, fighting ten thousand enemy shinobi for three days and three nights to allow his comrades to escape. A legend. A hero. Gone.
Indra: "He died in battle, at the peak of his strength, his life cut short. His soul would be a beacon of warrior's resolve. If we have a genetic sample… yes. It is possible."
The Raikage leaned back, his chair groaning. He looked at the portrait of his father on the wall—a massive man with a stern face and kind eyes.
Raikage A: "He deserved to see what we've built. He deserved to see Kumo not just surviving, but thriving. To see the fortress his grandson built in the sky." He looked at me, his decision made. "Do it. For the Uchiha children. For your father. And… for my old man. What do you need?"
Indra: "Genetic samples from the Third Raikage. A secured, warded facility on Turtle Island for the adult resurrections—my father and your father. They will need seclusion and counseling to adapt. And access to the prisoner manifests. I'll need to screen for chakra and biological compatibility."
Raikage A: "You'll have it. Turtle Island is perfect. Isolated, protected by the Giant Turtle and our forces. The samples from my father are in the clan shrine. I'll get them. The prisoners… I'll have the warden prepare the list. Darui, you're on this. Absolute secrecy. This doesn't leave this room. To the world, those kids are newly discovered Uzumaki orphans we're taking in. My father and Fujian Uchiha are to be ghosts until we decide otherwise."
Darui: "Understood, boss. Cool and dark. My specialty."
Raikage A: "Indra… you're walking a line here. Between miracle and abomination. Don't stumble."
Indra: "I am building a future, Lord Raikage. One where our losses are not permanent, where our enemies' greatest crime—the murder of our people—can be undone. It is the ultimate deterrent. And the ultimate justice."
He nodded, a grim approval in his eyes. "Then get to work. Report weekly. No surprises."
Turtle Island – One Month Later
The facility was built into the cliffs, invisible from the sea or air. Inside, two advanced healing pods, modified with soul-transference arrays, hummed quietly. In adjacent tanks, the bodies of Fujian Uchiha and the Third Raikage were nearly complete—perfect physical replicas in their prime.
In my main lab, the thirteen tanks holding the Uchiha children were progressing. They looked like sleeping children, floating peacefully. The oldest, a boy who would be twelve, already had a strong jaw and spiky black hair. The infant was a tiny, perfect thing.
The prisoner list had been vetted. Thirteen individuals, all scheduled for execution for crimes ranging from mass murder to treason. Their chakra signatures were compatible enough. I felt no pity for them. They were tools for restitution.
The first transfer would be the simplest: one of the older children. The prisoner, a missing-nin from Stone who had slaughtered a farming village, was sedated and placed on the transfer slab, covered in Uzumaki sealing arrays.
I stood between his slab and the tank holding the boy's new body. My Mangekyō was active. The Soul Recall Array glowed on the floor, connecting all three points—the lingering soul, the prisoner's body, the new vessel.
Indra: "Fuinjutsu: Tamashii Yobimodoshi no Jutsu. (Sealing Technique: Soul Recall Jutsu)"
Chakra, vast and deep, poured from me into the array. The air grew heavy, thick with spiritual pressure. I could feel it—a small, confused, faint presence in the ether. A child's soul, lost for over a decade, drawn by the irresistible pull of the body that was his in every way that mattered.
The prisoner's body convulsed as the foreign soul was pulled through it, using it as a conduit. His own soul, dark and ragged, was gently but firmly ushered onward by the seals. A bright, shimmering wisp of light emerged from his chest and flowed into the tank, suffusing the new body.
The array flared once, then dimmed.
Silence.
Then, in the tank, the boy's chest rose. He took his first breath in twelve years. His eyes fluttered open behind the glass. Dark, innocent, curious eyes. No Sharingan. Just the eyes of a child waking from a long sleep.
A medical-nin team I had personally trained—sworn to secrecy—moved in. They drained the tank, wrapped the boy in warm blankets, and began checking his vitals. He was confused, disoriented, but calm. He had no language, no memories. Just a clean, new consciousness in a familiar old vessel.
One by one, over the next weeks, we repeated the process. Each success made the procedure smoother. The infant was the most delicate, but the soul was the purest, the most easily guided. Soon, all thirteen children were in the recovery ward, being cared for, taught to eat, to walk, to speak. They would be raised by selected Uzumaki families—Venelana and Zeoticus had already volunteered to take the infant and two of the toddlers. They would be Uzumaki in name, in loyalty, in heart. But the potential sleeping within them was a legacy of the Uchiha, perfected.
Finally, the day came for the adults.
On Turtle Island, with only the Raikage, Darui, and a trusted guard present, we prepared for the two transfers. The prisoners here were the worst of the worst—a Kiri hunter-nin who had turned on his own team for money, and a rogue Kumo ninja who had sold secrets to Iwa.
The atmosphere was charged with a different kind of tension. These weren't children's souls. These were seasoned warriors, their deaths violent and proud.
We performed the transfers simultaneously in adjacent rooms.
In my room, I focused on my father's beacon. The pull was stronger, more defined. A soul of resolve, of duty, of quiet love.
Indra: "Tamashii Yobimodoshi!"
The light that flowed into Fujian Uchiha's new body was steadier, brighter. When his eyes opened, they were sharp, alert, instantly taking in the room. They were the dark, serious eyes I remembered. Then they widened in shock, then confusion, as they locked onto mine.
Across the hall, I felt a surge of titanic chakra as the Third Raikage's soul took hold. A roar of pure, undiluted power echoed through the stone halls, followed by the Raikage A's emotional, booming laugh.
But my attention was here.
The medics helped my father sit up. He looked at his hands—young, strong hands—then at me. His voice, when it came, was hoarse from disuse but familiar.
Fujian Uchiha: "...Indra?"
The sound of my name in his voice, after so long, was a physical blow. I knelt by the bed, my composure cracking for the first time in years.
Indra: "Father."
Fujian Uchiha: "This… is not the Pure Lands. And you… you're a man. How long…?"
Indra: "Twelve years. You died in the massacre. I brought you back."
I gave him the concise version. The escape to Kumo. My growth. The truth of Danzo. The cloning. The soul transfer. He listened, his expression moving through shock, grief, fury, and finally, a profound, weary understanding.
Fujian Uchiha: "Fugaku… Itachi… Sasuke?"
Indra: "Fugaku is dead. Itachi lives, bearing a burden that wasn't his to carry. Sasuke lives in Konoha. He knows a version of the truth. I've… spoken with him."
My father closed his eyes, processing the scale of it. "And your mother?"
Indra: "Alive. Well. A head medic in Kumo. She never stopped missing you."
A single tear traced a path down his cheek. He wiped it away, the gesture so achingly familiar.
Fujian Uchiha: "You have done the impossible, my son. You have defied death itself. Not for power. For family." He opened his eyes, and they held a fierce, proud light. "Tell me of this village you call home. Of this storm you've built."
As I began to explain, the door opened. Raikage A stood there, his eyes suspiciously bright. Behind him was a mountain of a man with a stern face and a shaved head, clad in simple robes. The Third Raikage. His eyes swept the room, landing on me, then on my father. He gave a slow, respectful nod.
Third Raikage: "So. You're the boy who pulled us back from the brink. My son tells me you've made Kumo into something the world has never seen."
Indra: "Welcome back, Lord Third. We have much to discuss."
Third Raikage: (A deep, rumbling chuckle) "I've been dead. I've got time."
One Week Later
The children were settling in. They were being called the "Storm-Born" Uzumaki—a group of orphans with remarkable potential discovered by the clan. No one questioned it too deeply; the Uzumaki were known for their vitality.
My father and the Third Raikage were in seclusion on Turtle Island, acclimating, training, and learning about the new world they'd returned to. My father had asked to see Sasuke, but agreed it must wait until the time was right, until Sasuke had found his own path.
I stood on the balcony of the Raikage's tower with A, looking over the village. The Thunderhead system's gentle hum was a constant in the back of my mind.
Raikage A: "Thirteen new citizens with the potential for Eternal Mangekyō. Two legendary warriors returned from the grave. You've just doubled Kumo's strategic power in a single move, and our enemies don't even know it."
Indra: "They are not weapons, Lord Raikage. They are people. A second chance."
Raikage A: "I know. But the world will see weapons if it finds out. We keep this buried deeper than the Ten-Tails. The children will be raised as loyal Kumo-nin. My father and your father… they are our ultimate reserves. A secret we hope never to need."
He was right. This wasn't just about resurrection. It was about changing the fundamental rules of the game. Death was no longer a permanent victory for our enemies.
Raikage A: "What's next, Indra? You've conquered genetics. You've bent soul physics. What's left?"
I looked up at the sky, where a Braviary from the Eagle Clan circled lazily, a sentinel in the endless blue.
Indra: "The Akatsuki still seek the Biju. Obito and Zetsu still plot. The other villages are off-balance, but they will adapt. We have built the fortress. Now we must ensure that when the war comes—and it will come—we are not just defending. We are defining the peace that follows."
I thought of the clones growing in my lab. Of my father's steady presence. Of the Third Raikage's legendary strength. Of Naruto's bright determination and Sasuke's searching rage.
Indra: "We have gathered our lost pieces. Now we finish the board."
The Raikage nodded, a fierce grin on his face. The storm around us was quiet, for now. But beneath the calm, foundations were being laid that would shake the very heavens.
We had brought back the dead. The living had better be ready for what came next.
[System Notification: Template Update: Victor Von Doom – 45% Completed. Reason: Successful defiance and rewriting of natural law (death). Establishment of clandestine resurrection protocol. Advancement of 'Post-Scarcity Personnel' doctrine.]
[System Notification: Template Update: Ashina Uzumaki – 80% Completed. Reason: Mastery and ethical application of forbidden soul-based Fuinjutsu. Perfection of hybrid Uzumaki-Uchiha genome.]
[System Notification: Template Update: Indra Ōtsutsuki – 86% Completed. Reason: Direct, large-scale alteration of fate and legacy for an entire clan. Exercise of creator-god level authority over life.]
[New Sub-System Unlocked: Soul-Forge Interface. Allows for monitoring, stabilization, and guidance of resurrected entities.]
[Warning: Large-scale manipulation of soul cycle may attract attention from higher-dimensional observers. Vigilance recommended.]
The messages scrolled past my vision. I acknowledged them and let them fade. The system was a tool. The people below—the living, the returned, the growing—were the purpose.
The sun set behind the mountains, painting Kumo in shades of fire and gold. Below, the village lights began to twinkle on, one by one, each a testament to the will to endure, to protect, to live.
And now, to live again.
End of Chapter – 38.