Gyūki's POV –
The Inkwell Depths, Day 3
Freedom had a taste. It was salt, ozone, and something else—the crisp, clean flavor of potential. For three days, I had explored my realm, the dimension Indra had crafted and my ascension had brought to vibrant, roaring life.
The Inkwell Depths were not a static place. The "ocean" wasn't water, not as humans knew it. It was a fluid, living substance—dense, dark, and infinitely malleable, humming with latent chakra that responded to my will and my mood. If I felt playful, it would form playful currents that danced in complex rhythms. If I grew thoughtful, it would become still and reflective as polished obsidian. Mountains rose from the depths not as rock, but as colossal, resonant crystals that sang low, foundational notes when the currents brushed them. The "sky" above was a perpetual, swirling aurora of deep blues, purples, and silvers, casting ever-shifting light on the world below.
I was learning the rules—my rules. I could be anywhere in my realm with a thought. My form—my true, sovereign form—was magnificent. I stood maybe half the height of my old Biju form, but every inch was condensed power and purpose. My blue-black hide was sleek and studded with naturally forming, glowing seal-script that told my story. My eight tails were powerful limbs of articulated, crystalline muscle, perfect for swimming, creating, or, I imagined, combat.
But there was no one to fight here. That was the second shock. The profound, echoing peace. No constant, background hum of another consciousness sharing my space. No fear of extraction. Just… me. And the realm.
On the third day, something changed.
I was resting on a plateau of resonant crystal, composing a new bassline in my head that vibrated through the stone. A particularly deep, satisfied rumble escaped me—a sound of pure contentment. The rumble traveled through the crystal, down into the chakra-rich "ink" of the ocean below.
Where the sound met a concentrated pool of my ambient chakra that had collected in a natural basin, the ink… shivered. It didn't just ripple. It coalesced. It drew itself upward, pulling strands of the auroral light from above, weaving them with the substance of the realm and the echo of my chakra—my sovereign chakra, not the Ten-Tails' fragment.
Before my widening eyes, a form took shape. It was small, no larger than one of my tentacles. It had a rounded, dark blue body, two large, curious eyes that shone like captured starlight, and four stubby, ink-blob tentacles. It blinked up at me, made a sound like a bubbling "Gyu?" and wobbled happily.
I froze. My colossal mind, capable of calculating tidal forces and composing epic raps, screeched to a halt.
What. Is. That.
It wasn't a summon. It wasn't a construct. I could feel it in my being, in the very fabric of my realm. This creature was alive. It was born of the realm's substance and… my essence. My contentment. My creative expression.
Tentatively, I reached out with one of my large tails, not to touch it, but to let my chakra brush against it. The little thing squeaked with delight, latched onto the tip of my tail with its blobby tentacles, and began to hum a tiny, imperfect copy of the bassline I'd been thinking.
Gyūki: (My voice, a soft rumble so as not to startle it) "Hey there. Who… what are you?"
The creature blinked. A thread of psychic connection, frail and new, formed between us. Not a bond of control. One of… recognition. Kinship. An image flooded into my mind from the little being: Me, resting on the crystal, the rumble, the coalescence. It saw me as the source. The origin point.
It thought of me as… its creator.
More bubbles of shock and awe rose within me. As they did, elsewhere in the realm, near other concentrations of my chakra—where I had battled imaginary foes to test my strength, where I had laughed remembering Bee's terrible jokes, where I had simply existed with profound peace—similar shivers began. Dozens of them. Then hundreds.
Across the Inkwell Depths, in pools of ink, on crystal spires, within currents of song, new life sparked into being. Some were like the first—small, blobby, tentacled things. Others were sleek, ink-fish that darted through the depths. A few were crystalline crabs that clicked a rhythmic beat. They were all variations on a theme—a theme of ink, sound, resilience, and a grumpy, loyal heart.
I was no longer just a sovereign in an empty realm.
I was the progenitor. The First. The Old Man of the Inkwell.
A wave of emotion—terrifying, immense, and fiercely protective—washed over me. These were mine. Not possessions, but… family. A people. My people.
Matatabi's POV –
The Sapphire Ember, Day 3
My realm was a poem of tranquility. The sky was a constant, gentle twilight, painted with slow-dancing auroras of blue and white. The ground was warm, smooth stone that radiated a soft, comforting heat. Forests of crystalline trees, their leaves shimmering like frozen flame, whispered in a non-existent wind. Pools of perfectly still water reflected the sky above, creating the illusion of infinite depth.
I had spent days walking, contemplating, feeling. The cold fury that had been my companion for centuries was gone, banked into an eternal, warm ember at my core. My power was now a tool of preservation, of gentle warmth, of illumination against the cold void.
I rested by one of the mirror-pools, gazing at my reflection—a great feline of living sapphire, elegant and powerful, my twin tails flickering with contained, cool fire. I was peace incarnate.
I exhaled, a slow, contented breath that misted in the cool air. My breath, carrying the faintest spark of my sovereign chakra, drifted over the surface of the pool. Where it touched, the water didn't ripple. It crystallized. Tiny, intricate fractal patterns of ice-blue flame spread across the surface for a moment before dissolving.
But in the heart of the pool, where my chakra had been most concentrated, something remained. A tiny, flickering wisp of blue flame, no larger than a candle. It danced on the water, not consuming it, but existing in harmony with it. As I watched, captivated, the wisp drew in more of the ambient chakra of the realm—the chakra that was an extension of myself. It grew, shaping itself. It formed a body of tiny, crystalline blue flame, with two pinpricks of white light for eyes and a tail that swished curiously.
It let out a silent, psychic mew of pure curiosity and floated up from the pool, bobbing in the air before me.
My immense stillness deepened. I understood instantly, with a clarity that felt like destiny. My realm was not inert. It was a womb. And my emotional state, my expressed essence, was the catalyst for life.
This tiny Flame-Sprite was born of my contentment. Of my peace.
As the realization settled, I felt echoes across my domain. In the warm crevices of rocks where I had slept, small, lizard-like creatures of basalt and ember cracked open tiny shells. In the crystalline forests, moth-like beings with wings of stained glass flame fluttered from blossoms of solidified light. Near a hot spring where I had lingered, a slow, thoughtful creature of flowing magma and cool, obsidian shell pulled itself onto the shore.
They were all unique, yet all bore my signature—the cool blue flame, the elegance, the quiet intensity. They were nascent, simple in consciousness, but alive. And they looked to me. I could feel their nascent awareness brushing against mine, not with fear, but with a instinctual sense of home and source.
A feeling I had not felt since the earliest days with Yugito—a fierce, overwhelming need to protect—surged within me. This was my legacy. Not destruction. Not a weapon. A civilization. A realm of contemplative flame, now teeming with quiet, beautiful life.
I, Matatabi, was no longer a beast of legend. I was the Heartfire. The Matriarch of the Emberkin.
Gyūki's POV –
The initial shock gave way to a frantic, joyous curiosity. I spent hours interacting with the newborn Inkblings (I'd decided to call them that). They were playful, mischievous, and deeply attuned to rhythm and sound. I found I could communicate simple ideas through pulsed chakra and bass rumbles. They learned quickly, forming little choruses that echoed my compositions.
But a pressing thought nagged at me. Bee. Yugito. The world. And the Akatsuki.
I focused inward, on the slender, brilliant bridge of choice that connected me to Killer Bee. It was still there, strong and clear. The summoning contract orb was its physical anchor, but this was the real connection. I poured my will into it, not to pull myself to him, but to… project.
I remembered the Benign Avatar Technique Indra had designed. It was a hack, using the jinchuriki seal as a funnel. That seal was gone. But the principle… Could I, a sovereign being, create a limited avatar of my own will and send it along this bond?
I concentrated. I gathered a tiny fraction of my chakra—not my sovereign core, but a shell that perfectly mimicked my old Biju chakra signature. I shaped it with familiar memories: the feel of the ox-octopus form, the weight, the texture. I poured in my personality, my voice, everything that made me Gyūki to Bee. Then, I sent it down the bridge like a message in a bottle.
In Kumogakure – Killer Bee's Apartment
Bee was trying to write, but his heart wasn't in it. He kept staring at the summoning seal on his arm, willing it to activate, yet terrified to try. What if it didn't work? What if his brother was gone?
Suddenly, the air beside him shimmered with familiar dark blue chakra. It coalesced into the form of his spiky, volleyball-sized octopus-ball avatar, exactly as it had always looked.
Gyūki's Avatar: "Yo. You're moping. It's messing up the creative vibe, ya fool."
Bee's pen dropped. He stared, his jaw slack. The voice, the demeanor, the familiar, grumpy presence… it was all there. But the pressure was different. Lighter. It felt like a perfect replica, not the real thing sitting in his mind.
Killer Bee: "G-Gyūki? Is that… really you? Or am I hallucinating from lack of dope rhymes?"
Gyūki's Avatar: (Floating over to nudge his head) "It's me, bonehead. Just… a version of me. A 'hello, I'm alive and amazing' version. The real me is in my own ocean, being awesome and creating a bunch of noisy little ink-blobs that won't stop asking for stories."
Tears of sheer relief welled in Bee's eyes. He laughed, a wet, happy sound. "You can still come back! Like this!"
Gyūki's Avatar: "Seems so. The bond's different. It's a choice now. I can send this… echo. It's got my personality, my memories up to a point, a sliver of power. It can hang out, critique your flow, headbutt Darui. But it's not all of me. The big, sovereign, realm-ruling me is back home. Think of it as… a very convincing phone call with a hologram."
Bee's mind, sharp beneath the rapper persona, saw the implications instantly. "The chakra signature…?"
Gyūki's Avatar: "Is a perfect match for the old Eight-Tails. Any sensor, any Rinnegan, any Gedo Statue would smell the same old Gyūki. They'd have no idea I've… upgraded."
Killer Bee: (A fierce, triumphant grin spread across his face) "We can fool 'em! The Akatsuki, everyone! They'll think you're still right here, ripe for the plucking! It's the perfect trap!"
Matatabi's POV – The Same Realization
I came to the same conclusion shortly after. My connection to Yugito was a silver thread of mutual promise. I could feel her quiet longing through it. Gathering my will, I formed an avatar—a perfect replica of my small, elegant feline form, imbued with the familiar chill of my blue flames and the old Biju chakra frequency.
I sent it along the thread.
In Yugito's Quarters
Yugito was meditating, the summoning orb cradled in her hands, when a familiar cool presence filled the room. She opened her eyes to see Matatabi's small form sitting before her, tail swishing gently.
Yugito: "Matatabi!" Her voice was a choked whisper of joy.
Matatabi's Avatar: (Her dual-toned voice was soft, affectionate) "Peace, little one. I am here. And I am there. This form is a whisper. The true me watches over a newborn world of flame and crystal."
Yugito reached out, her fingers passing through the cool flames of the avatar's back. It felt real. It felt like her Matatabi. "Your chakra… it feels the same as before."
Matatabi's Avatar: "It is meant to. The world must see no change. Those who hunt the Biju must smell the same prey. This avatar will stay with you, as I always have. The real me is merely… on a long-distance journey."
Yugito understood. The strategic brilliance of it took her breath away. The ultimate deception. She had lost nothing. She had gained everything—her life, her freedom, and the continued presence of her closest friend, while giving that friend the universe.
Indra's POV –
The Laboratory, Two Days Later
I was reviewing the immense stream of data from the Thunderhead system when a specific, anomalous alert pinged in my mind. It wasn't a security breach. It was a biological anomaly. A energy signature analysis from the deep-dimensional sensors I'd calibrated to monitor the interstitial spaces where I'd anchored Gyūki and Matatabi's realms.
The data was… impossible.
Rias was beside me, learning a new sealing array. "Indra? You've gone still. What's wrong?"
Indra: "Nothing's wrong. Something is… unprecedented." I brought the data up on the main hologram. "The sovereign dimensions. Their chakra output has not just stabilized. It has… diversified."
The graphs showed the two primary, massive chakra signatures—Gyūki and Matatabi's sovereign cores—pulsing steadily. But around them, like moons around planets, were thousands of new, tiny, but distinct chakra signatures. They were weak, but they were unique. They shared harmonic resonances with the primary signatures but had their own individual frequencies. They were moving, interacting, multiplying.
Rias leaned closer, her red hair falling over her shoulder. "What are those? Are they… fractals? Echoes?"
Indra: "They're life signatures, Rias. Distinct, individual life forms. Born within the sovereign dimensions." I ran a deeper analysis, cross-referencing with the templates of Airavat and Garuda. "The primordial realms of the Eagle and Elephant clans have native ecosystems that evolved alongside them. But those took millennia. This… this is spontaneous generation. Life born directly from the sovereign's expressed will and the fertile chakra environment of a new realm. It's accelerating exponentially."
I felt a thrill that was both scientific and deeply paternal. I had given them a canvas. They were not just living on it; they were painting new worlds upon it.
Rias: "So… Gyūki and Matatabi aren't just kings of empty castles. They're… parents? Gods of new races?"
Indra: "Progenitors. Yes." A smile touched my lips. "The ascension had unforeseen consequences. Beautiful ones."
Just then, a secure comm-line chimed. It was Bee and Yugito, requesting a joint conference. I authorized it. Their faces appeared on separate screens. Bee looked ecstatic. Yugito looked serene, with Matatabi's feline avatar visible on her lap.
Killer Bee: "Indra! Little bro! We've got news and a question! The avatars work! Gyūki's here right now, talking my ear off about his new 'kids'!"
Yugito: "Matatabi's avatar is also stable. The chakra signature is identical to her pre-ascension state. The deception is viable."
Matatabi's Avatar: "And the realms are not empty, Indra. They are… blooming."
Gyūki's Avatar: (Popping into view next to Bee's head) "Yeah, what she said! I've got a whole crew of Inkblings now! They're noisy, creative, and they think I'm the greatest thing since sliced kelp! What gives, kid? Did you know this would happen?"
I shook my head, my smile widening. "No. This was beyond my projections. The primordial templates suggested the possibility of native life, but the speed and the direct link to your emotional and creative output… this is yours. Your legacy. You're not just sovereign beings. You're the founders of new species. The Inkling Progenitor and the Emberkin Matriarch."
The silence on the other end was stunned, then filled with Bee's booming laughter and Yugito's soft, amazed gasp.
Killer Bee: "You hear that, Eight-Tails? You're a daddy! You gotta write a lullaby!"
Gyūki's Avatar: "Shut up, you moron! It's… it's wild. But… it feels right."
Indra: "This changes the strategic picture favorably. The avatars maintain the illusion perfectly. The Akatsuki will remain focused on you two as primary targets. They will have no idea the true power has been removed from the board and is now creating its own civilization. However, we must be cautious. The birth of these new life forms may create subtle dimensional ripples over time. The Thunderhead will monitor for any such leaks."
Yugito: "What do we do? About… them? The new ones?"
Indra: "You guide them. You are their source, their first memory. Teach them. Your realms are reflections of you—Gyūki's realm values creativity and resilience. Matatabi's values peace and contemplative strength. Instill those values. You are no longer weapons of mass destruction. You are culture-makers. The first of your kind."
The weight and wonder of that statement settled over the comm line.
Gyūki's Avatar: "...Alright. No pressure. Just gotta be a good role model for a whole new species. I can do that. First lesson: the importance of a solid beat and not taking crap from sharks."
Matatabi's Avatar: "I will teach them the warmth of the quiet flame, and the strength found in stillness."
I ended the call, leaning back in my chair. Rias wrapped her arms around my shoulders from behind.
Rias: "You didn't just free them, Indra. You gave them a future. A real one."
Indra: (Placing a hand over hers) "They built that future themselves. I just removed the walls." I looked at the hologram of the multiplying life signs. "The Sage of Six Paths created the tailed beasts as fragments of a problem. It seems his eldest son's heir… has turned those fragments into founders."
The Pure Lands – The Sage's Contemplation
Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki had been in deep communion. After his humbling visits to Matatabi and Gyūki, he had sought broader counsel. He had called upon the ancient spirits of his old allies—Gamamaru, the Great Toad Sage, whose dreams brushed the future; Airavat, the Earth-Walker, whose memory was the bedrock of time; and Garuda, the Sky-King, whose sight pierced dimensions.
They had gathered in a neutral, timeless space, their forms vast and luminous.
Hagoromo: "The wheel turns on a new axle. The fragments of my failure have been… remade."
Gamamaru: "Hmm… The ink stirs in a new well. The flame catches on a fresh wick. The prophecy bends. The 'architect of peace' is building more than walls. He is building… lineages."
Airavat: (His voice like continents grinding) "The little lightning-bearer asked for our templates. For the secrets of stable sovereignty. We gave them, seeing in his will not conquest, but order. A desire to fix what was broken. He has used the knowledge not to create servants, but to grant true independence. The Ink-Well and the Sapphire Ember… they are healthy realms. New ones."
Garuda: (His voice a sharp cry that cut through thought) "The shackles are gone. The birds I sent to watch the edges of their dimensions report… not silence, but song. A clumsy, new song. Life. Born from the sovereigns' own essence. This was not in the template. This is… emergence. A surprise, even to us."
Hagoromo felt a profound ache, a mixture of regret and soaring hope. "I split their mother, the Ten-Tails, in grief and desperation. I gave them consciousness but no true home, only a world that feared them. I saw them as problems to be managed, children of a calamity. I failed them as I failed my own son."
Airavat: "Your son's heir sees with different eyes. He does not see 'problems.' He sees 'potential.' He does not manage. He empowers. He took your fragmented children and is helping them become whole. Not by reuniting them, but by helping each fragment become a universe."
Garuda: "The avatars are a clever deception. The hunters will stalk the echo, while the truth grows strong in hidden skies. A tactical elegance the original Indra would have appreciated, though his would have been for a selfish gain. This one uses cunning to protect."
Gamamaru: "The balance shifts. The energy of the world is no longer held in nine volatile vessels. It is being… invested. Into two stable, growing realms. The chakra cycle itself is being subtly altered. This may weaken the pull of the Gedo Statue, even on the remaining beasts."
That gave Hagoromo pause. A new thought, terrifying and exhilarating. "Are you saying… his actions could render the Infinite Tsukuyomi… impossible? Not by defeating its enactors, but by making its fuel—the concentrated chakra of the Biju—irrelevant?"
Gamamaru: "The Statue needs the specific signatures of the Ten-Tails' fragments. Two of those signatures have been… transcended. Remade. They are no longer fragments. They are origins. The Statue would not recognize them. And if the others follow… the plan of my mother and Zetsu unravels at the source."
Hagoromo stared into the void of his realm, his Rinnegan seeing the threads of fate. The endless cycle of Indra vs. Asura, the manipulation of the Biju, the looming threat of the Ōtsutsuki and his mother's return—all of it was being challenged not by a direct confrontation, but by a side-step. By creation.
This Indra was not fighting the old war. He was making the old war obsolete.
His first son, the original Indra, had used his genius to create ninjutsu—tools for conflict. This heir used his genius to create systems and solutions that prevented conflict.
The irony was so perfect it was painful.
Hagoromo: "My son… the one I feared, whose legacy was loneliness and strife… has a reincarnation who is using that same brilliant, creative power to heal the very wounds our family caused. He is giving my failed creations the home and purpose I never did."
Garuda: "Do not mourn your failure, Sage. It laid the foundation. This new builder is simply using better materials and a wiser blueprint. Your regret is your lesson. His action is the application of that lesson, learned through another's life."
Airavat: "The mountains are steady. The new realms add to their weight. The world feels… more anchored. There is less chaotic energy screaming in pain. There is more energy humming with growth. It is a good change."
Hagoromo felt the truth of their words. The gnawing guilt that had been his companion for a millennium did not vanish, but it… softened. It transformed into a vigilant hope. He would watch this new path, not as the architect of the old, failed system, but as a grandfather might watch a gifted child build something marvelous with the broken toys he'd left behind.
His gaze turned to Konoha, to Naruto, the unburdened vessel of Asura. And to Sasuke, the last Uchiha clinging to a hateful destiny that had been bypassed. Their roles were now completely undefined. What did the "Child of Prophecy" prophesy for, when the world's greatest danger was being systematically disarmed by a third party? What did the "Last Avenger" avenge, when the true architect of his pain was already dead and his clan's legacy was being reborn in lightning and cloud?
The game had not just changed. The board had been flipped over, and a new, more beautiful game was being carved on its back.
He sent a final, silent thought towards the Land of Lightning, not to Indra, but into the ether, hoping the sentiment would reach the two newborn sovereign realms.
Grow well, children of my children. Be wiser. Be kinder. Build what I could not. Your freedom is his gift, but your future is your own. And it is beautiful.
[System Notification: Template Update: Victor Von Doom – 48% Completed.
Reason: Unforeseen positive systemic emergence (spontaneous life generation) from implemented solution. Establishment of self-perpetuating, independent civilizations as a direct result of host's intervention. Sovereign power now includes generative, cultural authority.]
[System Notification: Template Update: Indra Ōtsutsuki – 89% Completed.
Reason: Catalyzing the transition of primordial chakra entities from 'fragments of destruction' to 'progenitors of creation.' Fulfilling the Ōtsutsuki drive for legacy on a cosmological scale, moving beyond planetary domination to fostering dimensional genesis.]
[System Notification: Warning/Opportunity: Newly established sovereign realms (Inkwell Depths, Sapphire Ember) detected. Dimensional stability: High. Growth rate: Exponential. Long-term implications for elemental world chakra balance: Calculating…]
Back in his lab, Indra dismissed the notifications with a thought, his focus on the dancing lights of new life on the hologram. The path was clear, wider and more wondrous than he had ever imagined. He was no longer just fortifying a village or defending a nation.
He was midwifing new worlds.
And in the deep ink and the quiet flame, two ancient beings, now sovereigns and parents, began to teach their first, simple lessons to their children, while their echoes laughed and argued with their best friends in the world of clouds and lightning, guarding a secret that would one day change everything.
End of Chapter – 51.