Indra leaned back in his chair, a sly grin spreading across his face. The gears of his intricate game turned exactly as he had predicted.
Samui—once a proud kunoichi of the Hidden Cloud—was now under his roof, broken of resistance, and compliant to his every command.
He didn't need chains. He didn't need torture. Just the right pressure, at the right moment. Leverage. That was Indra's true power.
"She'll obey," he whispered to himself with calm certainty, his golden Sharingan flashing in the dim candlelight.
Samui, now dressed in simple domestic clothing, moved quietly through the halls of his house. Each step was stiff, mechanical. Her mind echoed with disbelief at the situation she was in.
That man captured me… stole my dignity… and now he wants me to serve as a maid? she thought bitterly, tears stinging her eyes as she swept the floor in silence.
What sin did I commit in a past life to deserve this injustice, God?
Despite the pride that once defined her, Samui had yielded.
The threat to her brother, the sheer psychological pressure… it crushed her will.
Now, all she could do was endure—her only solace being that he was still alive.
Indra, meanwhile, wasn't just reveling in power for amusement. As he checked the status panel of his [Succubus System], his eyes widened.
[Succubus System Reward Acquired]
Chakra: +10%
Sharingan Mental Power: +10%
Special Reward: [Reincarnation Card] x1
He stared at the final item. The icon pulsed faintly, like a heart still beating.
Tapping on it, the description opened up in glowing text.
> [Reincarnation Card]
Allows the user to bring back any deceased individual from the Naruto world.
Requirements: Name + Visual Image of the individual.
Limitations: One use only.
A low chuckle left Indra's throat.
"Bringing back the dead… with this, I can play god."
He placed the card aside carefully, already calculating how to make the best use of it.
There were many potential names swimming in his mind.
Hashirama Senju? Madara? Someone loyal and powerful? A tool to expand his influence?
But for now, he had other matters to attend.
He stood from his seat and stepped into the hallway, where Samui, Kurenai, and Yugao were talking softly in the living room.
The soft clinking of tea cups and the aroma of simmering herbs filled the space.
Yuhi Kurenai waved happily at him, her crimson eyes warm. "Indra, she's really sweet! Samui might act cold, but I think she's just shy."
"Yes," Uzuki Yugao added, folding a cloth napkin. "She helped me prepare lunch. I'm glad she's here."
Samui forced a tight smile. She hadn't expected kindness from the two women. And yet, part of her was ashamed that she felt… comfort.
"Is she staying long?" Kurenai asked curiously.
Indra smirked. "She'll be around a while. Consider her part of the family."
Samui's eye twitched, but she remained silent. Family? This bastard…
From the other side of the room, Setsuna Uchiha, Indra's grandfather, watched the exchange with cold, judging eyes. He narrowed them at Indra, clearly displeased.
"What's the meaning of this, boy? Another stray woman in this house?" Setsuna said gruffly.
Indra chuckled and leaned close, whispering in his grandfather's ear with a mischievous grin. "She's got a good figure for childbirth. You won't need to worry about milk shortage for our future generation."
Setsuna's eyes bulged. "You shameless brat!"
He stormed off, slamming the scroll he was reading onto the table, clearly both enraged and unable to deny his grandson's twisted charm.
Indra only laughed, his golden Sharingan briefly shimmering before fading.
He returned to his room and sat cross-legged in the center. His grin slowly disappeared, replaced by cold calculation.
"Only a few days left," he murmured, "before the Uchiha massacre begins."
He could feel it—the air growing tenser, the division between Konoha and the Uchiha reaching its peak.
Shisui must have awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan by now. Indra could practically smell the death hanging in the wind.
"As for why I let Shisui die?" Indra muttered to himself, resting his chin on his fist. "Why keep a ticking bomb who believes in the Will of Fire?"
His mind wandered to Mikoto Uchiha.
She was elegant, dignified—and powerful in her own way. The wife of Fugaku Uchiha, the clan head.
But Indra didn't care about her status.
He wanted her kneeling. Surrendering.
"To make Fugaku watch her lips on mine," he said aloud, laughing darkly. "That will be a fitting punishment."
A knock tapped at his door.
It was Toru Uchiha, the sadistic shadow Indra trusted for missions beyond morality.
"You called?" Toru asked.
"I want you to keep an eye on Shisui. Every move. Every word. Report it all to me."
Toru bowed. "Understood."
Just as Toru turned to leave, another report arrived in the form of a whisper from one of Indra's information birds: Fugaku Uchiha had scheduled a clan meeting for tonight.
Indra's eyes gleamed.
"A perfect moment to destabilize everything," he muttered. "Fugaku, enjoy your final days in power. And then… your wife will belong to me."
His laugh echoed through the room.
Night fell over Konoha, draping the village in an eerie calm that felt more like silence before a storm than peaceful rest.
Lanterns flickered across the streets, and shadows deepened in the alleys, hiding whispers of conflict that the common people could never hear.
On the far side of the village, under the heavy canopy of the forest, two silhouettes moved quietly.
The air was thick with tension, the stillness only broken by the rustle of leaves and soft footfalls across damp soil.
Shisui Uchiha stood beside his longtime friend, Itachi.
They both gazed at the sky above—the stars blanketed by clouds, the moon hidden as though the heavens themselves were reluctant to witness the fate drawing near.
Itachi broke the silence.
"There's going to be another clan meeting tonight," he said quietly, his voice calm, but his eyes betraying the weight he carried.
"Father has summoned everyone. It's urgent."
Shisui sighed deeply, his shoulders heavy with dread.
"Another one..." he muttered, voice low. "When will this end? Every meeting is just more talk of rebellion. Of bloodshed."
He turned slightly toward Itachi, his Mangekyō Sharingan flickering briefly—eyes burdened with foresight.
"I want to believe there's still a way to resolve this without violence," Shisui said. "I've tried speaking to the elders. I've tried to warn them.
But every time, it's like I'm talking to stone walls."
Itachi nodded silently.
"We are shinobi, but we are also sons of the Uchiha," he said. "And we are part of this village. It shouldn't be impossible to bridge the two sides."
Shisui stared ahead, his gaze distant.
"But what if it is, Itachi?"
The question hung in the air like a blade. Heavy. Unavoidable.
He remembered Danzō's subtle threats. The pressure from both sides. The impossible role he was trying to play—peacemaker between a clan on the verge of revolt and a village gripped by paranoia.
And Shisui could feel it.
Time was slipping through his fingers like sand, and with every grain, the chances of peace faded further.
Unbeknownst to them both, in the shadows of a high tree branch nearby, another figure watched. Cloaked in darkness. Cloaked in intent.
Indra Uchiha.
He had followed Shisui secretly for days now, gathering everything—his patterns, his habits, his weaknesses.
And this moment, this conversation, confirmed what Indra already knew: Shisui was a problem.
You're still clinging to your ideals, Indra thought, narrowing his golden Sharingan eyes. Still believing in peace. Still trusting the Third.
He leaned against the tree trunk, hidden behind the veil of silence jutsu, watching both Uchiha prodigies with calm detachment.
You would've betrayed the clan to protect the village, he thought. You would've ruined everything.
His fingers flexed.
But don't worry, Shisui. That role is over. You'll vanish from the story soon. Quietly. Permanently.
He didn't need to lift a finger himself.
Danzo would do it. Like clockwork. Like history repeating itself.
But this time, Indra would guide the clock.
His attention then shifted to the whispers from the village—his spies had already confirmed that Fugaku Uchiha intended to propose an official motion to challenge the Hokage's authority during the clan meeting tonight. That meant the beginning of the final spiral.
And Indra couldn't be more thrilled.
He returned to his home just as the candlelight reached the windows. Samui passed him in the hallway, eyes lowered, still quiet—broken, yet alert. Kurenai and Yugao were sipping tea in the common room, talking casually about missions.
And Setsuna Uchiha sat alone in the corner, sipping bitter green tea.
"Grandfather," Indra called casually.
Setsuna looked up, stern.
"Tonight's clan meeting will decide everything. Make sure you attend."
"I wouldn't miss it," Indra said with a smirk.
He walked to his chamber, where a glowing scroll awaited him.
The [Reincarnation Card].
His mind swirled with possibilities. Who could he bring back? A puppet? A powerhouse? Someone to throw the balance of Konoha's power further into his hands?
But not yet.
"First," he whispered to himself, "let's destroy the old power."
He closed his eyes, visualizing what was to come: Fugaku disgraced, the elders scattered, Shisui gone, and Mikoto… his.
The night would be long.
But soon, the Uchiha Clan would no longer be ruled by a council of weak men and blind loyalty.
They would be ruled by him.
And with that, Indra stepped outside, the air around him electric, the darkness welcoming him like a crown.
---
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