The flap of Indra's tent fell shut, sealing him in a world of quiet tumult. The frantic energy that had propelled him from the riverbank was gone, replaced by a deep, resonant hum of joy that vibrated in his very bones. He stood in the center of the dim space, the rain a soft, persistent drumming on the canvas overhead. He could still see her—Tōka, Vidya—her face pale and tear-streaked, her eyes holding the same soul that had been his compass in a previous life.
He barely registered the presence of Madara and Izuna, who had followed him in, their small faces a mixture of worry and confusion.
"Nii-san," Madara began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "Your eyes… they changed. They're… like Father's."
The comment pulled Indra from his reverie. He looked at his brothers, their concern a tangible force in the tent. He knelt, bringing himself to their level, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. The gesture was calm, grounding.
"My brothers," he said, his voice soft but firm. "What you saw today… my eyes… you must not speak of it to anyone. No one except Father. Do you understand? This is very important."
The gravity in his tone was unmistakable. Izuna nodded immediately, his wide eyes solemn. Madara, ever more stubborn, searched his brother's face. He saw no trace of the frantic lunatic from the riverbank. He saw the Indra he knew—composed, powerful, but now with a new, unshakeable light in his gaze.
"Why?" Madara asked, never one to accept orders without question.
"Because there are powers in this world that inspire fear and greed," Indra explained patiently. "This power is for our family alone. For our protection. Can I trust you?"
Madara held his gaze for a long moment, then gave a single, sharp nod. "You can trust us."
"Good." Indra offered them a small, genuine smile. "Now, I need some time alone. Please."
Without another word, the two younger boys turned and slipped out of the tent, leaving Indra in the quiet. The moment they were gone, the smile on his face widened, a pure, unburdened expression of joy. He didn't care about the Mangekyou. He didn't care about its abilities or its cost. His mind was a single, shining thought: Vidya is alive.
He replayed the moment their eyes met across the river. The recognition. The pain. The impossible, miraculous joy. He had spent years in a world of greys, his heart a fortress built around a tomb. Now, the fortress was gone, and in its place was a sun-drenched field. She was here. She was a Senju, a prodigy in her own right, but she was his. He made a silent, ironclad vow to the universe, to himself, to her memory and her present self.
In this life, I will let no harm come to you, Vidya. I failed to protect you once. I will not fail again. No war, no clan, no god will take you from me. This, I swear.
His resolve was a physical thing, solidifying in his chest, warming him from the inside out.
The tent flap rustled again, and Tajima entered. The Uchiha patriarch's usual stern mask was gone, replaced by an expression of profound concern and… pride. He had felt the shift in chakra, the unique, scorching heat of a new Mangekyou awakening. He had come expecting to find his son in pain, grappling with the curse of their clan's greatest power.
Instead, he found Indra standing calmly, a serene, almost beatific smile on his face. The boy's eyes, once an ethereal blue, now held the brilliant, sun-like pattern of the Mangekyou, but they shone with a clarity and peace that was utterly disarming.
"Indra," Tajima said, his voice rough with emotion. "Your eyes… are you… are you alright? How do they feel?"
Indra turned his gaze to his father. The Mangekyou swirled slowly, mesmerizingly. "I am more than alright, Father," he replied, his voice steady. "My eyes are fine. In fact, with the awakening of the Mangekyou, my Six Eyes have also evolved."
Tajima's eyes widened. "Evolved? How?"
"I can now see three distinct types of energy in the world around us," Indra explained, his tone analytical, yet filled with wonder. "The first is Chakra, the life force we all know. The second is Cursed Energy, a malevolent, stagnant force that clings to places of suffering and death. And the third… I can only describe as Primordial Energy. It is the energy of creation and destruction itself, the fabric of reality. And I believe… I can learn to manipulate it."
A wave of immense relief washed over Tajima. The greatest fear for any Mangekyou user was the slow, inevitable descent into blindness. But if Indra's primary power, the divine Six Eyes, had grown stronger, perhaps he would not need to rely on the Sharingan's cursed gift. Perhaps he would be spared that fate.
"That is… incredible, my son," Tajima breathed. He stepped closer, his own Mangekyou—a pattern of interlocking, sharp-edged tomoe that resembled a complex hourglass—unconsciously flickering in his eyes. "And your Mangekyou? What sight has your soul been granted?"
Indra met his father's gaze, the sun pattern in his eyes seeming to glow with an inner light. He knew the trust his father was placing in him by asking this. The abilities of a Mangekyou were a shinobi's most guarded secret.
"My right eye," Indra began, his voice taking on a ceremonial weight, "is named Amaterasu no Yomigaeri—The Resurrection of the Sun Goddess."
Tajima's breath hitched. The name itself carried a divine, terrifying promise.
"It can resurrect any being who has died within the last twenty-four hours," Indra continued. "But there is a price. They will not return as they were. They will be reborn as a child, though their memories will remain intact." He paused, his gaze turning inward. "I can use this power on myself as well. The cost is less. I can perform Amaterasu no Yomigaeri on myself once every five years. But for others… the cooldown is twenty-five years. If I attempt to use it a second time on another before that period has passed, the price is my eyesight. It will be gone forever."
Tajima was silent, processing the sheer, god-like power and its equally divine cost. To cheat death itself… it was a power every clan leader in this era of bloodshed would kill to possess. And its limitation made it a strategic nightmare, a treasure that could only be used once in a generation.
"And your left eye?" Tajima asked, his voice hushed.
"My left eye is Yata no Kagami—The Eight-Span Mirror," Indra said, naming it after the legendary shield of the gods. "It is a defensive Dojutsu. When activated, it creates an invisible, impervious dome around me, with a radius of twenty-five meters. Within this dome, no form of attack can touch me. Not ninjutsu, not taijutsu, not genjutsu. Not even god-level attacks utilizing Yin and Yang release can penetrate it. I become, for a time, truly invincible."
Tajima's mind reeled. An absolute defense.
"But its true power," Indra added, his voice dropping, "is that it does not merely block. It reflects. Any attack sent against the Yata no Kagami is returned to the sender, amplified one hundredfold."
A cold shiver ran down Tajima's spine. An attack that could level a mountain, sent back a hundred times over. It was the ultimate deterrent. A power that could end wars before they began.
"The drawback?" Tajima asked, already dreading the answer.
"The cooldown is one month," Indra replied. "Overuse, like with my right eye, leads to permanent blindness."
Pride and fear warred within Tajima. His son possessed powers that edged into the domain of the Sage of Six Paths himself. He was a living, breathing strategic ultimate weapon. But he was a weapon with a fragile trigger, one that could break with a single, desperate mistake.
"Listen to me, Indra," Tajima said, his voice deathly serious. He placed his hands on his son's shoulders, his grip firm. "You will tell no one that you have awakened the Mangekyou. And if the day comes that you must reveal it, you will never, under any circumstances, reveal the true nature of your Dojutsu. They are the clan's ultimate secret. Our final trump card. Do you understand?"
"I understand, Father," Indra said, his sun-patterned eyes meeting his father's hourglass ones with unwavering certainty.
As he looked at his son, a resolution, long brewing in the depths of his soul, finally crystallized within Tajima. He could feel it in his bones—the slow, steady decline. A lifetime of war, of pushing his chakra and his body to the absolute limit, was taking its toll. He would not live to see his sons become old men. He knew this with the cold certainty of a shinobi who had danced with death too many times.
But in his death, he could give Indra a future.
His own Mangekyou abilities were formidable. His right eye, Toki no Gyakusetsu—The Paradox of Time—could reverse or pause time in a localized area, a power he had used to snatch victory from the jaws of certain defeat on countless battlefields. His left eye, Kami no Shihai—The Dominion of God—granted him absolute control over any person, object, or even the energy of an incoming attack, bending it to his will. But they, too, carried the same cursed price.
He had long pondered the old legends, the whispered theory that transplanting the eyes of a blood relative could merge the Mangekyou, creating the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan—a power without the curse of blindness.
He would not ask this of Madara or Izuna. They were too young, their futures their own. But he, Tajima, was a weapon that had already been used, his edge dulled by time and war. In his death, his eyes would not be buried with him. They would be a final gift to his firstborn, the hope of their clan.
The combined power… the thought was staggering. Indra's Amaterasu no Yomigaeri and Yata no Kagami, fused with his own Toki no Gyakusetsu and Kami no Shihai. It would create a being of such immense power that the very concept of war would become obsolete. Indra would not just be a War God; he would be a Peacemaker, a deity who could enforce his will upon reality itself.
He looked at his son, who was now gazing softly at nothing, a faint smile still on his lips, no doubt thinking of the Senju girl by the river. Tajima did not understand the connection, but he saw the light it had ignited in Indra. It was a light worth preserving.
(Yes Tajima also saw the river bank incident between Indra and Toka but he don't know why but he returned to the camp before Indra awakened his Mangekyō Sharingan)
"Rest now, my son," Tajima said, his voice softer than it had been in years. "You have taken a great step today. The path ahead is long, but you do not walk it alone."
He turned and left the tent, his own mind settled. He would speak to his most trusted confidants, the ones who would survive him. He would set his affairs in order. When his time came, his eyes would not be a relic of the past, but the foundation of a future where his son could be both powerful and happy, where the light he saw in Indra's eyes today would never be extinguished. He would make Indra eternal, not just for the sake of the Uchiha, but for the sake of the boy who had just found a reason to live beyond the battlefield.
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