For a year and a half, Indra Uchiha's world had shrunk to the tranquil, living expanse of the Genbu's back. The colossal turtle's slow, ancient breaths were the metronome to his existence. He had built a simple, elegant house from the island's resources, a structure that seemed to grow naturally from the landscape. His days followed a sacred, grueling rhythm: the constant, meditative conversion of the world's Cursed Energy into a river of pure, golden Natural Energy, which he poured ceaselessly into the cosmic egg.
The egg was his sun, his moon, his singular focus. It had grown warmer, heavier, its shell now thrumming with a vibration that resonated in his very bones. The swirling patterns of gold, crimson, and black moved in a frantic, beautiful dance, and a soft, internal light pulsed from within, illuminating his grove with a constant, celestial glow. It was a heart, beating in anticipation of its first breath.
Finally, after six months of this final, intense focus, he knew the time was near. He sat on a smooth, sun-warmed stone he had placed at the center of the grove, the egg cradled before him. He closed his eyes, drawing in not just the energy from afar, but the very essence of the island itself—the life force of the ancient trees, the pristine energy of the clean air, the deep, resonant power of the Genbu. He channeled it all, a final, loving push.
The egg began to shake. A faint, hairline crack appeared on its surface, emitting a beam of pure white light. Then another crack, and another. A sound emerged, not a harsh cracking, but a delicate, crystalline chime, like a thousand tiny bells ringing in harmony. It was a melody that soothed the soul, a song of creation itself.
Indra held his breath, his Six Eyes fixed on the miracle unfolding. The top of the eggshell gently lifted and fell away.
There, nestled in the remains, was a chick. But it was unlike any chick he had ever seen. Its down was not yellow, but a brilliant, pristine white that seemed to be woven from solidified moonlight. It was small enough to fit in his cupped hands, perfectly formed, with a tiny, golden beak. It let out a soft, questioning peep, and the sound was the same soul-soothing melody he had heard a moment before.
His heart swelled with a protectiveness so fierce it stole his breath. With infinite care, he reached out and gently gathered the tiny, warm creature into his palms. It was impossibly light, a puff of divine down. He carried it to the nest he had meticulously prepared—a soft bowl woven from the most fragrant and resilient grasses and mosses on the island.
As he settled the chick into its new home, a voice, clear and calm as a mountain spring, echoed in the quiet of his mind.
Food. Hungry.
Indra started. It wasn't an auditory sound; it was a thought, pure and direct, implanted into his consciousness. He looked at the chick, and its head tilted, its eyes still closed.
You… you can speak? he thought back, tentatively.
Hungry, the voice repeated, simple and direct.
Understanding dawned. This was Agni. And she was telepathic. He moved quickly, gathering the most nutrient-rich berries and seeds he had foraged. But as he went to dispose of the eggshell, a sharp edge nicked his finger. A single, crimson drop of his blood welled up and fell, unnoticed by him, onto the pile of crushed shell dust he had prepared.
He brought the food, now mingled with his blood and the essence of the cosmic shell, to the nest. Agni pecked at it eagerly, devouring every last speck. He then offered her water from a leaf, which she drank with delicate sips.
He watched her, this tiny, white miracle. A name came to him, fitting her fierce, solar origin and the potential he could feel sleeping within her. "Agni," he whispered aloud. "Your name is Agni." It meant 'Fire' in an ancient tongue from his first life.
For a week, he cared for her, the telepathic bond between them growing stronger. He would describe the world to her, the colors of the sunset, the feel of the wind, the sound of the ocean. She, in turn, communicated simple needs and a deep, curious intelligence.
Then, one morning, she opened her eyes.
They were not the eyes of a bird. They were pools of molten gold, holding the same ancient wisdom and nascent power as the egg she had emerged from. They fixed on Indra's face.
A new, more complex thought formed in his mind. You. Are you my father?
Indra smiled, a genuine, unburdened expression. Yes. And no, he replied mentally. I am not your biological father. But I found you, and I worked very hard to bring you into this world. I will protect you.
I saw, Agni's thought came, layered with meaning. I saw the bad people. The ones you made go away. You are strong. Good.
My name is Indra. You can just call me Indra. No formalities needed between us.
The following month was a time of profound discovery. Agni grew at an astonishing rate. Within weeks, she was the size of a large hawk; by the end of the month, she stood as tall as a cow, her white plumage now shot through with faint, shimmering traces of gold and crimson. Her wings, when she stretched them, seemed to catch the sunlight and hold it.
Their telepathic conversations evolved from simple needs to complex exchanges. Agni began to access the vast libraries of knowledge imprinted on her soul.
I can… make things better, she thought one day, focusing on a wilting flower. A soft, golden light emanated from her, and the flower straightened, its colors vibrant once more. Healing.
Another time, she looked at a fruit on a distant tree. There was a subtle distortion in the air, and the fruit vanished from the branch and appeared at Indra's feet. Moving. Without moving.
She spoke of concepts far beyond simple jutsu. The world has rules. But the rules can be… persuaded. Rewritten. A little. It was a child's explanation for what Indra recognized as low-level reality warping.
And most curiously, she exuded an aura of profound fortune. When Indra practiced his kenjutsu, his movements felt flawlessly fluid. When he meditated, his focus was absolute. I want good things for you, was her simple explanation. So… they happen.
Indra, in turn, taught her about the world she was born into—the clans, the chakra, the history of conflict. He shared his dream of peace. She listened, her golden eyes intelligent and understanding.
It was during one of these lessons, a month after her eyes had opened, that the air in the grove changed. The constant, gentle hum of natural energy stuttered. A fluctuation in space and time, a tearing at the seams of reality that made both Indra and Agni snap their heads up.
A point of brilliant, crimson fire bloomed in mid-air. It was not a destructive flame, but a pure, concentrated essence of fire itself. From this inferno stepped a being that stole the breath from Indra's lungs.
It was an eagle, but a creature of myth and legend. It stood nearly seventy meters tall, its feathers a blazing, polished gold that reflected the sun like a mirror. Its eyes were orbs of condensed sunlight, and its talons looked capable of shearing mountains. It radiated an aura of immense age, speed, and sovereign power.
The colossal golden eagle looked down at Indra and Agni, its gaze curious and piercingly intelligent.
A voice, deep and resonant, like the sound of a tectonic plate shifting, echoed not in the air, but directly in their souls. "The Queen sent me. She bids you come."
Its solar eyes fixed on Indra. "You, boy. The Queen herself has taken an interest. She wishes to teach you the way of the Sage. To be the first disciple she has accepted in ten millennia… a honor that makes even me, Garuda, envious."
Indra was utterly stunned. Garuda? The legendary king of birds?
Before he could form a response, there was a puff of smoke, and another figure appeared. An immense, wizened toad, seated on a staff, his yellow eyes blinking slowly. Gamamaru.
The Great Toad Sage looked at Garuda, then at Indra. "Is this the one?" he croaked.
Garuda gave a single, slow nod of his magnificent head.
Gamamaru's ancient eyes studied Indra, taking in the ethereal blue of his Six Eyes, the light-devouring pupils, the hair as white as his own. He saw the threads of fate, vast and rewritten, swirling around him. He saw the prophesied King of Justice.
"It is as I saw," Gamamaru rumbled, his voice heavy with certainty. He turned to Indra. "The three great sage regions you know of are but waystations. We serve a higher court, a celestial plane where the true mythological beings reside. We do not interfere with the mundane world. But now… an exception has been made."
He gestured with a webbed hand towards Garuda. "The ruler of that plane, the Queen of Sages, the Eternal Phoenix, the sovereign of life, death, and rebirth. She has commanded that you be brought to her. She will personally instruct you in Sage Mode."
Indra's mind reeled. The Phoenix? A being of that stature? It was beyond anything he had imagined. The sheer scale of it was humbling.
They speak the truth, Agni's thought entered his mind, calm and certain. I can feel their souls. There is no deception. Only immense, ancient power.
That decided it. He had come here to train, to become strong enough to protect his dream. To refuse an audience with a literal goddess, to turn down tutelage from the source of the very concept of rebirth… it would be the height of folly.
He looked at Garuda, then at Gamamaru, and bowed deeply, a sign of respect from one seeker of power to the masters of it.
"I am honored," Indra said, his voice steady despite the awe coursing through him. "I will come."
The game had just expanded to a celestial scale. The path to becoming a Sage was now a journey to the court of the divine.
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