Indra stood frozen, his world spinning. His lips trembled.
"No… no, it can't be!"
He bolted into the house, searching desperately—room to room, corner to corner—hoping Renji was just there, waiting for him like always.
But there was only silence.
"Indra Uchiha," Fugaku's voice called after him, "Come to the burial grounds…"
Behind him, the Uchiha clan members fell into step, silent and solemn, following Fugaku toward the cemetery.
Indra's knees weakened. His vision blurred. And then—
"Indra… you awake?"
His head whipped around. Renji's voice. He swore he heard it.
But there was no one there.
"Indra… remember to clean the house, eat on time, and sleep on time…"
His eyes narrowed, hot tears pouring down his face. His chest caved as he tried to hold it in.
"Just know this… I love you. And I always will."
At those words, Indra broke. His body crumpled to the floor, sobs wracking him until his breath came ragged and sharp. Tears fell in heavy drops, staining the wood beneath him.
And then—
A red glow.
His eyes flared, a crimson light burning through the haze of grief. The tomoe spun wildly—one, two… three. The Sharingan had awakened.
But along with it, something else stirred within him. Something colder.
---
At the burial grounds, the clan gathered. Indra stood beside a tall, stern man: black hair tied into a low knot, streaks of gray cutting through. His face was sharp-jawed, his eyes carrying faint wrinkles and the weight of authority. He wore the Uchiha clan's high-collared armor, but darker, plated for ceremony.
This was Uchiha Shinkuro—Fugaku's father. The current clan head.
A fallen jōnin was not just a personal loss—it was a loss for the entire clan. The head himself had to attend.
Indra's face was pale, expressionless. Yet his eyes kept leaking tears, unstoppable no matter how hard he clenched his jaw.
Tip… tip…
Raindrops began to fall. Umbrellas opened across the graveyard in unison. The sound of rain mixed with the soft murmurs of the mourners.
Indra glared at the coffin that carried his brother.
Brother… I'll bring you back.
His nails dug into his palms as he bowed his head. I'll revive you. With the Samsara of Heavenly Life Technique…
But reality crept in. He had no Rinnegan. No mastery of forbidden techniques. No vast reserves of chakra.
Then I'll find another way… he thought, his mind churning with impossible ideas, none of them enough.
The ceremony ended. Clan members bowed their heads and began to leave, one by one. Yet Indra stayed rooted before the grave.
A hand patted his shoulder.
Indra didn't move, his eyes hollow, fixed on the stone.
"I… I have a keepsake," a voice said quietly. It was Nawaki. His hand trembled as he held out a small vial. "Renji told me to give you this."
Indra finally turned his head, his gaze cold—like a blade. "Who did it." His voice was flat, almost murderous.
Nawaki stiffened. Then shook his head, voice breaking. "…He tripped. There's no one to avenge."
"Nawaki," Indra's voice cut sharp, cold. His eyes gleamed crimson, the three tomoe whirling to life without hesitation.
"I think you didn't hear me…"
The sheer weight of his gaze froze Nawaki in place. That surge of ocular power made his chest tighten. He swallowed hard before whispering, "In the war… paper bombs."
Indra's Sharingan glinted. Iwa… and Kumo. His jaw clenched.
"What did my brother give to you?"
Nawaki hesitated—then forced the words out. "His… eyes."
Indra's pupils dilated, his breath catching. Then slowly, he nodded.
The two of them walked in silence, heading toward the Senju compound. The streets of Konoha were eerily empty, the lamps flickering dim against the evening sky.
Indra's heart felt far away, locked in a place of endless snow. No warmth, no fear, no joy. Only vengeance… and a faint ember of hope.
As they passed a dango shop, Nawaki tried to lighten the air. "I know you're hungry… let's buy some dango."
He forced a smile at the vendor. "Boss, two servings, please!"
Indra accepted the skewers quietly, but his gaze drifted past the shop—toward a small playground.
For a moment, the world shifted.
"Haha! I'll catch you, Indra! Just you wait!" A younger Renji's voice echoed. A tiny Indra laughed as he ran, his brother chasing close behind.
The vision faded. Indra's hand trembled, nearly dropping the dango.
Nawaki noticed. His own chest tightened with guilt. Renji… more than a friend, more than a comrade—he was like a brother to him, too. And now, even Indra, that bright and noisy boy, was being stripped bare by grief, leaving only a cold, hollow face.
The war takes everything, Nawaki thought bitterly. If another comes… I'll end it. I'll become Hokage. I'll bring peace.
---
The Senju compound gates creaked open. Tsunade was already waiting, her eyes soft but heavy with pity. She didn't yet know the details of Renji's death—but she knew the truth that mattered: he was gone.
She watched as the boys entered, saying nothing.
Inside, Nawaki handed Indra a scroll. Indra bowed stiffly, leaving as soon as it was in his hands.
When the door closed, Tsunade's voice cracked. "What did you give him?"
Nawaki's fists clenched. "Sister… Renji died saving me. He entrusted me with his eyes."
"No…" Tsunade's eyes widened.
"He took the full barrage of paper bombs. And still… he didn't let me get a single scratch." Nawaki's voice broke, his legs giving out beneath him. He sank to the floor, tears spilling. "I'm weak, sister! I couldn't save a friend… I couldn't save him! How can I ever become Hokage?!"
Tsunade's heart twisted. She knelt, pulling her little brother into her arms, rubbing his back softly. "It's not your fault, Nawaki. In war… things happen that no one can turn around."
Her words barely reached him, but her embrace kept him from shattering completely.
---
Meanwhile, Indra leaned against the wall of his house, clutching the small vial that held Renji's Mangekyō. His breath came in ragged gasps, eyes locked on the faint glint of the preserved eyes.
"Brother… can you see me?" His voice trembled. "Brother, I love you too… But you… you didn't keep our promise!"
His body shook as he collapsed to the floor, tears soaking his hands. Yet even in grief, he forced himself to stand, carefully tucking the vial inside the scroll and hiding it deep within his house.
His gaze shifted to the black box. To the letter. He opened it again—reading Renji's words over and over, as if repetition would bring his brother back.
"I love you, Indra. And I always will."
The sound of Renji's voice echoed in his mind.
And Indra broke down again, the weight of loss dragging him into a night that felt endless.
The news of Renji's death had devastated him—
But the Sharingan glowing faintly in his eyes told another story.
...
A Mangekyo as a last gift, you guys must be jealous lmao
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