The outskirts of the Land of Fire's capital were home to more than markets, fields, and shrines. Beyond the daimyo's bustling city lay places time itself had abandoned—crumbling mansions of nobles long dead, temples swallowed by moss, and one ruin in particular that lived in rumor: the Haunted Library of the Founder.
Few dared speak of it, fewer still drew near. Children whispered of ghostly figures walking its broken halls. It was said that long ago, the founder of the capital had sought to gather every scroll, record, and forbidden scripture before his violent death. His spirit, the stories claimed, lingered still—reading and rereading the words he could never take with him.
To most, such tales were warning enough.
For Keiji, they were invitation.
---
The Forbidden Path
The boy waited until night draped the capital in silence. Retsu slept soundly, though Keiji knew she could wake at the slightest disturbance. He had learned her rhythms, the deep exhale of her meditations before slumber, the faint shift of her posture when her body finally released tension.
Guilt gnawed at him as he slipped from their home. She had warned him to balance strength and control, to train patiently, but patience was no longer enough. The storm inside him had grown too wild, and every day he felt closer to losing grip on it.
I can't just rely on Mama forever. I need more. I need to control this power before it controls me.
Guided by moonlight, Keiji passed through the empty streets. The city walls loomed, then gave way to untended land, wild grass swaying in the night wind. And there, in the distance, rose the silhouette of the library.
The building's roof sagged, sections caved in, windows hollow like the eyes of a corpse. Vines crawled across stone walls cracked and blackened by time.
A crow cawed in the distance. Keiji's breath caught. They followed him again. Always watching.
He pressed forward.
The great wooden doors groaned as he pushed them open. The sound echoed like a warning cry, then was swallowed by silence.
---
Shadows Among Shelves
The air inside was thick with dust and rot. Every step stirred clouds that drifted in the moonlight spilling through broken beams. The scent of old parchment and mildew clung to the air.
Rows upon rows of warped shelves leaned precariously, their wood splintered, their contents spilling across the floor. And yet, many scrolls and tomes still remained—some preserved by seals of ink that pulsed faintly even now.
Keiji's small hand hovered over one, tracing the protective script. He couldn't decipher it fully, but he understood enough: sealing arts, a precaution to keep knowledge alive even when walls crumbled.
Deeper he walked, his wooden sandals clicking faintly on cracked stone. The silence pressed on his ears, broken only by whispers—low, faint, impossible to catch. Not quite words, not quite wind.
He clenched his fists. "Ghosts or not, I'm not leaving empty-handed."
---
Ancient Lessons
The central chamber loomed at last. A cracked dome overhead let in streaks of moonlight, illuminating stacks of manuscripts piled like careless offerings. The walls bore faded murals of men in robes, scrolls clutched to their chests, their faces long eroded by time.
Keiji conjured a small flame in his palm, careful to keep it steady. Shadows danced across parchment as he sifted through the piles.
At first, disappointment. Tax ledgers, land records, treaties between long-dead nobles. But patience rewarded him. Scrolls on chakra refinement. Notes on meditation, breathing methods, and training regimens designed to expand stamina and chakra reserves.
His eyes widened as he read. If I cycle chakra in rhythm with breath… it strengthens both body and network. Slowly, but permanently.
Hope sparked in him. A method, a plan. This was the knowledge he sought—not reckless bursts of uncontrolled flame and lightning, but a path toward mastery.
---
A Forgotten Bloodline
Hours slipped by. Dust clung to his hair, his eyes strained in the dim light. And then, hidden beneath a collapsed shelf, he found it.
A heavy tome, its cover cracked but intact. Embossed on the surface was a faded crest: a fan.
Keiji froze. His chest tightened. He had seen this symbol on passing banners, whispered about by merchants and travelers alike.
The Uchiha.
Hands trembling, he opened the book.
Inside, the pages told of Indra Ōtsutsuki, son of the Sage of Six Paths. The first to awaken chakra's true potential. The first wielder of eyes of power. Progenitor of the Uchiha.
Keiji devoured the words, eyes racing line after line. Indra's mastery of fire, lightning, and Yin chakra. His fierce will, his unmatched intellect. Accounts spoke of him as both savior and curse, a man whose strength reshaped nations.
Paintings accompanied the text. In one, Indra stood tall, a cloak of fire and lightning swirling around him, shadows clinging to his form like living armor.
Keiji's breath caught. That chakra… it's the same. Fire, lightning, Yin. Just like me.
The pieces fell together. His bursts of flame and lightning, the crows that shadowed him, the whispers in the dark—all of it tied to blood older than any clan alive.
He staggered back, the tome nearly slipping from his hands. His body trembled, chest tight.
---
Collapse
The air thickened. The whispers grew louder, distinct. Words pressed into his ears, echoing through his skull.
"…heir…"
"…chosen…"
"…Indra's shadow…"
Keiji clutched his head, the tome falling open before him. His chakra surged violently, flames licking across his arms, sparks snapping at his fingertips, darkness bleeding from his pores.
The power inside him raged. Fire screamed to burn, lightning to tear, Yin to smother. His small frame shook as though it might tear apart.
"I… can't…"
The weight crushed him. His knees buckled. Vision blurred, dark edges swallowing the chamber.
With a final gasp, Keiji collapsed beside the open tome. His consciousness drowned in black.
---
The System's Whisper
The chamber fell still. Dust settled, the whispers faded to nothing.
Then—
A voice. Cold, distant, neither male nor female. A whisper from the void.
"Ghost-type affinity confirmed."
Keiji did not stir. His body lay still, shallow breaths rising and falling. His mind lost in darkness.
But something had shifted. The world had taken notice.
---
Dawn's Omen
When dawn crept over the capital, the library stood silent, unchanged. A ruin, ignored, avoided. To the world, nothing had happened.
But deep within, a boy lay beside an ancient tome, chakra flickering faintly—fire and lightning entwined with shadow.
Above, crows circled the ruin, their cries harsh and unrelenting. They wheeled in black arcs against the pale sky, their presence a warning.
Somewhere beyond the walls, men whispered of the great flock seen at dawn, blotting the rising sun. Superstition to most. But to those who dealt in power, it was an omen.
The heir of Indra's shadow had awakened.
And the world would come to know it.
---
End of the Chapter
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