[FOR EVERY 100 POWERSTONES = 1 EXTRA CHAPTER]
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Time, like the Naka River, flowed onward. The village, now officially named "Konohagakure" — the Village Hidden in the Leaves — by a beaming Hashirama, began to settle into a rhythm. Infrastructure solidified, laws were codified, and the initial frantic energy of creation mellowed into the steady hum of daily life. Yet, a new tension threaded through the leafy streets, one centered on the mountain and the man who had returned from it.
Indra's return had not been the triumphant, unifying spectacle some had hoped for. The playful, thoughtful boy of Uchiha memory was gone, replaced by a figure of immense, silent power who moved through the village with an air of detached, almost grumpy, contemplation. He was not hostile, but his presence was a weight. The clans, especially the newer ones, watched him with a nervous, bird-like vigilance. The legend of the Valley of Death was a fresh wound on the collective psyche.
Indra felt it. The unease was a tangible thing, a low-frequency buzz against his senses. It grated on him. One morning, the feeling became a suffocating pressure in his chest. He needed silence. Not the silence of the mountain dome, but the silence of a mind unburdened.
He found a secluded training ground at the village's edge, a place where the forest began to reclaim the ordered paths. Here, he sat on a simple, flat wooden platform raised on a single standing stick, a position that forced absolute balance and focus. He closed his eyes, seeking the calm that had eluded him since his return.
His mind was a storm of echoes. The arrogance of the Sharingan, a legacy of mental trauma that whispered of superiority and isolation. The Six Eyes, for all their cosmic perception, had become a cage, flooding him with infinite data but offering little wisdom. In the Celestial Plane, his grandmother Izanagi had tried to teach him to look beyond.
"The tools you rely on, grandson, are also your limits," she had said, her voice like the rustling of ancient leaves. "The Sharingan sees conflict. The Six Eyes see components. You must learn to feel what binds it all together. Feel the Universal Energy. It is the origin of the cosmos, the canvas upon which creation and destruction are painted simultaneously. To harness even a whisper of it is to take the first step from a mortal being to a higher form of life."
He had tried. For weeks, he had sat in the Heartgarden, his senses stretched to their limit, trying to perceive this fabled energy. He had failed. The Six Eyes were too dominant, too analytical. They dissected the world into chakra particles and natural energy flows, but could not perceive the symphony itself.
Then, his grandfather, Daikokuten, had approached. Without a word, he had placed a blindfold over Indra's eyes. It was crafted from the fur of the celestial wolf Fenrir and the tail hair of a unicorn, materials that held properties of absolute negation and purity. For the first time in his life, true darkness fell. The Six Eyes, his constant companions since infancy, were silenced. The infinite perspectives, the flow of cursed energy, the very fabric of spacetime—it all vanished. He was alone in the void of his own mind.
For six months in that darkness, he had done nothing but feel. He let go of the need to see, to analyze, to control. He simply existed. And slowly, imperceptibly at first, he began to feel it. Not a flow of power, but the substance of existence itself. A silent, humming potential that predated chakra, that was the source of all Cosmic Energy. A single, pure drop of this cosmic essence felt vaster than the entire ocean of chakra and Senjutsu Chakra he had ever commanded. It was terrifying and sublime.
Now, back in the human world, he sought to reconnect with that feeling. As he meditated, his perfect Six Eyes Rinnegan, unseen beneath his lids, underwent a subtle, profound evolution. His connection to the source deepened, his comprehension inching forward from 12.00316% to 12.00317%. A minuscule gain by mortal standards, but in the realm of cosmic understanding, it was a leap across a galaxy.
Perched on his shoulder, Agni was a small, warm sun, her own celestial nature a quiet anchor in his meditation.
It was then that the children found him.
They came in a hesitant, chattering flock—tiny Hyuga with their serious faces, boisterous Senju, curious Uchiha, quiet Aburame, and a mix of Sarutobi, Shimura, and the Ino-Shika-Cho trio. They had heard the warnings from their parents and elders. The white-haired man with the twin swords. Don't anger him. He is a god of destruction.
They saw him, a statue on a stick, a majestic bird of fire on his shoulder. They froze, a mixture of fear and overwhelming curiosity holding them in place.
A young Uchiha boy, braver than the rest, took a tentative step forward. He wasn't looking at Indra; he was mesmerized by Agni.
Agni turned her head, her fiery eyes regarding the child. Her voice, smooth as warmed honey, flowed directly into all their minds. "What do you want, child?"
A collective gasp went through the group. The Yamanaka boy's eyes went wide. "T-Telepathy! But... it's not a jutsu! It's just... in my head!"
The initial fear began to melt away, replaced by wonder. Agni's presence was not threatening. It was playful, intelligent, and kind. She hopped from Indra's shoulder to the ground, allowing a few sparks of harmless, warm flame to dance around the children. Soon, they were laughing, tentatively reaching out to touch her feathers, which were warm like sun-baked stone, not burning. For forty-five minutes, the training ground was filled with the innocent joy of children playing with a mythical creature.
High in the trees and hidden at the forest's edge, the clan leaders and their security details watched, their hearts in their throats. The moment the children had approached Indra, alarms had been raised. They had arrived, expecting the worst, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.
What they saw confounded them.
Indra's eyes opened. The meditation was over. The children, seeing him move, immediately fell silent, fear returning to their faces.
Indra looked at them, not with the gaze of a god, but with a quiet patience. He didn't speak aloud. Instead, he gestured for them to come closer. They approached with the caution of fawns.
He held out his hand. With the silent activation of his Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan—Kami no Shihai—a flicker of flame appeared above his palm. The children gasped, but he didn't stop. The flame twisted, condensed, and transformed, its color shifting from orange to a soft, creamy white, its shape morphing into a perfect, round dango on a stick.
He then waved his other hand, and a shard of ice formed from the moisture in the air. With another thought, it swelled, becoming a fluffy, cold scoop of ice cream. He created more, handing them out to the stunned children. The training ground was soon filled with the sounds of delighted eating and happy chatter.
From the shadows, an elderly Uchiha woman, one who had helped raise him, whispered to the anxious clan heads around her. "You see? Your fear is pointless. I watched this boy grow. He has always had a kind heart. The war... the burden of his power... it pushed him to a dark place. But that is not who he is at his core."
Indra then gathered the children, having them sit in a circle on the grass. His voice, when he spoke, was calm and gentle, a stark contrast to the thunderous decree he had issued months before.
"A mind that is clouded by fear or anger cannot see clearly," he began. "I will teach you a meditation. I created it to find clarity in my own mind. It is simple, but powerful."
He guided them through the basics: posture, breathing, focusing on the rhythm of their own hearts. "A person who can think calmly in a difficult situation can change the world," he told them. "This practice will help clear your thoughts, make them faster and sharper. It will help you become the genius each of you has the potential to be."
To the astonishment of the hidden watchers, the children, some as young as four, sat in perfect silence for three hours. There was no fidgeting, no impatience. They were captivated.
When the meditation ended, the results were immediate and miraculous.
Several Uchiha and Hyuga children opened eyes now swirled with the activated tomoe of the Sharingan and Byakugan. Senju children felt their chakra reserves, already substantial, swell to double their previous capacity. The Yamanaka children found their mental faculties sharpened to a razor's edge, their innate telepathic abilities blooming with a new, refined clarity. Every child felt clearer, brighter, more focused.
They returned to their clans not as scared children, but as excited disciples, chattering about the kind, powerful man and the amazing meditation he had taught them.
The news spread through Konoha like wildfire. The clan leaders, who had gathered expecting a tragedy, dispersed in a state of stunned revelation. The image of the grumpy, unapproachable god was shattered, replaced by the patient sage who created ice cream from fire and awakened potential with a few quiet words.
The fear did not vanish entirely—a power like Indra's would always command a healthy respect. But it was now tempered with something new: a dawning understanding,
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