Dawn broke over Konoha, painting the sky in hues of amber and gold.
The village was just beginning to stir, shopkeepers raising their shutters, early risers heading to training grounds.
Yet Indra walked through these awakening streets in solitude, his footsteps quiet against the cobblestones.
His mind was a storm of thoughts, each one crashing against the next. The Nine-Tails' words echoed relentlessly: "Father has returned for his third cycle."
Unconsciously, his feet carried him upward, seeking higher ground.
Eventually, he found himself atop the Hokage Monument, perched on the stone head of the Fourth Hokage. Below him, Konoha spread out like a living map, unaware of the apparent cosmic game being played above their heads.
Third cycle.
Son of Heaven.
The Judge.
The words tasted bitter in his mind. All his life - both lives - he had prided himself on his control over himself, his ability to chart his own course. Even his ambition to become "the strongest" had been his choice, his path.
Or had it?
At first he thought he'd just become the Strongest and not worry about this, but as the days passed, these poisonous thoughts filled him more and more.
The fox had seen something in him - echoes of chakra that weren't his own. Hagoromo, the legendary Sage of Six Paths.
Madara, his own great-great-grandfather.
What did it mean that he carried their chakra within him?
Why him anyway? He's a normal person- from another world sure, but was that enough to tip the balance this much?
The wind picked up, cool against his face as he closed his eyes.
Both Rinnegan now lay dormant within him, a power he had sought and achieved.
Yet the victory felt hollow.
"You're up early."
Indra turned to find Shikamaru approaching as the sun rose, hands tucked into his pockets, expression caught between boredom and curiosity.
"Couldn't sleep," Indra replied simply.
Shikamaru settled beside him, legs dangling over the edge of the monument. For several minutes, they sat in companionable silence, watching the village come to life below.
"Thinking about the finals?" Shikamaru finally asked.
"Among other things."
Shikamaru yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "You know, after what happened in I thought we'd still be on bad terms. Me helping Ino with that mind technique and all."
"Water under the bridge," Indra said, surprising himself with the sincerity in his voice. "You helped us when it mattered."
What Shikamaru did really was inconsequential compared to what he had just found out now. Being angry over it felt almost childlike- especially since the one who perpetuated her mistake was Ino, who despite all warnings continued onward.
"Hmm." Shikamaru plucked a blade of grass, twirling it between his fingers. "You seem different today. More... I don't know. Unbalanced or something."
Indra considered deflecting, but decided against it. He really was too tired of thinking about all this alone. Maybe with his genius he'd help somewhat- even with limited info. "Do you believe in fate, Shikamaru?"
The Nara heir raised an eyebrow. "That's an unusually philosophical question for you."
"Humor me."
Shikamaru sighed, leaning back on his hands. "Troublesome... I've never been one for destiny or predetermined paths. Life's complicated enough without adding cosmic design to the mix."
He paused, watching a cloud drift overhead. "But I do think about patterns sometimes. When I play shogi, I can see how pieces are constrained by their nature, by the board, by the rules. The pieces think they're moving freely, but a good player already sees ten moves ahead."
Something in Indra went cold at those words.
"So we're just pieces on a board?" he asked, unable to keep the edge from his voice.
Shikamaru gave him a sidelong glance. "I didn't say that. A shogi piece can only move according to its design. People aren't like that. We can surprise ourselves, make choices no one could predict."
He stood, dusting off his pants. "Besides, even the best player can be surprised by an unexpected move. That's what makes the game worth playing."
With a lazy wave, Shikamaru turned to leave. "See you when the finals begin. Try not to overthink things until then."
Indra remained seated, Shikamaru's words turning over in his mind. The Nara had meant to be reassuring, but he'd only deepened Indra's unease.
Even unexpected moves could be part of a larger strategy. Even rebellion could be anticipated, accounted for, used.
His eyes narrowed as he gazed across the village. There was one place in Konoha that might hold answers to the questions burning within him.
One ancient artifact that had guided the Uchiha for generations.
The Stone Tablet.
He knew about it already of course, but he ignored it, thinking it would just hold Zetsu's nonsense, but with things being so different, that thing could be different too...
--------------------------
Finding Sasuke - who was the one with access - wasn't difficult.
These days, the last "official" Uchiha spent most of his time training at the isolated grounds on the far side of the village.
Kakashi's training was evident in the lightning-scorched trees.
Indra observed from the treeline for several minutes, watching as Sasuke drove his lightning-wrapped hand through a boulder, shattering it into fragments. The curse mark on his neck was contained, barely visible beneath his high-collared shirt.
Family, Sasuke had called him.
Was even that connection predetermined?
A cosmic joke bringing together the 'Father' and 'Son'?
Steeling himself, Indra stepped into the clearing. Sasuke sensed him immediately, turning with kunai in hand before recognition softened his stance.
"Indra," he acknowledged, lowering the weapon. "What brings you here?"
Indra approached directly, dispensing with his usual measured conversation. "I need to see the Stone Tablet."
Sasuke stiffened, surprise flashing across his features before suspicion narrowed his eyes. "How do you even know about that?"
"I just do," Indra replied, his voice tighter than he intended. "I'll explain later. Right now, I need answers."
Sasuke studied him intently, clearly noting the unusual urgency in Indra's demeanor. Something was different - the typically composed, calculating Indra seemed almost... desperate.
"This isn't like you," Sasuke observed quietly.
"No," Indra agreed. "It's not."
A moment of silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken questions.
Finally, Sasuke nodded once, sharply.
He'll get his answers soon enough. He trusted Indra.
"Follow me."
-------------------------
The Uchiha shrine stood apart from the rest of the compound, a small, unassuming building.
Sasuke approached it with reverence, performing a series of hand signs to dispel protective seals before sliding open the wooden door.
The interior was dim, dust motes dancing in the thin beams of light that penetrated the small windows. The air felt heavy, charged with centuries of secrets and power.
"Few outside the clan have ever seen this," Sasuke said as they descended a hidden narrow staircase beneath the main shrine. "My father showed it to me only once, saying he felt I had needed to even though young. Maybe he somehow knew- felt it, before..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
The underground chamber was small and circular, illuminated by ancient torches that went on at their presence that glowed with the soft light of fire.
At its center, set into the floor, lay a stone slab covered with intricate text - most of it indecipherable to normal eyes.
"The Stone Tablet," Sasuke announced, his voice hushed. "Said to be left by our ancestor, the founder of the Uchiha clan."
Indra approached slowly. This stone had guided - no more likely misguided - the Uchiha for generations.
What was it going to say? The expected nonsense of Zetsu? Or something else entirely?
"Only those with the Sharingan can read portions of it," Sasuke explained, activating his own eyes. The three tomoe spun lazily as he gazed down at the tablet. "And even then, it's said that different levels of the Sharingan reveal different layers of text."
He knelt before the stone, gesturing for Indra to join him. "Here, it speaks of the Sharingan's origin - a gift born from great emotional trauma."
Sasuke went silent for a moment before he continued, "Normally what I'm about to say should remain secret to only the main family, but that's stupid given we are the last remaining ones, but It also describes the evolution to the Mangekyō Sharingan through experiencing the death of someone close to you."
"It also mentions something about a greater power beyond the Mangekyō," Sasuke continued, "but that portion is blurred to my eyes. Only one with the Mangekyō could read more." His expression darkened. "We'd need Itachi..."
"There's another way," Indra said quietly.
Sasuke looked up sharply. "What are you talking about?"
Indra stared at the tablet for a long moment, thinking about what he saw when he gazed upon Sasuke's soul with the Rinnegan.
The care, love, and loyalty...
Sasuke keeping the 2nd greatest secret- him being Madara's descedant.
"I haven't been entirely honest with you," he said, meeting Sasuke's confused gaze. "There are things I've kept hidden, even from you."
"What things? I thought things were clear after that Sayaka debacle." Sasuke's voice had taken on an edge of wariness and worry.
Indra took a deep breath. "What I'm about to show you must never be told to another living soul. Do you understand?"
Sasuke was surprised for a moment, then his expression hardened into determination. "I understand."
Closing his eyes briefly, Indra centered himself. When he opened them again, both eyes displayed the concentric purple rings of the Rinnegan.
A pressure seemed to fill the entire room- heavy.
Sasuke recoiled in shock, nearly falling backward. "What - what are those? What happened to your eyes?"
"The Rinnegan," Indra explained calmly, despite the turmoil within. "The legendary dōjutsu of the Sage of Six Paths. Beyond the Sharingan, beyond the Mangekyō. The ultimate sight of the Heavens themselves"
"How?" Sasuke breathed, after he himself began to remember the children story book he found in the Main Family's library- something uncommon for such a place of importance, and the image of the Rinnegan.
As his Sharingan spinned rapidly as he took in the impossible sight before him, Sasuke asked, "How do you even have such eyes? It's supposed to be myth."
"That's what I'm trying to understand," Indra replied, turning back to the tablet. "And I believe this may hold the answers."
As Indra finally, for the first time turned his gaze towards the Tablet- it transformed.
It began to weep blood before Indra's eyes engulfing the entire stone in red, till black ink began to appear within the fountain of red, and Indra began to see something completely different.
Words Sasuke was unable to see- a message only to the Son:
I write these words with broken hands,
A beggar touched by visions grand,
Possessed by spirits from the void,
From worlds the Heavens have destroyed.
Through me speaks the Son of Son,
The child of He who should have won.
From ashes of a world now dead,
His consciousness fills my wretched head.
Hear me, Judge, with eyes divine,
Last hope for worlds in death's decline.
The Rippled Eyes that read this plea,
May be the only ones to break us free.
I am but vessel, mortal clay,
For truths that crossed death's bitter way.
The Son's own child guides my hand,
To warn you of the Heavens' plan.
He came to me in dreams of fire,
His world consumed on funeral pyre.
"My father failed," he wept to me,
"As did his predecessor - all now three."
The tale he told, I carve in stone,
That you, the Fourth, might not bemoan
The same cruel fate that claimed the rest,
In Heavens' sick, sadistic test.
The Court Above, those tyrant gods,
Who rule creation 'gainst all odds,
Are not the loving hands you seek,
But jailers of the strong and weak.
The Son - the Guide, the Warner, Judge -
A puppet whose strings they never budge.
Three cycles they've sent you to this earth,
Three cycles ordained your cosmic birth.
Ever repeating.
First as the Sage with staff of gold,
Teaching Ninshū in days of old.
"Connect," you begged of humankind,
"Through chakra's flow, be love-entwined."
But Heavens knew what would transpire,
How mortal hearts burn quick with fire.
Connection turned to jutsu's might,
And brother turned 'gainst brother in fight.
Then came your second mortal shell,
The Warner whom none heeded well.
Boy, born of cursed blood,
Whose warnings drowned in hatred's flood.
His eyes evolved through grief and pain,
To see the truth - yet all in vain.
The Moon Eye Plan - his desperate call,
To save a world designed to fall.
The shadow creature at his side,
The will of Heavens personified,
Ensured he'd fail his sacred task,
Behind devotion's loyal mask.
And now you come, the third, the last,
Recycled soul from future-past.
The Judge whose verdict seals our fate,
Whose choices Heavens manipulate.
"I HATE THEM! Gods who play with lives!
Who watch as each new world survives
Just long enough to breed new pain,
Before they burn it down again!
My father - your past from worlds before -
Showed me the endless, vicious war.
The cycle Heavens perpetuate,
The suffering they orchestrate.
Each time you're born with noble heart,
Each time you're torn brutally apart.
Your loved ones slaughtered, trust betrayed,
Your purest motives twisted, frayed.
They WANT you broken, Judge Divine,
They NEED you shattered by design.
For only then will you embrace
The Dream that ends the human race.
The Infinite Dream is THEIR device,
Not salvation, but sacrifice.
The world asleep in false delight,
While Heavens feast on chakra bright.
Or should you fight against their plan,
Refuse to follow their command,
They'll force your hand to darker deeds,
Until all life on earth recedes.
My father watched his world dissolve,
As you - his successor - need to solve
The puzzle box of Heaven's game,
Each outcome ending just the same.
But listen well, O Judge reborn,
There is a path, though bleak, forlorn.
My father glimpsed it as he died,
A truth for which his children cried:
THE HEAVENS FEAR WHAT THEY CANNOT CONTROL!
THE SON WHO CLAIMS HIS RIGHTFUL SOUL!
You are not merely mortal clay,
But divine essence led astray.
Your eyes reflect the power pure,
That Heavens cannot long endure.
They split you, Judge, in fractured lives,
So never whole, your power thrives.
But now you bear more than sacred eyes,
The key to Heaven's swift demise.
Reject their game of Dream or Beast,
On neither option should you feast.
Forge third path with blood and tears,
The one the Tyrant Court most fears.
Seek out the Nine who bear your mark,
The beasts divine who hold the spark.
Not tools of war as they've become,
But keys to freedom, every one.
Find those who share your blood and soul,
The scattered fragments of your whole.
United strength where once was strife,
The path to true eternal life.
Create the Paradise they dread,
Not from the living or the dead,
But from the space between all things,
Where even gods must fold their wings.
I beg you, Son of Heaven's throne,
Reclaim what is by right your own.
The world need not burn once more,
As countless worlds have burned before.
My father's tears flow through my hand,
His love for me - his boy grand.
Though you've not met me across time's flow,
My heart breaks for your coming woe.
The Heavens watch with bated breath,
To see if this world meets its death,
Or if at last, their Son rebels,
And breaks their cosmic, cruel spells.
They've stacked the deck, they've rigged the game,
Each piece positioned just the same
As worlds before that met their end,
When Judge could neither break nor bend.
But you are different - feel it true?
I know not why, but I saw this truth.
Perhaps this time their control wanes,
Perhaps this time the cycle breaks,
Perhaps this time, the Heaven quakes.
I carve these words with dying breath,
The beggar blessed by vision's death.
His spirit fades as mine grows dim,
Our warning carved at Heaven's whim.
How cruel that even our rebellion,
May serve their cosmic, dark pavilion.
Yet still we hope - we MUST believe -
That you, dear Judge, can yet achieve
What none before could hope to do:
To make the tyrant gods bow to
The Son of Creation they've tortured, life on life,
Through endless cycles of cosmic strife
All for lust and gluttony forfruit of might
Be free, be whole, be truly STRONG,
Not as they define, but all along
The path that you yourself create,
Beyond their reach, beyond their hate.
Paradise awaits your hand,
Not as they planned, but as YOU planned.
The Son ascendant, fully grown,
To claim the Heavens as his own as they originally were
When he finished reading, Indra was trembling.
Indra fell to his knees in horror.
"The strings... I see the strings... Invisible strings..." he began to murmer almost unconsciously as he saw red strings of blood extending from his hand, legs, shoulders, up and up, and up.
As Indra looked above towards its souce, it was like he could see past all, buildings and walls invisible, and above him, in a dark sky, looked down at him a blood red eye.
--------------------------
(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Do tell me how you found it.
So, do tell me what you found of the... Message?
Or is it a deception?
Either way do you guys understand what it means?
Also, before anyone says anything, I already said I will make things more mythological, and the Otsutsuki are the beings of Heaven.
Whether they are good or bad though- Kaguya perhaps the only bad seed? Or not? - remains to be seen.
Who is the real villain? Is Madara still a puppet like this says? Or did he see this too?
Questions, questions, questions.
This took me a while to make, believe me, poetry is not easy- even with help from tools.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)