Thank
Krrr-eeeak...
The old ship groaned. Wood rubbed against wood as the waves pushed it from below. The storm had passed, but the sea was still rough. Rain dripped from the ropes. The sky was dark grey, like a bad bruise.
On the deck, the Uzumaki elders stood frozen around the open coffin.
The lid had fallen to the side. The seal marks had burned out. The metal bolts lay on the wood, still smoking.
Inside lay a tall man. Bare chest. Muscles hard. Skin smooth, no scars at all. His long black hair spread around him like a dark pool. He did not move. He did not breathe.
"Is... is he dead?" a young Uzumaki boy whispered.
Then the man's eyes opened.
The boy screamed and fell backward. His back hit the deck so hard his teeth clacked. "H-He's alive! He's alive!"
A blast of chakra shot up from the coffin.
It was red and black, a spinning storm of power. The ship shook. The wooden planks under the coffin cracked and split. Every seal tag on the deck caught fire at once. Heat hit the elders like a hot wind from an oven.
Natural energy from the sea and the shore rushed toward the man. It looked like a water funnel, but made of light. It poured into his body, into his eyes.
His feet lifted off the wood. He floated just above the coffin, arms loose at his sides, hair lifting as if he was underwater.
His black eyes changed. Three small shapes — tomoe — spun into view, then twisted into something new. A Mangekyō Sharingan. The pattern was a six-pointed wheel, each line sharp like a blade, glowing deep red. No one on that ship had ever seen eyes like that.
The chakra pressure hit.
Two Uzumaki guards near the coffin didn't even cry out. Their bodies just folded — not from a blow, but from the crushing weight of his power. Blood dripped from their noses and ears. One of them twitched once. Then both went still.
An old elder by the railing grabbed his chest and fell. His heart gave out with a soft pop that no one heard over the wind.
The boy who had fallen earlier crawled backward on his hands, crying hard. The deck under him was wet — with rain, with seawater, and now with something warm spreading from the dead guards.
Indra's mouth curled up. Not from tiredness. From a quiet, cold joy.
"Haa haa haaa ... at last... my Sharingan awakens."
His voice was low and rough, as if he had not used it in a very long time. It cut through the wind like a sharp knife.
Elder Touma moved.
He was an old man with a white beard. His hands were shaking, but his fingers moved fast — years of training taking over even as fear filled his eyes. His hands flew through signs. A sealing circle glowed on the deck under Indra's feet. Blue chains of light shot up from the wood, wrapping toward Indra's legs.
Indra's eyes snapped to him.
"Trying to seal me again?"
He did not sound angry. He just sounded tired. Like a man who had seen this same stupid thing too many times.
A black flash.
Elder Touma's body began to shake wildly.
"Ahhh!"
A scream tore out of his throat — not a battle cry, just pure pain. His chest pushed outward, skin stretching like a balloon. Then it split open with a wet tearing sound. Blood and bits of flesh sprayed across the deck.
Some of it hit the other Uzumaki. Warm drops splattered on Honoka's face. A young kunoichi near the mast got hit on her arm and screamed.
Touma's ribs cracked — loud, like dry sticks snapping. His insides spilled out, red and white, steaming in the cold air.
One of his arms broke off and spun away, hitting the mast with a wet thud. The other arm hung by a few strings of meat, swinging as his body fell into a heap of torn flesh and broken bones.
"What... what is happening?!"
"What have we done... he is a monster!"
"He's a demon!"
Screams broke out everywhere. An elder near the rail turned to jump overboard.
Indra didn't even look at him. The chakra pressure spiked for just a second. The elder's head twisted backward with a sharp crack. His body tumbled over the rail and hit the water with a splash.
No one else tried to run.
Indra's bare feet touched the deck. He stood in the middle of the ship, his long black hair settling around his shoulders. He flexed his fingers once, then twice, like he was checking if they still worked.
Silence took over the ship. Only the waves, the creaking wood, and someone being sick near the back could be heard.
Then a woman's voice broke through — cracked, wet, barely holding together.
"Y-You killed Elder Touma..."
Indra turned his head, slow.
The woman had grey-streaked red hair. Her name was Honoka. Her jaw was loose. Her hands shook at her sides. Tears cut lines through the dirt on her cheeks. She looked at the pile of meat that used to be Touma, at the blood soaking into the wood, at the arm still lying by the mast. A small piece of bone had landed in her hair. She didn't seem to notice.
"He... he was only trying to protect us... he was..."
Her voice broke into sobs. She couldn't finish.
Indra stared at her. The air around him grew heavy. The wooden planks under his bare feet began to groan — not from the waves, but from him. A low, deep pressure rolled outward from his body, pushing down on everyone on the ship.
Honoka dropped. Not to her knees — just down, falling like a piece of paper, tears still streaming. Her hands pressed flat on the blood-soaked wood. She shook so hard her teeth clicked together.
The boy from earlier was face-down on the deck, gasping for air. Two elders held each other, their faces turning purple, veins standing out on their necks. A woman screamed, but the sound died in her throat as the pressure squeezed the air from her lungs.
The sails shook. The water around the ship flattened, as if the sea itself was too scared to move.
Indra looked at Honoka — this broken, crying woman covered in another man's blood — and the pressure stopped.
Just like that.
The air rushed back. People gasped. Someone threw up over the railing. The boy on the deck rolled onto his back, chest going up and down fast, sucking in air. The ship creaked in relief.
Indra took one step toward Honoka. His bare foot tapped the wet plank.
"Oi."
Honoka flinched.
"Tell me what reward you all want."
She looked up. Her face was a mess — tears, snot, specks of red that were not her own. Her lips moved twice before sound came out.
"Please... our village is dying. The enemy... they came at dawn. Kirigakure and their allies. They're killing everyone. We opened the coffin because... because you're the only weapon we have left. Please..."
Indra watched her for a long moment. His face didn't change. Then he let out a breath through his nose — almost a sigh, but not quite.
"Sake," he said.
Honoka blinked. "...What?"
"On this ship. Sake. In a cup. Now. I've been sealed for a very long time. My throat feels like I swallowed sand."
She stared at him, not understanding.
"Move," Indra said.
She scrambled. The boy who had been gasping on the deck forced himself up and ran below deck. He came back fast with a clay bottle and a wooden cup, his hands shaking so much the sake spilled over the sides.
Indra took the cup, drank it all in one gulp, and held it out again. The boy refilled it. Indra drank slower this time, then handed the empty cup back.
"Better." He rolled his shoulders. Steam rose from his skin as his muscles relaxed. "Now. Which way is the village?"
Honoka, still on her knees, raised a shaking hand and pointed toward the shore. Dark columns of smoke rose above the trees. Even from here, faint screams carried on the wind.
"Kirigakure," she whispered. "And their allies. They came at dawn."
"So. The Uzumaki destruction timeline." Indra said it to himself, more memory than question.
He walked to the railing and looked toward the burning island. The flames painted red light in his Mangekyō eyes. Behind him, the Uzumaki survivors huddled together, stepping carefully around the bodies and the blood and the pieces of Elder Touma that still covered the deck.
"Alright." Indra cracked his neck. "Let's go see what has become of the ninja world."