---
Water slammed against the sides of the old wooden ship as waves rose high.
Blood floated on the surface, drifting from the battle raging at Uzushiogakure's shores.
"Move!" an Uzumaki elder shouted, dragging a long black chest covered in glowing sealing marks.
Another elder stumbled beside him, breath ragged. "This… this is the old sea coffin. Are you sure we should open it?"
"We don't have a choice," the first replied, voice cracking. "If what's inside can fight… it might save us."
The metal bolts on the coffin gave a heavy click as the seal mark burned red.
The lid creaked open.
Inside lay a tall man, bare-chested, muscles carved like stone and skin unblemished. His long black hair spread across the coffin like a shadow.
He didn't move.
"Is… is he dead?" whispered a young Uzumaki boy, stepping closer.
The man's eyes opened.
The boy stumbled back and hit the deck. "H-He's alive!"
A surge of chakra exploded from the coffin—a violent spiral of red and black. The air trembled.
Natural energy from the sea and the dying shore swirled toward him in a visible funnel.
His feet lifted off the wooden planks.
His black eyes shifted—three tomoe spinning—then twisted into a Mangekyō Sharingan. The pattern was a six-pointed wheel, each spoke sharp as a blade, pulsing with crimson light. No one present had ever seen its like.
In his mind, a cold voice whispered.
Right eye: Devour any creature, absorb its chakra attributes and bloodline.
Left eye: Consume the enemy's soul.
Right eye secondary ability: Instant movement to any seen location.
A slow, shuddering breath escaped his lips. His mouth curled, not with exhaustion, but with a quiet, terrible satisfaction. "Haa… at last… my Sharingan awakens."
One elder stepped forward, panic twisting his face. His hands flew into seals—desperate, shaking.
Indra's gaze snapped to him. "Trying to seal me again?"
A black flash.
The elder's body convulsed, then burst apart—blood and torn cloth scattering across the deck.
Screams erupted from the remaining Uzumaki. Some ran for the rails. Others fumbled barrier tags with trembling fingers.
Indra raised one hand and slammed his palm flat on the blood-soaked wood.
A massive cloud of smoke engulfed the ship. When it cleared, Manda towered above the mast, scales glistening, shadow swallowing the deck. The great serpent's tongue flicked once, tasting the fear in the air.
"Kill anyone still breathing," Indra ordered, voice level as a blade.
He stepped forward, bare feet tapping the wet planks, his Mangekyō spinning slowly as the screams of the Uzumaki faded into the storm.
---
The stone steps shook with each distant explosion. The deeper they went, the thicker the air grew—damp rock and iron, the smell of old blood.
An Uzumaki guard blocked the final gate, spear trembling. "We can't let anyone through—enemy forces could be right behind you!"
"They're already inside," the eldest elder snapped. "Stand aside or we lose everyone in the shelter."
A crash echoed down the tunnel. Foreign voices shouted orders, followed by the shriek of metal.
From the shadows, masked ninja bearing the Kirigakure symbol emerged—blades slick with water from their Hydration Technique. Behind them, shinobi from allied villages pushed forward, weapons bared.
Civilians screamed. Mothers threw themselves over their children as the first wave lunged.
"You stay here," the elder started, turning to Indra. "This isn't—"
Indra moved past him without a word.
In a blink, he stood before the lead attacker. His fist drove into the man's chest, sending the body crashing against the wall hard enough to split stone.
Lightning erupted from his open palm, a jagged spear of white heat that scoured the tunnel. Five enemy ninja dropped mid-stride, muscles locking and burning as the current tore through them.
The last two Kirigakure swordsmen hesitated—only for a heartbeat. Indra's kick shattered their guards and ribs in a single arc. They crumpled.
Silence rushed back in, broken only by the faint hum of fading chakra.
The eldest elder dropped to his knees. "Uchiha Indra… please… help us. Our tribe would be eternally grateful."
Indra looked down at him, expression unchanged.
"No. I will save only those willing to join my Uchiha—and take my name as theirs. If you want my protection, your old clan must die with this war."
The elder's jaw tightened until the muscle jumped. "You ask for too much."
"Your clan is already gone," Indra said, his voice carrying across the huddled survivors. "Stay here, and you will be hunted until no one remembers your red hair. Follow me, take my crest, and there will be no hand in this world strong enough to harm you."
Silence stretched. Then a young kunoichi stepped forward, head bowed. A man beside her followed. Then another. The desperate gathered in a slow tide at Indra's feet.
"You may keep your sealing arts," Indra continued, "but you will teach them to my chosen. From this day forward, you answer to me. And over time… your Uzumaki name will fade."
The elder turned his face away, throat working. He said nothing. There was nothing left to say.
As they moved out under Indra's command, no one spoke the thought aloud—but every survivor carried it in the set of their shoulders.
Uzushiogakure was gone. The clan would live only in the shadow of Uchiha Indra.