Indra

"Regarding your request to transfer positions..."

"However, for now, you will write a ten-thousand-word letter of self-reflection."

"If you write it well, I will transfer you to the Historian Department. There are many books there, and researching history is quite a good pursuit."

Manji stood up and said.

"Thank you, Sage! Praise be to you!"

Black Zetsu's face lit up with joy, and he hurriedly knelt on the ground to express his gratitude.

Although the history department was quite dull, at least he could read history, study books, and slack off with those working toads whenever he had nothing to do.

He could finally experience the life of a working-class citizen.

At the very least, it was better than being a security guard at a mausoleum.

Such a life... I would be satisfied with this...

Manji nodded; Black Zetsu was still reasonably compliant with his rehabilitation.

Of course, it could not be ruled out that Black Zetsu was just cosplaying him, learning Manji's ability to endure and keep an open mind.

But that did not matter. Once Black Zetsu realized he could not resurrect his mother, he would naturally begin to truly integrate into the life of Mount Myōboku.

Several years passed.

The morning mist had yet to disperse.

Sunlight cut diagonally through the window lattice, falling upon the bamboo scrolls in front of Hagoromo.

Hagoromo sat upright, teaching the two four- or five-year-old children beside him how to read.

To his left, Indra had handsome features and, despite his young age, exuded a sense of composure, his fingertips gently tracing the patterns on the bamboo scroll.

To his right, Asura appeared more lively, his round face still carrying a childish air as he stole glances at the birds outside the window from time to time, looking quite playful.

"Father."

"Why do we not possess power like yours?"

Indra suddenly raised his eyes, his clear gaze filled with inquiry.

Hagoromo's hand, which was holding the bamboo scroll, paused. He lifted his eyes to look at his eldest son, his tone calm: "I believe that you only need a sound mind and a healthy body; there is no need for power."

"I see..."

Indra furrowed his brows slightly, a trace of confusion flashing in his eyes, but he did not press the matter further.

His gaze slowly shifted to the main wall of the lecture hall, where a portrait hung. The person in the painting wore black and red robes with an indifferent expression—it was the founder of the Ninja Sect, the Sage of Six Paths, Manji.

"Father, is that our founder, the Sage of Six Paths?" Indra asked softly.

Asura, sitting to the side, also looked over.

Hagoromo followed his gaze and nodded slowly: "That is correct. He is my master, and he is the root of our Ninja Sect."

"Then, did you learn your power from the Sage of Six Paths?"

There was a hint of urgency in Indra's voice.

Hagoromo nodded: "Yes."

"Then may I go and learn from him?"

Indra sat up straight abruptly, his eyes shimmering with longing.

Hagoromo raised an eyebrow, his tone becoming more serious: "Indra, why are you so fixated on power today?"

Indra lowered his lashes, his tone tinged with vexation: "Yesterday, when Asura and I went out to gather herbs, we encountered a wild wolf. If the senior brother from the Ninja Sect hadn't arrived in time, we likely would have been injured."

"I thought that if I had power, I could protect myself, and I could also protect Asura."

"That's right, that's right!"

Asura immediately chimed in, patting his chest with lingering fear: "That wolf's eyes were so fierce; my legs went soft at the time!"

Upon hearing this, Hagoromo fell silent for a moment. He rose slowly, his gaze resting on the two children, and said earnestly: "You do not need power. True power is the resilience and kindness of the heart; it is knowing how to connect with others and rely on one another."

He had never intended to teach the power of chakra to his two children; even though they inherited his bloodline, they had yet to understand the true essence of power.

Hagoromo himself admitted from the beginning that the Ninja Sect was initially just a pure religion.

Ultimately, Hagoromo only wanted everyone to have bonds of the heart.

As long as the body was healthy, there was no need to overly pursue power.

Hagoromo did not believe there was any necessity to practice even greater power.

Hagoromo turned and walked steadily out of the lecture hall, leaving the two young boys to look at each other.

Indra watched his father's retreating back and pursed his lips, not pressing the issue further.

He was precocious and understood how to read the room; if his father was unwilling to teach, he would not pester him. However, the longing in his heart was like a seed that had quietly sprouted.

"Ha~"

Asura let out a massive yawn, rubbing his eyes as he looked toward Indra.

"Brother, it's getting late. Let's go to sleep."

With that, he flopped onto the tatami mat nearby, pulled the quilt over himself, and within moments, his steady breathing filled the room.

Indra, however, felt no sleepiness. He continued to stare at the portrait of Manji on the wall, his fingertips curling slightly.

If his father would not teach him, then he would seek out his father's master—the legendary Sage of Six Paths.

According to the books, the Sage was on good terms with the toads of Mount Myōboku. Those toads could speak human language; perhaps they could help him track the Sage's trail.

Once this thought took root, it could not be erased. Indra slowly closed his eyes, his mind already made up.

Over the next few days, Indra's figure could always be seen in the forests of the Ninja Sect.

Avoiding everyone, he wove through the dense woods, searching every corner with meticulous care, all to find that toad that could speak.

He scoured the streams, tree hollows, and rock piles near the Ninja Sect, searching from dawn until dusk, yet he never found a talking toad.

As the sun set, casting a golden glow over the Bamboo Forest, Indra slumped exhaustedly onto a large rock. He looked up at the setting sun and let out a long sigh.

"Sigh! I've searched for so many days—is it truly something that can only be met by chance and not sought?"

His voice carried a hint of disappointment, yet he showed no sign of giving up. He simply gazed at the sky, the hunger for power still burning in his eyes.

Inside the Sage Hall of Mount Myōboku, Manji sat upon a stone throne, flipping through the scrolls spread out before him, which were densely packed with writing.

It was the ten-thousand-word reflection that Black Zetsu had spent several days and nights writing.

Black Zetsu huddled in the corner of the hall, stealing glances at Manji's expression from time to time, terrified that the Sage might be dissatisfied and assign him more tasks.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful! Black Zetsu, this reflection of yours is well-written. It is good because it emphasizes kindness toward others! It is good because it understands the errors of Kaguya!"

Manji nodded in praise.

Black Zetsu immediately beamed. "You flatter me, Sage!"

Just then, Sage Fukasaku hurried in with his short legs.

"Great Sage, news has come from the Ninja Sect. Indra, the eldest son of Hagoromo, has been searching the forests near the sect for the past few days. It seems he is looking for a talking toad; he must be trying to track your trail."

Sage Fukasaku bowed respectfully as he spoke.

"Oh?"

Manji's fingers, which had been holding the bamboo scroll, paused. He raised his eyes to look at Sage Fukasaku, a flash of surprise in his gaze. "Indra is looking for me?"

He had not expected that this eldest son of Hagoromo would take the initiative to seek him out.

"Heh, Black Zetsu, the very power you need to resurrect Kaguya has come looking for me on its own."

Manji laughed as he teased Black Zetsu.

"Uh, Sage, you jest. I have long been your man; I, Black Zetsu, am actually a resident of Mount Myōboku already."

Black Zetsu chuckled awkwardly.

Manji let out two light laughs. "Haha..."

"Great Sage, do you need me to send some toads to lure him away with genjutsu, or should I simply send him packing?"

Sage Fukasaku asked for instructions. Mount Myōboku did not typically interfere in the affairs of the Ninja Sect, let alone those involving the offspring of Hagoromo.

Manji waved his hand, tossed the bamboo scroll aside, and said indifferently, "No need."

"Fukasaku, take Black Zetsu to the Mount Myōboku History Department to take up his post."

Manji pointed at Black Zetsu.

As his words fell, his figure dissipated within the hall, leaving behind only a faint trace of senjutsu chakra.

Black Zetsu's face lit up with joy, and he approached Sage Fukasaku respectfully. "Sage Fukasaku, please guide me, Senior!"

Sage Fukasaku gave a slight nod.