Manji gazed at the proud young man before him, his eyes calm and his tone even.
"Those who show their edge too openly are easily broken. Leave room for doubt in all things, and don't be so certain of yourself."
At his words, Indra immediately wiped the smug look from his face and bowed respectfully. His bangs fell over his brows as he nodded. "I'll remember your teachings, Grandmaster."
But the slight tension in his back and the unshaken brightness in his eyes betrayed his lack of conviction.
It was only natural for the eldest son to inherit the family legacy. What was more, his Hand Seals had benefited everyone in the Ninja Sect. In talent, achievements, and bloodline, who besides him could take the position of heir?
Asura was so naive that he needed others to protect him even from wolves in the mountains. How could he possibly lead the mighty Ninja Sect?
The thought had taken root in his heart. Manji's casual words about "humility" went in one ear and out the other.
Manji caught the flicker in his eyes and understood.
The boy's pride had grown into a towering tree, nurtured by the adulation of others and the smooth course of his own life. His nod of agreement was nothing but a show of respect for their master-disciple relationship.
Pride goes before a fall. It had always been so. Indra's talent was indeed rare, but his arrogant disregard for everyone else had become his greatest weakness.
Manji shook his head lightly. The Six Paths Sword in his hand trembled faintly, giving off a soft hum. Then his figure dissolved into a wisp of mist and quietly vanished amid the stillness of the Bamboo Forest,
leaving Indra standing there alone.
When Manji appeared again, he was inside a plain wooden house.
The furnishings were simple: a low table, several bamboo scrolls, and a bed covered with an old quilt.
Hagoromo sat before the table. His hair had turned white, and wrinkles furrowed his face like ravines. Though his back was still straight, he could not hide the wear of the years.
"Master, you've come."
Hagoromo slowly rose. His movements were sluggish, but he still maintained a respectful posture and bowed slightly.
"Mm."
Manji's gaze lingered on his aged face. Unbidden, the memory of their first meeting surfaced in his mind.
Back then, Hagoromo had sharp eyes and an air of righteousness. To protect the one he loved, he had dared to fight his own mother.
Time had flown by. In the end, the young man of those days had not escaped its ravages, and now he stood before Manji, old and frail.
Manji waved a hand. "It's been so many years. You don't need to be so formal."
Hagoromo sat as asked, his fingers rubbing the cool bamboo scroll on the table. After a moment of silence, he spoke calmly. "Master, I don't have much time left."
He said it as casually as if commenting on the weather, but deep in his eyes lay an attachment to the world and concern for the Ninja Sect.
"The Ninja Sect is the work of my life. I've thought long and hard about who should inherit it, and in the end, I believe I'll only be at ease if I entrust it to my own blood. Indra and Asura are both my sons. I trust them to preserve the foundations of the Ninja Sect more than I would an outsider."
Manji smiled faintly to himself. In the end, Hagoromo could not escape the notion of a hereditary realm. Though he had spent his life championing connection and kindness, he still saw blood ties as the most reliable bond.
Manji didn't point it out. He simply looked into Hagoromo's aged eyes and said slowly, "You should decide for yourself."
He hadn't come to interfere in the choice of heir. He had only wanted to see with his own eyes whether his former disciple still possessed the strength he'd had in his youth, despite his advanced age.
Hagoromo seemed relieved, yet also as if he had summoned all his courage. He slowly stood, bowed deeply to Manji, and lowered his forehead almost to the floor. "Master, after I die, would you promise me one thing?"
Manji raised a hand to help him up. "Tell me."
"You've lived for countless years. You're wise and discerning, and you've never lost your way."
Hagoromo looked up, his eyes full of earnestness.
"Though the Ninja Sect flourishes, the nations of the mortal world are beginning to rise, and conflict is brewing. I fear Indra and Asura are young and inexperienced, and if the Ninja Sect ever faces a crisis, they may not be able to handle it. When that happens, please step in, set things right, and crush any plots against us."
In the tone of someone entrusting his children to another's care, Hagoromo placed the future of the entire Ninja Sect in the hands of the transcendent immortal before him.
Manji looked at his reverent expression, his own tone still calm and flat. "I understand. I'll make my own judgment."
Manji had already made other plans. The Ninja Sect seemed to be a religion devoted to spreading goodwill, but in reality it had become a political and military power with its own forces.
The mortal world was divided among many nations. Their rulers could worship him, the elusive Sage of Six Paths, because that faith strengthened their rule. But they would never tolerate the existence of a Ninja Sect armed with powerful forces and influence throughout the land.
How could anyone tolerate another man snoring beside their bed?
He felt no attachment to the Ninja Sect. His promise to "set things right" was nothing but a verbal formality.
His only goal had ever been the Rinnegan. What did the rise or fall of the Ninja Sect have to do with him?
Hagoromo failed to notice the coldness in his heart. He took Manji's words as a promise, relief spreading across his face as he bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Master."
"As for the heir, I'll inform you as soon as I've made my choice."
Manji nodded slightly and said nothing more.
Two years passed in the blink of an eye.
The Bamboo Forest around the Ninja Sect had grown denser. Green bamboo shot upward, blocking out the sky, and the two children of old had grown into handsome young men.
Indra wore a dark, fitted outfit. He stood tall and straight, and the boyish softness had faded from his features, replaced by a sharper edge.
He stood among the crowd with an air that kept others at a distance, his presence steady yet cold.
Over the past two years, his exquisite Hand Seals and outstanding talent had made him a role model for the Ninja Sect's disciples. Wherever he went, he was met with looks of respect.
He had become much more mature—and much more ruthless.
Asura, standing beside him, was a different story.
He wore simple light-gray clothes and had a somewhat broad build. A gentle smile still rested on his face, his eyes curved warmly, giving him an approachable air.
Yet beneath that gentleness lay uncertainty.
Compared with his brother's dazzling brilliance, he always felt he fell short in every way.
Over the past two years, Hagoromo's health had continued to decline, but he had never stopped observing his two sons.
He watched Indra handle affairs decisively and use precise techniques to solve the Ninja Sect's problems. He had to admit that his eldest son's abilities surpassed those of ordinary men.
But he also saw Indra's merciless severity when disciples made mistakes, and how he acted unilaterally, unwilling to listen to anyone else's opinions.
The pride and resolve in his bones reminded Hagoromo of Kaguya, filling him with unease.
As for Asura, he was always softhearted and compassionate, unable to bear seeing others suffer. Whenever conflict arose, he wanted to resolve it through reconciliation.
The disciples all liked the gentle second young master, but Hagoromo knew that in troubled times, such indecision might become a fatal weakness.
He often thought that if Indra's decisiveness could be combined with Asura's kindness, they would make the perfect heir.
But how could one have the best of both worlds?
On this day, the main hall of the Ninja Sect was packed with people.
All the core disciples and elders had gathered there.
Sarutobi stood at the front of the disciples, his expression composed as his gaze swept over the two men in the hall.
Hagoromo sat in the main seat. His face was pale, but his eyes remained clear.
He raised a hand to quiet the crowd. His voice was hoarse but powerful as it echoed through the hall. "I've summoned you all here today to announce something important."
Hagoromo's gaze slowly passed over his two sons below. After a brief pause, he continued, "My life is nearing its end. The Ninja Sect cannot go a day without a leader."
"From now on, the heir will be chosen between Indra and Asura."
A low murmur immediately spread through the hall.
Most of the disciples looked surprised, though they also found it perfectly reasonable. After all, Indra's excellence was plain for all to see.
Indra stood in place, his back straightening even further. A look of anticipation flashed in his eyes, and the faintest smile touched his lips.
He had been waiting for this day. He was determined to claim the position of heir.
Asura, however, looked unconcerned, still wearing his gentle smile.
He didn't care about inheriting the Ninja Sect.
As long as everyone was happy, he was happy.
Hagoromo ignored the crowd's reaction and slowly rose. He picked up two scrolls from the table and handed them to Sarutobi.
"These are the tests for the two of you."
"Each scroll describes a village. You'll go to your assigned village and solve its problems in your own way. Return and report back when you've completed your task."
Sarutobi handed a scroll to each of the brothers.
Indra accepted his scroll. As his fingers touched the cool bamboo, confidence filled his heart. With his abilities, resolving a village's problems would be as easy as raising a hand.
Asura held his scroll with a troubled look. He lifted his head to Hagoromo, his voice uncertain and helpless. "Huh? Father, why am I being sent to choose an heir?"
Asura paused, then said helplessly, "My brother is so capable. He's better than me in both strength and handling affairs. Just let him go alone. I... I'm afraid I won't do a good job."
He meant every word.
In his heart, his brother had always been beyond his reach. All he could do was follow behind him and try not to hold him back.
Indra glanced sideways at him, his expression indifferent, and said nothing.
Over the past two years, the rift between them had only grown. He couldn't stand Asura's indecisiveness and thought him too naive to accomplish anything great.
Asura, in turn, disliked his brother's coldness and lack of compassion, thinking him too domineering and devoid of human warmth.
Though they were brothers, they had grown increasingly distant. Aside from necessary greetings, they barely spoke to each other.
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