Ame asking her father about something, how does the baby get in the lady's belly?
How would that go? Kskxkdkd
Inspired from Bluey, that one particular scene kakdkd
HIGH PONYTAIL INDRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA BARK BARK BARK
Indra sits cross-legged beside the swing, his elbow resting lazily on his knee as he gives it a gentle push.
Ame, cradling her ever-present stuffed bunny, sways back and forth, the motion slow and rhythmic, her tiny feet barely grazing the ground.
The late afternoon sun filters through the trees, casting dappled light over them.
It is a rare moment of peace.
A moment of quiet.
And then, she asks it.
—Dada, how does a baby get inside a lady’s belly?
The swing creaks softly.
The birds continue chirping.
The wind rustles the leaves.
Indra freezes.
The movement of the swing stalls, his hand arrested mid-motion as his entire body goes rigid, like a soldier caught in the open, unarmored, staring down the sharp edge of an unseen enemy. His mind—so adept at strategy, so ruthless in battle—offers nothing.
Ame looks over her shoulder at him expectantly, wide-eyed, utterly innocent.
Indra forces himself to breathe.
—...Why do you want to know?— He manages, his voice betraying none of the turmoil now raging inside his skull.
Ame shrugs, clutching her bunny tighter. —Hikari said it was magic. Inari said the baby just appears one day, like poof!— She spreads her tiny hands for emphasis. —And Raizen said I should ask you. Since you would know.—
Indra makes a mental note to have words with Raizen later.
His fingers flex where they rest on his knee.
There is no clear path on how to proceed.
Asking Ivy for help would be humiliating to say the least, adding one more battle to deal with after this little feud.
—Well,— he starts, carefully. Slowly. Measured. —It is...a process.—
Ame blinks. Waits.
Indra clears his throat. Stalls.
—A very...complicated process.—
—But how does it start?— Ame presses, ever unrelenting.
Indra hesitates.
His mind races.
He cannot lie—deception is weakness.
And yet, the truth is a battlefield he is wholly unequipped to traverse.
Think, Indra.
He inhales sharply, gaze sharpening as he shifts his focus, reaching for what he does know.
—The union of two energies,— he states, voice taking on the cadence of a lesson. —A balance of forces, perfectly aligned. A delicate equilibrium, requiring both precision and—commitment—to ensure success.—
Ame frowns. —Like sealing jutsu?—
Indra seizes the out.
—Exactly like sealing jutsu.
Ame ponders this for a moment, swinging a little slower now. Her tiny fingers tap against the plush fabric of her bunny’s ear as she mulls over the new information.
—So you and Mama made a jutsu and that’s how I got here?
Indra does not choke. He does not flinch. He has spent years mastering his composure.
—Something like that.
Ame hums, seemingly satisfied.
The silence stretches. The danger has passed. He has survived.
And then—
—So if I learn all the hand signs, I can make a baby too?
WE'RE OFFICIALLY NAMING THE MOTHER, INDRA'S WIFE, "IVY"
The evening was quiet, the house settled in a rare moment of peace. Outside, the wind stirred the leaves, rustling against the wooden panels, but within the room, all was still—save for the rhythmic gliding of combs through silk-like strands.
Ivy sat with her legs tucked beneath her, her impossibly long hair cascading around her like a light waterfall, spilling onto the floor in shimmering waves. It was a task, maintaining it, for her hair was not merely an aesthetic feature—it was a vessel of her power, her chakra woven into every strand, growing longer as her strength deepened.
It was too much work for just her.
Which is how she found herself in this rare, intimate moment, her husband and children gathered around her, each with a comb in hand, working through the seemingly endless locks.
Indra sat behind her, his movements precise and steady, untangling knots with practiced ease. He did not speak much, but his presence was grounding. His fingers, calloused from war and command, were surprisingly gentle against her scalp, methodically parting sections of her hair with an almost reverent focus.
Raizen was on her right, silent as always, mirroring his father’s movements with careful precision. He never rushed, never tugged too hard—he treated the task with the same level of importance as any of his training exercises, his focus unwavering.
On her left, however—
-Ow,- Ivy muttered.
Hikari and Inari froze.
-That wasn’t me,- Hikari immediately said, pointing at his twin.
-Liar,- Inari shot back. -You pulled too hard.-
-I did not.
-Yes, you did.
-You’re the reckless one—
-Boys,- Ivy sighed, exhaling sharply through her nose.
Both instantly straightened, realizing they had pushed their luck.
Indra, without pausing his combing, gave them a single, unimpressed glance. -Do it properly, or don’t do it at all.-
The twins huffed in unison but complied, resuming their work with exaggerated care, though it was clear they were far more interested in playing with her hair than actually untangling it.
-I think we should braid it,- Hikari suggested suddenly.
-No, Indra said immediately.
-Why not?
-Because you’ll make a mess.
Inari, who had just finished tying a small section into a loose knot, grinned. -Too late.-
Raizen sighed, but Ivy only shook her head, a small smile curling at her lips despite herself.
They continued like that for a while, the room filled with the soft sounds of combs gliding through strands, the occasional murmur between father and son, and the ever-present mischief of the twins.
And in that moment—amidst the rare tranquility, the warmth of her family around her, the weight of their hands carefully tending to what she could not do alone—Ivy felt something deep and quiet settle within her.
She was powerful. Strong beyond measure. But even she had moments where she needed them.
And they, in their own ways, would always be there.
Hello dearieeeeee... I have sth to ask after a long time if you'd like to. And i have seen that in the prev ask you said you had a free time so here we go. 🩷
Idk if you have done sth like this but if you didn't , can you write somethings about how would Indra and Ivy react to his clan's future ? We can consider Madara , Izuna , Itachi etc. descendants of Raizen (or any other of his kids). He is under some kind of genjutsu let's say and he sees the future ? (ik he wouldn't easily be put under genjutsu when he has ms but let's pretend)
Let me propose something even more fun: Ivy and Indra, chaotic soulmates, sharing eternity in hell like it’s just another boring Sunday afternoon, roasting literally and metaphorically.
They stumble upon a “glimpse of the future” service down there —very casual, like a pop-up shop— and decide to take a peek at what their legacy turned into aksjdhasjhdkasd
Hell wasn’t as bad as Ivy expected.
Sure, the air was thick and smelled faintly of brimstone and regret, but they had a nice little corner to themselves: a crumbling stone bench, a view of a boiling river, and Indra beside her, grumbling about the heat like he wasn’t the one who personally turned half the world to ashes in his time.
-You could have gone to heaven, love. They laid flowers on the floor when you got there, big entrance.- Indra reminded her, picking idly at a blackened feather from the ash-storm blowing by. -Yet you chose this.-
Ivy shrugged, licking an ice-pop that somehow never melted despite the inferno around them.
-What? Thought you were going to get rid of me that easily? If my little demon gets dragged to hell, I'll follow. Plus, it's boring up there. I heard they don't even let you argue.
-That's my wife.- Indra approved.
He slung an arm lazily around her shoulders, his touch hot enough to brand, but familiar.
That’s when the demon salesman slithered by, pushing a cracked, smoking cart.
“GLIMPSE INTO THE FUTURE! FIVE SOUL COINS OR A GOOD STORY ABOUT YOUR WORST SIN!”
("Optional bonus: judge your descendants and regret your life choices in real time!")
Ivy slapped her palm down instantly, rattling the cart. -Show us what we made.-
And just like that, a pool of molten glass unfurled before them, shimmering with images.
They leaned in together, both curious and absolutely ready to roast their bloodline.
First came Madara—tall, wild-haired, looking like he punched mountains for breakfast and seduced entire armies in the evening.
They watched him stand on a battlefield, giving an overdramatic speech about domination, his hair flapping like a gothic shampoo commercial.
Indra blinked.
-That’s Inari's great-grandkid?- he asked slowly.
Ivy choked on her ice-pop. -He’s you if you were more dramatic and even more emotionally constipated.-
Indra grunted, unamused.
Then Izuna appeared: mischievous grin, swords flashing, clothes half-tucked like he lost a bet with himself and won anyway.
Ivy pointed. -Inari always had that duality, remember? I often worried about it when they were teenagers, but you said it was fine... He was one person when close to Hikari, and then another when they were separated. Cruel, harsh, just like you, but nonsensical and erratic like me. Here we have both sides divided into two idiots.-
Indra couldn’t argue. Izuna was currently backflipping off a wall for absolutely no reason.
The view shifted:
Shisui sprinting across rooftops, flashing a peace sign mid-chase while dodging kunai.
-Oh no.- Ivy murmured, covering her mouth. -That’s definitely Hikari's fault. Look at that grin. That’s ‘pranked a daimyo and got away with it’ energy.-
-At least he’s fast.- Indra muttered. -He'll need it to outrun his own stupidity.-
They fist-bumped without looking at each other.
Next: Obito.
Wide smile, heart bigger than his common sense, tripping over a rock while saving a cat.
-Ame’s line,- Ivy said immediately, proud and wincing at once. -Only her side could produce someone this soft in a world this cruel.-
Indra watched Obito wipe dirt off his pants and beam at the rescued cat.
-He’s going to suffer.- Indra stated, grim.
-Yeah. But he’ll love every second of it.- Ivy said, tapping her chin.
Then: Itachi and Sasuke.
Both from Raizen's bloodline.
Itachi, tiny and serious, already plotting ten steps ahead of everyone else like a child-sized mafia don.
Sasuke, throwing rocks at ducks because he didn’t know how to process affection yet.
Indra leaned back and covered his eyes. -Raizen's descendants are alarming.-
Ivy grinned. -I’m proud.-
-You’re insane.
-And you married me.
Indra didn’t argue. He just tucked her under his arm tighter.
As the visions faded, they sat there for a while, absorbing it all:
Their descendants, conquering, destroying, crying, laughing, being beautiful and broken and alive in ways they could have never predicted.
-So... we did good?- Ivy asked finally.
Indra thought about it.
Madara yelling at the sky.
Izuna falling off a cliff with a smile.
Shisui prank-sprinting.
Obito tripping over cats.
Itachi plotting world domination from age three.
Sasuke throwing rocks.
-We did something.- Indra decided.
Ivy laughed so hard she almost dropped her immortal ice-pop.
The salesman cart rattled past again, now offering "memory erasure for those deeply ashamed."
Ivy waved it off without a second thought.
-Nope. I’m keeping this trauma forever.
Indra nodded in agreement, hand finding hers—hot, rough, steady—and holding tight.
indras reaction to finding out their fourth child was a girl?
He always wanted a girl 😭 We have the perfect representation of his inner feelings with this drawing @shiori01 did
Indra had never said it aloud.
Not once.
He had accepted each of his sons with the quiet pride expected of him, nodding in approval as the midwives presented the newborns, his touch careful, measured. And yet—Ivy always saw it.
The way his gaze sharpened for a fraction of a second when the midwife announced, "It’s a boy." The way his fingers curled, then relaxed, as if locking something away before anyone could notice.
No one noticed.
Except her.
And now—
-Lord Indra… you have a daughter.
Ivy saw it.
Not the fleeting shift of dissatisfaction, the near-invisible restraint she had come to recognize.
This time, she saw shock.
Raw. Unmasked.
Indra stared, his breath halting in his chest, shoulders tensing in a way they never did—not in battle, not in war, not even in pain.
For once, his control failed him.
The room seemed to still.
The twins stopped fidgeting.
Raizen’s gaze flickered between the newborn and his father, silent.
Ivy, still catching her breath from labor, watched Indra without saying a word.
Because she knew.
And then, slowly—as if drawn by something beyond himself—Indra stepped forward.
The midwife placed the small, blanketed child in his arms.
A daughter.
She was so small. More delicate than any of his sons had been. And yet, her gaze was sharp—Ivy's eyes. She looked directly at him, unblinking, fearless.
A slow breath escaped him.
His arms tightened instinctively, fingers adjusting with absolute care, cradling her as if she were something too precious to risk holding incorrectly.
He had always wanted this. A daughter.
But he had never—not once—allowed himself to think about it. To hope.
And now she was here.
Ivy’s voice, soft, breathless: "Ame."
Indra barely looked up. -Ame,- he echoed, his voice lower than usual, almost… reverent.
The midwives stilled, waiting for his usual composed reaction, for the nod, the approval, the unshaken strength.
But Indra did not nod. He did not step back and compose himself.
Instead, he held Ame closer, closing his eyes for half a second—just half a second—as if grounding himself.
What If Ame started to call Indra 'father' instead of 'dada' because her brothers call him that and decided to copy them skkfkd
this actually happened to me but with my grandpa kskdkskd instead of lolo (grandpa) I call him Tang (Father) because I hear my mom call him that often but changed overtime because of my cousins kskdkdekkfkd
You do realize that you are about to send this man into an existential crisis similar to his meltdown with black zetsu, don't you? DAMN SHIORI DAMN
The first time it happened, Indra almost died.
Ame had tugged at his sleeve, her tiny hand barely curling around the fabric as she looked up at him with those round, wide eyes.
-Father, can you help me?- she had asked, her voice sweet, light, completely unaware of the devastation she had just wrought.
Indra had blinked, looking down at her, and for a brief, fleeting moment, his mind refused to process what he had just heard.
Father.
Not "Dada."
Not the soft, innocent title that had clung to her lips since she had learned to speak.
Not the gentle, endearing syllables that had, against his own better judgment, warmed something deep within him every time she used them.
No.
Father.
Like Raizen said it.
Like Hikari and Inari, in their half-mocking, half-admiring tones.
A tone similar to those who looked upon him with reverence and distance, as though he was something to be followed rather than loved.
Something in his chest clenched.
-...What did you say?- His voice was calm. Measured. Not betraying the sudden, inexplicable weight in his ribs.
Ame tilted her head slightly. -Father, can you help me?- she repeated, entirely unbothered, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
Indra stared at her.
He knew exactly where she had gotten it from.
The twins.
Raizen.
His sons, who had long abandoned childish affections in favor of something colder, more proper.
Of course she would follow them.
Of course she would hear them and decide to copy them.
But she was five.
She was still supposed to be small enough to tug at his sleeves and call for him in that soft, high-pitched voice.
She was still supposed to be the child who nestled against him in the early mornings, mumbling "Dada" into his robes when she was too tired to function.
And now—now she stood there, looking up at him with those same round, trusting eyes, calling him something that felt like a chasm opening up beneath his feet.
Indra inhaled slowly through his nose.
-...Why are you calling me that?
Ame blinked. -Because Hikari and Inari do.-
Simple.
Obvious.
Indra’s jaw clenched.
-You always call me "Dada."
Ame shrugged, as if this were a non-issue. -I can call you Father now.-
No.
No, she could not.
His spine was straight, his expression unreadable, but somewhere deep inside, something inside him was wilting.
Ame, entirely unaware of her father’s internal suffering, merely took his silence as acceptance.
She smiled up at him, her usual beaming grin, and reached for his hand. -Come see what I drew.-
Indra allowed himself to be led away, his mind a spiral of unspoken protests.
"Dada" was slipping from his grasp.
And for the first time in his long, battle-worn life, he had no idea how to fight it.
Ame was blissfully unaware of the turmoil she had just unleashed upon her father’s soul. She tugged him along with all the confidence of a child who believed the world bent to her whims, guiding him toward a low table where her latest masterpiece awaited.
-Look!- she beamed, pointing at the scroll spread open before them.
Indra, still reeling, lowered his gaze.
It was a child's drawing, crude and uneven, but unmistakable.
Two figures stood side by side, their hands linked.
One was significantly taller, drawn with long, flowing hair and a stern expression. The other was small, round-faced, with what he could only assume were supposed to be pigtails.
Him and Ame.
Something in his chest tightened.
-That’s you,- she explained, pointing at the taller figure, -and that’s me.-
Indra lowered himself to one knee beside her, studying the drawing with a look that betrayed none of his emotions.
His fingers traced the edge of the scroll, lingering.
-Ame,- he said slowly, carefully. -What does this say to you?-
She blinked, looking up at him. -It’s us.-
His grip on the scroll firmed.
No.
It was more than that.
It was proof.
A declaration.
An undeniable, unshakable truth put to paper.
Without a word, Indra reached for a brush and dipped it into the inkstone beside her. With practiced strokes, he wrote in clean, deliberate script above the drawing:
Dada and Ame.
He did not write "Father."
He did not entertain the idea.
The title forced upon him by duty and respect had no place in this moment, not in something so pure, so untouched by expectation.
Ame watched him, fascinated, as the ink dried.
Indra set the brush down, exhaling slowly.
Then, with quiet finality, he turned to her and met her gaze. -I am Dada.-
Ame blinked, processing.
Then, with the easy acceptance of a child, she shrugged.
-Okay.
Indra stared at her. -Okay?-
She nodded, smiling again. -Okay, Dada.-
The relief that surged through him was irrational, overwhelming.
He was a man of control, of restraint, of unshakable will—but in that moment, when she looked up at him with those bright, innocent eyes and called him that once more, Uchiha Indra nearly let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Instead, he reached out, settling a hand atop her head. -Good.-
Ame beamed, her tiny hands patting the scroll with pride. -What if we put it in your armory! So you can see it every day?-
Indra considered it.
His armory, that cold place, untouched by feelings, metallic and distant, where there was never any room for any emotion.
Where Ivy and Indra swapped body for the day wkkdkskdkdk a jutsu gone wrong.
How would that play? Kskskdkxk
ASDJASJDKLAASKJD YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES
I LOVE THIS CONCEPT SO MUCH ASJDHKAJSDHJAKS
Hour One – the horror begins
Raizen was the first to sense something was deeply, catastrophically wrong.
He had walked into the main hall, expecting the usual: his father reading over battle reports, exuding his natural aura of cold, untouchable command.
Instead—
He found **Indra—**or rather, **Indra’s body—**perched on the back of a chair, legs crossed daintily, smirking down at him.
Something in Raizen’s soul recoiled.
-…Father?
Ivy—**still inside Indra’s body—**gave a slow, exaggerated blink. -Yes, my beloved firstborn?-
Raizen froze.
The words. The tone. The softness.
The absolute, horrifying mockery of Indra’s usual demeanor.
He was in danger.
Hour Two – the twins suffer first
Hikari and Inari had been excited when they found out about the jutsu mishap.
That excitement lasted precisely five minutes.
Because Indra—Indra’s terrifying, towering form—was acting nothing like their father.
-My sweet little demons,- Ivy cooed, bending down to pinch their cheeks. -Why don’t we talk about our feelings today?-
The twins screamed.
They had never known fear until now.
Inari’s voice cracked. -W-Who are you, and what did you do to Father?!-
Hikari wasn’t breathing.
Indra—**in Ivy’s body—**was standing at the doorway, seething, shaking, gripping the frame as if barely restraining himself from committing murder.
-IVY, YOU WILL STOP THIS AT ONCE.
Ivy ignored him, giggling in Indra’s baritone voice.
-Would you like a hug, my darling sons?
Hikari passed out.
Hour Three – Raizen loses his will to live
Raizen had endured a lot.
But he had limits.
He had just finished gathering reports from the frontline when he returned home, hoping, praying that whatever had taken over his father’s body had calmed down.
Instead—
He found Indra’s massive form sitting on the floor with Ame.
Braiding her hair.
Singing.
SINGING.
In his deep, powerful, godlike voice.
Raizen turned on his heel.
-I’m done.
He was leaving.
He was never coming back.
Hour Four – Ame is the only one having fun
Ame was delighted.
She was too young to see the horror of the situation.
Instead, she was thrilled that her father was acting so fun for once.
-Dada, can we make flower crowns?
Ivy—**still in Indra’s massive, warlord body—**smirked. -We shall make the finest crowns, my little princess.-
Ame giggled, clapping her hands.
Indra, standing off to the side—**still trapped in Ivy’s smaller body—was watching with his soul leaving his body.
-THIS IS A TRAVESTY.
Ivy threw him a wink. -You’re just mad because I look prettier in your body than you do.-
Indra was going to die.
Hour Five – the final straw
Raizen, the twins, and Indra had huddled in secret.
They could not allow this to continue.
-We have to do something,- Hikari whispered, still pale.
-We have to kill Father,- Inari suggested. -Just temporarily.-
Indra gritted his teeth. -You will do no such thing.-
Raizen pinched the bridge of his nose. -I’m getting the healer. This jutsu has to wear off soon.-
But before they could move—
Indra’s body entered the room.
And posed dramatically in the doorway.
-I have made a decision,- Ivy declared, voice smooth, regal.
-From now on, I will be a mother to you all.
Silence.
A beat.
Then—
-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!
The twins screamed.
Raizen stormed out.
Indra—**trapped in Ivy’s body—**collapsed onto the floor in defeat, but he was not one to take humiliation lightly.
For the past five hours, Ivy had turned his once fearsome, dignified self into a walking nightmare of softness.
His warrior sons had lost their minds.
His reputation was in ruins.
Ame was adoring every second of it.
This could not stand.
If Ivy wanted a war, then by the gods, she would get one.
And so, as Ivy pranced around in his body, tormenting their children with fatherly affection, Indra—**trapped in Ivy’s form—**stood up with deadly precision.
And decided it was his turn.
Hour Six – the retaliation begins
Ivy, still possessing Indra’s towering body, had just finished braiding Ame’s hair and was about to start a tea party.
Ame and her friends are doing the hear me out cake trend, when a friend posts a photo of Indra.
Ame is like "that's my dad!"
And how would Indra's family react when they saw the video? 🤣🤣
ASJDHAKSJDHASKDHSAHDKJSAD YES, AND.-.-.-.-.-
Let me use this scenario to introduce a new character: Raizen and Fuyumi's daughter: Mayumi.
(context: in this request, Ame is 14 years old, the twins 19, Raizen 24, and heir to the business. Mayumi is 1 year old).
@shiori01 always providing the visuals
(It's a constant fight between Madara and Indra over who gets to spend more time with the family's new baby, both equally determined.
And no, the one by himself with Mayumi is not Indra, it's the adult version of Raizen, a copy and paste of his dad, Uchiha genes all over.)
Ame’s on the floor in her best friend’s room, laughter bubbling as each girl slaps down another paper face onto the “HEAR ME OUT” cake.
-Ryan Gosling.
-That Naruto villain.
-Your ex.
-Shut up.
Then one girl, grinning like a sinner, drops a printed photo of a man brushing his teeth, unbothered expression, sharp eyes like a blade in motion, staring at the camera through the mirror's reflection.
Caught in the act, not planned.
-Okay. Hear me out.
The camera catches Ame staring at the photo in horror.
Her face drains of color.
-NO. No no no no. That’s my DAD!
Shrieks. Screaming. Laughter.
-Your WHAT?—
-Delete it delete it delete it!
Ame lunges for the phone as it keeps recording.
//
It starts in the kitchen.
Mid-morning.
Ivy’s in a loose cardigan, slippers, hair tied up in a pencil bun, aggressively whisking something green and glittery that probably isn’t legal.
-Stop pacing or get me a new spatula.— she snaps without looking.
Across the marble counter, Hikari is flicking through TikTok like he’s hunting for a target.
Inari is leaning next to him, arms crossed, face frozen in one of his trademark demon smiles. -I’m telling you she squeals like someone just pulled her out of a cult.—
Hikari turns the screen around. -You’re gonna love this, Mom. Prepare your soul.—
He hits play.
The phone screen flares to life.
“Hear me out—”
A second beat.
“THAT’S MY DAD! NO!!”
Ivy stops whisking. Completely. Eyes locked.
-Again.
Hikari rewinds. Plays it.
Inari taps the counter like a funeral drum.
“NOOOO!!”
Ivy exhales like she just finished a cigarette. -Oh, that's gorgeous, fine picture, captured with my best skills... They loved me for it. Send it to me.—
-Already did.— Inari slides her phone across the counter. -I commented from your burner too.-
-Which one? The one I use to stalk his fan edits or the one where I fight his fangirls?
-The violent one. Your alter ego with the katana profile pic.— Hikari adds.
She snorts.
-Perfect. Tag me in the next one too.
From the living room, a low voice interrupts.
-She’s going to need therapy.
Indra is on the couch in grey linen pajama pants and a black T-shirt, hair loose, sleeves pushed up to his elbows.
Mayumi, Raizen and Fuyumi's little girl, is lodged on his lap like a small, babbling dictator, holding a wooden spoon in one hand and gnawing on his thumb like it’s a chew toy.
He doesn’t look away from her.
He’s gently tugging a sock off her foot, inspecting her tiny toes like they might be armed.
Raizen is in the armchair, posture sharp despite the hoodie and sweatpants. A laptop on his knees, phone on the armrest, four encrypted channels open.
He glances up once, eyes cold. -She posted it herself.—
Inari, to Hikari, in a half-whisper: -That’s the scary tone. He’s annoyed and pretending not to care.-
-I don’t care.—
Hikari snorts, knowing his older brother. -He’s lying. He added it to his “Evidence of Uchiha Stupidity” folder.—
Ivy walks over, phone in hand, scrolling. -Half the comments are thirsting over your father, by the way. One said ‘I’d say no too if my dad looked like that.’ Another one called him ‘daddy in the biblical sense.’ What does that even mean?-
Indra, completely unfazed, still focused on pulling Mayumi’s tiny sweater hood over her head. -It means God will smite them.—
Inari comments, -I liked the one that said, ‘If that was my dad, I’d simply disintegrate.’—
Hikari adds more to it, -Or the one with the audio overlay: ‘Silenzio Bruno’ while Ame’s screaming.—
Raizen keeps handling their mafia empire, -You're all sick.—
Mayumi, from Indra’s lap, gurgles like she agrees.
-Buh.— she says.
Indra nods like she made a valid point. -Exactly.—
Ivy, still watching the video, sighs. -Look at her face. She's devastated. The betrayal. The collapse. All for a thirty-second thirst trap of her own father.—
Indra looks up finally, one brow raised. -There was no trap. I was brushing my teeth.—
-Your reflection was glowing, Dad.- Hikari explains like it's obvious.
-And you were shirtless. People have needs.- Inari finishes.
Indra adjusts Mayumi's position—she flops sideways like a drunk sea lion. He catches her head gently, supports her with one arm, pulls the blanket over her back with the other.
Raizen, while finishing the transfer of one million bitcoins, adds, -She’s going to exile herself. You know that, right?—
-She’s in school. We’ll tell her after lunch. Once I’ve uploaded the slowed reverb version to my group chat.- Ivy explains.
-With the whispered “that’s my dad” layered over Gregorian chanting? Already done.— Inari smirks.
-I gave it a title: ‘Ame's Villain Origin Story, Vol. I.’— Hiakri contributes.
Mayumi lets out a small, high laugh—babbles a string of vowels like she’s adding to the conversation.
Indra adjusts her head again, absently. -She says 'play it again.'—
Ivy hits replay.
And just like that, the Uchiha household becomes a looped theater of shame, dark humor, and generational trauma wrapped in modern chaos—muffled only by Mayumi’s quiet gurgles and the sound of Ame, somewhere far away, screaming into the void.
Do the guys have any thoughts (thots) on a Jacob’s ladder piercing? How about the girls?
Anon's question drops in like it picked the worst possible second to exist. It hangs there, unanswered at first, while the rest of the room stays tense. The female’s lounge is where everyone seems to be gathered, except for four: Madara, Obito, Bee, and Izuna.
Down the hall, the muted sound continues: knuckles, then a dull press, and again. Constant enough to crawl under the skin and irritate the fuck out of Madara, who decided to lock himself in his room until his brother pulls his shit together, far away from them all. —Bee… just—please open the door.— Izuna’s voice drags, thinner each time it comes back. —I fucked up, I know I did. Just let me see you, yeah? Say something. Anything.—
The rhythm never quite breaks, and the active silence stretches until Uri shifts, one leg crossing over the other, gaze flicking toward the corridor where Izuna kneels, before settling somewhere safer. —It’s… a lot. The ladder piercing, I mean,— she corrects while trying to ignore the drama. —Not casual. You don’t go into it without thinking it through. Never seen it up close, tho.—
Ivy’s fingers move once against her knee before stilling. Raizen’s presence beside her shapes the way she speaks, sanding down anything that might stray too far. —I get why people are into it, yeah— she adds, choosing each word more carefully than usual. —It’s alluring. Very deliberate.— Her mouth presses, thoughtful. —But yeah… you’d want to be sure. About what you’re getting into.—
A quiet breath leaves Shisui, amused but worn down at the edges. He stopped trying to get Izuna up off the floor, but he never went back to the men's lounge. —You’re both being nicer about it than most would be.— His attention drifts, pulled toward the sound outside Bee’s room before he reins it back in. —People go for things that make them feel something. And if you have to get that shit there to feel… you’re fucked.—
Raizen stays where he is, silent; the weight of him keeps every sentence from slipping too far.
Indra hasn’t shifted much. He sits close enough to Ivy that the distance between them feels intentional, even if he hasn’t acknowledged anything else in the room. When the question finally reaches him, his eyes lift just slightly. His hand moves. Two fingers, a small outward motion. A refusal. Dismissed as quickly as it came.
—Bee, come on… I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. I just— I got angry, okay? I shouldn’t have. I know that now.— Izuna’s voice stumbles over itself, uneven. —Don’t shut me out. Please.— A soft thud follows, different from before. Not his hand this time. —Talk to me. You can hate me, just—don’t do this.—
The question inside the room may as well not exist to him.
And then belit0 cuts in, trying, really trying, to pull it somewhere lighter, even if it barely holds. —So the verdict is… strong personal choice, can be cool, not for beginners, and maybe see a therapist first?— A glance moves across the room, searching for something that might resemble normal. —…Great. Amazing timing all around.—
