Development

Weeks had passed since the incident in the well. The Zenin clan had formally recognized Indra's technique, dubbing it "Gentle Death" – an ironic name for a power that made everything it touched burst apart with devastating force.

The name stuck, perhaps because of its stark contrast to the technique's true nature, or perhaps because of how quietly and efficiently it dispatched its targets.

In his private training ground – a secluded courtyard granted to him after demonstrating his power – Indra sat in meditation.

The morning air was crisp, and dew still clung to the grass around him. His crimson aura manifested, but differently than before.

Instead of its usual dramatic display, it clung to his skin like a second layer, barely extending a few millimeters from his body.

He had discovered the limitations of his true technique through careful experimentation.

Managing multiple complex attributes simultaneously strained his concentration and cursed energy in ways that four seemed to be his current limit.

Any more, and the attributes would begin to collapse.

"Imperceptible to normal sight," he whispered, applying the first attribute to his close-fitting aura. The crimson light faded from normal view, though he could still feel it thrumming against his skin.

The second attribute was "maintain proximity" – keeping the aura within those crucial millimeters of his body rather than letting it flare out. The third, "destructive force," gave it its lethal potential.

The fourth slot was what made this technique special. Currently, he was experimenting with "detect approach" – allowing the aura to register when something entered its range with harmful intent.

It wasn't Infinity – not even close. Where Gojo's technique automatically neutralized all attacks, Indra's version required constant awareness and active response.

If something approached with sufficient speed or from an unexpected angle, he would need to consciously trigger his aura's destructive properties.

A leaf drifted down toward his shoulder. Indra felt his aura register its presence but did not react – it posed no threat. This was the kind of control he needed to master.

The sound of footsteps on gravel interrupted his concentration. Opening his eyes, Indra sensed multiple presences approaching his training ground.

The aura rippled slightly against his skin, responding to his heightened awareness.

"Young master," a servant called from beyond the courtyard's entrance. "Your father has sent for you. The clan elders wish to observe your progress."

"I'll be there shortly," Indra responded, rising smoothly from his meditation pose. The invisible aura remained perfectly contained against his skin as he moved.

The main training ground was already occupied when he arrived. Three clan elders sat in the elevated observation area, their expressions stern and evaluating.

Naobito stood below them, and beside him – Indra noted with interest – stood Naoya, already dressed in his training gear.

"Indra," Naobito called. "Show the elders how you've refined your technique."

Naoya's eyes narrowed slightly. At ten years old, he had already mastered the basics of Projection Sorcery, yet here was his five-year-old half-brother drawing the attention of the clan's leadership once again.

"Of course, father." Indra stepped into the training ground. "Would you prefer a demonstration against targets, or..." he let his gaze drift meaningfully toward Naoya, "something more dynamic?"

"A spar?" Naoya's lips curved into a sharp smile, his body already shifting into a ready stance. "I'd be happy to help demonstrate little brother's progress."

"No." Naobito's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Projection Sorcery against Gentle Death would be... unwise." His eyes flickered to Indra.

"Your brother's technique is too lethal for casual sparring. One mistake, one moment of insufficient control..."

The implication hung heavy in the air. Naoya's expression soured slightly, though he maintained his composure before the elders.

"Instead," Naobito continued, gesturing to the far end of the training ground where servants were wheeling in various objects – from simple wooden targets to cursed tools, "show us how precisely you can control it now."

Indra stepped forward, his invisible defensive aura still perfectly maintained against his skin. With deliberate grace, he allowed a second layer of crimson energy to manifest around his right hand.

"First, a demonstration of precision," he stated, his childish voice carrying clearly across the training ground.

The crimson aura extended from his fingers like a whip, striking a wooden target. Instead of the explosive destruction he'd shown in the well, the target split cleanly in half, the cut edges crumbling to dust.

"Remarkable control," one of the elders murmured. "To modulate such destructive force..."

Indra moved through the array of targets methodically. A cursed tool shattered in specific places, leaving its core intact.

A stone block had a perfect circle burst through its center.

All while the invisible defensive aura remained steady against his skin, its presence betrayed only by the occasional leaf or dust particle that would disintegrate upon coming too close to him - his control currently not being as precise in a state of battle.

"He maintains two distinct applications simultaneously," another elder observed. "At such a young age..."

"The potential applications in actual combat..." the third elder began, before falling silent in thought.

Naobito watched with calculating eyes as his second son demonstrated increasingly precise control.

Beside him, Naoya's expression grew more complex with each display – a mixture of grudging appreciation and competitive fire.

"The applications for barrier deployment could be significant," the eldest of the three spoke, his weathered fingers stroking his chin.

"If he can maintain such precise control while scaling up the area of effect..."

"Not just barriers," the second elder interjected. "Imagine this technique in close-quarter combat. The ability to destroy specific parts of the body or techniques while maintaining a defensive perimeter..."

Meanwhile, Naoya watched his younger brother's display with increasingly tense shoulders. His hands had clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles white with pressure.

Where Projection Sorcery required extensive training to achieve precision, Indra seemed to grasp control of his devastating technique with unnatural ease.

"We should consider accelerating his training schedule," the third elder suggested. "Perhaps even early mission deployment under supervision. Such talent shouldn't be-"

"Five years old is too young," Naobito cut in, though his eyes never left Indra's demonstration. "Even with his cursed energy levels."

Naoya's jaw clenched. Five years old. His brother was five years old and already the elders spoke of mission deployment.

He remembered his own first mission discussion hadn't come until he was eight, even with his prodigious talent with Projection Sorcery.

"Little brother," Naoya's voice cut through the elders' discussion, carrying a carefully measured tone of challenge.

"Since we can't spar directly, how about a different test? Speed and precision – hitting designated targets while moving. After all," his smile held a sharp edge, "combat isn't just about raw power, is it?"

Naobito observed the interaction with keen interest. The rivalry between his sons was both inevitable and potentially useful, if properly managed.

Naoya's pride and competitive nature drove him to excel, while Indra's presence served as a constant reminder that talent could manifest in unexpected ways.

Yet there was also risk – push too far, and rivalry could turn to resentment.

"An interesting proposal," Naobito said, weighing his options. The demonstration of Gentle Death had shown Indra's control, but movement-based challenges were firmly in Naoya's domain.

It would let his elder son save face while testing his younger son's adaptability.

"Very well," Naobito raised his hand, cursed energy flaring. Multiple targets materialized across the training ground – some stationary, others moving in complex patterns.

"The challenge is this: twenty targets, marked with either blue or red. Naoya, you'll strike the blue ones. Indra, the red. Points deducted for collateral damage or striking the wrong color."

He paused, letting his sons assess the field. "Naoya, you'll use Projection Sorcery for movement only – no direct attacks with it. Indra, your defensive aura must remain active throughout. Begin when ready."

Naoya moved first, his form blurring as Projection Sorcery activated.

He crossed the training ground in microsecond-long frame shifts, each movement precisely calculated. A blue target shattered under his fist, then another.

Indra took a different approach. His crimson aura extended into multiple tendrils, striking red targets while he moved with deliberate efficiency.

Where Naoya's style was all speed and explosive movement, Indra's showed calculated economy – minimal movement, maximum effect.

"Eight targets!" Naoya called out, his voice carrying a note of triumph as he frame-shifted past another blue marker.

Indra didn't respond verbally. Instead, three crimson tendrils shot out simultaneously, each striking a red target. The count evened.

The final targets proved the most challenging – positioned in ways that forced the brothers into each other's paths.

Naoya frame-shifted toward a blue target, only to find Indra's crimson tendril passing through his projected frame.

The younger brother had predicted his movement pattern.

"Fourteen each," one of the elders announced. "Six targets remaining."

Three blue, three red, arranged in an intersecting pattern that demanded perfect timing.

Naoya's eyes narrowed, cursed energy flaring as he prepared his next frame shift. Indra's crimson aura pulsed slightly, the only sign of his intense concentration.

They moved simultaneously.

Naoya's form blurred, executing a complex series of frame shifts that would let him hit all three blue targets in rapid succession.

At the same instant, Indra's crimson tendrils shot out, weaving through the spaces between Naoya's projected frames.

The targets exploded in perfect synchronization – all six shattering in the same moment. Naoya landed in his final position, breathing slightly heavy. Indra stood perfectly still, his defensive aura never having wavered.

"A tie," Naobito declared, though his eyes held a glimmer of something more.

Both sons had adapted to each other's movements, turning what should have been interference into perfect complementary action.

--------------------------------

Later that evening, in one of the compound's private meeting rooms, the three elders sat with Naobito, their discussion illuminated by traditional lantern light.

"The synchronization was remarkable," the first elder mused, sipping his tea.

"Projection Sorcery's frames working in concert with Gentle Death's precision... with proper development, they could create a defensive and offensive combination that might rival even the Limitless technique."

"Hmph," the second elder's derisive snort cut through the air. "Listen to yourself, Takashi. Speaking of rivaling the Six Eyes and Limitless?

This is exactly the kind of thinking that diminishes us. We are Zenin. We do not measure ourselves against Gojo's technique – we perfect our own path."

"Yet you cannot deny the potential," the third elder interjected. "Though perhaps not in the way Takashi suggests. The boys' techniques complement each other in unexpected ways.

Naoya's speed and Indra's control... if they can maintain this level of coordination as they develop..."

"No," Naobito's voice cut through the discussion with quiet authority. "While their coordination today was impressive, that is not the path we will pursue."

He set down his cup with deliberate precision. "Indra's technique, combined with his innate cursed energy, has the potential to develop into something far beyond a mere complementary force.

You all felt it during his demonstration – the control, the precision, the sheer destructive potential contained in such elegant application."

His eyes swept across the elders. "We will not diminish that potential by making him one half of a partnership. Gentle Death must be developed to its fullest extent, without compromise or dependency on other techniques."

"Naobito is right," the second elder nodded. "The boy's cursed energy alone sets him apart. To shape him into anything less than a singular force would be wasteful."

"Then we are in agreement," Naobito stated, rising from his seat.

"Starting tomorrow, Indra's training will be intensified. No more shared demonstrations, no more comparative exercises. His path must be singular."

"And what of Naoya's position?" the first elder asked, his tone careful but pointed. "Today's demonstration has... raised questions."

"My eldest will have to prove himself worthy of remaining heir," Naobito's voice was cold, pragmatic.

"The Zenin clan cannot afford sentiment in matters of succession. Power and potential must dictate our choices."

"Surely you don't mean-" the third elder began.

"I mean exactly that," Naobito cut in. "Let both sons develop their full potential. When the time comes, merit alone will determine the clan's future.

That is the Zenin way."