"I give you no power. Just the chance to be heard... if you wish."
In the dusty outskirts of the Uchiha District, in a house whose walls hadn't been repainted in two Hokages' worth of time, Uchiha Sōgen lit a candle beside a small ink-stained scroll.
There were no flashy seals or forbidden bloodline techniques here.
Just a single sigil.
A ring of winding text — an original sealing formula — etched with neutral chakra.
It didn't bind bodies.
It didn't lock away demons.
It simply asked a question.
> "Would you like to share what you know, so others may learn?"
To civilians, it was curiosity made sacred.
To Sōgen, it was a gateway drug.
---
He'd created the seal by accident.
Well… half accident, half obsession.
It started with an interest in how civilian chakra was calmer, more readable — less defended. And how sealing techniques could encode triggers, like emotional states.
What if… instead of sealing away objects, he sealed a choice?
One that subtly invited thoughts to connect?
---
Miko, the merchant assistant, had been his first test case.
The seal was embedded in a bracelet he gave her after healing her shoulder.
It never hurt her.
All it did was glow slightly when she focused on something — a recipe, a childhood memory, the layout of the market stalls.
Unbeknownst to her, those moments became passive data.
Fragments of lived experience.
Sōgen could review them at night. Not full memories — just tags, summaries, emotions.
Like browsing someone's inner wiki.
---
But here's the genius:
Each user had to agree to the seal, or it would do nothing.
No compulsion.
Only opt-in access to share thoughts… and receive thoughts.
Of course, the more people joined, the more valuable the return stream became.
Want to learn faster cooking methods? The seal can show you six.
Want better fishing knots? A user in the rice village knew five variations.
Need to bargain better at market? There's a merchant's thoughtflow archived.
They weren't ninja secrets. Just life.
And it was working.
---
By the end of the first week, Sōgen had 8 users.
All civilians. All under the radar.
Each one believed they were part of a small, secret guild.
They weren't wrong.
He called it the Silent Concord.
And he never used chakra to spy.
He let their minds wander, while idle — cooking, walking, daydreaming.
He piggybacked off unconscious deduction cycles.
Their brains did the heavy lifting for him.