"So what you're saying is… the Sage of Six Paths is actually the one responsible for turning the shinobi world into what it is today?"
Inside the Kirigakure's Spiritual Arts Academy, Senju Hashirama sat upright, his face grave as he looked toward Yuki Yoru on the podium.
Around him sat other legendary figures—Senju Tobirama, Hyūga Tennin, the First Tsuchikage, and the First Raikage—each bearing solemn expressions. With such a lineup, the scene could have been called an all-star summit, yet Yoru himself remained utterly calm.
"Though this truth may shatter your worldview," Yoru said evenly, "and overturn everything you thought you knew… facts are facts."
"The world revolves around self-interest. The Sage of Six Paths spread chakra throughout humanity for one reason—to prepare for this very outcome."
"To create the Pure Land, to forge a shinobi world without souls… to let chakra seep into the bones of every being through endless wars, until at last it fuses with all things, breaks every chain, and transcends even the limits of bloodline inheritance."
The hall fell into absolute silence.
In myth and legend, the Sage of Six Paths had always been revered as the great benefactor of the shinobi world—the saint who ended chaos and saved humanity from destruction. Yet in Yoru's words, he was the true culprit behind the world's current state.
The sheer contrast left everyone speechless.
"…And what about you?"
After a long pause, Hashirama looked directly at Yoru. "Will you become the same as the Sage of Six Paths?"
"I don't need to." Yoru shook his head. "For Ōtsutsuki Hagoromo, this was the only path—he had to do it in order to grow, to surpass his mother. The shinobi world, and you all, were merely the crucible for his evolution. But I… do not need that."
"Though our goals are similar, our perspectives are vastly different. I have greater prey—and far higher aspirations."
"Ōtsutsuki?"
"Ōtsutsuki," Yoru confirmed with a calm smile.
"Of course, even if I did become like that old man, you'd have no power to resist. The entire shinobi world now belongs to me. The strength that flows through you—all of it comes from me."
"To you, the Sage of Six Paths was once your 'god.' But now, I am the one who holds that title."
"Whether or not the dragon-slayer becomes a dragon himself, I can't say—but know this: you were never my target." Yoru's voice softened. "The battle ahead is between me and him. And you… you will be the soldiers of a new era. For peace, and for the future—fight under my banner."
"…You really don't mince words, do you?" Hashirama gave a wry smile.
He knew Yoru was right. The entire world now rested in this man's hands. The power within their souls flowed from him. How could they possibly oppose him?
There was nothing to do but go along with the current.
"When will you make your move?" Tobirama asked, arms crossed, voice sharp. "Have you pinpointed the Sage of Six Paths' location? Do you understand the enemy's strength—his forces, his reach?"
"Lord Yoru is omniscient and omnipotent!" Kimimaro suddenly interjected from the corner, cutting Tobirama off.
"Don't say that, Kimimaro," Yoru replied lightly. "It's natural for the Second Hokage to be cautious. After all, when the opponent is the Sage of Six Paths, anyone would want to prepare for every possibility."
He smiled faintly. "But what I want to tell you is this—whatever happens next, you need only focus on your own paths."
"Continue training in spiritual power, return to your old villages or clans if you wish, stay alert if you fear my defeat or disaster—it's all fine."
"…What do you mean by that?" Tobirama frowned.
Weren't Yoru's words supposed to rally them for the coming war against the Sage? Why was he suddenly telling them to do as they pleased?
"Don't be arrogant. Don't be impatient. And most importantly—don't misunderstand me."
Yuki Yoru spoke softly.
"The battle with that one—that's my concern, not yours. What you all need to do is simply carry on with your own duties.
Of course, I won't rule out the possibility that old man might attempt a sudden strike against the shinobi world. That's why I'm telling you this in advance—so that when it happens, you won't panic or cause unnecessary trouble.
But no matter what he tries to do, there's only one thing you must remember."
He raised his hand slightly, his voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable dominance.
"As long as you follow me…"
"Before us—there are no enemies."
Senju Hashirama froze. Tobirama's face went stiff. The expressions on the other Kage were a mix of awe, shock, and disbelief.
What arrogance. What overwhelming confidence.
And yet—he had the power and bearing to justify every word.
For a brief instant, Hashirama almost saw the shadow of an old friend—Madara—reflected in Yoru's figure.
If, back then, he had listened to Madara… if he had united the shinobi world by force rather than ideals—would there have been fewer wars in the decades that followed?
He didn't know.
But the world under Yuki Yoru's rule… looked far more peaceful, far more stable, than the chaotic era he had once lived in.
"I understand now."
Hashirama took a deep breath. Determination flickered in his dark eyes.
"Though my strength now may be insignificant compared to yours, I will still do everything I can—to protect the village, and to safeguard the shinobi world."
"Do as you wish," Yoru replied lightly.
...
"…Hiashi."
"It's you, Fugaku."
In a quiet tatami room, Hyūga Hiashi sat kneeling near the edge, his fingers absently tracing the seams between the straw mats. Morning sunlight filtered through the shōji paper lattice, casting delicate patterns across the painted folding screen behind him—its ink-brushed lines of ancient Hyūga maxims fractured by light.
The paper door slid open soundlessly. Uchiha Fugaku appeared, the robe bearing the Hokage's insignia brushing softly against the threshold.
"I heard that Torifu and the others have convinced Tsunade to take up the mantle of Seventh Hokage," Hiashi said, pouring sake into Fugaku's cup. Both of them—like many others—had been resurrected by Yuki Yoru.
"Yeah," Fugaku said, downing the cup in one smooth motion. "She really is the most suitable choice."
"The best choice shouldn't be your son, Itachi?" Hiashi smiled faintly. "Wasn't he always the heir you believed in most?"
"Too much has happened," Fugaku murmured, shaking his head. "And now, with so many of our forebears returned to life… the title of Hokage doesn't mean much anymore."
Though he still wore the Hokage's ceremonial robe, the ambition in his heart had long since faded.
In today's world, whether it was Konoha or the Hokage's office—none of it truly mattered. The center of everything now lay far away, on that distant island where Yoru reigned.
And with so many great shinobi revived, what value was there left in the title of Hokage? For the Uchiha, it was enough that one of their clan had once claimed that seat.
The two men drank in silence, cup after cup, until Fugaku followed Hiashi's gaze toward the training courtyard outside.
There, beneath the pale light, a graceful white figure was practicing the gentle fist—each movement fluid yet powerful, spiritual power flowing like rippling water around her form.
And within her eyes—no longer the simple, pale Byakugan—shone a brilliance like distant starlight.
If Ōtsutsuki Toneri were here to see it, he would have cried out in astonishment.
For those eyes were none other than the Tenseigan.
Watching Hinata move, her eyes gleaming like twin constellations, Uchiha Fugaku suddenly smiled.
"Hiashi, in your hands… you hold the future!"
"The future, huh…" Hiashi lowered his gaze slightly. "It's just luck."
Indeed, no one could have imagined that Hyūga Hinata would become Yuki Yoru's personal disciple. For the Hyūga clan, this was nothing short of divine fortune.
But sometimes—luck itself is a form of strength.
"I brought Itachi and Sasuke with me," said Fugaku. "Let Itachi have a spar with Hinata."
"Of course."
Hiashi nodded with a pleased smile. "Hinata, go and spar with Itachi."
In the courtyard, the drifting cherry blossoms seemed to freeze in midair as an invisible domain enveloped the space. From the shadows beneath the trees, Uchiha Itachi stepped forward, the hem of his black cloak rippling with condensed spiritual power. When he lifted his gaze, three tomoe spun slowly within his scarlet Sharingan.
Behind him stood a much smaller Sasuke, his eyes fixed intently on Hinata within the arena.
He'd fought her many times before—yet every single match had ended in defeat.
But today would be different.
Because his brother was the strongest!
"Itachi-senpai," Hinata bowed slightly, her voice soft but steady, "please guide me."
Her left hand rose in a formal seal of opposition, and the flow of spiritual power at her feet burst outward, forming an intricate Eight Trigrams pattern on the ground. Within each of the eight sectors, faint points of starlight shimmered, as if constellations had descended upon the earth.
Itachi mirrored her seal calmly. The tomoe in his eyes spun faster—his fingers flickered—and several kunai flew at Hinata from sharp, unpredictable angles.
But Hinata's flawless Byakugan vision traced every arc, every glint of metal. Gentle Fist chakra waves pulsed from her palms, swatting each kunai aside in midair.
Yet, the moment the weapons fell—cold light flashed through the dust.
Itachi's kunai was already at her throat, just three inches away.
Hiashi exhaled quietly. "An extraordinary Shunshin… truly remarkable."
"But in close combat, Gentle Fist reigns supreme," Fugaku murmured—just as Hinata's body suddenly twisted midair, her rotation turning fluidly into a storm. Chakra flared around her in a whirling sphere, forcing Itachi to leap back in an instant.
In that very same moment, Hinata's form vanished—reappearing before him, her twin fingers striking toward his chakra points.
Clang! The sharp ring of metal echoed as Itachi caught her strike with the hilt of his kunai. A hidden glint flickered from his sleeve—steel wires snapped taut, anchoring to a stone lantern in the courtyard.
Hinata shifted her stance to counter, only to realize her ankle had already been caught—the wires she'd thought fallen were buried beneath the dust, ready to ensnare.
The shuriken he'd dropped earlier had been part of a chain attack!
"Fire Release: Great Dragon Fire Technique!"
Itachi exhaled, and a torrent of roaring flames burst forth. Fire raced along the metal wires, transforming into a blazing dragon that lunged straight at Hinata.
"Awesome! As expected of Nii-san!" Sasuke shouted from the sidelines, eyes wide with admiration.
Behind him, Uchiha Sasuke's eyes were shining with excitement.
This—this was the power of Uchiha Itachi!
This was the strength of his Nii-san!
Even though the opponent before him was a girl his own age, Sasuke couldn't care less about that right now.
The fire dragon roared forward, but Hinata remained calm amid the flames.
A surge of spiritual power erupted from within her as she spun once more—Eight Trigrams: Palm Rotation!—her Rotation easily deflected both the steel wires and the torrent of fire.
Itachi's brow furrowed slightly. His Sharingan spun faster, tomoe whirling into a blur. His hands flicked, sending several shuriken flying even as his other hand weaved signs.
"Fire Release: Phoenix Sage Fire Technique!"
Dozens of flaming spheres trailed behind the shuriken, sealing every possible escape route. Hinata raised her hands into the Gentle Fist stance again—
—but before her chakra could flow, a strange distortion rippled across the air above the courtyard.
A swirl of multicolored energy tore open in the sky—a glowing portal several meters wide—then collapsed in an instant, spitting out two falling figures.
"WAAAAAAAHHHH—!"
A blond-haired, blue-eyed boy screamed at the top of his lungs as he plummeted, arms flailing wildly.
Beside him, a black-haired man in a long dark coat twisted midair, calmly catching the blond boy by the collar before landing gracefully in the courtyard below. The maneuver was nearly perfect… except for one thing—
he had only one arm.
"Damn it… my chakra's completely drained…"
The black-haired man put the blond boy down, panting, looking a little pale—
but the next second, his face froze in utter shock.
That hair, those dark eyes, the facial lines, that unmistakable presence—
the instant his gaze met Uchiha Itachi's, the man's pupils trembled.
"…Nii-san?" he whispered, dazed.
"What Nii-san?!" the young Sasuke blurted out, hurrying forward to shield his brother, eyes wary and full of suspicion.
"Hey, old man—where the heck did you come from? And why did you fall out of the sky!?"
The one-armed man just stared, completely dumbfounded.
The small boy standing before him looked exactly like his younger self.
But that couldn't be possible—
At this age, Itachi should have already slaughtered the clan and defected.
So how could this be happening?
And this place…
"Where… is this?" the blond boy groaned, rubbing his face. The four faint whisker marks on his cheeks twitched as he glanced around in confusion.
Sasuke, who had been glaring at the strange man, turned his head toward the newcomer—
and froze.
"Na… Naruto?"
"Huh? What Naruto?" The blond boy scratched his head, baffled.
"No—you're not Naruto!" Sasuke's eyes sharpened, his Sharingan activating in an instant, tomoe spinning furiously.
"Naruto's hair isn't shaped like that, and his whisker marks aren't like yours! You're some kind of impostor!"
"What the heck are you even talking about!?" the blond kid shouted back, exasperated—
but then his gaze drifted toward Hinata, who stood quietly at the edge of the courtyard, watching in silence.
His voice caught in his throat. His eyes widened.
He'd seen that face before—
in old family photos, framed on a shelf back home.
That was—
"…Mom?"