"Cruel?"
Kaguya repeated the word.
Her dual-colored eyes—white and crimson—rested upon her agitated, grief-stricken eldest son. There was no anger in them.
Only a fathomless, almost weary disappointment.
That disappointment chilled Hagoromo more than fury ever could.
"After all this time… after everything that has happened, Hagoromo… you still do not understand."
Her voice was calm—calm as if she were reciting a truth long proven beyond doubt.
And that calmness itself was the most complete denial of all his pain and objections.
"I don't understand!"
Hagoromo straightened his back. Though the invisible pressure of her presence made his instincts tremble, he could no longer remain silent.
"Even if those who took part in the rebellion are guilty, punish the ringleaders! Punish the true conspirators!"
"Why implicate so many innocent civilians?"
"Why rule through scheduled sacrifices—like harvesting crops?"
"This isn't governance. It's slaughter!"
He argued from what he believed to be self-evident principles—proportional justice, basic humanity.
"That is why I say," Kaguya replied, shaking her head again, frost gathering in the air around her, "you understand nothing."
"You see only surface notions of 'right' and 'wrong,' of 'innocence.' You have never grasped the essence of this world… nor the nature of this species."
Her gaze seemed to pass through him, toward the silent lands she ruled. Her voice became colder—precise, methodical.
"This world, at its root, is base."
"These so-called humans… this species… is branded in its marrow with greed, cowardice, ingratitude, and self-destruction."
"No matter who rules them. No matter how much grace is bestowed. That nature will never change."
"You give them peace—they crave power."
"You grant them sustenance—they covet authority."
"You show them mercy—they do not offer true gratitude. Instead, they breed contempt."
"Because in their subconscious, mercy is weakness. It is proof that the one above them does not deserve that position."
"So they are not worthy of mercy."
She paused, as if recalling observations across ages.
"The 'innocent' you pity will, at the proper moment and with the right incitement, join the crusade against their benefactor without hesitation."
"The accomplices you forgive will become the vanguard of the next storm."
"Their loyalty and gratitude are as fleeting as morning dew. As fragile as thin ice."
"There is only one thing that ensures they remember. That ensures obedience."
Her mismatched eyes fixed upon Hagoromo's pale face.
"Fear."
"Relentless, systematic bloodshed. Enough to shatter any illusion of chance."
"The more brutal. The more absolute. The more clearly they understand that rebellion and disrespect lead only to annihilation—"
"The more obedient they become."
"Their pitiful instinct for survival transforms into trembling submission before absolute power."
"That is the only effective and enduring way to rule this inferior species."
"Mercy? Understanding?"
"They only nurture delusion. They hasten the collapse of order."
She regarded her son, whose face had gone rigid with shock.
"So, Hagoromo. You think deeply. Perhaps your heart is even kind."
"But you are wrong because you see only individual sorrow before you. You cling to the beautiful image of how people 'ought' to coexist."
"You refuse to confront the world's true substance. The species' true nature."
"You live in a dream woven of 'human brilliance' and 'mutual understanding.'"
"And you turn your eyes away from the cold, ruthless laws by which this land truly operates."
Hagoromo stood frozen.
It felt as if his blood had turned to ice.
Her words were poisoned shards—not merely rejecting his beliefs, but dismantling his very conception of humanity and the world.
The ground beneath him seemed to dissolve into an abyss.
Beside him, Hamura was equally stunned.
He had long understood the severity of reality more readily than his brother. He could even comprehend that Mother's actions stemmed from overwhelming power and the necessity of preserving order.
But this—
This sweeping condemnation of an entire species as "inferior," fit only for domination through blood—
This surpassed him as well.
This was no longer a disagreement over governance.
It was a negation of human nature itself.
Beneath the God Tree, silence fell.
Only Kaguya's frigid philosophy—rooted in racial supremacy and absolute power—echoed like a curse.
And through the Heavenly Curtain, it echoed into the hearts of the shinobi world a thousand years later.
Reaction Across the Shinobi World
The declaration—that humanity was inferior, fit only for blood and fear—spread through the Heavenly Curtain to every corner of the shinobi world.
It was as though molten iron had been plunged into still water.
The world erupted.
"T-That's too harsh!"
A civilian stared in disbelief, instinctively covering his ears.
"Are we really that wretched in her eyes?"
A teacher at the Ninja Academy in Konohagakure frowned deeply. He taught the Will of Fire—unity, courage, bonds. This wholesale condemnation was impossible for him to accept.
In Kumogakure, a hot-tempered Lightning Release shinobi barked out a bitter laugh, fists cracking.
"I've heard insults before—but this?"
"So we're all 'inferior' and 'lowly' in her eyes? This is the Progenitor of Chakra?"
"'Unfit for mercy'? I don't accept that!"
"Better yet—she wasn't fit to rule us!"
The outrage was visceral.
Because this was not a condemnation of a village.
Not of a clan.
Not of a single era.
It was a denial of humanity itself.
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