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His words spoke of saving the world.
But deep down—Manji wanted payback for Kaguya's betrayal.
As the saying goes: cut off someone's fortune and you might as well have killed their parents.
Kaguya hadn't just cut off his fortune—she'd stolen the opportunity of a lifetime right out of his hands. Worse, Manji had been tricked. He'd risked his life fighting Isshiki on her behalf.
And she'd repaid him with an Ash Bone through the chest.
Manji was a patient man—but even patience had its limits.
If he just shrugged it off and chose not to settle the score? That would be the truly stupid move.
"Ugh—clearly I haven't trained enough inner peace yet. Give me another few hundred years and maybe this won't bother me anymore…"
Manji caught himself slipping and sighed internally.
A few more centuries, and the sting would probably fade.
Which raised a question he'd always had—in all those novels about ancient monsters who'd lived for millennia, why did they still fly into rages at the drop of a hat?
He'd barely lived a fraction of that, and he was already trending toward Buddhist-level detachment.
So—don't get angry. Every illness in the world starts with anger.
Stay positive and you'll live longer.
Let it go. Let it go. Let it GO!!
.....
The suffocating silence in the Grand Hall was broken by Hagoromo's ragged breathing. His clenched fists had gone bone-white, and his three-tomoe Sharingan quivered violently in their sockets.
He looked up at Manji—his gaze shaking, yet hardened with resolve.
"Sage—what do we need to do?"
"Your mother… Kaguya—she's beyond saving."
Manji rose slowly, his black-and-red robes sweeping the stone floor with a soft whisper.
"The road ahead is nothing short of suicidal."
"Kaguya possesses the power of the Divine Tree's fruit. She is functionally immortal. With your current Sharingan and Byakugan alone, you couldn't even breach her defenses."
Manji walked down to stand before them, his gaze sweeping across their eyes—his voice steady as bedrock.
"I wish to become your disciple, Sage. PLEASE—TEACH ME!"
Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki spoke—then dropped to one knee without hesitation.
"Brother!"
Hamura's shocked exclamation rang through the hall.
He looked up at Manji on the platform, then back at his brother's kneeling form, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible tremor.
"Do you understand what this means? We'd be going against Mother!"
Hamura's fingers clenched until his knuckles went white.
From Manji's account, his mother—controlled by Isshiki, nearly sacrificed, devastated by the Emperor's betrayal—Hamura still felt a stubborn thread of sympathy for her.
But the crystal ball had shown him something else entirely. His mother's cold-blooded betrayal of Manji. The mountains of corpses beneath the Divine Tree. Haori's ashen, lifeless face.
Each image was a blade—slicing through his compassion, one cut at a time.
"She may have had her reasons—but does betraying the Sage and slaughtering innocents deserve forgiveness?"
Hagoromo's voice was iron.
"You're right…"
Hamura murmured, his words soaked in anguish—eyes drifting between his brother and the empty air, searching desperately for an answer that could reconcile everything.
"HAMURA!"
"We're past the point of indecision!"
Hagoromo's head snapped up, his Sharingan flaring with searing crimson intensity.
"Think about HAORI!"
His hand shot to his neck—gripping the magatama necklace until his knuckles turned white.
The one Haori had placed around his neck with her own hands. Now nothing more than the sharpest reminder of what he'd lost.
"Have you forgotten how she died?? She was an ordinary girl—she never hurt anyone—and Mother turned her into a sacrifice! Wrapped her up in that cold cocoon like she was nothing!"
"Mother's entire empire is built on a mountain of corpses! Do you think those people who were sacrificed had no families? No one who loved them?"
"If this continues, the entire shinobi world becomes a living hell—every life reduced to a chess piece in Mother's war against her own clan! A mother like that—what is there left to cling to??"
Hagoromo surged to his feet, wheeling around to face his brother head-on.
His voice shook the hall.
"BUT… SHE'S OUR MOTHER!"
"We should at least try talking to her first—maybe… maybe she'll change her mind?"
Hamura's last, desperate defense—as fragments of his mother's rare moments of tenderness flickered through his mind.
From his elevated seat, Manji watched the brothers in continued silence—quietly cataloguing everything he observed.
No wonder Hamura eventually chose to follow Kaguya to the moon...
Even while siding with his brother against her, Hamura's heart still belonged to his mother.
Manji's gaze settled on the younger brother.
'This is where I step in.'
"The bond between parent and child—that's the hardest tie in the world to sever."
"Kaguya was betrayed. She suffered. And perhaps that's what drove her down this path. But suffering can explain a choice—it can never excuse the slaughter of innocents or the betrayal of those who trusted her."
Manji paused, his eyes moving from Hagoromo's white-knuckled grip on the necklace back to Hamura's conflicted face.
"Your desire to speak with her—that comes from love, and that impulse is admirable. But understand this: some roads, once taken, cannot be walked back. Some sins, once committed, cannot be undone. Her heart has been consumed by fear and self-interest. Negotiation will only cost more innocent lives."
Manji's words fell with measured, deliberate weight.
Hagoromo dropped to one knee again—head bowed even lower than before.
"The Sage speaks truth! My mind is made up, no matter the cost, I will stop Mother! I beg you—ACCEPT ME AS YOUR DISCIPLE AND GRANT ME THE POWER TO FIGHT HER!"
Manji looked down at Hagoromo.
Honestly, his original plan had never been to take the future Sage of Six Paths as a student. He'd only intended to use the brothers as instruments of revenge against Kaguya.
But since the Sage of Six Paths had come to him…
'Well—I'm not going to say no.'
Hamura remained standing—his expression shifting through a dozen different emotions.
Manji regarded Hagoromo's unwavering resolve, then turned to Hamura's torn features, and gave a slow, measured nod.
He raised one hand—and a gentle stream of Senjutsu chakra materialized as a ribbon of light, settling softly across Hagoromo's shoulders.
"I accept you as my disciple. I will teach you the Sage Arts of Mount Myōboku—and the shinobi techniques needed to stand against Kaguya."
"But Hamura—I won't force your hand. You may choose to train alongside your brother, or you may choose to go to Kaguya. The choice is yours alone."
"I will only warn you of this: when you stand before her again, the person you find may no longer be the mother who showed you occasional warmth. What you'll face is a tyrant—consumed entirely by power and fear."
Manji let out a quiet, weighted sigh.
Hagoromo's eyes erupted with fierce, blazing joy. He pressed his forehead to the cold stone floor with a resounding crack.
"Your disciple Hagoromo—greets his Master!"
His brow struck the rock hard enough to echo through the hall.
Hamura stood frozen, his gaze moving between his kneeling brother and the calm, inscrutable figure above.
The scales inside him—weighed between love and justice—began, at last, to tip.
Then, Hamura Ōtsutsuki made a compromise.
"Sage, I'll return to Mother first. I want to speak with her. If she refuses to change her ways… I will come back."
He offered a respectful bow, his voice steady despite the storm behind his eyes.
Manji nodded—and offered a single, quiet caution.
"Be careful."
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