Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

”More importantly,” the middle-aged shinobi adjusted his glasses, ”when the people encounter disasters beyond their control—or develop desires that exceed ordinary limits—”

”They pray to this ’benevolent goddess.’ And most of the time, Kaguya remains silent. She does not punish them.”

”Occasionally, Hagoromo steps in to solve practical problems and offer help. Only when she is repeatedly disturbed or her bottom line is crossed does she show irritation—and even then, it is merely irritation.”

”This pattern of responses builds a dangerously flawed logic in the public’s mind: the goddess is benevolent. She listens. She helps.”

”Even if we make excessive demands, she merely drives us away.”

”So if we persist? If we escalate? Won’t she eventually yield?”

”After all—if we had truly committed an unforgivable offense, why would a benevolent god not destroy us outright, as she destroys her enemies?”

He looked around.

Many wore expressions of dawning realization—even unease.

”It is precisely this illusion—born from Kaguya’s indirect rule and her restrained reactions—that led both the people and the daimyō to misjudge her limits and her nature.”

”They mistook her indifference—and Hagoromo’s assistance—for negotiable mercy.”

”They mistook her fundamental refusal—rooted in the difference of race and power—for mere stinginess that could be changed through sincerity, pleading… or coercion.”

”So when their demands finally touched the core—and were met with Kaguya’s cold refusal and the label of ’betrayal’—conflict became inevitable.”

”This is not simple greed.”

”It is tragedy born of cognitive misalignment, expectation gaps, and illusions of power.”

”Kaguya may be proud—but her pride stems from fundamental difference.”

”And the rebels’ anger—their so-called ’betrayal’—largely arose from the shattering of the fantasy they themselves constructed: the dream of a merciful god.”

The noisy debate gradually quieted.

Faces once filled with outrage or blind support turned contemplative.

The Heavenly Curtain’s ancient conflict was no longer a simple story of greedy rebels or tyrannical rule.

It touched upon deeper themes: the cognitive gulf between ruler and ruled, the nature of power, and the management of expectation.

Yet within the Heavenly Curtain itself—

Neither Hagoromo, lost in confusion and pain after his mother’s resolute words—

Nor Kaguya, burning with fury at ”betrayal” and preparing to respond with an iron hand—

Realized that beneath their clash lay this psychological root.

And it was only a thousand years later—through the cold insight of shinobi who knew betrayal and intrigue—that such layers were seen clearly.

Within the Heavenly Curtain, after delivering her icy question, Kaguya no longer looked at the stunned Hagoromo.

Light flickered around her form. In an instant, she became a streak of radiance, flying toward the region where the rebellion raged most fiercely.

She would remind these ”ungrateful ants,” in the most direct and unquestionable way, what awe meant—and what could never be crossed.

Only the two brothers remained.

The air felt tense. Fractured.

Hamura looked at his brother’s pale yet stubborn face, worry in his eyes.

He stepped forward gently and tugged at Hagoromo’s sleeve.

”Brother… perhaps Mother… this time, she is right. Those people have gone too far. They are challenging her bottom line.”

”No!”

Hagoromo turned sharply.

The confusion and pain that had clouded his eyes were replaced by something almost obsessive—unyielding conviction.

If he could not affirm his ideals, then he would deny his mother’s absolute correctness.

”Mother is too extreme! She sees only betrayal and provocation—but not the root of their longing! Not the possibility of communication!”

”She has placed herself upon a pedestal so high she cannot hear any voice from below—cannot accept any differing view!”

”She has grown arrogant—so arrogant she can no longer hear!”

”Hamura, this is wrong! Those who possess power cannot ignore the voices of the governed!”

His voice trembled with emotion, yet rang loud and clear—as if he needed to convince not only his brother, but himself.

Hamura looked at him—at the idealistic fire burning in his brother’s eyes, and the subtle stubbornness beneath it.

He sighed softly.

This time, his gaze was not merely worried.

It carried scrutiny.

”Brother…” Hamura’s voice was quiet, yet pierced cleanly. ”Is there a possibility… that the extreme one is you?”

”And the arrogant one… is also you?”

”What?!” Hagoromo recoiled as if pricked by a needle. ”Hamura! How could you think that? I’m talking about Mother’s problem—her attitude has led to—”

”But when you speak of Mother,” Hamura interrupted—a rare act—”are you not doing the same?”

He lifted his head and met Hagoromo’s gaze directly. Their pale eyes were alike in color—yet not in light.

Hamura’s held calm clarity.

”You say Mother is extreme—seeing only darkness and betrayal.”

”But aren’t you extreme as well?”

”You see only communication and understanding. Only the ’reason’ behind their longing. You deliberately overlook the naked threats, coercion, and ingratitude in their actions.”

”Until now, Mother has done nothing beyond forbidding war and refusing to grant power. She has imposed no additional oppression. In fact, peace has led to prosperity.”

”Yet you stubbornly attribute every problem to ’Mother’s attitude’ and ’lack of communication.’”

”Is that not another form of extremity?”

Hagoromo opened his mouth to argue—but words failed him.

Hamura continued, calm and precise, like a surgeon’s blade.

”And you say Mother is arrogant. Arrogant to the point of refusing to hear others.”

He paused, his expression complicated—almost pained.

”But Mother… at least speaks to us. To her children. She tells us her thoughts. Explains her concerns—even if through reprimand.”

”She is not completely closed.”

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