Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

“So that’s how it is! Indra was the ancestor of the Uchiha Clan! Those eyes passed down through generations—symbols of both immense power and a curse… the Sharingan, the Mangekyō Sharingan, and even the Rinnegan—all ultimately originated from the Sage of Six Paths’ ‘Yin power’!”

“Asura was the ancestor of the Senju Clan! Their nearly limitless chakra reserves, astonishing vitality, and incredible recovery abilities… so they inherited the ‘Yang power’!”

“The thousand-year feud between the Senju and the Uchiha… its roots had already been planted in the Sage of Six Paths’ two sons?!”

At this moment, the threads of history were connected with unprecedented clarity!

Countless ancient legends concerning the clans’ origins, obscure records preserved in old texts, and even the inexplicable resonances of power that had appeared during conflicts between the two clans—all of them seemed to find their most fundamental explanation in this simple revelation from the Heavenly Curtain.

The weight of destiny settled heavily upon everyone who understood the implications of this shared bloodline.

The scenes within the Heavenly Curtain flashed past as the years flew by.

The infants in their swaddling clothes quickly grew into handsome youths, and then into composed young men.

Indra and Asura, brothers born of the same parents, still bore a faint resemblance to one another. Yet their temperaments and chosen paths had long since diverged, as though their names themselves had foretold it.

Indra had inherited the deepest qualities of his father’s Yin.

He was handsome, yet often carried an aloof coldness about him. Proud by nature, he enjoyed thinking and training alone and possessed an almost instinctive insight into the true nature of power.

His talent was extraordinary enough to inspire awe.

His precise control over chakra and understanding of the principles behind ninjutsu surpassed those of his peers, leaving even many of Ninshū’s early disciples far behind.

Most remarkably, Indra did not confine his talents to himself.

Perhaps in pursuit of efficiency, or perhaps because he grew impatient with those of lesser talent who struggled to control chakra with precision, he devoted himself to research and eventually created an intricate and systematic method of hand seals.

By forming different sequences of hand seals, one could guide and combine chakra within the body more efficiently and reliably, allowing specific ninjutsu to be performed with controlled power.

The birth of hand seals was nothing short of a revolutionary achievement!

They greatly lowered both the difficulty and risks involved in using chakra. Even Ninshū disciples of ordinary talent could master relatively stable ninjutsu through diligent practice, greatly improving the overall strength and productivity of Ninshū.

Thanks to this groundbreaking contribution, Indra earned nearly universal admiration and preferential treatment throughout Ninshū.

He was regarded as a genius—the brightest hope for inheriting the Sage of Six Paths’ wisdom and power.

Yet this excessive adulation, combined with his unparalleled talent, gradually changed Indra’s disposition.

He became increasingly arrogant and self-assured, ever more absorbed in his pursuit of the ultimate limits of power and perfection in the arts. He often trained alone, keeping his distance from others.

Deep down, he began to feel a faint contempt—perhaps one he had not even fully recognized himself—for those “ordinary people” who could barely wield chakra without relying on the hand seals he had invented.

He believed that only those possessing true talent and wisdom were worthy of leading Ninshū and wielding power.

Asura, meanwhile, took an entirely different path.

He had inherited his father’s Yang aspect. Gentle and sincere by nature, he possessed a warmth that was like sunlight itself.

His talent for chakra was far inferior to his elder brother’s. His progress in training was slow, and he struggled considerably with intricate hand seals and the complex principles behind ninjutsu.

But Asura possessed a different kind of talent.

His immense yet gentle chakra seemed naturally approachable, but more importantly, he possessed a heart that treated others with genuine sincerity.

He never became discouraged because of his slow progress, nor did he envy his brother’s brilliance.

He was always willing to help others, patiently guiding fellow disciples who struggled even more than he did and sharing whatever modest but genuine insights he had gained through his own training.

Naturally, a group of companions gathered around him. They were not exceptionally gifted, but they shared the same ideals, supported one another, and treated each other with sincerity.

Individually, they might not have been powerful, but united, they could accomplish many tasks that seemed impossible.

The two brothers were like opposites.

One was like a solitary, cold moon, earning respect and distance through unmatched intellect and groundbreaking achievements.

The other was like the warm morning sun, winning trust and followers through sincerity and unity.

Their father, the Sage of Six Paths, saw all of this.

He would often stand quietly at a distance or watch from high above—observing Indra train alone beneath a waterfall as he practiced intricate ninjutsu, and watching Asura and his companions work together, drenched in sweat yet filled with laughter as they completed a task.

His expression was difficult to read.

There was admiration and faint concern for his eldest son’s talent, comfort and a measure of sympathy for his younger son’s nature, and beneath it all, a profound calmness—as though he had already foreseen the course their lives would take.

Yet he never intervened.

He never admonished Indra to be humbler and more approachable, nor did he urge Asura to work harder to catch up with his brother’s talent.

He simply watched in silence, allowing his two children to grow and explore freely upon the newly established stage of Ninshū, each following the path inherent to their nature and defining for themselves what power and responsibility truly meant.

The Heavenly Curtain shifted once more, focusing on the simple residence deep within Ninshū—the place that symbolized wisdom and authority.

At last, the years seemed to have left their unavoidable mark upon the Sage of Six Paths, the man who had ushered in a new era.

He was no longer always as vigorous and composed as he had once been.

When sitting alone in quiet contemplation, his temples had gradually turned gray, and fine lines had appeared at the corners of his eyes.

The hands that had once effortlessly moved mountains, filled valleys, and reshaped the land now occasionally trembled beyond his control.

When he meditated and regulated his breathing, he could feel that the circulation of his strength was no longer as smooth and vigorous as before. A sense of something slipping away from the very source of his life—like grains of sand falling relentlessly through an hourglass—constantly reminded him of a cruel reality.

One day, he stood before a mirror.

The aging face reflected there formed a painfully stark contrast with the eternally youthful, almost immortal beauty of his mother, Kaguya, preserved in his memories.

An uncontrollable, icy panic suddenly sank its fangs into his heart like a venomous serpent before rapidly spreading throughout his body.

“Why…?”

He murmured to himself, his voice trembling with profound confusion and unwillingness.

“Mother could live forever, enduring as long as heaven and earth themselves… Yet after merely a few decades, I have already begun to grow old?”

The eyes in the mirror reflected the raging turmoil within his heart.

“My strength is clearly no less than Mother’s. I inherited her power, founded Ninshū, spread chakra, and guided the world… Perhaps I have accomplished even more than she did!”

“Why?!”

The unwillingness in his heart churned like molten lava in his eyes, nearly breaking through the mask of gentleness and wisdom he had always worn.

“Why should I possess the power to reshape the world, create a new era, and yet in the end live no longer than those ignorant, powerless ordinary people? Why should I have only a few short decades to live, watching my life’s work potentially lose its way—or even collapse—after my death?”

He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

“I cannot accept this!”

The low growl seemed to be wrenched from the depths of his soul, filled with rage at the unfairness of fate and the deepest fear that his own existence was approaching its end.

For someone who possessed godlike power and harbored ambitions to transform the world, aging was more terrifying and helpless than any powerful enemy.

Anxiety and obsession wound themselves around his thoughts like vines. He needed an answer—a breakthrough.

Then suddenly, his gaze sharpened.

A detail he had once overlooked flashed through his mind like lightning in the darkness, illuminating the chaos within.

Gamamaru!

That seemingly frail toad who had always appeared as a wise elder!

“Toads are short-lived creatures by nature. Countless of them are born and die within the span of a fleeting life…”

Hagoromo’s thoughts raced. His eyes grew brighter—and colder.

“But ever since I first met him, I have never known his true age. He witnessed my birth, fought alongside me against Mother, helped me establish the Ninshū, and assisted in spreading Chakra… Yet time itself seems to have stopped for him!”

It made no sense!

It was far too unnatural!

This longevity, which so greatly exceeded the limits of his species and perhaps even approached immortality, was no longer merely a trait worthy of respect in Hagoromo’s eyes.

Not now, when his own aging had driven him into fear and obsession.

It had become a tangible clue—a treasure trove that might contain the secret he desired more than anything else.

“There must be… a secret to immortality hidden within it!”

Once that thought took root, it spread like wildfire and could no longer be extinguished.

It perfectly matched his most desperate desire and gave him what seemed like a reasonable motive for what he intended to do next.

Deep down, he did struggle.

To directly threaten Gamamaru—a companion who had fought beside him, someone who had been both teacher and friend—would betray the image of benevolence and guidance he had maintained for so long.

But before the ultimate temptation of immortality, and the fear that the world might descend into chaos once more after his death, that struggle seemed pale and powerless.

Moments later, the last trace of hesitation vanished from his eyes, replaced by a fierce mixture of resolve, greed, and self-justification.

He took a deep breath and murmured to himself, as though searching for a noble and unquestionable reason for what he was about to do.

“For the lasting peace of this world… it needs me to continue protecting it.”

“My death would only divide the Ninshū and plunge the world back into chaos.”

“Therefore, I must… find a way to prolong my life.”

That excuse was like an ornate shroud, covering the most primal feelings buried within his heart: his fear of death and his desire for eternal life.

“Gamamaru.” He gazed in the direction of Mount Myōboku, his expression complicated, though his voice had become cold and resolute. “I hope… you won’t disappoint me.”

His decision made, Hagoromo turned around. The calmness and majesty of the past returned to his face as he summoned the members of the Ninshū and announced publicly:

“I must leave for a time to travel the world, contemplate the natural order, and further my training. I will also seek a path toward a more distant future for the Ninshū.”

“During my absence, all matters concerning the Ninshū shall be discussed and managed jointly by Indra and Asura.”

He temporarily entrusted authority to his two sons, whose personalities were completely different and whose relationship had already become increasingly delicate. Perhaps even this decision carried some element of observation—or a test.

Though the others were reluctant and uneasy, no one dared question the decision of the Sage of Six Paths.

Once all the arrangements had been made, Hagoromo departed alone from the increasingly prosperous settlement of the Ninshū without a lengthy farewell.

His destination was clear—Mount Myōboku.

And his purpose was no longer pure.

As the lonely figure of the Sage of Six Paths disappeared from the Heavenly Curtain, pursuing immortality and straying from his original ideals, a bone-deep chill had already risen in the hearts of those watching throughout the shinobi world.

“Has the Sage of Six Paths… completely fallen to darkness?” someone asked in a trembling voice, filled with the terror of shattered faith. “For the sake of immortality, has he abandoned the very nature of benevolence and guidance he always claimed to possess? Is he really going to force Lord Gamamaru to reveal his secret?”

“Is that really surprising at all?!” someone nearby immediately retorted, their face filled with bitter mockery and disappointment. “Just as Lord Hamura said in the end, arrogance was always part of his nature!”

“And don’t forget who he is! He is the being created through the fusion of the ‘good corpse’ and the essence of the ‘evil corpse’! How could that evil truly have disappeared? It was merely suppressed beneath the appearance of goodness!”

“Now that he’s confronted with the fear of his own death, hasn’t that hidden evil—and his selfish desire—finally been completely exposed?”

“Exactly,” another person said scornfully. “He’s clearly just afraid of dying and greedy for eternal life, yet he hides behind grand words like ‘for the lasting peace of the world’ and ‘the world needs me to protect it forever’! He’s deceiving himself. How hypocritical can he be?”

Disappointment, anger, and even a sense of humiliation at having been deceived spread through the crowd.

The image of the Sage of Six Paths—revered for generations as the creator of the shinobi world and the source of the shinobi way—had completely shattered at that moment, revealing the selfish, vulnerable, and even dark side of his humanity.

That was more unsettling and disillusioning than any powerful enemy could ever be.

Yet the events unfolding within the Heavenly Curtain did not stop because of the viewers’ disappointment.

After Hagoromo left the Ninshū and vanished beyond the horizon, powerful undercurrents began to surge beneath the surface of what had once seemed to be a united and hopeful community.

Almost naturally, the Ninshū quickly divided into two clearly distinct factions.

One faction rallied tightly around the elder son, Indra.

They admired Indra’s extraordinary talent, his genius in creating the system of hand seals, and his profound understanding of the nature of power.

They believed that only a genius like Indra could truly lead the Ninshū to greater heights and bring the power of Chakra to its fullest potential.

Deep down, they looked down upon the younger son Asura’s supposedly “ordinary” talent. They considered him dull and unremarkable, believing that his only advantage was being well-liked and that he was unfit for great responsibility.

The other faction, meanwhile, gathered around Asura.

They were drawn to Asura’s gentle and sincere nature, his selfless willingness to help others, and the leadership he displayed in bringing people together and allowing them to accomplish more through their collective strength.