Naruto: The Senju After the Age of Gods

At dusk, Hikaru brought Pakura to a teahouse.

Arranging housing for Pakura wasn’t a headache for Hikaru—honestly, for the Senju as a whole, it wasn’t either.

Even if the Senju clan had declined, they still had some foundation left. At the very least, they weren’t short on houses.

No matter how shabby the properties were, they still wouldn’t be worse than Naruto’s living conditions in the original story.

To be frank, Hikaru sometimes wondered: if the Senju truly exited the stage of history, could they just become landlords and live off rent?

Back when Konoha was founded, the Senju had built and acquired plenty of homes. That legacy had quietly become a kind of invisible wealth.

There weren’t many "Senju" left in name—though people with Senju blood were everywhere. What had dwindled was the number of those who truly identified as Senju and still remembered the clan’s glory.

Most of the old Senju properties were now rented out, but some were still empty.

For instance, Hikaru clearly remembered there were a few vacant houses near where he lived—houses that still belonged to the Senju.

So using one temporarily as a benefit wasn’t unreasonable.

It was also a way to win hearts. Hikaru doubted Senju Shōma would refuse.

And since Hikaru wanted Shōma’s approval—and wanted the place available for immediate move-in—meeting in person was necessary.

But Shōma’s status was sensitive. Hikaru couldn’t bring Pakura to the old Senju residence.

So he had Senju Yō inform Shōma early. After work, Hikaru brought Pakura here, and Shōma was already waiting inside.

"I see. I understand."

After hearing Hikaru’s request, Senju Shōma turned to glance at Pakura, then nodded seriously.

"There’s an empty house about a block from where you live. You can use it. If you want, she can move in immediately."

"Then let her move in now," Hikaru said without hesitation. "She doesn’t have a proper place to stay yet. That’s not appropriate."

"No problem."

Shōma nodded, then took out a key and handed it to a man sitting behind him with tea.

"You. Take this lady to see the house. If it’s acceptable, find people to clean it."

"Yes, sir."

The middle-aged man stood at once, accepted the key, and left the teahouse.

Hikaru turned to Pakura as well.

"You go too. If there’s any problem, contact me."

Pakura nodded, stood, and quickly disappeared out of the teahouse.

Shōma watched her leave, took a slow sip of tea, and after a while asked:

"What’s with that woman? Senju Yō told me you wanted a place near you prepared for her. She’s not just a subordinate, is she?"

"Of course not. Her identity is special."

Hikaru poured himself tea casually as he answered. But Shōma’s next sentence nearly made him spit it out.

"Youth is good," Shōma said earnestly, "but be careful—don’t end up with a child."

"And if you do want a child, your first should be a Senju."

"..."

Hikaru froze for a moment, then his expression stiffened slightly.

"Elder... I’m still pretty young, aren’t I? There’s not much meaning in talking about this right now."

He truly hadn’t expected the elder to say something like that.

Even if he counted everything, Hikaru was only about fourteen. In his previous life, that was middle school.

Granted, in this world fourteen could already mean engagement—shinobi lives were unpredictable. A person could die on a mission at any time.

So families with any size often arranged marriages early. Even ordinary shinobi matured quickly; Sakura’s early behavior in the original story quietly reflected the ninja world’s atmosphere.

But for Hikaru, it still felt hard to accept.

Even after living here for fourteen years, he couldn’t shake the belief that doing "that kind of thing" at this age was basically asking for disaster.

Besides, he had far too many responsibilities. He wasn’t going to spend energy on anything irrelevant.

As an elite ANBU operative, he’d killed plenty of kunoichi—many of them beautiful. After years of that, he’d long since gone numb.

So "going after girls" wasn’t realistic.

And if the clan ever arranged someone for him—someone he wouldn’t need to pursue—that was far more efficient than anything like dating or matchmaking. Why would he waste time?

"I’m not here to discuss that," Hikaru said, shaking his head. "I have something else I need to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Shōma blinked, then asked, "What is it? You can speak freely. Everyone here is ours."

Hikaru scanned the surroundings and nodded slightly. The elder was cautious—and that caution was necessary.

Still, Hikaru had no intention of revealing Pakura’s true identity in detail. Minato and Hiruzen already knew the essentials; even Shōma understood the general situation.

If he was being watched, it wasn’t a big deal. Hikaru was confident nobody would dare watch him too closely.

And after Hiruzen understood the context, he wouldn’t overthink it. Some secrets were "public secrets"—it was enough that everyone silently understood them without tearing the curtain down.

"Elder," Hikaru said softly, keeping his voice low, "do you know any particularly powerful sealing techniques?"

"Sealing techniques?" Shōma frowned. "Are you planning to specialize in fūinjutsu?"

"Yes... and no." Hikaru tilted his head and smiled. "More accurately, I only need to study one specific jutsu—its mechanism, and how to undo it."

"What jutsu could make you this interested?" Shōma’s brows lifted, and he lowered his voice further. "If it’s too dangerous, I won’t allow it."

"It’s dangerous," Hikaru admitted calmly, "but I won’t put myself in danger."

Then his smile thinned—still gentle, but sharper at the edges.

"The technique I want... is the Reaper Death Seal."

The Reaper Death Seal was absolutely one of the most dangerous sealing techniques in existence.

Every technique carried risk—even sealing techniques. In the future, Danzō himself would die using a sealing technique alongside an unknown enemy.

But the Reaper Death Seal was on another level.

Because it didn’t merely bind the body or chakra.

It targeted the soul.

The soul was the most mysterious—and the most perilous—domain of all. The moment you touched souls, the danger of any jutsu skyrocketed.

And every soul was unique.

If a soul was damaged, who could say whether the wound could ever be repaired?

Orochimaru was arguably the greatest soul researcher of the era. Maybe not the first—but no one matched his results.

Even if he hadn’t fully stepped into that field yet, in the future his control over souls would likely surpass anyone else.

And yet, even he suffered soul damage.

His Living Corpse Reincarnation allowed him to live on in a sense, but it seemed to weaken his resistance to genjutsu—especially Sharingan genjutsu.

And every three years, he had to consume another soul, seize another body, and endure constant complications from incompatibility.

Hikaru didn’t believe Orochimaru was truly "fine."

"Reaper Death Seal?"

Shōma’s eyes widened.

"How do you know that jutsu...? Damn it—why would you even want it?"

The secrecy around that technique was terrifyingly high.

At first, Shōma didn’t believe Hikaru could have access to it. Then he remembered Hikaru’s status and power, and realized it wasn’t impossible.

But he couldn’t understand why a boy would take interest in a jutsu that existed primarily as a last-resort suicide weapon.

"Elder, calm down."

Hikaru smiled gently, the same warm expression he always wore.

"I know it’s dangerous. But I have my reasons."

"Do you think I want it as my trump card?"

"Then you..." Shōma forced himself to settle. His mind worked rapidly. "Undoing methods... Are you trying to study the soul?"

Hikaru’s smile deepened.

His elder was slow to react sometimes, but once he focused, he was still sharp.

Hikaru had deliberately mentioned both the mechanism and the release method to make Shōma stop thinking he intended to personally use such a suicidal technique.

In truth, Hikaru’s plan wasn’t "safe" in a moral sense—but it was safe in a practical sense.

He had no intention of risking himself.

He would make Tsutaya Hiroshi cooperate.

Watching Shōma now, Hikaru’s mind drifted back to his earlier meeting with Tsutaya...

Tsutaya stared at him darkly. Pushed to this point, he knew he had no real choice left. Still, he couldn’t help asking what Hikaru wanted.

"Tell me," Tsutaya gritted out. "What are you planning? What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to learn a technique," Hikaru said evenly. "A technique that releases a seal."

"A technique that releases a seal... and you want me to do it?" Tsutaya sneered. "That doesn’t sound simple. Let me guess—there’s danger, isn’t there?"

"Yes. And no." Hikaru tilted his head, voice soft. "If you were ordinary, you’d die. But you aren’t ordinary. You can survive."

Then he paused and pulled out a kunai.

His chakra flickered.

In an instant, he vanished—and Tsutaya felt a burst of agony rip through his abdomen.

He looked down.

His belly had been cut open. His intestines began to spill out.

For a normal person, that scene would mean screaming and dying.

But Tsutaya wasn’t normal.

He forced his intestines back inside, pressed his hands to close the wound, then looked up again—face pale, eyes furious.

Hikaru stood where he had been, as if he’d never moved at all—except the kunai in his hand dripped blood.

"You see?" Hikaru said quietly, almost kindly. "You’re fine."

But his perception had spread out. He was observing Tsutaya’s condition closely.

As before, Tsutaya’s vitality was still draining—small, but real. Not like a normal human.

Blood loss, exposure, infection—none of it seemed to matter much.

Yet the drain existed.

Others wouldn’t notice.

But Hikaru, who could manipulate life force, could "see" it.

"What kind of seal is this," Tsutaya snarled, "that you’d have me cut open my own stomach?"

"A sealing technique," Hikaru said simply. "It needs a sacrifice."

"A sacrifice wearing a sealing mask cuts open their belly, and the seal becomes invalid."

He flicked the blood off the kunai and continued in an unhurried tone:

"Your body is special. I want to know your limit."

"So whether you agree or refuse, you’re my test subject."

"Tell me—have you heard of a man named... Katō Dan?"

"Who?"

"Konoha jōnin. Katō Dan."

Hikaru watched Tsutaya’s face carefully.

Dan had died over a decade ago in the Second Shinobi War. He was famous for the Spirit Transformation Technique, a terrifying ability that could slip into someone’s body and control it.

Tsutaya looked stunned—then his expression changed.

He knew that name.

"Good," Hikaru murmured. "So you know Spirit Transformation."

"It can control a person’s body," Tsutaya growled. "So you could force me to do this!"

"Yes," Hikaru nodded. "Spirit Transformation. And genjutsu, too."

"But I told you—forced cooperation reduces the effect."

"I’m a perfectionist. I don’t want problems."

"So..." Tsutaya exhaled slowly. "You want me to do it willingly."

"You really are a Konoha shinobi?" he muttered. "You’re nothing like the Konoha shinobi in my memory."

"Every village has different people," Hikaru said with a cold little scoff. "Aren’t you an outcast in the Land of Hot Water yourself?"

"Your village seeks peace. But what does your cult preach?"

Tsutaya fell silent, then finally said:

"I understand. I’ll help."

"When it’s over, let me leave. That kid Hidan has learned plenty—you can study him."

"A smart choice." Hikaru nodded and tossed him a file.

"Here. Written terms."

"I assume you’ll feel more secure."

"You’re a demon who understands people," Tsutaya licked his lips. "You should join the god beneath my faith."

Hikaru ignored him and walked out.

Tsutaya quickly hid the file inside his clothes.

Hikaru knew leaving written evidence could be trouble—but the file carried a Flying Thunder God mark.

If necessary, he could retrieve it at any time.

He would not leave loose ends.

"I’ll think carefully about it," Shōma said at last, pulling Hikaru back from his thoughts.

For Shōma, the Reaper Death Seal was too terrifying, too troublesome. He didn’t want the Senju’s only Wood Release user risking himself.

But he also knew Hikaru wouldn’t stop.

After the incident with Senju Ryōta, Shōma had learned the hard truth:

Many things could no longer be stopped.

His only advantage was that Hikaru still respected him.

But that respect likely depended on Shōma not interfering too harshly in Hikaru’s decisions.

Shōma couldn’t refuse outright.

If he did, he’d only deepen the rift.

So he chose to agree—and planned to guide the boy slowly afterward, to ensure he didn’t walk into the wrong road.

"Then I’ll thank you, Elder," Hikaru said with a soft smile. "Don’t worry. I’m not going to gamble with my own life."

"I’ll prepare it and give it to you tomorrow," Shōma sighed. "Those records were left by Lady Mito. I’ll need time to search andorganize them."

"That’s fine," Hikaru nodded. Then he added, casually but pointedly:

"Also, Elder—could you include the written text for the Spirit Transformation Technique as well?"

"Spirit Transformation?" Shōma stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Understood. I’ll give it to you."

Spirit Transformation was also a secret technique.

And more interestingly—it was another of Tobirama’s creations.

Dan had used it and made it famous, even refining it, but the concept and foundation came from Tobirama.

In fact, outside of clan techniques, most of Konoha’s terrifying "secret techniques" traced back to Tobirama.

He was a "secret technique king" in the truest sense.

Konoha’s archives had the technique, but the Senju kept a complete copy—especially because of Tsunade’s connection to Dan.

Hikaru benefited from that legacy now.

He also asked for Spirit Transformation on purpose:

Not only as insurance against Tsutaya—

But also to make Shōma believe Hikaru truly intended to research the "soul path."

After all, Spirit Transformation was essentially a soul-leaving-the-body technique.

After reaching an agreement with Shōma, Hikaru’s days became a bit lighter.

The next day, Shōma personally delivered the materials.

That kind of treatment was likely reserved for Hikaru alone among the current Senju.

And Hikaru knew why:

Because he had earned authority in ANBU.

Because he had strength.

Only then could he "speak" like this and have people listen.

Still, Hikaru didn’t mistake it for reaching the end.

He was strong—for now.

But his path was still long.

His chakra reserves weren’t anywhere near Hashirama’s level—forget that monster, he probably hadn’t even reached Tobirama’s level.

His offensive and defensive toolkits still had glaring gaps.

Wood Release could be considered offense and defense in one—but its power was linked to Yang Release.

And Hikaru’s Yang Release was still only at an early stage.

He could use Wood Release, yes—but its current effectiveness didn’t need much explanation.

"So I can act cocky right now," Hikaru sighed inwardly, "but against truly monstrous opponents... I’m still far behind."

Even so, he had confidence.

With a cheat like his, if he didn’t have confidence, there’d be no point living.

He hadn’t found many high-grade "seeds" yet. That likely had to do with not encountering enough top-tier battles, or places soaked in that kind of power.

But soon, the Nine-Tails disaster would arrive.

Kakashi already knew Kushina’s due date—which meant the Nine-Tails incident was very likely unavoidable.

After all, Kakashi’s "devil whispering" seemed to carry absurdly strong "inevitability."

When the Nine-Tails rampaged through Konoha, who knew what would be left behind?

Hikaru might not only achieve political goals—

He might collect valuable "seeds" in the chaos.

Yang Release seeds.

And maybe even...

"A Nine-Tails chakra seed."

The system had never clearly defined what kinds of seeds were possible.

Basic seeds enhanced his physical foundation.

Chakra seeds had caps, attributes, and even included sage-mode-like chakra.

The Nine-Tails was a chakra mass. Even with consciousness, it couldn’t change that nature.

If it was a chakra entity, then maybe he truly could obtain something extraordinary from it.

Hikaru shook his head.

No clear answer yet.

And he didn’t want to let anticipation inflate.

The bigger the expectation, the bigger the disappointment if it failed.

He stretched lazily, then glanced at the lunchbox on his desk—and his mouth twitched.

That box had been prepared by Senju Renge.

Since Hikaru had saved her mother, Renge had changed.

She still looked cold on the outside, but Hikaru could see something different in her eyes—longing for the future.

Her attitude toward him had also grown more respectful.

But Hikaru, used to living alone, still found it uncomfortable.

Renge’s mother was also staying at Hikaru’s home now.

He’d once said the house would have a new "guest." Since she was already there, there was no reason to relocate her.

His house was large. Maintaining it alone was a burden. And having more people made it feel less empty.

But Hikaru had made one boundary absolutely clear:

No one entered his bedroom.

Even though he never brought ANBU documents home, he didn’t tolerate anyone wandering through his private space.

The mother and daughter were settling down fine.

And Pakura had also been settled.

Now Hikaru often ran into her at work.

She said her neighborhood was good, the neighbors were friendly, and she was integrating quickly.

That reassured him.

The people living in that area were mostly Senju-affiliated, many directly loyal to Shōma.

Even if not, they were small-clan members willing to trust the Senju, or ordinary civilians who knew nothing.

With that environment guiding her, Pakura’s integration would go smoothly.

"So the small troubles are handled," Hikaru thought. "Now it’s a matter of waiting... and of course, the Uchiha issue still isn’t resolved."

His eyes turned toward the window.

Kushina’s due date was getting closer.

If the Uchiha still couldn’t make a decision—

Then Hikaru believed they wouldn’t have the right to decide anything at all, ever again.

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