Naruto: The Senju After the Age of Gods

"Those are the facts of the matter. That is all."

Hikaru sat formally on his knees before the elder, his voice calm—soft even—like he was simply reciting a routine report.

Just as he expected, the moment he returned to the Senju residential district, he hadn’t even stepped through his own door before he was summoned here.

For an ANBU operative to vanish for over half a month, it meant only one thing:

The mission had been important. And dangerous.

The elder’s name was Senju Shōma.

In his youth, he had followed both Senju Hashirama and Senju Tobirama in study. There were even rumors that after Tobirama founded ANBU, Shōma had served within it for a long time.

Hikaru didn’t know whether those stories were true.

He only knew one thing for certain: this elder cared deeply—almost obsessively—about ANBU’s movements.

And he hated Sarutobi Hiruzen with a bitterness that never faded.

Hikaru gave his report "in relatively full detail."

He left out only two points:

That he personally ensured Namuki’s death.

And that the enemy’s true identity was Sasori.

Everything else, he said plainly—Lizardmaru, the Third Kazekage puppet, the hospital confinement, and even the post-mission investigation.

Shōma listened without interruption, frowning more deeply as the report went on.

When Hikaru finished, the elder sat silent for a long time—caught between excitement and unease.

A summoning beast that could rival an "shadow-level" combatant... one that could trade blows with a mysterious puppet master wielding what looked like the Third Kazekage’s body...

In the era when the Senju were at their peak, such a thing might not have moved Shōma much.

But now?

Could today’s Senju be compared to the Senju of old?

No.

That was exactly why Shōma’s hands trembled faintly with restrained emotion. A power like this wasn’t merely a prize—it was a lifeline. A weapon that could make the clan stand taller again.

And yet...

Hikaru returning only to be investigated—because Namuki died beside him—was something even Shōma couldn’t openly condemn.

What irritated him was who had come.

According to Hikaru, it was Yamanaka Inoichi himself.

To Shōma, Inoichi was still "a brat." A younger generation.

But even Shōma had to admit the truth: the Yamanaka were dangerous in the quiet way that mattered most.

Their techniques didn’t break bones.

They broke certainty.

Still, Shōma had spent time in ANBU in his youth—if the rules hadn’t changed, this kind of check wasn’t unusual.

And besides... Shōma didn’t truly believe Hiruzen was unaware of Hikaru’s background in the first place.

Shōma could be stubborn, even old-fashioned. But he wasn’t foolish.

He’d never hidden his disgust for Hiruzen, and the clan members who shared his beliefs had long since been scattered and cut down. Even the things Hikaru knew were limited.

Hikaru didn’t realize it, but to Shōma, that investigation wasn’t a fatal warning at all.

It was... expected.

At last, Shōma nodded.

"I understand," he said. "This time, your performance was outstanding. I am proud of you."

"Thank you for your praise, Elder." Hikaru lowered his head slightly, his voice still gentle. "Without the clan’s upbringing, I would not be who I am."

Unexpectedly, Shōma sighed.

"That is not the truth I want," he said quietly, staring into Hikaru’s eyes. "I know. I have always known. You never wanted to enter ANBU—did you?"

Hikaru shook his head calmly.

"That was years ago, Elder. And I’ve adapted to ANBU life now. Everything is fine."

Shōma didn’t answer at once.

He only watched Hikaru.

And Hikaru met that gaze with the same mild smile, the same earnest composure—so steady it was almost impossible to read.

Back when he was first pushed into ANBU, Hikaru’s resentment had been real.

Even now, he still believed ANBU was not a place meant for human beings.

But Shōma’s words carried meaning beyond apology.

It was a lowering of pride. An acknowledgement.

And Hikaru couldn’t help but feel it—strength truly was the sharpest language in the world.

When you had power, even the one who effectively led the Senju could change the way he looked at you.

Shōma might be rigid, but he wasn’t stupid. After the Senju declined, even clan members questioned his authority. Yet he still managed to gather a core group, and with that group, claw at the impossible dream of revival.

Hikaru didn’t know where those people were.

But he respected Shōma.

He had, after all, been raised by this man.

"I hope your words are true," Shōma finally said. "From now on, if you need scrolls, records, or if there is a jutsu you wish to study—you may come to me. As long as your circumstances are appropriate."

Hikaru’s smile brightened, sincere and unguarded.

"Thank you, Elder. I will not waste your trust."

"Go," Shōma waved a hand. "You just left the hospital and I called you here immediately. You must be tired."

"Yes, Elder."

Hikaru rose, bowed properly, and turned to leave.

But when he reached the doorway—

Shōma spoke again.

"Hikaru," his voice had turned sharp with conviction. "There is something I want you to remember."

Hikaru paused.

"Please speak, Elder."

"Remember this... always." Shōma’s tone was steady, unwavering. "You are a member of the Senju clan."

Hikaru froze for a breath.

And in that instant, he understood.

Shōma was afraid.

Afraid that the boy he had raised—because of that decision years ago—would someday grow distant... or grow resentful... or choose a different banner when power finally made choosing possible.

But Shōma was overthinking it.

Hikaru knew it himself: without ANBU, even with talent, he would never have obtained Lizardmaru.

And more importantly...

Going into ANBU had kept him away from the true meat grinder.

The Third Great Ninja War’s frontlines were not somewhere Hikaru would ever dare to gamble his life. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

He took a slow breath, then turned back. His expression became serious in a way that was rare.

"I know."

His voice was calm, but it carried weight.

"I am Senju."

"And I will remember it... forever."

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