Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

Within the Heavenly Curtain, Hagoromo and Hamura, carrying both confusion and a trace of unease, approached their mother, Kaguya, who sat in silent meditation beneath the God Tree.

”Mother,” Hagoromo began carefully, his voice tinged with curiosity and innocent hope, ”we encountered several villagers. They deeply desire power. I was wondering… could our power be shared with them? If everyone possessed strength, perhaps they could better build their homes, resist natural disasters, and accomplish more good in this world.”

Kaguya slowly opened her pale Byakugan eyes and looked at her eldest son.

Her voice was calm and emotionless, yet carried an all-seeing coldness. ”Those people… came to you seeking power?”

Hagoromo nodded. ”Yes, Mother. They were devout, and earnest in their longing. I do not believe their desire is inherently wrong…”

”There is no way,” Kaguya interrupted decisively. ”Chakra is the fundamental power of the Ōtsutsuki Clan. These natives differ from us in bodily structure and the very origin of their lives. Within them, there exists no foundation capable of naturally generating, refining, and sustaining chakra.”

Hagoromo frowned more deeply. He did not doubt the truth of her words—but another thought troubled him.

”If that is so, Mother… then why not explain it clearly to the villagers? They seem to believe that we… simply refuse to share.”

For the first time, visible displeasure surfaced on Kaguya’s face—a lofty irritation, as though disturbed by something trivial.

”Explain?” she repeated, as if the notion were absurd. ”Why should I explain to ants why the sky is vast?”

”Everything they now enjoy—peace, stability, even the right to live—was granted by me.”

”They show no gratitude. Instead, they nurture greed, coveting what does not belong to them—what they are incapable of bearing. That is their failing, not my stinginess.”

Her gaze sharpened as it fell upon Hagoromo.

”You concern yourself too greatly with them, Hagoromo. Your thoughts dwell too often on these insignificant matters—and on these fleeting creatures.”

Startled by his mother’s rare severity, Hagoromo fell silent and lowered his head.

Seeing this, Hamura quickly stepped forward, speaking respectfully yet urgently. ”Mother, please calm your anger. Brother meant no disrespect. He is simply… compassionate by nature. He wishes for everyone to fare better. That is who he is. Please forgive him.”

Kaguya’s gaze swept across her two sons, lingering on the elder.

The harshness in her eyes softened slightly, yet the deeply rooted sense of separation—the conviction of absolute difference—became even clearer.

She shook her head. Her tone gentled, but remained firm with unquestionable authority.

”Hagoromo, my child. You must understand—you were born different from them. You carry my blood. You bear the honor and power of the Ōtsutsuki. Your destined place is to overlook and rule—to establish and uphold order. Not to mingle with them, nor entangle yourself in their joys, sorrows, greed, anger, and delusions.”

Hagoromo lifted his head. His eyes were filled with confusion and inner turmoil, yet he gathered the courage to respond.

”But Mother… do we not all live upon this same land? Do we not breathe the same air and gaze upon the same stars? In what fundamental way are we truly different from the villagers?”

Kaguya regarded him silently. Within the depths of her pale eyes flickered a trace of indifference.

Slowly, she raised her hand and pointed toward the soil near the roots of the God Tree. There, tiny black specks busily carried food—an insignificant line of ants.

”Look there, Hagoromo,” Kaguya said calmly. ”Those ants also live upon this land. They labor, survive, compete. In what way are they different from those humans?”

Hagoromo’s pupils contracted sharply. His face drained of color.

He stared at his mother’s placid expression, then at the minuscule creatures below. A freezing realization struck him to the core.

In Mother’s eyes… the villagers who revered her, worshiped her—who had only moments ago begged the brothers for power—were no different from ants in the soil.

Kaguya said nothing more.

She closed her eyes once again, as if the conversation—one that had just shattered a child’s worldview—was no more significant than the breeze rustling through the leaves of the God Tree.

Silence became the clearest—and cruelest—answer.

Hagoromo stood frozen in place, cold to the bone.

Hamura looked at his brother with concern, then at their mother, who seemed almost fused with the God Tree itself. Confusion and unease filled his face as well.

After leaving the God Tree and returning to the modest dwelling where the brothers studied and lived, Hagoromo remained deep in thought, his brows tightly knit as he struggled with the impact of their exchange.

”This… is not right,” he suddenly said, stopping in his tracks. His voice carried a new tone—an uneasy mixture of confusion and firm conviction.

Hamura blinked, startled. ”Brother? What is not right? Are the villagers too greedy? Or… should we not have questioned Mother?”

Hagoromo shook his head. His gaze turned toward the distant silhouette of peaceful villages on the horizon.

”It is Mother’s way that is wrong.”

”Brother!” Hamura’s expression changed instantly. He instinctively lowered his voice, alarmed. ”How can you speak of Mother that way? She is the supreme Divine Maiden. Everything she does must have reason! And she explained—chakra cannot be given to the natives. That is not her fault!”

Hagoromo turned to face him. He was not shaken by Hamura’s reaction. If anything, his eyes had grown calmer.

”I am not saying Mother’s explanation about chakra is false. I believe her words—that their bodies cannot bear it.”

He paused, choosing his words carefully.

”What I mean is that her attitude—her way of handling this—is wrong.”

He walked forward slowly, organizing his thoughts.

”The villagers desire power because they have seen what Mother—and we—can do with it. They see stability. Miracles.”

”They wish to grow stronger, to live better lives—even to serve more faithfully.”

”That desire itself is not entirely born of greed. It may also carry hope for a better life, and reverence for Mother.”

”And yet Mother sees only the greed behind it. She sees only their coveting of what does not belong to them—and their fundamental difference from us as ’natives.’”

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