The words hang in the silent space between them, heavier than any physical weight. Creation of All Things. Minato, a man who has built his legend on the creation of unique ninjutsu, feels the foundation of his understanding crumble. The Rasengan is a marvel of shape and nature transformation, a perfect sphere of rotating chakra. The Flying Thunder God technique is a masterpiece of space-time manipulation. But these are applications of existing principles, however complex. To create sentient life from nothing… that is not ninjutsu. It is divinity.
He thinks of Orochimaru's grotesque pursuit of immortality, a parasitic cycle of stolen bodies. He recalls Kakuzu's monstrous form, stitched together by the stolen hearts of his victims, and the blind fanaticism of Hidan's Jashin cult. All of them sought to defy death, to cheat the natural order, but their methods were crude perversions—twisted shortcuts that warped the soul. They were nothing compared to the pure, generative act the Sage of Six Paths had performed.
"To wield power on that level… he was truly a god among men," Minato murmurs, a profound sense of awe washing over him.
The Sage of Six Paths isn't the only one who has played God with reality, Kurama's voice rumbles, pulling Minato from his reverence. There is another forbidden technique, one born from the hubris of his descendants.
The mental landscape shifts, a new thread of information presenting itself. Think back, Minato. Years ago, you faced the masked man who claimed to be Madara. You landed a fatal blow, yet he lived. The one you faced at the Kannabi Bridge should have died, yet he survived to plague your life. How?
Minato frowns, his mind flying back to those desperate, lightning-fast encounters. The impossible phasing, the uncanny escapes… "His space-time jutsu was…"
A trick, Kurama interrupts. His true escape hatch was a dojutsu of the highest order. A jutsu that allows the user to reject reality itself, transforming any injury—even death—into a mere illusion, at the cost of the eye that casts it. It is called Izanagi.
The name clicks. A forbidden Uchiha jutsu, whispered about in the darkest corners of Konoha's archives but never fully understood. "One of the Mangekyo Sharingan's abilities?" Minato asks, his mind racing to catalogue the threat.
It does not necessarily require the Mangekyo, Kurama clarifies. But it has another, more fundamental requirement. A condition that explains much about the history of our world.
"A condition?"
To truly wield Izanagi and unlock the potential of the Sharingan to its fullest extent, one must possess the power of both Uchiha and Senju.
"Senju and Uchiha…" Minato whispers the names. The two founding clans of Konoha. The eternal rivals. "Why? What is the connection?"
You already know they share a deep connection to the Sage of Six Paths, Kurama says, his tone turning didactic, like a teacher recounting a painful history he has witnessed firsthand. After he defeated the Ten-Tails, the Sage founded the creed of Ninshū. It was not a religion of war, but a belief in fostering mutual understanding, of using chakra not as a weapon, but as a bridge to connect the hearts and minds of all people.
A wave of bitter, sarcastic energy flows from the fox. But humans… you betrayed his dream. You severed that spiritual connection and instead focused on hoarding chakra, endlessly refining it, weaponizing it. You created tools for conflict, techniques for killing. You abandoned Ninshū… and created Ninjutsu.
Minato falls silent, the weight of that truth settling upon him. He deeply admires the Sage's ambition, a world bound by empathy. But he is also a pragmatist, a Kage who has seen the depths of human conflict. Mutual understanding is a fragile dream in a world of warring nations and deep-seated hatred. The First Hokage, Hashirama Senju, possessed power enough to dominate the entire world, yet he chose a path of balance, distributing the Tailed Beasts in a desperate attempt to achieve the Sage's goal. But the nations saw only weapons, and the jinchuriki became little more than strategic assets in a global arms race. The cycle of betrayal was unending.
The Sage of Six Paths had two sons, Kurama continues, his voice echoing with the memory of ages. The elder son, Indra, was a prodigy. He inherited the Sage's eyes—the power of the Sharingan—and his potent chakra. He believed that power was the only true path to peace and order. The younger son, Asura, had none of his brother's genius, but he inherited the Sage's body—his indomitable will and powerful life force. He believed peace could only be achieved through love and cooperation.
When the time came for the Sage to choose a successor to carry on the dream of Ninshū, he looked past the elder's genius and chose the younger brother's heart.
Indra, consumed by pride and rage at being overlooked, declared war on his brother. And so began a conflict that has never truly ended. Their bloodlines continued the fight, their descendants reincarnating the feud across countless generations.
Kurama pauses, letting the final, damning piece of the puzzle fall into place.
The descendants of the elder son came to be known as the Uchiha. The descendants of the younger son became the Senju.
The revelation lands with the force of a thunderclap. The entire history of the ninja world—the endless wars, the rivalry that birthed Konoha, the legendary battle between Hashirama and Madara at the Valley of the End—it was all an echo of that first, ancient sibling rivalry. A fated conflict written in blood.
And it continues still, Minato thinks, a chill running down his spine. He thinks of his own son, Naruto, with his boundless optimism and ability to connect with others—a true heir to Asura. And he thinks of Sasuke, the Uchiha prodigy, driven by loss and a thirst for the power to protect what remains—a soul teetering on the edge of Indra's path. The cycle wasn't over. It was living and breathing in their children.
"With the Senju clan all but gone and the Uchiha a shadow of its former self, their struggle should have ended," Minato says, more to himself than to Kurama. Yet Madara, a relic of that struggle, had returned to plunge the world into its final, most devastating chapter.
He forces his mind back to the immediate threat. "Kurama, if the Sage separated the Ten-Tails from its chakra, he must have sealed the body—the Gedo Mazo—to prevent it from ever being used again."
He did, Kurama confirms. Do you remember the jutsu that blond-haired boy, Nagato, used? The one that created a massive sphere of rock and debris?
"Chibaku Tensei," Minato breathes, recalling the terrifying display of gravitational power that had nearly leveled the village.
The Sage of Six Paths used that very technique to seal the Gedo Mazo. He created a prison for it so vast and distant that no human could ever reach it.
Kurama's next words defy all logic, stretching Minato's conception of power to its breaking point.
He created the moon.
For a moment, Minato's mind goes blank. The moon. The silent, silver orb that had watched over the world for all of recorded history was… a prison. A man-made satellite, forged by one man's power to contain a monster. Even now, standing as arguably the strongest shinobi alive, Minato feels like a child looking upon the work of a god. Creating life, creating a celestial body… such power was simply not meant for mortal hands.
"Then Madara… he could only have summoned the statue from that seal by using the power of the Rinnegan," Minato concludes, the grim logic undeniable. The Sage's legendary eyes were not just a weapon; they were the master key to his most powerful seals.
Exactly, Kurama affirms, a sense of urgency entering his tone for the first time. Which is why you must not, under any circumstances, allow Madara to reclaim his other eye. He already possesses the cells of Hashirama Senju. If he combines that vitality with the power of both his Rinnegan, his strength will be absolute. He will be no less than the Sage of Six Paths himself, reborn without an ounce of the old man's compassion. If that happens, Minato… even with my full power, you will not be his match.
The finality in Kurama's voice is chilling.
As for his ultimate purpose in resurrecting the Ten-Tails… I do not know, the fox admits. That is a truth he likely gleaned from the final lines of the Uchiha stone tablet. The only way for you to know is to decipher it yourself.
A heavy silence fills the office as Minato absorbs the sheer, terrifying scale of the coming conflict. "Thank you, Kurama," he says, his voice filled with sincere gratitude. "For telling me all of this."
He leans back in his chair, a final, almost wistful question forming in his mind. "You've spoken of creation, separation… of souls and chakra. Tell me, is there any way… to restore you? To separate you from me and give you your freedom, now that we are fused?"
A violent shockwave of pure disbelief erupts from Kurama in their shared mind. The fox's will, which had been grim and resolute, is thrown into utter turmoil.
You… want to resurrect me? Kurama asks, his voice laced with stunned incredulity. For nine hundred years, he has been feared, hated, hunted, and sealed. No one had ever expressed a desire for his freedom, let alone his restoration.
"Yes," Minato replies simply, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips. "We may have started as enemies, forced into this union. But we've fought as partners. I don't see you as a weapon or a monster anymore. I see you as a friend. If there is a way to give you back what was taken from you, I would try."
Kurama is silent for a long moment before a low, rumbling chuckle echoes in Minato's mind. Madara was right about one thing. You truly are naive.
But there is no malice in the words. Through their fused souls, Minato can feel the sincerity of the fox's reaction—a grudging, profound sense of being seen for the first time.
It is impossible, Kurama says, his voice softening into something unusually relaxed, almost content. Our souls are no longer merely sealed together; they are woven into one another at a fundamental level. Not even the old man of Six Paths himself could unpick this thread now. I am a part of you, and you are a part of me. That is our reality.
Though he can never return to his original form, Kurama feels a strange sense of peace in this declaration.
Perhaps… the fox says suddenly, his voice filled with a newfound respect, …you are more qualified than anyone before you to wield the power the Sage bestowed upon the world.
The praise hangs in the air, a stunning admission from the most cynical of the Tailed Beasts.
The First Hokage was hailed as the God of Shinobi, but he was bound by the conflicts of his era. You, Minato Namikaze, have mastered a power he could only contain. You have surpassed your predecessors. You have earned that title more than any of them.