A firm, unshakable expression settled on Senju Nawaki's face. His voice, carried by chakra, resonated with a strange power that compelled ev
A firm, unshakable expression settled on Senju Nawaki's face. His voice, carried by chakra, resonated with a strange power that compelled everyone to listen.
"My compatriots," he began, his tone steady, "I feel pride… and sorrow. Today, I will take you away from our homeland—Konoha."
The moment the words left his lips, silence descended.
Tsunade's legs gave way.
She sank to the ground, stunned.
Jiraiya thrashed against his bindings, desperate to shout Nawaki down, but the wooden stakes buried in his limbs only tore deeper, blood spilling over his hands. His muffled cries went unheard.
Orochimaru and Hatake Sakumo said nothing. Both had already accepted the weight of Nawaki's declaration, but sweat slid down their foreheads.
They understood what it meant.
With a single sentence, Nawaki had set the ninja world ablaze.
The surrounding Konoha shinobi stood paralyzed, struggling to comprehend what they had heard. Their minds lagged behind his words. Only after minutes passed did sound return—angry whispers, shouts, and fearful murmurs rippling through the camp.
Several Konoha officers started forward, intending to halt the 'farce'.
Rumble—
The ground shook violently. From behind Nawaki, a colossal tree trunk surged skyward, spiraling into the heavens. More trunks followed, weaving together, twisting as if alive.
Within breaths, two massive faces emerged from the wood, carved in natural relief: the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju, and the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju. Each statue towered twenty meters high, gazing down upon the camp.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
These were the men who had built Konoha's legend. And now their likenesses loomed above them, wrought by Wood Release.
A terrifying truth sank in.
Wood Release… had returned to the world.
For generations, the Senju had borne their oppression in silence, shouldering the village's burdens while their strength dwindled. Many outside clans had relied on their protection—yet looked down upon them. That illusion of superiority cracked in an instant.
None present could claim the right to judge the Senju patriarch. Not now.
The camp fell silent once more.
Nawaki raised an arm, pointing at the wooden effigies of his ancestors.
"Konoha," he said, voice deepening, "was forged by our ancestors—by their blood, their sweat, and their lives. This is Konoha. Recognized by every hidden village and nation across the shinobi world."
"But today, Konoha is no longer a place where we can survive."
His words struck like hammer blows.
"Shameless usurpers stole our achievements and crowned themselves rulers. They rode upon our shoulders, claimed credit for our sacrifices, trampled our dignity. They turned the greatest clan in the world into disposable soldiers and obedient servants."
"Since the death of Senju Tobirama, our Second Hokage, the Senju clan has withered under suppression."
"Once we held a third of Konoha's land, a third of its shops, and commanded the largest fighting force. Now? Look around you. Our lands stolen, our shops seized, our numbers decimated. The people standing here… they are all that remains of our proud line."
Nawaki's voice rose, raw and harsh.
"We defended the Land of Fire with our lives, shed blood for Konoha's glory, yet their laughter mocked us. They grew drunk on power, parading strength in the name of the village, while whispering that the Senju had lost all pride."
"Every one of you here has been crushed by that suppression. You took on the hardest, dirtiest, deadliest missions—yet your pay cannot even feed your families. This was not negligence. It was designed. They wanted us broken."
"Our elders, our women, our children—all left uncared for within the village walls. They tried to snuff out our bloodline again and again, sending assassins after me, the last heir."
"But today I stand before you. Alive. And so does the Senju clan."
The Senju shinobi trembled. Faces twisted with grief, rage, and vindication.
"We raised our voices in protest, again and again. Our anger was ignored. Our grievances met only with more chains, bound by Tobirama's orders from beyond the grave."
"And what of Sarutobi Hiruzen? What of Koharu, Homura, Danzō—those who clung to the Hokage's shadow? Even the death of Tobirama himself reeks of doubt. He wielded the Flying Thunder God—yet killed, leaving them as his successors. Who truly profited?"
Nawaki's glare burned toward the Konoha officers.
"As head of the Senju clan, I say this: we do not recognize Sarutobi Hiruzen as the Third Hokage."
"The Senju clan abolishes Tobirama's order."
"From this moment, the Senju clan rises once more to stand tall in the ninja world. Our new path begins now. Together, we march to my fief—the Castle of Wood."
With those words, Nawaki reached up and tore the necklace from his throat. He crushed it in his palm.
The fragments shimmered, and from them emerged a flickering chakra shade—the spectral image of Hashirama Senju.
Gasps erupted.
Even Nawaki was startled. He had not known the necklace contained such power—Hashirama's lingering chakra, bound within, capable of manifesting his shadow.
Fragments of memory surged in Nawaki's mind. This was the fabled Necklace of Misfortune, able to resonate with Wood Release chakra. In another world, its fate had been different: it would leave his possession, reach Tsunade's lover Kato Dan, then later pass to Uzumaki Naruto. In Naruto's hands, it had once shielded him against Pain, preventing the Nine-Tails from being stolen.
If the necklace contained awareness, shaped by Ashura's will, then surely Hashirama's spirit should oppose Nawaki's rebellion. Shouldn't it try to stop him?
Confusion flickered across Nawaki's face.
"Why…" he whispered. "Why save Naruto… but not me?"
But the doubt lasted only an instant. His will hardened. Whatever shade lingered in this relic—be it Hashirama or Ashura—it would not turn him from his path.
Before Nawaki could act further, Senju Dōma moved.
A cold light flashed in his eyes. He would allow no interference—not even from their ancestors.
His chakra erupted like a storm, pressing on every shinobi's chest, suffocating the air itself. The spectral form of Hashirama wavered, flickering.
Crack—
Behind him, the massive wooden statues of Hashirama and Tobirama splintered, shattering apart. At the same moment, the chakra phantom of Hashirama dissolved into mist.
The camp fell into stunned silence.
What did it mean? Why had Hashirama's shadow appeared—and why had Dōma destroyed it without a word?
None dared to ask.
Panting, Dōma roared, voice booming across the camp.
"Follow the orders of the master!"
His words were iron. His conviction was absolute.
For the Senju, the past was gone. Hashirama and Tobirama were dead men—ghosts whose legacy had brought the clan to ruin.
Their future lay only in Nawaki.
"Follow the master's orders!"
The Senju clan answered in a thunderous chorus.
Their voices were raw, filled with hope, with pride. For the first time in decades, they spoke as people who would no longer bow.
"Come with me," Nawaki commanded. His hands flashed into seals. "We will build a new home."
Chakra roared through him.
Rumble—
The ground cracked open. Roots burst upward, twisting and braiding into a great road that led beyond the camp. Pebbles danced as the earth itself reshaped under his will.
The Senju's path. A road to their new world.
Nawaki exhaled slowly, relief flickering across his face. He cast one last look back at Tsunade—his sister, his blood.
Then he turned away.
Dōma fell beside him, his presence like a shield. One by one, the Senju clan members stepped forward, joining the flow. Their numbers gathered, swelling into a torrent, a river of shinobi surging down the wooden road.
Hatake Sakumo stood frozen, his throat tight, his hands trembling. He wanted to speak, to cry out, to stop them—but no words came.
Instead, an old memory surfaced.
He had been a boy, barely old enough to hold a blade, when Uchiha Madara had left Konoha. That day, not one Uchiha had walked behind him. The clan had stayed. They believed in the village, tired of war, desperate for peace.
But now—
Now he was witnessing the same scene, mirrored in another clan.
And this time, the result was the opposite.
The Senju clan… was leaving Konoha.