Year 60 of the Konoha calendar. Above the firmament, beneath the sea of stars. The Moon.
A paper bird fluttered on light wings, weaving across a vast, desolate landscape painted in gloomy hues.
Following its guidance, Yūshin once again encountered the Ōtsutsuki clansman he'd met before… The one who had previously pointed him toward the notes left by Ōtsutsuki Hamura. While those notes hadn't proven overly useful, the man had genuinely helped him.
So, as repayment, Yūshin had offered him one chance to call for aid.
Nine people stood before Yūshin now. Their leader was the same man, Ōtsutsuki Kokugen… Honestly, Yūshin hadn't remembered his name. He just knew they were all descendants of Ōtsutsuki Nagatsuki.
The Lunar War was about to erupt. Yūshin decided to evacuate them. It made sense. They wouldn't have called an outsider for help unless absolutely desperate.
The descendants of Ōtsutsuki Hamura were split into the Main and Branch Families. The reason for their war was simple: one faction advocated for maintaining the status quo, the other for eradicating the Shinobi World created by the Sage of Six Paths.
The tipping point was the theft of the Gedo Statue sealed on the Moon years ago. The Branch Family could no longer suppress their resentment. They saw the Shinobi World left by the Sage as worthless, beyond saving—it was time for "cleansing."
Only by destroying the old world could a new one be reborn.
Frankly, Yūshin thought the Lunar War was inevitable. Not because he agreed with either side, but based on simple pathology. Two groups, cooped up on a barren moon for a thousand years, clinging to a vague, crumbling mission? Their entire world was stagnant. Of course they'd go insane.
And now, their mission had half-failed. Their spiritual pillar had crumbled. What was left to do? Unleash hell.
"Everyone's here?" Yūshin asked, his gaze sweeping over the group in the dusty, walled courtyard. Final confirmation.
Nine people. Elderly, infants. Definitely one family.
"They are all here, Lord Yūshin," Kokugen said, his voice weary. "War is unavoidable now. Our faction, the mediators… Both sides tolerated us before. But in extreme times, we become the first target."
"If I hadn't been vigilant, we wouldn't have had the chance to call for you."
His tone held a hint of mockery, a lament for fates beyond individual control.
"Understood. Since this place is a powder keg, let's move."Yūshin got it. "First target" was putting it nicely. Right now, Nagatsuki's descendants were caught between Main and Branch—a perfect sacrificial offering.
Chop off this family's head, hang it on a pole, and the real brawl could begin. No one stays neutral in a war. Everyone suffers.
Kokugen had considered asking Yūshin to stop the war. But…
First, temporary peace wasn't permanent peace. A volcano always erupts eventually. Some conflicts—ethnic, religious—were fundamentally unsolvable.
Second, it was an unreasonable request. Even if Kokugen believed Yūshin was strong, he doubted that strength could halt a war.
In this "era," saving his own family was already immense luck.
The proverb said nothing was worse than a dead heart. Kokugen's face was ashen. His mindset now was probably just: Just end it already.
"Nagatsuki was my dear friend. Her bloodline should continue," Yūshin said, his voice final. "As for the mission Hamura left you… It can end here."
He offered no further explanation. A thousand-year mission meant endless shackles, a perpetual prison. Cutting it loose wasn't a bad thing.
"Lord Yūshin," Kokugen offered a final reminder, perhaps feeling safer now. "If the Main Family wins, it's one thing. They want the status quo. But if the Branch wins… It won't end. Their goal is to destroy the world below."
Yūshin smiled. He wasn't concerned. Because…
"Plenty of shadows want to burn the Shinobi World. One more Branch Family doesn't change much. One less doesn't either. Don't worry about it."
The Shinobi World was a grand stage. Step up if you dare. If the Branch Family wanted to "descend," Yūshin would welcome them.
Only one final boss slot. You all can fight over it.
As they spoke, a thunderous BOOM echoed in the distance. Followed by spreading chaos. Kokugen and his family's faces tensed visibly.
"Looks like chit-chat's over," Yūshin said. "Time for you to go."
His phrasing was a bit ambiguous, but his movements weren't. A simple wave of his hand. A spatial rift tore open before them.
"Hide in this dimension for now. I'll take you to the surface later."
Kokugen was stunned. Last time, Yūshin's space-time ninjutsu wasn't like this… You didn't say! I could've saved more people!
No time for that now. Pushed by his family, he stepped into the rift.
Yūshin sealed the "bag." Done. The lunar war was no longer their concern.
In sheer scale, the Ōtsutsuki civil war was a village brawl. Fewer combatants than a major clan feud from the Warring States era, let alone the thousands-strong melees of a Great Shinobi War.
But the combat level was high. Once it started, it was annihilation. Holding back meant betraying your own side.
So, the moment fighting erupted, the Main Family seized overwhelming advantage. They had the "treasure."
There was a reason they were the "Main." Their blood was closer to the ancestor. They had access to… tools.
They controlled a golden, spherical "orb." At its core rested an ancestral eye. It fired things—sometimes like a "disintegration ray," sometimes like a "positron cannon."
This thing swept across the lunar battleground. The Branch Family's lines crumbled.
But this "traditional weapon," while powerful, held no surprises. The Branch knew about it. They'd prepared a counter.
The Branch retreat seemed chaotic, but it was calculated. They were luring the Main Family toward a specific location.
Inside a hidden structure, Branch members gathered. They had a secret weapon too. But it wasn't finished… stuck at 99%. No satisfying ding of completion.
"Still not ready? We've added the eyes of our fallen, even forcibly reclaimed Main Family eyes!"
"Not enough. Still missing something."
"No time! The Main Family is almost here!"
"A last-minute failure! All for nothing!"
As panic peaked, someone stepped silently toward the weapon.
"Maybe… with me, it'll be enough."
A divine sword's birth often required a blood sacrifice. The man spoke, then threw himself forward.
All his chakra concentrated in his eyes. His body withered like a dried branch, crumbling away. The "fruit"—his eyes—drifted onto the weapon.
Sacrifice made. Completion inched forward.
What else was there? The others followed.
"Everyone… don't forget our mission after victory!"
"Sever the Ōtsutsuki shackles…"
"Destroy the Sage's order…"
"Create a new world!"
The Branch Family enacted a brutal, moth-to-flame ritual. Even knowing these minds were twisted, the sheer sacrifice was both awe-inspiring and deeply chilling.
Once it started, it couldn't stop. The sunk cost was too high. They could only double down.
This wasn't moths flying into a flame. This was moths trying to drown the flame in their own blood.
Finally, as Main Family forces broke through, as the Branch dwindled to a mere dozen… the weapon activated.
A giant Tenseigan.
Its creation required not just this final sacrifice, but centuries of preparation. Generations ago, when the Main/Branch split solidified, Branch ancestors foresaw the conflict. Upon death, they donated their eyes.
Now, countless Byakugan merged. Quantity achieved quality.
This giant Tenseigan was a true world-ending weapon. A sphere, glowing with an ominous violet light—the concentrated chakra of the dead.
It looked like a ball from afar. Don't look closely. Its surface was covered in eyes, giving it a disturbing resemblance to the great Yog-Sothoth.
Only a dozen Branch members remained. But with this weapon, the counterattack began.
The weapons were similar. But the Branch's was designed specifically to counter the Main's. More power. Greater destruction. Wider range. Millennia of donations, a final wave of sacrifice… Only total victory could justify such weight.
So the counterattack became annihilation.
Start to finish, the war lasted a day and a night. The Ōtsutsuki Main Family was wiped from existence.
But the Main's destruction didn't mean the Branch's victory. Wielding such a weapon drained life force. By the time the last Main clansman died, only three Branch members remained standing beside the Tenseigan.
The others had exhausted themselves to death. The last three looked hollow, on the brink.
Then, a spectator who had watched the whole "heavenly war" out of boredom picked up the golden "treasure" and strolled toward the violet orb.
This war seemed significant. But only "seemed." In reality, it was just the self-destruction of a family sealed away for a millennium. Hard to find any real meaning… Like an asylum in a slasher film burning down. For the patients inside, a tragedy.
For everyone else?
The three dying Branch members saw Yūshin's casual approach. In their state, they had no mental capacity to analyze. They only saw an enemy.
What else? Keep firing.
A colossal beam of light swallowed Yūshin whole.
"Directed energy weapon. Extreme output. Technically impressive. But… useless against me."
Yūshin didn't move. Before the light filled his vision, two portals—Yomotsu Hirasaka—opened. One in front, one above.
The world-ending beam hit the coordinate point that was Yūshin… and bent at a perfect right angle. Instead of scouring the moon, it shot upward into the endless void.
The three had willpower. They fired three times before their life force finally gave out. They collapsed, faces etched with bitter resignation.
Now, it seemed Yūshin was the only living thing on the Moon.
He approached the Tenseigan. Even for someone who'd seen it all, the mass of clustered eyes was… unsettling. A bit sanity-draining.
"Such vast chakra… can't let it go to waste."
Using the weapon directly was distasteful. Overkill for most situations. So, Yūshin went with his original plan: composting.
He opened a portal to Kaguya's Core Dimension via Yomotsu Hirasaka and tossed both the golden orb and the violet sphere inside.
A Yūshin clone had been tending things there as a gardener. The clone would handle it. Feed the weapons to the growing Divine Tree. That immense chakra would eventually become… harmless fruit.
Ahem. Disarming weapons to grow melons. Turning swords into plowshares. A true public service.
With the world-ending weapons disposed of, Yūshin clapped his hands. A wide-area Earth Release. He buried all the corpses—Main and Branch alike—together. A new crater rose on the lunar surface.
They had their differences in life. In death, buried together, they could reconcile. All Hamura's descendants. They could rot as one.
A good deed done. As Yūshin prepared to leave, a thought struck him.
"Wait. I think I remember a Branch member born without eyes surviving this war…"
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