In his previous life, Hikaru had once heard that apart from his home country—where political education was mandatory—most nations simply didn't teach such things at all.
Even the so-called Beacon of Freedom followed an elite-rule model. Ordinary people were never taught how power truly worked.
To put it bluntly, political education was a dragon-slaying art—and countries like that preferred to keep the sword out of the people's hands. Elite governance, in essence, was nothing more than a refined form of public ignorance.
Back then, Hikaru hadn't fully believed it.
That was, until he witnessed those red-cap crowds performing their spectacles just before his transmigration. Only then did he truly understand how far stupidity could be cultivated.
And after coming to this world—a world where superhuman power existed—he became even more certain:
If ordinary people in a mundane world weren't taught politics, then people in a world ruled by chakra and bloodlines stood even less of a chance.
Setting a goal—especially one as massive as reviving a clan, or even seizing power—was never something that could be done on impulse.
It required process, planning, and a clear operational doctrine.
That much, Hikaru believed, even an average student from his previous life would understand.
Yet the elder of his own clan—who had controlled the Senju for decades, even as the clan withered to a pitiful state—had reached this point relying on nothing more than passion.
Yes, the Senju were broken. Almost unrecognizable.
But Senju Shōma still held authority, resources, and influence.
And yet, to Hikaru's disbelief, everything the elder had done until now amounted to little more than acting on instinct.
His goals were vague.
His plans were nonexistent.
His actions were reactive, not strategic.
Take Hikaru's entry into ANBU as an example.
On the surface, it was a move closer to the Hokage.
But… then what?
So what if he was close?
So what if secrecy was maintained?
Did the elder seriously expect Hikaru to assassinate Sarutobi Hiruzen?
All ANBU missions revealed were tasks already assigned—fragmented insights into what ANBU was doing, not why.
At first, Hikaru thought the elder was playing a deeper game.
Later, he realized the truth was painfully simple.
Shōma wanted Hikaru in ANBU to observe.
To perform well.
To display what a Senju should look like.
And maybe—just maybe—climb high enough to grasp ANBU itself.
That was it.
No larger framework.
No contingency.
No endgame.
If Hikaru hadn't been "lucky"—or more accurately, hadn't possessed a system—he would have died long ago.
Even becoming a Division Commander had required interest exchanges, political maneuvering, and leverage.
The elder had likely never even considered that.
After all, the Fourth Hokage was in office now. In Shōma's mind, Hikaru's rise must have been Minato's doing.
Even if the Third Hokage still controlled parts of ANBU—so what?
Hikaru didn't correct him.
He never would.
Not when Shōma questioned him that night.
Not now.
Exposing himself as a triple-agent aside, Hikaru also had no intention of letting the elder continue making reckless moves.
Conviction alone did not make correct decisions.
At least, not in Hikaru's eyes.
When Senju Shōma heard Hikaru's words, he froze.
This was the first time Hikaru had ever spoken to him like this.
The respect was still there—but something fundamental had changed.
Shōma didn't interrupt.
He thought.
And the more he thought, the more he realized—
Hikaru was right.
Painfully so.
He truly had no clear vision.
No defined path to restore the Senju.
No plan beyond hatred and vague longing.
Even concepts like "operational doctrine" felt foreign to him.
And worst of all—
When he looked inward, he realized he couldn't see the light either.
"You shouldn't say it like that," Shōma finally said, taking a deep breath.
"At least you're on the right path. You're already a Division Commander. And the Hokage is no longer the Third."
"Elder," Hikaru shook his head gently,
"don't assume too much. You taught me this yourself—a centipede may die, but its body still writhes."
Sarutobi Hiruzen was no dying centipede.
Hikaru stopped there.
Some things didn't need to be said aloud.
Shōma's face darkened—but he nodded.
He understood.
And he understood something else now as well.
Hikaru did care about the Senju.
But he also carried ambition far greater than the clan.
He saw no light in the elder's vision—yet still walked forward.
Which meant only one thing.
Hikaru intended to become his own light.
Shōma exhaled slowly and turned to leave.
He needed to rethink everything.
"Change residences," he said before leaving.
"And from now on, your time won't be your own. I'll assign people to take care of your daily life."
"Daily life?" Hikaru chuckled.
"My habits haven't changed, Elder. I don't keep anything important at home."
"…Do as you wish," Shōma paused.
"But don't forget—we are Senju."
"You are now the clan's focal point. Whatever your personal ambitions may be, you must begin contributing in a way that benefits the family."
"Oh?" Hikaru asked calmly.
"In what way?"
Shōma's voice was low.
"Pass on the Wood Release bloodline."
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