Life on the moon was disturbingly sterile.
It wasn't just the lack of dirt or the perfectly recirculated air; it was the lack of friction. The Otsutsuki civilization had existed in isolation for so long that they had forgotten the concept of deceit. They were a society of glass houses built by people who had never seen a stone.
Ren Yamanaka—now wearing the pale skin and silk robes of Toneri—walked through the Hall of Ancestors. He moved with the practiced glide of a moon-dweller, his feet hovering millimeters above the floor thanks to a low-level gravity manipulation technique he'd absorbed from the boy's muscle memory. The sensation was strange—like walking on a cushion of solid air—but his body remembered it even if his mind didn't.
The hall stretched before him, a cathedral of pale stone and crystalline pillars that caught the ambient light and scattered it into prismatic rainbows across the floor. Statues of ancient Otsutsuki patriarchs lined the walls, their blank eyes staring into eternity. Each one had been carved from a single piece of lunar marble, their expressions serene, their hands clasped in gestures of meditation or power.
Ren paused before one statue. The plaque read: Hamura Otsutsuki, The First Guardian.
The resemblance to the Hyuga clan was unmistakable. The same delicate features. The same ethereal beauty. But where the Hyuga had developed rigid hierarchies and caged birds, the moon-dwellers had chosen… isolation. Complete withdrawal from the world below.
"Too easy," Ryuichi muttered from his seat at the Council Table in Ren's mind. "I expected traps. Interrogations. These people walk around with their guards down like they're in a nursery."
"They have no predators," the Tactician replied, sorting through the new memories Ren was cataloging. "They are apex by default. Arrogance is their defense."
"It's not arrogance," Isamu corrected, his voice thoughtful. "It's innocence. They genuinely believe no one would ever try to harm them. They've never been invaded. Never been conquered. They don't know how to be afraid."
"Then they'll learn," Ryuichi said coldly.
Ren ignored them. He was focused on survival.
He continued down the hall, passing other moon-dwellers on their daily routines. Some nodded to him—to Toneri—with mild acknowledgment. Others ignored him entirely. The social dynamics here were peculiar. Status was based primarily on one's connection to the Tenseigen, the great chakra vessel that powered their civilization. Those who could commune with it were revered. Those who couldn't were… tolerated.
Toneri, according to his memories, was somewhere in the middle. Talented enough to be noticed. Not talented enough to be important.
Perfect, Ren thought. Invisible in plain sight.
He approached a maintenance alcove. A young woman was there, recalibrating a floating puppet sentry. The puppet was a marvel of engineering—a humanoid construct of white metal and blue energy, hovering silently as she adjusted its internal mechanisms with delicate fingers. She had hair like spun silver that fell past her shoulders in a waterfall of platinum, and eyes that were pale lavender pools—deeper and more violet than the typical Otsutsuki shade. Her name was Shane.
In Toneri's original memories, Shane was a distant crush. A warm spot in a cold life. The boy had never spoken more than a few words to her at a time, always tongue-tied, always awkward. But he had watched her from afar with the longing of youth, cataloging her habits, memorizing her schedule.
Useful information, Ren noted. The boy was observant, at least.
"Toneri-kun," Shane said, turning. She didn't bow; Otsutsuki social cues were subtle, conveyed by telepathic resonance that Ren could feel like a faint pressure against his consciousness. It was a greeting, an acknowledgment of equality—neither superior nor inferior. "You're late for the shift change."
Ren adjusted his expression. He softened his eyes. He accessed the Diplomat persona.
"The ventilation filters in Sector 4 were clogged," Ren lied smoothly. "Space dust. Took longer than expected."
"Again?" Shane sighed, wiping oil from her hands on a silk rag. The gesture was surprisingly human—practical, unguarded. So different from the formal rigidity Ren had observed in the higher-ranking Otsutsuki. "The Commander keeps cutting the maintenance budget. He says the Giant Tenseigen needs more energy, so we have to scrimp on life support."
"Commander Zishou," Ren noted, searching the boy's database. Zishou. High-ranking zealot. Suspicious of the Earth surveillance team. Believes in the "purification" of the lower world. "He is… focused."
"He's shifty," Shane corrected, leaning against the workbench. Her silhouette was graceful, accentuated by the thin gravity. The low-G environment made every movement fluid, almost dance-like. Ren noticed the curve of her hip, the line of her neck, the way her hair floated slightly in the reduced gravity like she was underwater. For a moment, the hunger flared—not to eat, but to… connect?
No. That was Toneri's echo.
The boy's feelings were bleeding through. Ren felt a ghost of warmth in his chest, an ache that didn't belong to him. He cataloged it, examined it, and filed it away for later analysis.
"Focused on his own ambition, perhaps," Ren said carefully. "How are your studies? The puppetry logic circuits?"
Shane groaned, rolling her eyes in a gesture that was remarkably universal across species. "Disgusting. It's just math. Endless calculations about energy distribution and autonomous decision trees. I prefer the energy weaves—the artistry of shaping raw chakra. But the stipend barely covers the crystals needed for practice. If I don't pass the next evaluation, I'll be demoted to Agricultural duty. Growing moss."
"Moss?" Ren raised an eyebrow.
"Protein moss. It's what they make the nutrient paste from." Shane made a face. "Spending my days in a cave, tending fungus that tastes like regret. It's every girl's dream."
"Finances are tight for everyone," Ren empathized. He remembered asking about his pay earlier—or rather, the boy asking, in the days before Ren's arrival. The Otsutsuki economy was based on chakra-credits, energy units that could be exchanged for goods, services, and cultivation resources. It was elegant in its simplicity. And completely vulnerable to manipulation by anyone who controlled the Tenseigen. "Maybe… I can help you with the logic circuits. I've been reading."
Shane looked at him, her pale eyes widening with genuine surprise. "Since when do you read, Toneri? Last week you said books were for people who couldn't fly."
"I… had a change of perspective," Ren smiled. It was a practiced, charming smile that didn't reach his cold eyes—but Shane didn't seem to notice. She saw what she expected to see: her awkward colleague, trying too hard to be cool. "Maybe I'm growing up."
Shane laughed. It was a bell-like sound in the silent hall, echoing off the crystal walls. "Well, don't grow up too fast. You might become boring like Zishou."
She picked up her tools, tucking them into a leather satchel that looked handmade. "See you at the meal hall? They're serving nutrient paste again. Flavor: Disappointment."
"I'll be there," Ren said.
She floated away, her silver hair trailing behind her like a comet's tail.
Ren watched her go.
Analysis:Isamu: She is a low-level threat. But high intelligence potential. Her dissatisfaction with the system could be exploited. Goro: She's nice. Don't eat her yet. Tactician: Noted. She could be a useful ally—or a useful pawn. Her technical skills might prove valuable. Ren: She is cover. Normalcy is the best camouflage. As long as I maintain this identity, I need to maintain these relationships.
He filed away the interaction and continued on his route.
—————
The Library of Light
The next day was a retrieval mission. Not for intel on enemies, but for power.
Ren needed to re-learn. His new body had immense potential—Otsutsuki DNA was basically solid chakra fuel—but his pathways were untrained. The muscle memory was there, the instincts were there, but the techniques he had spent years mastering on Earth didn't translate directly. He needed to adapt his Earth-based jutsu to this alien physiology.
He went to the Archive of the Moon.
It was a soaring tower of crystal shelves containing scroll-tablets that dated back to Hamura himself. The architecture was breathtaking—spiraling ramps of translucent stone that wound upward into darkness, shelves of glowing data-crystals that pulsed with stored knowledge, floating platforms that carried scholars to the upper levels where the most sensitive information was kept.
The air smelled of ozone and age—an indefinable mustiness that spoke of centuries of accumulated wisdom. Ren breathed it in and felt something stir in his chest. Knowledge. Power. The building blocks of divinity.
At the reception desk sat Dhila, an elderly Otsutsuki with skin like wrinkled parchment and eyes that had seen millennia. She was dozing, her chin resting on her chest, a half-finished cup of herbal tea cooling beside her.
"Excuse me," Ren said softly.
Dhila snapped awake, her hand instinctively reaching for a gnarled staff that leaned against her chair. "Yes? Who? Oh, Toneri." She relaxed, recognition replacing alarm. "Broke another puppet?"
"No, Elder. I need… texts. On Chakra Control theory. Specifically regarding density compression."
Dhila blinked, her ancient eyes sharpening with interest. "Density compression? That's Jonin-level theory. Advanced manipulation techniques. Are you planning to build a star?"
"Just expanding my horizons," Ren said innocently, keeping his expression open and earnest. "The evaluation is coming up. I thought if I understood the theory better, I might improve my practical scores."
Dhila nodded slowly. The excuse was plausible. Everyone was worried about the evaluations.
"And perhaps…" Ren added, almost as an afterthought, "the history of the Tenseigen vessel? I've always been curious about our heritage."
Dhila's eyes narrowed slightly, the wrinkles around them deepening. "The Tenseigen archives are restricted to the Guardians. Only those who have passed the Awakening may access that knowledge."
"Of course," Ren nodded, backing down instantly. He showed no disappointment, no frustration. Just mild acceptance. "My mistake. I should have known. Just the chakra theory then."
Dhila relaxed, her suspicion fading as quickly as it had appeared. "Young ambition. Rare these days. Most of your generation are content to coast on their ancestors' glory." She gestured with a withered hand, and a glowing tablet floated from a high shelf into Ren's grasp. The crystal was warm against his skin, humming with stored energy. "Return it within three cycles. And don't spill anything on it. The last boy who brought back a tea-stained tablet spent six months cleaning the lower archives."
"Thank you, Elder."
Ren bowed—a shallow bow, appropriate for the status difference—and retreated to a secluded reading niche. The alcove was carved into the wall, furnished with a floating cushion and a small desk of polished stone. Privacy shields activated automatically as he sat, muffling sound and blocking casual observation.
He opened the tablet.
He didn't read it with his eyes. He read it with his mind. The Council descended on the data like hungry piranhas.
Tactician: Logic structures identified. The Otsutsuki process chakra differently than Earth-born shinobi. They don't mold it externally; they resonate with it internally. It's less about shaping and more about harmonizing. Puppeteer: Look at these schematics! The puppets aren't powered by chakra threads like Suna techniques; they're powered by autonomous cores—miniature Tenseigen reactors that draw ambient energy. I can upgrade the Phantom Blade! Imagine—puppets that never run out of power! Medic: This anatomy section… fascinating. If we open the third chakra gate in this body, we won't suffer the usual recoil. The cellular density is ten times that of a human. The bone structure can withstand pressures that would pulverize an Earthling. Isamu: And here—their history. Hamura didn't just seal himself here. He was preparing for something. A final contingency. Look at these notes about the "Cleansing Light."
Ren absorbed the information, his Memory Palace expanding to accommodate the flood of new data. He built new wings, new libraries within his mind. Otsutsuki Chakra Theory. Lunar Engineering. Tenseigen Mechanics (theoretical). Celestial Combat Forms.
He spent six hours downloading centuries of alien ninjutsu theory into his consciousness.
By evening, he knew how to move planets. Theoretically.
The practical application would require more training. But the foundation was laid.
—————
The Training of a God-In-Training
That night, Ren retreated to a deserted training cavern on the periphery of the city.
It was a forgotten space—an old mining shaft that had been abandoned when the vein of chakra-reactive crystal ran dry. The walls were rough, unpolished, scarred with the marks of ancient tools. Dust covered everything. No one came here anymore.
It was perfect.
Ren sat cross-legged, floating two feet off the ground. The gravity manipulation came naturally now, as easy as breathing. He felt the pull of the moon beneath him, the emptiness of space above. He was balanced between two voids.
"Let's see what this body can do," he whispered.
He closed his eyes.
He summoned his chakra. In his old body, it felt like pulling water from a deep well—a controlled, measured process that required focus and discipline. In this body, it felt like opening a floodgate. The chakra roared through his veins, hot and potent, a river of liquid fire that threatened to overwhelm his control.
He gritted his teeth and forced it back, shaping it, constraining it.
First:Re-mapping. He drilled the basic leaf-sticking exercise, but using lunar dust. He reached out with his will, and a cloud of gray dust rose from the cavern floor. He swirled it around him, forming perfect geometric shapes—spheres, cubes, pyramids. The dust obeyed his command with precision that would have been impossible in his old body.
Tactician: Control is enhanced. The Otsutsuki nervous system processes chakra commands faster than a human's. Reaction time is approximately three times faster.
Second:Integration. He attempted to use Wood Style. The memory of forming hand seals, of channeling earth and water chakra in perfect harmony—it was still there, etched into his consciousness. He reached for it.
A small sapling sprouted from his palm.
But it wasn't brown or green. It was white.
Ren stared at it. The leaves were pale as snow, the bark like polished bone. It was beautiful in an eerie, otherworldly way.
Ren: It's white? Medic: The chakra here lacks Earth-based nutrients. No soil, no sunlight, no water cycle. It's pure spiritual energy, uncontaminated by physical matter. The Wood Release is mutating into something… celestial. Lunar Wood Release? Goro: Pretty… Tactician: Interesting. This suggests that all Earth-based techniques may manifest differently in this body. We should catalog each one systematically.
Ren dismissed the sapling and moved on.
Third:The Eye. He focused on his eyes. He had been keeping the Byakugan dormant to conserve energy and avoid detection—the distinctive veins around an active Byakugan were a dead giveaway. But here, alone, he could afford to test it.
He flared the technique.
The veins around his temples didn't bulge. In this body, the activation was seamless, invisible. The vision just… expanded. Three hundred and sixty degrees of perfect clarity. He saw through the rock of the moon, layer by layer, down to the core where the great Tenseigen pulsed like a second heart. He looked up, through the artificial atmosphere, through the void of space.
He saw the Earth hanging in the sky, blue and fragile. A marble of life suspended in infinite darkness.
"I can see Konoha," Ren whispered. "I can see my empty chair."
For a moment, he felt a strange pang. Nostalgia? Longing? It passed quickly.
Fourth:Speed. He practiced his Flying Thunder God. The technique required precise chakra control and absolute spatial awareness—both of which were enhanced in this body. He placed markers on distant rocks, little seals of compressed intent, and then—
He teleported.
Rock to rock to rock. A blur of motion that left afterimages in the dust-choked air. The speed was blinding, faster than he had ever achieved before. And there was no nausea, no disorientation. This body didn't suffer from teleportation sickness. The cellular structure was simply too resilient.
Inside the Vault, the Council was cheering.
Ryuichi: This speed! It rivals Minato at his prime! Goro: The durability! You could tank a Rasengan with your bare skin! Isamu: And nobody suspects a thing. We are invisible. A wolf wearing the sheep's wool, sleeping in the shepherd's tent. Tactician: Current estimate: within one month, we will return to Kage-level combat capability. Within one year, assuming access to additional resources… we will surpass Hashirama Senju.
Ren landed on a final outcropping, sweating lightly. He clenched his fist, and the air crackled with purple lightning—his signature technique, adapted and transformed. The electricity danced between his fingers, brighter and more potent than it had ever been on Earth.
He was recovering fast.
He looked up at the distant blue marble and smiled.
—————
Homecoming
Ren walked back to his quarters, passing the windows that looked out into the eternal void. The stars were clearer here than they had ever been on Earth—no atmosphere to blur them, no clouds to obscure. Just infinite points of light against infinite darkness.
He felt the family he had eaten settling into their new home. They were happy, he realized. Genuinely happy. The constant fear that had haunted them on Earth—fear of war, fear of discovery, fear of death—had faded in this sterile paradise. They felt safe here, far away from the conflicts and the dirt of the lower world.
Goro: The little ones like the low gravity. They're playing tag in the Memory Palace. Bouncing off the walls. Medic: The elders are cataloging the new medical knowledge. They're fascinated by Otsutsuki biology. Ryuichi: And I've already started designing new battle strategies based on our enhanced capabilities.
Ren smiled.
"Thank you, Toneri," he whispered to the ghost in the cage deep in his mind. The boy was there still—a faint presence, a echo of terror and confusion. He had been pushed down, compressed, reduced to a whisper in the dark. But he wasn't gone. Ren never truly destroyed what he consumed. He collected. He preserved.
"You have given us a very nice house."
He entered his quarters—a small but comfortable space with a floating bed, a meditation corner, and a window that looked out on the Earth. He lay down, feeling the mattress conform to his body, and closed his eyes.
He dreamed not of sheep, but of the great Tenseigen that beat at the heart of this lunar kingdom. He dreamed of its power, its light, its potential. He dreamed of wrapping his fingers around it and claiming it for his own.
And somewhere in the depths of his mind, the Council dreamed with him—a thousand souls united in a single purpose, waiting for the moment when they would steal the sun that powered this underworld.
End of Chapter 30.