Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki, the one later known as the Sage of Six Paths, was not born into an ordinary world; he was born into a cage made of divine fear.

His mother, Kaguya Ōtsutsuki, was the first being to wield chakra on Earth.

She had come from beyond the stars, an emissary of her own people, tasked with planting the seed of the God Tree, an organism designed to drain a planet of its natural energy and convert it into a chakra fruit.

When that fruit ripened, one of the pair that planted it would be sacrificed to feed it, and the survivor would harvest it, gaining godlike power to return to the Ōtsutsuki homeworld.

But Kaguya did something none of her kind ever had; she betrayed the system.

Rather than serving her clan’s cycle of consumption, she ate the chakra fruit herself.

Overnight, she became something beyond mortal or alien, a living convergence of chakra and nature’s will, an unbalanced god.

Her purpose shifted from service to control.

She looked upon humanity and saw only chaos, violence, and waste.

And so, she “saved” them by subjugating them.

With the power of the Ten Tails, the monstrous living core of the God Tree, she brought every nation, every tribe, and every living thing to heel.

The people came to call her the Rabbit Goddess, worshipping her as both savior and tyrant.

Yet in truth, her power was never peace; it was fear disguised as order.

It was in this world of enforced stillness that Hagoromo and his twin brother, Hamura, were born, children of both human and Ōtsutsuki blood.

They inherited their mother’s godlike potential, but also the natural soul of the planet beneath her.

That contradiction made them unique: beings who could sense both the divine and the mortal, both nature and chakra.

From birth, they were watched by Kaguya’s eyes, the Byakugan, which saw all, and the Rinne Sharingan, which bent reality.

She raised them under her rule, believing she could shape them into loyal successors. But as they grew, so did their awareness.

It was then that Gamamaru, still young and half the size of the mountain he would one day live upon, reached out to them.

Through dreams, whispers, and subtle manipulation of natural energy, he showed them the truth, that their mother’s rule had enslaved humanity, and that her power came from a stolen fruit meant to devour this world’s life.

It was Gamamaru who taught Hagoromo the difference between chakra and natural energy, that the first was an artificial system born from the God Tree’s corruption, and the second was the world’s own essence.

He helped Hagoromo awaken Sage Mode not by giving him his power, but by teaching him how to reconnect with what was already within his blood.

When Kaguya finally lost control, consumed by her own paranoia and fear of rebellion, she merged with the God Tree itself, becoming the Ten Tails incarnate.

The brothers, guided by Gamamaru’s foresight, fought her with everything they had.

It was the first true war between gods and men.

They eventually succeeded.

The Ten Tails’ body was later sealed into the moon, while Hagoromo split its chakra into nine separate entities, the tailed beasts, to prevent it from reforming.

Hagoromo later traveled the world, preaching peace and understanding, founding what would later be called ninshū, the precursor to all modern ninjutsu.

He became legend, then myth, then religion.

The Sage of Six Paths.

But long before his death, he knew it wouldn’t last.

He saw how humans twisted connection into competition, and ninshū into ninjutsu.

He knew his sons, Ashura and Indra, would one day divide the world’s future again, their conflict a reflection of the same fracture that once consumed his mother.

And so, he left his spirit tethered to the world, unable to rest, bound to purgatory, the space between the living world and the Pure Land.

There, he could still observe, still guide, still watch the endless chain of reincarnation play out again and again.

Now, centuries later, that same soul reached across dimensions to meet Gamamaru once more.

The one who once carried his mother’s burden and humanity’s hope… was about to discuss the one anomaly even he couldn’t predict.

Actually, chakra itself existed long before Hagoromo; every living thing already carried it, to a varying extent.

It was the essence that flowed through all life, linking the physical and spiritual.

But no one had ever known how to mold or control it.

Hagoromo was simply the first to teach humanity how to use what was already inside them.

He could do it because he was born with far more chakra than any other being, a natural result of his mother’s blood.

The Ōtsutsuki clan were also an ancient race who had long mastered the art of wielding chakra, shaping it like second nature.

Hagoromo simply passed that knowledge down — but the question was, why?

Could he really not have seen what would happen?

How his “ninshū,” meant to unite humanity, would be twisted into “ninjutsu,” a tool for war?

He could.

His foresight was sharp enough to glimpse the truth of that outcome.

So why did he still do it?

Why hand humanity the very weapon that would cause a thousand years of conflict?

Because he believed in Gamamaru’s vision.

He had seen fragments of the same future, a path where the world’s endless wars would still somehow lead to the best possible outcome.

The road would be drenched in blood, but at its end lay a faint, fragile hope.

A hope that one day, this chaotic species might still save the planet from what was coming — the inevitable return of the Ōtsutsuki.

Could Hagoromo have controlled his sons better, prevented the centuries of reincarnated hatred that followed?

Probably.

But he didn’t.

Because everything that happened afterward — all the wars, all the reincarnations, all the tragedies — was, in truth, part of their design.

This entire world’s history was nothing but a play.

A long, continuous theater orchestrated by two beings — one half-human ghost, and one ancient frog — both desperately guiding the same story toward its best possible ending.

A world built on pain, in the hope that one day, all that pain might finally pay off.

Gamamaru had no intention of ever sharing the world’s natural energy with the Ōtsutsuki.

To him, that was the ultimate betrayal, giving the planet’s lifeblood back to its invaders.

Hagoromo, on the other hand, had his own reason for concern.

If the balance collapsed again, if another divine presence interfered, even his own semi-divine state could fade.

Neither of them wanted to risk that.

So, for once, the old toad and the old ghost were perfectly aligned.

They spoke across the thin veil that separated their realms, voices echoing faintly through the folds of natural energy.

The chamber in Mount Myōboku rippled with pale light, as if the air itself bent under the weight of their conversation.

“Then it’s confirmed,” Hagoromo said slowly. “He’s the cause?”

Gamamaru’s throat rumbled, a low, ancient sound. “Yes. Since the last time we spoke — about a year and a half ago — the pattern’s only worsened. The ripples have grown stronger. The boy’s influence spreads wider every day, so it became undeniable to me. Ryusei Nishida… the last Senju heir of yours. He is not of this world, yet the world accepts him.”

The ghostly sage’s eyes narrowed. “You mean to say… he’s an anomaly even nature itself doesn’t reject?”

“Exactly,” Gamamaru replied. “It does not reject him — but neither can it read him. His presence blinds all futures tied to him. Even those who meet him begin to distort in ways that no longer align with what I can foresee. It’s like throwing a stone into still water and finding the ripples don’t fade — they multiply.”

Hagoromo fell silent for a moment, his form flickering faintly like mist. “And the others?”

“The second one,” Gamamaru said, his tone heavier, “is Orochimaru.”

The name hung in the air.

“Yes,” Gamamaru continued, “he too has changed. Perhaps not by choice, but by contact. The boy influenced him. Awakened something that was already buried deep. Now, even he exists outside my complete vision. His path is his own — and that makes him dangerous.”

The old toad’s eyes half-closed, a rare flash of irritation passing through them. “And, of course, the White Snake Sage had to be involved. She always meddles where she shouldn’t.”

Hagoromo nodded grimly. “She chose him, didn’t she? The moment she saw him.”

“She did,” Gamamaru confirmed. “And it wasn’t random. Unlike me, who sees through time, she sees through essence — through what something could become. Not what it will. She sees evolution. And the only kind of being who shines to her eyes is one that can defy fate itself.”

“Orochimaru…” Hagoromo murmured. “So she chose him long before he became this. Before the wars. Before the experiments.”

“Exactly. Perhaps from the very beginning,” Gamamaru said. “And now, with this new one — this Ryusei — influencing him, that potential could explode into something far worse than we can predict. The snakes have already begun to fully support him. Their allegiance to him is clear.”

After all, the toads and the snakes had always been the most antagonistic of the three sage factions, each keeping quiet watch over the other’s movements.

It was how the toads quickly noticed Orochimaru’s growing ties to Ryūchi Cave — his visits had become too frequent.

The toad’s expression hardened, his throat puffing slightly as the ambient natural energy trembled in response. “They think he’s the next stage of nature’s will. I think he’s the next disaster.”

“Then,” Hagoromo said quietly, “he’s our second target.”

Gamamaru gave a slow nod. “He is. Ryusei first, Orochimaru second. If we remove those two variables, the world’s path might still be saved.”

Silence filled the space for a moment — the kind of silence that came only from ancient beings, thinking in centuries instead of seconds.

Then Gamamaru exhaled, his voice low and final.

“Everything else can wait. But those two… if left unchecked, they could rewrite the very flow of destiny itself.”

As for Katsuyu, the Great Slug Sage, being Ryusei’s summon contract and having helped him a few times when it truly mattered before, neither of them spoke of it.

They both understood the reality.

Katsuyu was a recluse, detached from the affairs of the world, and their summoner bond had been a complete accident.

That was all there was to it.

She would never rise to defend him outright.

Too passive, too unconcerned for such grand gestures.

Her loyalty had limits, and playing protector was far beyond them.

Even so, neither Hagoromo nor Gamamaru underestimated her.

What she showed on the surface, the so-called largest form summoned by her contractors, was only a fragment.

The true Katsuyu was far beyond that, a being no mortal could ever summon in full.

To call her true form would be like trying to summon Gamamaru himself.

And they both knew her real body would never leave her sage region to aid the boy.

The concern wasn’t her interference now; it was the fact that when the time came to erase her fully as part of their final plan, decades later, she could still prove to be an obstacle.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep