Chapter 9: Glory's Shadow
Konoha had been established for over fifty-four years.
The Uchiha, Hyūga, Sarutobi, the Ino-Shika-Chō... many clans with secret jutsu were still active in the village, maintaining their traditions and their pride. Only the Senju clan was a memory. The world at large only knew that Tsunade was still wandering somewhere.
The Senju had not been destroyed. Rather, under the will of the First Hokage, Senju Hashirama, they had chosen to dissolve themselves.
Senju Tōka still remembered that moonless night. The air was so heavy it felt like it could be wrung out for blood. The candlelight cast huge, swaying shadows behind the two brothers, making the entire room feel like a haunted place.
Hashirama-sama sat in the head seat. His usual warm, welcoming aura was gone, replaced by a suffocating silence.
His body still seemed to carry the unwashed stench of smoke and dust from the battlefield, and something deeper—a thick, indelible weariness and sorrow that seeped from his very soul. Tōka knew what it was. Not long ago, he had, with his own hands, ended the life of his lifelong entanglement, the man who was both his greatest friend and bitterest rival: Uchiha Madara.
That battle had not only ended Madara, but it also seemed to have ripped away a part of Hashirama-sama's own life force.
Tobirama-sama stood to the side. His silver-white hair had the glint of cold iron in the dim light, and his red eyes were sharp as blades, sweeping over every Senju elder present, including Tōka herself. The night wind slipped through the cracks in the door, making the candle flames jump and struggle. The shifting light and shadows mirrored the unease in everyone's hearts.
"After Anija, I will take the role of Hokage." Senju Tobirama's voice, as cold and calm as ever, broke the dead silence. "Madara is dead. There is no other choice. But the hidden danger remains."
His gaze swept over them, landing on Hashirama with a flicker of indiscernible worry, before turning back to the elders. His tone became even more severe. "A Konoha where the Hokage title is held consecutively by the Senju, and where the Senju clan itself remains massive—in the eyes of the other clans, what essential difference is there between that and the old 'Senju domain'? They will only see Konoha as 'the Senju's village'! That suspicion... it will wrap around Konoha's foundations like a poison vine, robbing the other clans of the will to fight for a shared future."
The candle flame suddenly sputtered, casting Hashirama's profile in and out of darkness.
He slowly raised his head. His eyes, once as vibrant as a living forest, now looked as if they had endured a devastating wildfire, leaving only ash and a bottomless fatigue.
He spoke, his voice hoarse and low, every word seeming to carry the pain of an unhealed wound. "Tobirama... is right."
His gaze was unfocused, as if piercing the wall to see Madara's final look as he fell. "I killed Madara... for the village. When ideals clash... no matter how deep the bond, no matter how great the power... the only end... is destruction."
His voice was filled with the immense, crushing pain of having strangled his closest friend. But that very pain had forged within him an unprecedented, unbending resolve.
"We built this village," Hashirama's gaze finally focused, sweeping over every person in the room, "to end the ceaseless slaughter between clans! So that our children would no longer have to struggle through a mountain of corpses as we did! This village... it must transcend any one clan or name. It must be a place that carries everyone's dream. A village that truly belongs to all of us! This is the best path... the only path... I could find."
He took a deep breath, his voice becoming iron. "For the purity of this village... so it is not seen as Senju property... to eliminate the root of suspicion and let all clans truly see this as their home, not just a place they are lodging..."
Senju Hashirama's gaze landed on Tōka. "For the village—friends, brothers... even my own flesh and blood... if it threatens the village's future... it can all be cast aside."
A torrent of shock, sorrow, and bone-chilling cold washed over Tōka. As Hashirama spoke, an almost physical tide of power radiated from him. It wasn't an attack, but a silent declaration of absolute power and absolute will.
Tōka felt it clearly. Before this power, anyone in the room, even all of them combined, was an ant trying to shake a mountain. The very thought of resistance was crushed by that formless might and the iron-cold resolve in his words—a resolve bought at the price of his best friend's life.
Hashirama-sama... was serious. He had decided the hidden village system was the future, and he would pay any price for it, including the name and glory of the Senju clan.
"Therefore, we have decided to disband the clan," Tobirama continued at the perfect moment. "This generation may keep the name. But the next... including my brother's children and my own bloodline, will no longer carry the Senju name."
He took a thick scroll from his sleeve and slowly unrolled it.
"Those who choose to leave the clan and change their surname will receive compensation from the clan's assets." Tobirama clearly listed the terms. "Money, secret jutsu scrolls, land, shinobi tools... all will be distributed according to these specifics. It is enough to guarantee any member resources and freedom for personal development far beyond what they could have imagined by remaining with the clan."
The candlelight wavered, illuminating the complex expressions on the elders' faces.
After the initial shock and anger, a subtle calculation began to take root. Lose the name "Senju"? It was heartbreaking. But... Hashirama-sama's words were terrifying.
And that list of compensation was staggeringly generous.
Many secret jutsu and great wealth, which normally required risking life and limb for the clan, were now theirs for the taking.
Hashirama-sama and Tobirama-sama would be the first and second Hokage. This meant Senju influence would remain, and no one would dare bully a clan member who had changed their name.
With their high-level leadership in agreement, and no one with the influence to lead a rebellion, the choice was clear. Faced with immense personal gain, the protection of the future Hokage, and Hashirama's iron-clad, blood-forged conviction... the will to resist melted away like ice in the sun.
Some of the younger members, Tōka noted, even had a look of yearning—a desire to be free of the ancient clan's shackles and to start a new life.
Tōka looked at the two brothers. The hoot of an owl outside the window sounded like a funeral dirge for the Senju clan.
They had chosen the "Hidden Village," the vessel for the future, over the "Shinobi Clan," the glory of the past.
To eliminate the suspicion of a "Senju Konoha," to buy the true loyalty of the other clans, and to allow the ideal of the village to truly take root... they were, with their own hands, tearing down the banner that had been raised with so much blood and honor.
Finally, Tōka bowed her head deeply. Resistance was pointless, and it wasn't wise.
In the age of the hidden village, the meaning of a "clan" had already changed. Without the constant, external pressure to survive, perhaps the common clan members would find more freedom by leaving the Senju name. Hashirama-sama believed this was a better system. He had even killed Madara for it.
They wouldn't be in danger—the Hokage was Senju Hashirama, and the next would be Senju Tobirama. They would gain scrolls and wealth that would otherwise cost them their blood. From an individual's perspective, this was... an easier, richer path. It was Hashirama-sama's way of having them assimilate into the greater family of the "Village."
And so, the once-glorious Senju clan, like a receding tide, dissolved silently into the streets and alleys of Konoha.
Some chose new surnames, scattering like seeds throughout the village. Others stubbornly held to their pride, neither changing their name nor leaving the old ways. Tōka was one of the latter. So were Shūji's ancestors, and his parents.
They were as inconspicuous as those who had changed their names, as Konoha had many people with no clan name. Because of this, the Senju brothers permitted it, leaving the old Senju estate to these last few guardians as a small comfort for the past.
Now, only Tōka and Shūji lived in the old estate. After the first generation passed, most of their descendants had moved into the ninja apartments assigned by the village or bought new homes in the bustling center. Only during festivals did a few return, to briefly recall their past glory, discuss village matters, and exchange information.
Shūji's father had grown up on the Senju stories and had stayed in the old estate after starting his family. After his parents were both killed in action, Tōka had taken in the nine-year-old Shūji, watched him graduate the Academy at eleven, and at fourteen, be pulled back from the brink of death on the Kumo battlefield by the Hashirama Cells.
Staring at the profile of Tōka, lost in her distant, heavy memories, Shūji sat quietly beside her. Only when the old woman finally pulled herself from that complex past and signaled for him to leave did he quietly excuse himself and return to his room.