Senba of the Forest

As everyone knew, in the Shinobi World, Genin was a rank with a very flexible standard.

Ninety-nine percent of Genin were cannon fodder at the bottom of the Shinobi World, and Senba was a bona fide Konoha cannon fodder.

"Konoha Great Whirlwind, burn with my youth!"

Amid a pile of shattered buildings, a green Konoha Whirlwind raced in every direction, breaking enormous building fragments into pieces small enough to carry and kicking up clouds of dust.

"Now that's some incredible energy and fighting spirit. Konoha's Rare Beast, huh? I'm jealous!"

Senba, who was working as a laborer, brushed the dust off himself and muttered a complaint. Then he lifted a chunk of wall taller than he was and carried it off into the distance. Countless other people nearby were doing similar work.

It was Konoha Year 51, a year of sorrow.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, the twelve-year-old Senba looked at the grounds ravaged by the Tailed Beast Bomb. He felt no longing for battle, only the lingering terror of having come close to death.

He had taken part in the Third Shinobi War, but only as a member of Konoha's logistics team, transporting supplies. Not everyone could be like Kakashi Hatake and become a Jonin at twelve.

He hadn't even seen the battlefield before the Third Shinobi War ended. Back in Konoha, Senba and his two teammates began their life as Genin, doing jobs like weeding, catching cats, and cleaning up trash.

As a side note, Konoha's cats were weird. They were always getting lost and failing to find their way home.

Life was a little dull, but Senba was content. At least there would be a peaceful stretch from now until the main character of the Naruto story grew up. He could build up his résumé at a leisurely pace and become a Chunin in his twenties. A life with enough to eat and drink sounded pretty good.

Besides, people got revived after they died anyway. He just had to keep his head down and stay alive.

But when the Nine-Tails Fox Demon fired a Tailed Beast Bomb that blasted a street a hundred meters from Senba's home to smithereens, he froze. Only when flying rubble sliced his cheek did he snap out of it.

After carrying his paralyzed neighbor downstairs to the basement, Senba spent the night on edge as the old man prayed to the Sage of Six Paths.

This damned world really did have an unbelievable enthusiasm for mushroom clouds.

Once the dust had settled, Senba and the other Genin were gathered together and assigned to clear away the debris.

Near the end of his shift, Senba stuffed a few rice balls into his pocket and hurried home.

"Grandpa, I'm back. Why are you sitting out here again?"

Senba looked at his grandfather, seated in his wheelchair and stroking a lush green tree in the garden. The old man turned and smiled at him.

"Senba, this tree was created with a jutsu by Lord First. Back then, I'd only said I wished we had somewhere shady to sit. Lord Hashirama happened to hear me as he passed by, and he left this tree for our family."

Senba saw the ashen look on his grandfather's face as he sank into his memories. It made him uneasy. That kind of pallor was not a good sign.

Senba got up and went to the kitchen. He crumbled the rice balls into a clay pot, added some water, and put it on the stove to simmer.

With the village still struggling to recover, the food distributed each day was nowhere near enough for the two of them. At best, they were only half full.

So porridge was Senba's best option for now. At least it would keep them feeling full for a little while.

When Senba brought the porridge out to the courtyard, his grandfather was still stroking the tree, his eyes full of memories.

"Grandpa, come eat. I was pretty quick on my feet today, so I managed to get an extra rice ball."

"I heard the Hokage has arranged for the village's major clans to provide supplies for relief. The daimyo has also sent people to offer their condolences. Surely things will get better for us soon."

After Senba tried to reassure him, the weathered old man looked at him helplessly and said:

"Senba, you should call him Lord Hokage. That's no way to show respect. He's Lord Tobirama's chosen successor. We have to respect him, no matter what."

"And we're all descended from the Senju Clan. You must respect Lord Tobirama's decision."

Seeing the reverence in the old man's face as he spoke of Hashirama Senju and Tobirama Senju, Senba opened his mouth, then lowered his head and ate.

What did the name Senju of the Forest matter when a Tailed Beast Bomb could fall right on top of you?

After night fell and Senba had settled his grandfather in, he returned to his room and began to refine his Chakra.

Holding the "Ram" seal, Senba felt the Chakra coursing through his body in the stillness. Gradually, he sank into deep meditation.

In the silent darkness, Senba walked through the space as he had grown used to doing, several faint cracks running across his body. Ever since he'd awakened his memories of a past life two years ago, he had appeared here each time he entered deep meditation.

Gradually, a faint blue glow appeared in the darkness, guiding Senba onward.

"Good evening, Senba of the Forest." Senba approached a blue flame and greeted the figure seated before it.

That's right: Senba called the figure sitting on the ground "Senba of the Forest," because compared to Senba himself, this one looked far more like a member of the Senju Clan.

He wore Warring States Red Layered Armor, had black hair, and wore a Forehead Protector bearing Konoha's symbol. His overall appearance was a perfect match for the fighting style of the Warring States era.

If not for the fact that the other man looked exactly like Senba, Senba might have thought Hashirama Senju had been reborn inside him.

But the moment the man opened his mouth, Senba knew for sure that he wasn't Hashirama Senju.

"Me, you're such a coward. What right do you have to dance through the Shinobi World? Why not kill yourself and watch from the underworld as I make a name for myself as Senba?"

Senba of the Forest looked at him with such arrogance that his eyes seemed to roll right up into his head.

Although Senba got mocked every time he came here, he was used to it by now. He sat down in front of the blue flame and quietly watched the Chakra fire, the source of his power.

"Spill it. You're in a particularly good mood today. Did something happen with the Senju blood in my body? Don't waste my time with nonsense, or I'll take back your soul fragment and leave you locked away for a few more years."

Seeing Senba's serious expression, Senba of the Forest knew this wasn't the time to show off his vocabulary. He could only explain, grudgingly:

"That night, the pressure of facing death from a Tailed Beast Bomb made your weak self's mental energy intensely active, causing the blood in your body to surge and its concentration to rise briefly."

"Of course, the increase is only temporary. The blood will gradually settle down again. But how could I, born from your mental fragment and the power of your bloodline, let that happen? So I forced myself to hold back the decline in its power."

"But don't get your hopes up about Wood Release. Even if your Senju blood were a thousand times stronger, that alone might not awaken Wood Release. For now, it can only multiply your Chakra several times—probably enough to give you two Kakashis' worth."

After hearing Senba of the Forest's explanation, Senba finally understood why his stamina and ability to recover had improved so much during the day.

"Thanks for the effort. I'll have to trouble you to keep an eye on the bloodline for now. I'll find a way to increase its concentration as soon as I can. It's really not safe to be powerless."

"Also, you look more like Hashirama Senju, so don't imitate Madara Uchiha's way of talking. It makes me uncomfortable. See you."

As soon as Senba finished speaking, his figure faded and vanished from the dark space.

"Annoying!"

The bitter, exasperated words echoed through the space.

In a bustling city, Senba sat on the sixteenth floor of an office building. He had just finished dealing with a few humanoid creatures who didn't understand a word anyone said when he got up and went into the restroom.

As Senba was washing his hands, a tremendous crash knocked him to the ground. When he waved away the dust, he stared at the steel monstrosity before him in silence.

A Heavy Truck had appeared in the restroom on the sixteenth floor. Its dazzling headlights made Senba squint.

"I won't ask how you flew up to the sixteenth floor. Can you at least tell me whether you got around the city's traffic restrictions?"

The Heavy Truck clearly hadn't expected Senba to ask that at a time like this. It paused for a moment, then extended a mechanical arm, clenched it into a fist, and slammed it into his face.

"Hey, orphaned boy. I have a year-end quota for sending people into another world, so forgive me. As for how I got around the city, we can talk about that when you get the chance to come back."

The steel fist cracked Senba's soul. As he departed for the last time, he gave the truck the middle finger, then vanished from the world of the living.

"Ah!" As if reliving that pain, the sleeping Senba jolted awake. He saw a faint glow beyond the bed and finally let out a quiet breath.

"Heh, just you wait. You damned Heavy Truck!"

Senba muttered through gritted teeth as he washed up. The truck had sent him to a world where bloodlines ruled and human life was worth less than grass, yet it hadn't even given him a cheat ability.

If he hadn't accidentally created Senba of the Forest at the cost of shattering his soul, Senba might have even tried hurting himself to escape his fate as a Ninja.

After washing his face, he stared in silence at the reflection in the mirror: a handsome, white-haired boy.

Grandpa had once said his face looked a little like Tobirama Senju, the Second Hokage.