Senba of the Forest

As everyone knows, in the shinobi world, the rank of genin is a grade with highly flexible standards.

Ninety-nine percent of genin are the bottom-tier cannon fodder of the shinobi world, and Senba was a genuine Konoha cannon fodder.

"Konoha Great Whirlwind, burn my youth!"

Amidst a stretch of shattered buildings, a green Konoha whirlwind rampaged in all directions, smashing massive structural debris into easily transportable chunks, kicking up clouds of dust.

"Such ridiculous energy and fighting spirit—a Konoha Rare Beast, huh. Makes me envious."

Working as a laborer, Senba dusted himself off, muttered a speechless complaint, then hoisted a wall fragment taller than his own body and trudged off into the distance. All around him, countless figures were doing similar work.

This was Konoha Year 51—a sorrowful year.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Senba looked at the terrain ravaged by the Tailed Beast Bomb. At twelve years old, he felt no admiration in his heart—only the lingering fear of death.

He had taken part in the Third Shinobi War, but only as part of Konoha's rear logistics unit, hauling supplies. Not everyone could be like Kakashi Hatake, promoted to jonin at twelve.

The war ended before he even saw a battlefield. Returning to Konoha, Senba and his two teammates began their genin journey of weeding fields, catching cats, and hauling trash.

And honestly, Konoha's cats were bizarre—always getting lost and never finding their way home.

Life was a bit dull, but Senba was content. At least from now until the Hokage's main character grew up, there would be a period of peace. He could slowly build seniority, become a chunin in his twenties, and live comfortably without worrying about food or drink.

Besides, even if he died, he'd be revived eventually—as long as he kept his head down.

But when the Nine-Tails Fox Demon fired a Tailed Beast Bomb that turned the street a hundred meters from Senba's house into rubble, he froze. It wasn't until a flying shard of stone cut his cheek that he snapped back to reality.

After moving his paralyzed neighbor grandfather to the basement, Senba spent a sleepless, terrified night listening to the old man pray to the Sage of Six Paths.

This damn world really had an inexplicable passion for mushroom clouds.

When the dust finally settled, Senba and the other genin were gathered and assigned to clean up the wreckage.

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

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

Senba saw his grandfather in a wheelchair, stroking a lush green tree in the yard, turning to smile at him.

"Senba, this great tree was created by the First Hokage's jutsu. Back then, I only mentioned wanting a place to cool off in the shade, and Lord Hashirama happened to hear me as he passed by. He left this tree for our family."

Seeing his grandfather's ashen face sink into reminiscence, Senba's expression darkened. That kind of complexion was never a good sign.

He got up, went to the kitchen, broke the rice balls into a pot, added some water, and set it on the fire to cook.

In these times of rebuilding, the daily food rations weren't enough for the two of them—barely half a stomach each.

So making porridge was Senba's best option. At least it gave a brief feeling of fullness.

Just as Senba brought the finished porridge into the yard, his grandfather was still stroking the tree, lost in memory.

"Grandfather, eat. I was quick today and got an extra rice ball."

"I heard the Hokage has already arranged for the major clans to start distributing relief supplies, and the daimyo has sent people to offer condolences. I'm sure things will get better soon."

Hearing Senba's reassurance, the weathered old man looked at him helplessly and said:

"Senba, you should address him as Lord Hokage. That's disrespectful. He was Lord Tobirama's chosen successor—no matter what, we must respect him."

"And we are all descendants of the Senju Clan Split. You must respect Lord Tobirama's decision."

Watching the old man's reverent expression as he spoke of Hashirama Senju and Tobirama Senju, Senba's lips moved, but in the end he just lowered his head and ate.

When a Tailed Beast Bomb lands on your head, the name "Senba of the Forest" means nothing.

After nightfall, Senba settled his grandfather in and returned to his own room to refine chakra.

Holding the "Ram" seal, Senba sat in silence, feeling the flow of chakra within his body, gradually sinking into deep meditation.

In the silent darkness, Senba walked as usual through a space where faint cracks surrounded him. Ever since awakening his past life memories two years ago, he appeared here every time he entered deep meditation.

Gradually, a faint blue glow appeared in the darkness, guiding Senba's path.

"Good evening, Senba of the Forest." Senba walked up to a blue flame and greeted the figure sitting cross-legged on the ground.

That's right—the figure on the ground was what Senba called "Senba of the Forest." Because compared to Senba himself, this one looked far more like a true Senju clan member.

Clad in Warring States Red Layered Armor, with black hair and a forehead protector bearing Konoha's insignia, his overall style perfectly matched the combat aesthetics of the Warring States period.

If not for the fact that the man's face was identical to Senba's, Senba would have thought "Hashirama Senju" had been reborn inside him.

But the moment the man opened his mouth, Senba knew this bastard was definitely not "Hashirama Senju."

"Original body, what right does a coward like you have to dance across the shinobi world? Why not just kill yourself and watch from the Yellow Springs as I roam the ninja world in the name of Senba."

Senba of the Forest looked down at Senba with an arrogant expression, his eyes practically rolling skyward.

Though he was mocked every time he came here, Senba was long immune. He sat down in front of the blue flame and quietly stared at the fire of chakra—the source of his power.

"Spit it out. You're so worked up today—did something happen with my Senju bloodline? Don't waste my time with nonsense, or I'll take back the soul fragment and wait a few years before letting you out again."

Seeing the seriousness in Senba's eyes, Senba of the Forest knew this wasn't the time for grand speeches. He clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction and explained:

"As a weak original body, your mental energy was extremely active under the death pressure of that Tailed Beast Bomb that night. It caused the bloodline within you to boil, and its concentration temporarily increased."

"Of course, this boost is only temporary—it'll gradually settle down afterward. But how could I, born from fragments of your soul and the power of this bloodline, allow that to happen? So I forcibly held back the decline of this bloodline's momentum."

"Don't even think about any Wood Release, though. Even if your pure Senju bloodline were a thousand times richer, it still might not awaken Wood Release in you. At most, it'll multiply your Chakra a few times—roughly around two Kakashi's worth."

Watching Senba of the Forest's explanation, Senba finally understood why his stamina and recovery had spiked so much during the day.

"Thanks for your hard work. I'll need you to keep an eye on the bloodline going forward. I'll find a way to increase its concentration as soon as possible. It's not safe without power."

"Also, your appearance leans closer to 'Hashirama Senju,' so stop talking like 'Madara Uchiha'—it makes me uncomfortable. See you."

After greeting him, Senba's figure immediately faded, vanishing into the dark space.

"Annoying!"

A tone of barely concealed irritation echoed through the space.

In the bustling city, Senba, sitting on the sixteenth floor of an office building, had just dealt with a few subhuman creatures who couldn't understand plain speech before getting up and walking into the restroom.

Just as Senba was washing his hands, a deafening crash knocked him to the ground. After waving away the dust and smoke, he stared at the steel giant before him in silence.

A heavy cargo truck had appeared in the sixteenth-floor restroom, its glaring headlights blinding Senba.

"I won't ask how you flew into the sixteenth floor, but can you tell me how you bypassed the city's restricted zones?"

As if caught off guard by Senba's question at a time like this, the heavy truck visibly hesitated for a moment. Recovering, it extended a mechanical arm, clenched it into a fist, and punched him square in the face.

"You're an orphaned youth, kid. End-of-year quota for sending people through transmigration—so sorry about this. As for how I bypassed the city, we can chat about it when you get a chance to come back."

As his soul cracked under the steel giant's fist, Senba's last act before leaving the present world was to flip it off.

"Ah!" As if reliving that pain, the sleeping Senba jolted awake from his dream. Gazing at the faint light outside his window, he let out a soft sigh.

"Heh heh heh. Just you wait, you damn Heavy Truck!"

Senba muttered through gritted teeth while washing up. Thrown into this world where bloodline was everything and human life was worth less than weeds, he hadn't even been given a cheat ability.

If he hadn't accidentally created "Senba of the Forest" at the cost of his shattered soul, Senba would have considered self-harm to escape his fate as a Ninja.

After washing his face, he stared at the delicate white-haired youth in the mirror, silent for a moment.

His grandfather had said his face bore some resemblance to the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju.