Class Dismissed!

Among the serene bamboo groves, the aftershocks of the battle sent leaves fluttering down, covering the ground in shades of green and yellow.

Ōtsutsuki Hagoromo's clothes were tattered, and the Chakra around him was in utter disarray. He lay sprawled among the fallen leaves, utterly exhausted, without even the strength to lift a hand.

Manji stood before him with his hands behind his back, his robes spotless and his breathing steady, as if the earth-shaking battle had never happened.

"Hagoromo, do you have anything else to say?"

Manji looked down at Hagoromo, his tone calm and unreadable, betraying no joy or anger.

Hagoromo's cracked lips moved faintly. Though weak, he spoke with stubborn resolve, his voice filled with an unshakable confusion. "Master, I don't understand..."

"Why did you help Indra? Who exactly is Indra to you? That unique Hand Seal technique of his—did you teach it to him yourself?"

Hagoromo looked up at Manji, his cloudy eyes filled with bewilderment and questions.

Manji did not deny it. He merely nodded, his tone nonchalant. "Yes. The reason I helped Indra is that he is my disciple."

"Am I not your disciple, too?"

"I'm a good student you cared for sincerely! And Asura is your grand-disciple!"

Hagoromo's voice suddenly rose, tinged with stubbornness.

It wasn't that he was truly jealous. He simply couldn't make sense of it. He and Manji had been teacher and student for hundreds of years, sharing a profound bond, while Indra had followed his master for barely a dozen years. Why would this unfathomable old man personally intervene to help Indra?

Was it really true that only the child who made the most fuss received special treatment?

Did the child who cried get the candy?

More than that, he wanted to know what could possibly have driven his master to take up arms against him.

At his words, a flicker of surprise passed across Manji's face, so fleeting it was almost imperceptible.

He had lived for countless years and taken on more disciples than he could count: Hagoromo, Gamamaru, Deepa, Shima, and even the Nine Tailed Beasts... He had cared for every one of them sincerely. In his heart, they were all sweet and well-behaved; he had never favored one over another. For a moment, he couldn't even say which one he loved most.

There were no treacherous ministers. They were all loyal!

Seeing Manji fall silent, Hagoromo struggled to speak again, asking the question that worried him most:

"Master, what will you do now? Are you really going to help Indra seize control of the Ninja Sect? Or..."

"I won't help Indra take control of the Ninja Sect."

Manji cut him off, his tone still calm.

"Indra's thinking is too extreme, and he's too young in spirit. He doesn't understand what it takes for the Ninja Sect to endure. If he were to take over, he would only create a terrifying dictatorship, plunging the world into chaos."

He had saved Indra out of their bond as master and disciple, along with a few practical considerations. That was all.

Having lived for several thousand years, his perspective had long since risen above the mundane. He could see farther than anyone and knew perfectly well that Indra's violent, solitary path would never work. He would never let him do as he pleased.

"So you knew all along, Master..."

Hagoromo gave a bitter smile.

He had been uneasy all this time, thinking his master planned to join forces with Indra and rule the entire world. Now he realized that he had been worrying over nothing.

Manji looked at him and spoke slowly, his voice carrying the clarity and depth of one who had weathered the ages. "Your master here... understands far more than you imagine..."

The bitterness at the corners of Hagoromo's mouth deepened. His cloudy eyes were filled with a lifetime of confusion. Supporting his battered body, he asked softly:

"Master, what is truly the right way? Was the Ninja Sect I poured my heart and soul into founding right or wrong?"

Manji crouched down.

A person on the verge of death spoke honestly. Since Hagoromo had asked in earnest, Manji, as his master, would answer him seriously.

Manji gently pinched a fallen bamboo leaf between his fingers and looked into the depths of the grove. His voice was slow and weighty, carrying the clarity of someone who had seen a thousand years pass.

"Hagoromo, you were mistaken from the very beginning when you confused 'the only way' with 'the right way.'"

"There has never been an absolutely correct principle in this world. Just as heaven and earth divide into yin and yang, and day and night take turns, Indra's proud and sharp-edged nature is one path, and Asura's gentle, accepting nature is another.

"You're fixated on deciding who is right and who is wrong, and on making the Ninja Sect follow a single, unchanging path. That fixation is the mistake."

"You ask me whether the Ninja Sect was right?"

"Your original intention was never wrong.

"You saw the conflicts in the world and used Chakra to connect people's hearts, using bonds to resolve hatred. That is the Ninja Sect's truest purpose—

"It is not a tool for ruling, nor a shackle of inheritance. It is a bridge that connects different people, different beliefs, and different paths."

Hagoromo's pupils trembled as he listened, stunned.

"You feel lost because you want everyone to walk the same path, and you want the Ninja Sect to become a perfect set of rules, free of all mistakes.

"But the beings of this world are countless and varied. Some, like Indra, protect others through strength; others, like Asura, live alongside them through compassion. No one has to live exactly like anyone else."

"Who can guarantee everything will be the same?"

"The truly correct principle is never a single answer. It is 'acceptance.'

"The true meaning of the Ninja Sect isn't to choose a perfect successor. It is to let everyone who walks the path of the shinobi hold fast to their original intentions: not to bully the weak, not to betray their bonds, and not to turn their strength into a blade, but to use it as a shield to protect others."

Manji released the leaf. It drifted away on the breeze and landed in Hagoromo's palm.

"You founded the Ninja Sect to end war, not to lay down rigid rules; to connect hearts, not to rule.

"If you hold fast to that original intention, the Ninja Sect will always be right.

"As for whether a principle is right or wrong, leave that to time and to the people. You don't have to cling to it alone."

"In short, future generations will find their own blessings. Have faith in their wisdom!"

Manji said with a sense of release.

Hagoromo looked at the bamboo leaf in his palm, then at Manji's calm eyes. The confusion that had weighed on him for a century suddenly vanished. His heart opened, and at last, a trace of clarity appeared in his cloudy eyes.

"Have faith in the wisdom of future generations... Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful~"

Hagoromo murmured a few words.

"Cough, cough, cough. Master, this bamboo grove... It seems to be where you and my mother fought all those years ago..."

Hagoromo suddenly smiled.

At his words, Manji looked around the grove, a note of wistfulness in his eyes. "Yes. After all those twists and turns, we've come back to this bamboo grove."

The bamboo grove was still the same one from back then.

It was only that so many things and people had changed, one after another.

Hagoromo nodded gently, his smile now at peace. "Thank you for giving me one last lesson as my master. I almost killed my sons. Indra and Asura are both good sons."

"Leave the world and the Ninja Sect to future generations!"

Seeing Hagoromo at peace, Manji smiled faintly.

"All right, class dismissed."

With that, Manji turned his back and started to leave.

"Wait, Master!"

Hagoromo suddenly called after him.

"Master, I don't have much time left...

"My Rinnegan may be useful to you. Consider it a gift from your disciple."

Hagoromo closed his eyes and spoke softly.

Manji's expression tightened, and he stopped in his tracks.

Damn it, he'd been so busy showing off and giving a grand lecture that he'd almost forgotten the important part!

"Since you're so..."

Manji clasped his hands behind his back.

As he'd said before—

He wouldn't stand on ceremony!