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"Alright, that's ENOUGH out of both of you!"
Manji raised one hand, barely a gesture.
Kurama and Shukaku fell silent instantly.
Manji ambled over to his wooden chair and settled into it with unhurried ease, blue-green robes shifting with the motion. His gaze drifted across the nine wildly different creatures arrayed before him.
After decades of growth, each Tailed Beast had swelled to roughly the same size as Mount Myōboku's largest toads.
The stern edge in Manji's expression gradually softened. His voice came out level, almost contemplative.
"How long have you all been with me?"
The question landed like a stone dropped into still water. The raucous clearing went dead silent. Nine Tailed Beasts fell into simultaneous deep thought—tilting heads, counting on claws, tentacles, and tails.
Shukaku traced circles in the dirt. Kurama flicked through his tails like an abacus. Isobu sank beneath the water and blew contemplative bubbles. The scene was equal parts absurd and endearing.
After a moment, Matatabi—the Two-Tails—flicked her flaming tail and spoke first.
"Twenty-six years exactly, Master!"
Manji smiled at that.
"Twenty-six years. Time really does fly." He paused. "So—in all that time, what have you learned?"
"Oh! Me, me!"
Gyūki surged forward, tentacles waving. "So much, Master! You taught us to read and write. You taught us right from wrong. You showed us that having power doesn't mean you get to throw it around—that restraint and respect matter more than strength."
"Same here!"
Kurama nodded vigorously beside him—all nine tails curled neatly in front of his body, every trace of his usual proud defiance gone. His eyes held nothing but unguarded respect. He didn't say much—but that look said everything.
"And cooking!"
Son Gokū clutched his sake gourd with a beaming grin. "That grilled meat recipe you taught me? I can make it better than Gamamaru now!"
"You also taught me precise water control." Isobu's gravelly voice rumbled from the pond. "I don't accidentally flood half of Mount Myōboku every time I get excited anymore."
"You taught us how to master our own power!"
Chōmei chimed in. "Before, we'd lose control the second we got angry. Now—even at our most furious—we can hold the line."
Saiken and Kokuō nodded fervently, eyes brimming with gratitude.
Manji listened in silence, nodding slowly.
He let a thoughtful pause settle—then shifted tone. His eyes turned serious, each word landing with deliberate weight.
"You've all learned well. And you've grown. Which means… it's time for you to leave."
"WHAT??"
The words hit like a thunderbolt. Nine faces crumbled simultaneously—joy and pride evaporating, replaced by raw shock and bewilderment.
Shukaku and Kurama locked eyes—and for once, shared the exact same expression of panic.
Convinced the earlier fight had pushed their master over the edge, they scrambled over each other to grovel at Manji's feet.
"Master—I'm SORRY!"
Shukaku's entire body deflated, sand drooping pathetically as he pressed against the leg of Manji's chair.
"I shouldn't have fought Kurama! I'll never do it again! Please don't send us away!"
Kurama—for once—swallowed every ounce of pride. His tails knotted together anxiously, and his voice betrayed a crack he'd never normally show. "It was my fault, Master. I shouldn't have mocked Shukaku or escalated things. We'll stop fighting—just please don't make us leave."
The others swarmed forward, tripping over each other with desperate pleas.
Gyūki flailed his tentacles. "Master—we can't bear to lose you! Mount Myōboku is our home!"
Son Gokū tossed his gourd aside, practically pulling his own ears in distress. "We still have so much to learn from you!"
Kokuō's eyes glistened, on the verge of tears.
"All of you…" Manji regarded their frantic faces and shook his head gently. "Calm down. This isn't about the fight."
He paused, his mind drifting back to the promise he'd made to Hagoromo decades ago. His voice settled into something quieter.
"I made an agreement with someone—long ago. You were all born from a single chakra, divided into nine. The person who separated you… he hoped you'd leave this mountain someday. Go out into the world. Learn to understand humans. Live alongside them. And if you're willing—help them."
The nine Tailed Beasts gradually fell silent, their eyes clouding with confusion and reluctant understanding.
Manji had mentioned this to them years ago—back when they were still tiny, fluffy balls of chakra. The memory had faded with time. Hearing it again now stirred a bittersweet cocktail of emotions none of them could quite name.
"Of course..."
Manji's tone gentled further. "I won't force any of you. The choice is yours. You don't have to help humans if you don't want to. But whatever you do—don't use your power to harm the weak."
A heavy sadness settled over the clearing. Nine heads drooped. No one spoke.
"Master… will we ever see you again?"
Kokuō—always the most sensitive—inched toward Manji, voice small and trembling.
"Of course you will."
Manji stood, reaching out to rest his hand on Kokuō's head. The warmth of his touch drew an instinctive nuzzle.
He looked across all of them—his voice steady and kind.
"You're all excellent students. Every single one of you. Mount Myōboku is a fine home—but the world out there is vast and full of wonders you've never imagined. You deserve to see it for yourselves. As for helping humans… don't put pressure on yourselves. Follow your hearts."
The grief in the air only deepened.
Kurama turned his face away. He'd never been good with words—but the emotions surging through him right now were overwhelming. Before he knew it, his eyes were burning, tears threatening to spill.
"Hey—Kurama. Are you crying?"
Shukaku caught it immediately.
"SHUT UP!"
Kurama whipped around, hackles raised. "Who's crying?? Your crappy sand blew into my eyes—THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED!"
The outburst shattered the somber atmosphere like a rock through glass. The other Tailed Beasts tried to stifle their laughter—but tears were already streaming down every face.
Son Gokū swiped at his eyes, forcing his voice steady. "Damn it—Shukaku, it's definitely your sand! Got in all our eyes!"
"Exactly! I can barely see!" Saiken wailed through open sobs—clearly devastated by the farewell but stubbornly blaming Shukaku anyway.
Shukaku looked around in utter bewilderment—glanced down at his own sandy body, then back at his openly weeping companions—and stomped in protest. "That's RIDICULOUS! My sand doesn't have that kind of range! You're all just crying because you want to!"
Even as he said it—his own eyes were turning red.
Manji watched the scene unfold—crying, laughing, blaming, bickering—and felt a quiet ache stir in his own chest.
Twenty-six years of living together. These little creatures had become something like his own children. Sending them out into the world… how could he not feel it?
Gamamaru sat off to one side, discreetly dabbing at the corner of his eye before puffing out his chest with exaggerated bravado. "Listen up, all of you! If anyone out there gives you trouble—just drop MY name! Gamamaru! Nobody would dare touch you!"
"Sob… Gamamaru…" Isobu blubbered from the pond. "The last time I used your name on Mount Myōboku… the senior toads beat me up even harder."
Gamamaru: "...…"
His face froze mid-pose. He scratched his head, then doubled down with neck-stiffening conviction. "That—that was the OLD days! Give it a few hundred years—once all those veterans retire, I'LL be running this mountain! Then my name will be worth something, I promise!"
Laughter broke through the tears, lightening the heaviness just enough.
Manji watched them—and let out a soft, quiet sigh before allowing himself a genuine smile.
"Alright. No banquet lasts forever. But we will meet again. When you're out there on your own—take care of yourselves."
"Waaah—Master! We'll definitely repay you for raising us!"
Matatabi declared through her tears, eyes shining with fierce resolve.
Manji's expression flickered—something complex passing across his features.
He knew these Tailed Beasts better than anyone. Every single one had an iron sense of justice and zero tolerance for cruelty. But human society was a labyrinth of grey—never the clean black-and-white they expected.
With temperaments like theirs, they'd inevitably intervene whenever they witnessed injustice—and that would drag them into one chaotic entanglement after another.
"Don't talk about repaying debts. Just promise me this—if you cause trouble out there, don't mention my name."
His voice carried a weight that made every beast listen.
Then—to keep the mood from collapsing entirely—he added with a wry half-smile: "I'm worried that if you do name-drop me… nobody will dare come after you, and you'll never learn anything."
"Huh?"
The Tailed Beasts blinked—then burst into sputtering, teary laughter, sobs and giggles tangled together on every face.
Manji's smile warmed. "I spend most of my time here on Mount Myōboku. But if you ever run into something you truly can't handle—you can also seek out my other disciple. His name is Hagoromo. He's the one who divided you into nine in the first place. He'll help."
All nine Tailed Beasts snapped to attention—tears drying, expressions turning solemn—and nodded with grave sincerity.
.....
Manji taught them the Tailed Beast Ball technique for self-defense—then escorted each one, personally, to a different corner of the world to begin their new lives.
What caught him off guard was the state of the world itself.
Everywhere he went—his own faith had taken root. Temples bearing his name. Prayers offered in his honor. An entire civilization organized around the worship of Sage Manji.
He genuinely hadn't anticipated this.
That single act of compassion—evacuating the civilians before the final battle—had snowballed into a movement of unimaginable scale.
His humble little shrine had somehow become the world's dominant religion.
Credit where it was due: Kaguya had built the original temple. And Hagoromo had spent decades traveling the world, spreading his philosophy—always identifying himself as the direct disciple of Sage Manji.
Between the two of them, they'd turned Manji into a living god.
"Alas... At this rate, the 'Sage of Six Paths' won't be Hagoromo. It'll be me..."
Manji shook his head with a rueful chuckle.
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