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"I should go see how things are in the human world. Wonder if Hagoromo's established Ninshū yet… and what's become of my temples."
Manji mused aloud as he prepared to leave.
Not that he particularly cared about the temples. He'd never intended for a casual act of goodwill to snowball into the world's largest religion.
But whatever. It didn't bother him.
.....
Manji stepped through the thin morning mist and crossed Mount Myōboku's barrier. The ground beneath his feet gradually shifted from sacred stone to hard-packed mortal road.
The air carried the mingled scent of cooking smoke and turned earth.
He stood at the edge of a mountain cliff, the Six Paths Sword resting against his side.
"A hundred years…"
He gazed across the landscape and let the weight of it settle.
A century—enough time for mortals to cycle through entire generations.
For him? A snap of the fingers.
Manji made his way to a small village.
"Hey there, little one—where's the nearest Temple of Manji?"
His voice was gentle as a spring breeze.
The child he'd addressed was about seven or eight—mud-speckled cheeks, bright curious eyes. The boy turned to look—and the instant he registered Manji's face, his jaw dropped. The mud ball in his hands hit the dirt with a wet splat.
"WHOA!! You look exactly like the Sage of Six Paths! Just like him! You're identical to the statue in our Six Paths Temple!"
The boy practically shrieked with excitement.
Six Paths Temple? Sage of Six Paths?
Manji's brow creased. His thumb paused mid-stroke on the sword hilt.
Had Hagoromo already spread the title "Sage of Six Paths" this widely?
But wait—that didn't make sense. He remembered Hagoromo's appearance perfectly: the Ōtsutsuki horns, the sharp, ethereal features of his alien bloodline. Nothing like Manji's own face. This kid's eyesight had to be terrible if he was confusing the two of them.
"Hey—Tora! Watch your mouth!"
Rapid footsteps—and a weathered old man came rushing over, hoe balanced on his shoulder.
"The Sage of Six Paths is our divine savior! You can't just toss his name around like that! Disrespecting the gods brings down curses, boy!"
The old man's face was red with indignation as he scolded the child.
"It's fine, sir. Children speak freely—no harm done."
Manji offered a calming word.
"But Grandpa—I'm telling you, he really does look like him!" The boy refused to back down.
"Quiet, you!"
"Heh—sorry about that, young man. Kids, you know? Don't take it to heart. You.... ahh??"
The old man turned to apologize—and the moment his eyes found Manji's face, every word died in his throat.
"You, YOU!!"
His pupils shrank to pinpricks. The anger evaporated, replaced by a tidal wave of shock so severe he swayed on his feet. The hoe slipped from nerveless fingers and hit the ground with a dull clang.
"The... the Sage of Six Paths??"
The old man's voice cracked. His body folded—knees buckling—until his forehead nearly touched the dirt.
"This humble peasant—this humble peasant greets the Sage of Six Paths! I had no idea the divine one had descended! Forgive my disrespect—please, have mercy!"
He grabbed his grandson and dragged the boy down beside him.
Now it was Manji's turn to be completely blindsided.
He stared down at the prostrate old man, then at the wide-eyed child kneeling beside him, bewilderment mounting with every passing second.
Hagoromo and he looked nothing alike. So why was this old man also identifying him as the Sage of Six Paths?
Had Hagoromo's appearance changed over the century? Or had something gone very, very sideways?
Passersby began converging from every direction.
And every single person who caught a clear look at Manji's face went through the same violent reaction—color draining, knees hitting the ground, foreheads pressing into the dust.
The cry of "Sage of Six Paths!" echoed from every throat.
"Oh my god, it's HIM!"
"THE SAGE OF SIX PATHS!!!"
"We welcome the divine one!"
The voices grew louder, the crowd thicker—within moments, Manji was completely surrounded.
He had no desire to be mobbed. A flick of his fingers—and pale mist surged around him, swallowing his figure whole.
"Sage Art—Mist Body Flicker!"
When the fog dispersed, the spot where he'd stood was empty. The street full of kneeling worshippers continued bowing to thin air.
.....
Manji rematerialized in a forest outside the town.
"What is going on…"
He closed his eyes and extended his perception.
His sensory range had long since expanded to cover hundreds of miles. He swept the entire region—and found not a single trace of a "Temple of Manji."
Every last one had been replaced. Dozens of locations now radiated the unmistakable incense-heavy aura of "Six Paths Temples."
"Something's wrong."
"When I was delivering the Tailed Beasts, temples bearing my name were everywhere. How did they all vanish in a single century—replaced entirely by Six Paths Temples?"
Manji muttered to himself.
Logically, as civilization advanced and people grew more rational, religious institutions should gradually decline. But they wouldn't be swept away this completely, this fast.
Questions piling up, Manji wasted no more time—he became a streak of blue-green light and shot toward the nearest Six Paths Temple.
The temple sat on a mountainside—red walls, dark-tiled roof, incense smoke curling from the entrance.
Manji walked through the gates at an unhurried pace. Inside, monks were polishing the altar while devotees knelt in prayer.
The moment someone glanced up and registered his face—all movement ceased.
"WH—??"
The sound cut off mid-syllable.
Every person in the hall—monk and layperson alike—stared at Manji with expressions of absolute, paralyzing shock.
Then, as one, they collapsed to the floor—faces white as paper, barely breathing—and the chanting began.
"We greet the Sage of Six Paths!"
"We greet the Sage of Six Paths!"
The overlapping voices shook dust from the ceiling beams.
Manji said nothing. He walked through the crowd, expression unreadable.
"Sage Art—Invisibility."
His form vanished.
Unseen, he continued straight to the center of the main hall—and when his eyes found the portrait enshrined above the altar—
Manji froze.
Every question. Every confusion. Answered in a single glance.
"So that's what happened…"
The portrait showed a young man in black-and-red robes. A sword strapped across his back. Deep, composed eyes. Strikingly handsome features. Behind him—the sweeping clouds and golden sunsets of Mount Myōboku.
It was him. His own face—from a hundred years ago.
Beneath the portrait, a gilded plaque blazed with four words:
SAGE OF SIX PATHS
The censer before the shrine was packed with incense. The offering table overflowed with fresh fruit and tributes.
'So that's how it is...'
Manji stared at his own painted face and let out a short, incredulous laugh.
But a question lingered. He'd been "Sage Manji"—when had the name changed to "Sage of Six Paths"?
"I need to find Hagoromo. He's the only one with the influence to pull something like this off."
Manji immediately expanded his perception, searching for the Ninshū headquarters.
He knew from canon where it would be—built on the ruins of Kaguya's domain.
.....
Ninshū Headquarters.
Hagoromo sat on a tatami mat, methodically organizing scrolls.
And then—a voice from behind him.
"Looks like you've been doing well for yourself… Hagoromo."
A voice both achingly familiar and strangely distant.
Hagoromo startled—then turned.
And there, standing in his chamber—was the one person he'd longed to see for a century.
Manji.
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