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Cherry blossom petals drifted on the breeze through the Ninshū headquarters' courtyard—slipping through the open paper doors and settling softly on the tatami.
"MASTER!"
Hagoromo's hand froze mid-air, scroll still clutched between his fingers, as he turned toward the voice behind him.
It was Manji.
Hagoromo stared at the figure before him, blue-green robes, sword strapped to his back, standing with effortless poise. The same face from a hundred years ago. Time hadn't left so much as a fingerprint.
Only the aura surrounding him had deepened—quieter, vaster, more unfathomable than before.
"MASTER!"
Hagoromo was on his feet before he realized it, bowing with the same instinctive reverence he'd shown as a student on Mount Myōboku.
He was a genuine powerhouse now. Chakra vast as the ocean. Sensory range spanning enormous distances.
And yet Manji had appeared directly behind him without triggering even a flicker of awareness. That ghost-like concealment technique remained lightyears beyond his reach.
Manji gave an approving nod as he regarded his disciple.
Hagoromo hadn't let power go to his head. Even now—with strength that had long since surpassed Manji's own, he remained humble.
A faint smile touched Manji's lips. He raised a hand. "No need for formalities."
He crossed the room and settled onto the opposite tatami, robes shifting quietly with the motion, the Six Paths Sword resting at his side.
"I came to ask about the 'Sage of Six Paths' business."
"Having every Temple of Manji in the world swap its signboard and rebrand me as the Sage of Six Paths—there's only one person alive with the reach to pull that off."
Manji cut straight to the point.
Hagoromo straightened, genuine remorse surfacing on his weathered features. His hands rested formally on his knees, posture growing even more deferential.
"Master—that was entirely my doing. I acted without your permission, and I ask your forgiveness."
"Your true name is Manji. When Ninshū was first founded, my followers and I agreed that addressing the Founding Patriarch by his personal name felt deeply disrespectful. We wanted to bestow a proper title."
"The words 'Six Paths'—I remembered them from the day you named your sword. They stayed with me ever since."
Hagoromo lifted his gaze, nostalgia softening his eyes.
He paused, voice earnest. "I searched for you for years, Master—but could never find a trace. I didn't dare disturb your seclusion. With no way to seek your approval, I went ahead and proclaimed the title to the world. I'd always planned to explain and apologize in person when you finally appeared… but I never imagined a hundred years would pass before that happened."
He bowed again, guilt written plainly across his face.
"I meant no offense. I only wanted the world to remember what you did for all of us, and to use your name as a beacon to unite hearts and carry Ninshū's mission forward. If the title displeases you, I'll issue the order immediately to restore 'Sage Manji.'"
"So that's what happened…"
Manji listened in silence, fingertips absently tracing the edge of the tatami, caught between exasperation and reluctant amusement.
He'd never imagined that a name he'd chosen on a whim for his sword would—a century later—become his own title, known across the entire world.
Even less had he imagined that he'd accidentally replaced the Sage of Six Paths in history.
The absurdity of it hit him all at once.
Incredible.
He'd named the sword "Six Paths" because he wanted to break through to Six Paths tier.
And instead—the title "Sage of Six Paths" had landed squarely on his head.
So the Sage of Six Paths… was ME all along?
Technically reached Six Paths… but not ACTUALLY Six Paths tier.
The mental image of a Beyond-Kage level fighter walking around with the title "Sage of Six Paths" was almost too much to bear.
'Wait—hold on...'
An idea struck him like lightning.
A brilliant idea.
The System had declared: You will never reach Six Paths tier.
But what if he simply… renamed Beyond-Kage tier as Six Paths tier?
Wouldn't that technically mean he'd achieved Six Paths??
Manji looked up at Hagoromo—still bowing respectfully, head lowered in deference—and gave a slow, measured shake of his head.
"Forget it. It's been a hundred years. The world has already accepted 'Sage of Six Paths.' No sense changing it now."
"As you wish, Master."
Hagoromo smiled and nodded with obvious relief.
He personally poured Manji a cup of hot tea.
The two settled in and began catching up on a century's worth of living.
Hagoromo spoke with infectious enthusiasm—laying out his vision for the future, how he planned to continue improving the human world, building it into something better with each passing year.
He was a man utterly consumed by his dream of salvation—convinced that through sheer will and effort, he could reshape the world into his ideal.
"Heh… good, good…"
Manji smiled and said nothing more. All he could think was—Hagoromo is still so young.
Did he really believe human society could be transformed that easily?
Besides, Hagoromo would die someday. The dream would outlast the dreamer.
"Hagoromo, when are you planning to take a wife?"
Manji asked with an easy grin.
Hagoromo blinked, then scratched his head with obvious embarrassment. "I… haven't really thought about that yet."
He wasn't made of wood—his feelings for Haori had proven he was capable of deep emotion. The timing just hadn't arrived.
"Master—just how long can you actually live? You haven't changed at all. Looking at you is like looking at yesterday, it really does feel like just yesterday."
Hagoromo studied Manji's face, unable to contain his curiosity.
"Heh…"
Manji only smiled. No answer.
Hagoromo, centuries of social experience having sharpened his emotional intelligence considerably—read the room and dropped the subject.
Besides, he was quietly confident he'd outlive his master. Manji was, after all, a native of this planet. Sage Arts or not, that didn't guarantee a lifespan exceeding an Ōtsutsuki's.
For all Hagoromo knew, his master might pass away before Hagoromo even reached middle age.
And a hundred years in, Hagoromo himself still felt practically unchanged.
"Well, time for me to go."
Manji drained the last of his tea, shouldered the Six Paths Sword, and rose to leave.
"Master—won't you meet the Ninshū members? Even briefly?" Hagoromo asked.
After all, Ninshū had been founded under Manji's name. As the Founding Patriarch, a single appearance would mean the world to them.
"No need. Your Ninshū is impressive—I hope it continues to flourish."
Manji was already on his feet.
The entire world worshipped him as a god—but Manji himself remained thoroughly indifferent to fame and status.
Empty titles, nothing more. He cultivated Sage Arts, not faith-powered divinity.
Just then, one of Hagoromo's followers entered the room.
"Reporting, Lord Hagoromo—today we successfully assisted in— OH MY GOD! THE FOUNDING PATRIARCH??"
The follower's routine report dissolved into a strangled shriek the instant he noticed the figure standing beside Hagoromo.
"This humble Ninshū disciple greets the Founding Patriarch!"
The man dropped to his knees, practically vibrating with disbelief.
THE FOUNDING PATRIARCH—IN THE FLESH! ALIVE!
It was the equivalent of devoutly worshipping a deity for your entire life—and then having that deity casually stroll into your living room.
"Rise. No need for all that."
Manji offered an easy smile, still privately amused by the memory of every face in that temple dropping to the floor the moment they'd seen him.
Hagoromo gave a sheepish laugh.
"I'm off. No need to see me out."
Manji raised his hand—Sage energy swirled—and accompanied by a veil of soft mist, he vanished.
.....
After leaving Ninshū, Manji wandered the human world for a while longer.
He checked in on the Tailed Beasts along the way.
They were doing well—living comfortably, unbothered. The era of large-scale shinobi hadn't begun yet. Everyone with real power was affiliated with Ninshū.
Powerless civilians wouldn't dare go near the Nine-Tails.
And with political structures still primitive—no established nations, no military organizations—the Tailed Beasts roamed freely and peacefully.
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