Konoha has stood for over fifty-four years. Many secretive ninja clans—the Uchiha, Hyūga, Sarutobi, Inuzuka…—remain active, maintaining their lineages and pride within the village. Only the Senju appear absent, known only by the legend of one wandering figure, Tsunade.
The Senju were not destroyed, but by the will of the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju, chose to dissolve themselves into Konoha's collective fabric.
Lady Senju Momoka still remembered that moonless night: the air so heavy it felt as if one could squeeze blood from it. The candlelight behind the two towering figures cast monstrous shadows across the tatami room, transforming it into a haunted chamber.
Hashirama-sama sat at the main seat, his normally gentle, embracing presence gone, replaced by suffocating silence. He still bore the scent of unspent gunpowder and dust—and deeper, a fatigue and sorrow so profound it felt rooted in his very soul. Momoka knew why: not long before, he had personally ended the life of his lifelong rival and friend, Uchiha Madara.
That conflict had not only slain Madara, but seemed to drain a part of Hashirama's life force. Tobirama-sama stood by in composed vigil, his silver hair glinting like cold steel, his red eyes sharp as blades, sweeping over every senior Senju present—even Momoka herself. The night breeze stole through the sliding door's crack, causing the candle flames to flicker like the anxious hearts of those gathered.
"After my brother, I will become the Hokage," Tobirama-sama's calm voice broke the stillness. "Madara is dead—there is no alternative. Yet dangers remain."
His gaze passed over the assembly until it settled on Hashirama-sama, registering a trace of concern. Then it turned back to them, his tone growing sterner: "A Konoha led continuously by the Senju clan, whose members hold the Hokage office and a great clan's power—what distinguishes it in the eyes of other ninja clans from the old 'Senju shinobi tribe'? They will see only 'Senju's village.' That jealousy will coil around Konoha's roots like a poisonous vine, sapping other clans' will to fight for our shared future."
A sudden flare of the candlelight illuminated Hashirama-sama's profile in shifting half-light.
He raised his head slowly; the vibrant forest-fire gleam once in his eyes had been replaced by smoldering ash and boundless weariness.
He spoke, his voice hoarse and deep, each word bearing the wound's pain: "Tobirama is… right. I killed Madara… for the village. When ideological conflicts arise, no matter how deep the bond or strong the power, the outcome… can only be destruction."
His words carried immense anguish at slaying his dearest friend, yet that very pain had forged an unprecedented resolve within him.
"We built this village," Hashirama-sama's gaze finally focused on each person before him, "to end endless clan warfare, to spare children from struggling amid corpses and blood! This village must transcend a single clan or name; it must embody all our dreams—a home truly belonging to us all! This is the best… path I have found."
He inhaled deeply, his voice resolute: "To preserve the village's purity, to free it from being seen as the Senju's private domain, to root out the jealousy's cause so that every ninja clan regards this place as home, not mere lodgers…"
Hashirama-sama's eyes landed on Momoka. "For the village, friends, brothers, even… my own blood—if they threaten its future… can be forsaken."
A flood of shock, sorrow, and bone-deep chill washed over Momoka. As Hashirama-sama spoke, his presence—tangible as a tidal wave—spread slowly outward. It was not an assault, but an unspoken declaration of absolute will and power.
Momoka felt clearly that no resistance, not even if all assembled combined, could sway this mountain of resolve. The mere thought of opposing him was crushed by his unbreakable conviction, born of the supreme price he paid.
Hashirama-sama… he was resolute. He believed the village system was the future, and would pay any price—even the Senju name's glory—to secure it.
"Therefore, we shall dissolve the clan," Tobirama-sama interjected at once. "This generation may retain the name, but the next…"
"Including my brother's children—my own blood—shall bear no Senju name," Hashirama-sama concluded.
He unfurled a thick scroll from his sleeve.
"Those choosing to leave the clan and change their surname shall receive compensation," Tobirama-sama read aloud the provisions: "Funds, secret-jutsu scrolls, land, tools… all allocated per these guidelines, ensuring any clan member gains resources and opportunities far beyond what they might expect while bound by clan loyalty."
The candlelight flickered across the assembly's complex expressions.
After the initial shock and anger, a subtle weighing began. Relinquish the Senju name? That stung deeply. Yet… Hashirama-sama's words rang true.
And the compensation list was astonishingly generous.
Secret techniques and wealth once only earned through clan sacrifice now lay within easy reach.
With Hashirama-sama and Tobirama-sama both destined to serve as Hokage, Senju influence would persist; no one would dare harm those who changed their name.
With no respected leader left to oppose them—faced with prosperity, the promise of Hokage protection, and Hashirama-sama's ironclad vision of the village's future—resistance melted quickly.
Some younger members even gleamed with anticipation at escaping ancient clan bonds to begin new lives.
Momoka watched the two sage leaders, the night-owl's cry outside a mourning call for the Senju clan.
They chose the "ninja village" that carries the future over the "shinobi tribe" of past glory.
To erase "Senju-Konoha" suspicion, to win true belonging from other clans, to let the village's ideal take root—they had dismantled the flag steeped in blood and honor.
At last, Momoka bowed deeply. To resist was futile—and unwise.
In the ninja-village era, clan identity had changed. Without existential threats, ordinary members leaving the Senju name might truly gain greater freedom and opportunity. Hashirama-sama believed this was a better system—and for it, he even slew Madara.
They would not be endangered by losing a name—because the Hokage remained Senju Hashirama, and next would be Senju Tobirama. They could effortlessly access secret arts and wealth once earned only by blood and sweat. From an individual standpoint, this path promised ease and prosperity—and Hashirama-sama's vision of integration into the village as family.
Thus, the once-glorious Senju clan, like receding tides, quietly merged into Konoha's streets and alleys.
Some took new surnames, scattering like seeds throughout the village; others clung to their last pride, keeping the name and standing apart. Momoka belonged to the latter. So did Shuji's ancestors.
They became as inconspicuous as those changing names—after all, many in Konoha lacked surnames. In tacit understanding, Hashirama-sama left the old estate to these final guardians—a small solace to their legacy.
Now the villa housed only Momoka and Shuji. After the first generation passed, most descendants moved into allocated ninja apartments or bought homes in bustling districts. Only on festivals did they return to the old estate to briefly recall past glories, discuss village matters, and exchange news.
Shuji's father grew up on Senju stories and remained at the villa after marriage. When his parents perished, Momoka cared for Shuji—nine at the time—through his academy graduation at eleven, his near-fatal wounding at fourteen on the Cloud Battlefield, and his revival by Hashirama's cells.
Gazing at Momoka, lost in distant memory, Shuji sat quietly beside her. Only when she broke from her reverie and signaled him to leave did he quietly excuse himself and return to his room.
Chapters in advance there: patreon.com/Thaniel_a_goodchild