Hope

Slowly, Radahn lifted his arm. The gauntlet shimmered with ancient starlight—etched and worn by battles far beyond this world. His hand opened.

Hagoromo reached out. His pale fingers, lean and ethereal, rested upon Radahn's calloused palm. It was like setting a single leaf atop a mountain—

Then—

It began.

A surge—not of power, but of memory.

A tide of time.

Radahn's eyes closed, His Crimson hair started waving—as the world's history tore through his mind like a thousand bolts of divine insight.

He saw a planet untouched by chakra. Primitive. Pure. Vulnerable.

Then came the heavens.

A woman—Kaguya Ōtsutsuki, descended from the stars. Clad in flowing robes, her eyes bore the secrets of a realm beyond comprehension.

She consumed the fruit of the God Tree——and with it, she became the first wielder of chakra.

At first, she ruled in peace. Her power unified warring nations.

Her name was revered.

But power breeds fear. Fear breeds obsession.

She changed.

Her divine strength turned tyrannical. The chakra she had once gifted was hoarded. To oppose her was to oppose the heavens.

And so, she became the Rabbit Goddess, no longer a saviour—but a god-queen.

From her union with a mortal, two sons were born—Hagoromo and Hamura.

They were the first to inherit chakra naturally, and they rose against their mother. Together, they confronted the monstrosity she had become—the Ten-Tails, her transformation born of madness and might.

After a cataclysmic battle, they sealed her away. Hamura took to the moon. Hagoromo remained—now revered as the Sage of Six Paths.

But Kaguya had left behind a will—a dark essence that slithered through the earth: Black Zetsu.

The invisible hand. The whisperer. The betrayer.

Hagoromo spread chakra to humanity. Not as a weapon—but as a path to understanding.

He preached balance. Peace. Truth.

But his sons, Indra and Asura, would fracture that vision.

Indra, the elder—brilliant, proud, a prodigy.

Asura, the younger—humble, kind, a late bloomer who earned his strength through bonds.

Indra believed power created peace.

Asura believed love did.

Hagoromo, to the shock of all, chose Asura as his successor.

Thus began the cycle of hatred.

Indra rebelled, twisted by pride and whispers not his own. From generation to generation, their reincarnations would clash.

Madara Uchiha—Indra's vessel.

Hashirama Senju—Asura's.

Their legendary conflict birthed Konoha and nearly ended it.

Then came Black Zetsu, whispering into Madara's ear. Feeding him ancient lies. Steering him toward the Infinite Tsukuyomi, a dreamworld to resurrect Kaguya.

It was not Madara's will—it was hers. Still lingering, still hungry.

And so the world turned.

The cycle repeated.

Until, A prophecy was made which said-

The Child of Destiny would rise.

One who would save the world…

But Radahn saw no child.

No prophecy.

Only a world trembling under the weight of its past. A world still chained by the unseen hand of a forgotten goddess.

And then—

The visions ceased.

"Now you know-" Hagoromo said softly, withdrawing his hand.

"The truth of our world. Its roots… its sickness… and perhaps its last hope."

A war-torn world.

A cycle of pain.

Radahn's eyes slowly opened—golden embers against the dim, endless void.

His mind, once untouched by the weight of this world's suffering, now brimmed with its past, its legends, its scars.

From Kaguya's descent to her sealing… from the rise of chakra to the age of war… from Indra and Asura to Madara and Hashirama… he had seen it all in the span of a heartbeat.

His gaze lifted toward the sage floating before him.

"So-" Radahn finally spoke, his voice low but commanding, 

""Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki.. you feared that the power you gave would breed not peace, but war. That chakra—meant to unite—would only divide. Was your mother truly the cause... or was it your gift to humanity that doomed them?"

Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki stood silent.

As if summoned by the truth itself, the dark void around them parted—folding away like paper in the wind. Above them now loomed the night sky, infinite and calm, and high within it glowed the moon. Pale. Imposing. Watching silently as it always had.

Radahn's eyes lingered on it, unmoving.

A fragment of stillness passed before he asked again.

"Tell me, Sage… do you regret it?"

Hagoromo blinked, his brows drawing together.

Radahn turned his head slightly toward him.

"Giving chakra to this world. A gift meant to awaken peace—yet all it birthed was war."

A silence followed—pregnant with centuries of hindsight.

Hagoromo exhaled, slowly, as though the question had been buried in his soul for eons.

"…I would be lying if I said yes," he admitted, voice heavy with quiet sorrow. "But I would also be lying if I said no."

He looked down at his own hands—translucent, old, yet once powerful enough to shake the heavens.

"I thought-" he continued,

"that if humans had the power to understand one another—to shape the world with chakra—they would use it to build something better. A civilization grounded not in control, but in connection. Not in bloodshed, but harmony."

His eyes darkened with memory.

"But instead, they waged wars. Split into factions. Turned chakra into a tool of conquest. My teachings became perverted… twisted into ninjutsu. The cycle began. And it has not ended since."

The Sage's gaze returned to Radahn-

"I once believed in prophecy. In reincarnation. In the bonds my sons would pass down. But now…" The dim space opened revealing the night sky. He then looked towards the moon and said- "I place my hope… in you."

For a moment, Radahn didn't respond. His silhouette stood firm, unmoving, as the cold starlight danced upon his golden armor.

Then, 

He spoke.

Words that would never be known to the world. Words not meant for the ears of men, but only for one who had once been called a god.

A vow.

And as the last of Radahn's message reached him, Hagoromo's eyes went wide. His breath hitched, and his composed form wavered for a fleeting instant.

"C-Can you really…" he whispered, words tangled in awe and disbelief, "…do that?"

Radahn said nothing more.

He merely nodded.

Hagoromo looked at him—this traveller, this conqueror of stars, this anomaly who had shattered fate by simply existing. The moonlight glistened off Radahn's towering frame, and for the first time in countless centuries…

The Sage felt something bloom within him.

Not prophecy.

Not destiny.

Hope.

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"For now," Radahn said, his voice low but resonant, each word weaving into the fabric of the stars themselves, "let me remove one of your worries… the one that resides within the moon."

Hagoromo blinked, unsure if he'd heard correctly.

"Huh?"

Radahn gave no further explanation. His eyes lifted, dark as the void yet glowing with the strange energy of collapsing stars, and fixed themselves on the moon—the same moon that had silently watched over humanity for centuries. But to him, it was more than a celestial body. It was a prison.

And he had come to open it.

Without further word, Radahn slowly raised his left hand. The motion was quiet, reverent—like parting silk in the dead of night. The atmosphere thickened. Air stood still. A faint hum reverberated across space itself, like the silent groaning of the cosmos being bent.

Then, the moon flickered.

Not a shimmer of light, but a rupture in its essence. A subtle yet reality-defying distortion, as though the moon itself had glitched—skipping a frame of time. The flicker was followed by silence. Then a sudden surge of energy crackled across the sky, invisible but undeniable, warping the distant clouds into a spiral of awe.

And then it happened.

A radiant sphere—blinding, white, and impossibly fast—shot down from the moon.

It didn't descend.

It appeared.

One moment it was still sealed in the moon. The next, it was already in Radahn's palm.

The laws of distance and velocity bowed in obedience. The orb, glowing with ancient divinity, hovered in his gauntlet-like hand—warm, humming with layered seals and cosmic pressure. It was the size of a large fruit or a basketball, but its presence filled the space between them with the tension of a god awakening.

Hagoromo took a full breath before speaking.

Not out of fear, but awe.

His pale eyes widened—

He moved forward, peering into the swirling light.

Within the orb's translucent layers, he saw her.

A slumbering figure—small in form, but immeasurable in power. Her knees were tucked against her chest, arms clutched tightly around her legs, as if imprisoned in an eternal embrace.

Flowing white hair coiled like strands of moonlight.

Her skin glowed pale and cold.

She floated inside the orb as if adrift in a quiet dream.

Kaguya Ōtsutsuki.

The Rabbit Goddess.

His mother.

"I… Is that—" Hagoromo's voice broke. "Is that my mother?"

Radahn answered only with a nod.

Silence lingered.

The Sage of Six Paths stared at the sphere for what felt like an eternity. 

His voice came again, barely a whisper.

"Are you going to… kill her?"

Radahn turned his head, slowly. A simple motion. A sideways tilt.

No.

"…Then what?" Hagoromo asked, his throat dry.

Radahn's gaze remained fixed on the moon in the sky, voice calm yet resonating with cosmic finality."Do not worry. I will send her to a realm untouched by war, unbound by chakra, beyond the reach of time or fate.A place where she will neither interfere with this world, nor be interfered with. There… she will rest. In silence. In peace."

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