Konoha’s Five-Element Ninja

Chapter 25: The Senju Clan's Choice

After finishing his morning exercises, Hayama headed to the temporary hospital to check on his teammate, Tatsu. Hayama felt a certain attachment to Tatsu. Their multiple life-and-death experiences together had forged an unusually strong bond—one built on a shared sense of survival.

"Tatsu, how are you feeling?" Hayama asked as he began peeling a withered apple.

Tatsu lay flat on his back, his arms propped up in an awkward position due to the supports immobilizing them. His left shoulder was thickly bandaged, making him resemble a centuries-old mummy.

"I've got one good piece of news and one bad. Which do you want first, Captain?" Tatsu said with a wry grin.

Hayama resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Considering Tatsu was injured, he decided to humor him. "The good news."

Tatsu's grin widened. "The doctors say there's a fifty percent chance I'll recover fully."

Hayama fell silent. For a ninja, the ability to form hand seals was essential. Losing an arm meant the end of a ninja's career, a fate Hayama didn't want for Tatsu. He couldn't bear to see Tatsu leave the field.

"When we're back in the village, I'll find the best—"

Before Hayama could finish, Tatsu cut him off. "Hold on. Don't you want to hear the bad news?"

Hayama's hand, still holding the knife, twitched almost imperceptibly. He paused before replying, "What's the bad news?"

Tatsu's grin turned mischievous. "I need to take a piss."

"Uh?"

Hayama was dumbfounded. He turned to look at Tatsu's immobilized arms and then understood. "I'll call a nurse."

Before he could leave, Tatsu's anxious voice stopped him. "No, no! Don't go. I'm scared."

Hayama turned back, puzzled. "What are you scared of?"

Tatsu glanced down toward his midsection, his face reddening as he mumbled, "I'm scared I won't be able to control myself."

Hayama blinked. He could understand—every man's been there. But seriously? Hayama was still a young bachelor. This was way outside his comfort zone. "You wait here. I'll try to find someone who won't mind."

Without another word, Hayama left, leaving Tatsu lying there, dumbfounded and muttering, "So heartless…"

…

A few days later, within the Senju clan's domain in Konoha, a meeting was held under a heavy, suffocating atmosphere. The attendees were few, but all bore visible injuries. It was more like a gathering of war veterans than a clan meeting.

The Senju had suffered not only a blow to their pride but also heavy casualties in the Rain Country campaign. Over half their elite members were lost, and even the venerable elder of the clan had perished, leaving them utterly humiliated.

At the head of the table sat Senju Hokuma, a cousin of the Second Hokage, Senju Tobirama. Following Tobirama's death, Hokuma had become the clan leader. Hokuma was only 37, still considered young for his position. Yet now, he internally cursed his late cousin's decisions.

In Hokuma's view, the position of Hokage should have alternated between the Senju and Uchiha clans—keeping it within those two powerful lineages. His cousin, however, had chosen Sarutobi Hiruzen as the Third Hokage, claiming he'd be nothing more than a figurehead. Tobirama had assured Hokuma that the Senju would continue to wield power behind the scenes. Hokuma now scoffed at that notion. What kind of "uncrowned king" was this, when their reign had been reduced to ashes?

Unlike Uchiha Fugaku, Hokuma was convinced that the sudden appearance of a Sand elite unit behind their lines in the Rain Country was orchestrated by Hiruzen. It was the only explanation that made sense. But even if Hokuma had evidence, he could do nothing about it. The Senju had lost their leverage and could no longer stand toe-to-toe with the village's ruling faction.

In Hokuma's mind, his cousin Tobirama had become the greatest betrayer of the Senju.

Gritting his teeth, Hokuma rasped, "Enough arguing! I'm still the clan leader!"

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to Hokuma, filled with desperate hope that he might salvage their dire situation.

Hokuma opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He hesitated, his face a portrait of inner turmoil. Finally, with great difficulty, he said, "The Senju clan… will withdraw from the public stage."

An uproar ensued. The room exploded with disbelief and protests. Many stared at one another, questioning if they had misheard. But Hokuma's grim expression left no room for doubt.

A middle-aged ninja, his chest wrapped in fresh bandages, sprang to his feet. Tearing off the bandages, he revealed a deep, unhealed wound. "Hokuma! You coward! Look at my injuries—take a good look! Does it seem painful? Well, it's nothing compared to the humiliation our clan has suffered! Nothing!"

His voice broke as he sat down, tears streaming down his face. The raw, wrenching cries filled the chamber. Other Senju, unable to contain their emotions, wept silently. They mourned the glory they had lost so recently.

Hokuma wiped his own tears, walked over to the injured elder, and gently helped him back to his seat. As he touched the elder's blood-streaked wound, his eyes reflected deep conflict—quickly replaced by steely determination.

"Under my leadership, the Senju's glory has been lost. I will take responsibility with my life. But for the sake of our clan's survival… the Senju must step back."

The room fell deathly silent. Everyone realized Hokuma's resolve, as well as the inevitability of their clan's fate. In truth, they had known it all along. When that Sand elite unit had struck their rear lines, the Senju's destiny had been sealed. They had simply refused to accept it.

In the face of that stark reality, they had only two choices: rebellion or withdrawal. There was no middle ground—no possibility of becoming a second-rate clan. The ruling faction would never allow the Senju to remain active in the village. They feared a Senju resurgence, and once they decided to act, they were determined to wipe out the Senju completely.

The Senju had suffered heavy losses, but their remaining strength was still formidable. If they chose rebellion, the village would be hard-pressed to contain them. But the Senju's love for Konoha ran deep—so deep they couldn't bear to see it harmed, even though it was no longer the village they had founded. That love was their bond, ingrained in their bloodline, leaving them no thought of rebellion. For them, rebellion was unthinkable—like a father striking his own child.

Thus, they had only one choice: to withdraw. They would scatter throughout Konoha and the Land of Fire, abandoning their clan compound, quietly fading from public view. From the shadows, they would continue to contribute to the village's development, even if no one would ever know.

Hokuma's fingernails dug into his palms, but he felt no pain. For the survival of the clan, he had to make this choice, no matter how bitter. Still, he felt an immense sense of injustice—for his fallen comrades, for the sacrifices of the Senju. He could not fathom how some could pursue power so recklessly, dragging the village into endless conflict. How could anyone so readily betray their comrades, their ideals, all for a sliver of authority?

Hokuma would never understand. He was a man of love—love for his family, love for his comrades, love for Konoha. Someone like him could never resort to the underhanded tactics of the power-hungry. This very love had allowed the Senju to set aside centuries-old grudges, join hands with the Uchiha, and establish the mightiest village in the ninja world: Konoha. Yet that same love had been exploited by those who, in the shadows, delivered a fatal blow—never considering the consequences.

To those behind the plots, only results mattered. The methods, the aftermath—none of it was important. Only the gains counted.

Throughout their millennia-long history, the Senju had risen and fallen because of their love.

In Konoha's Year 39, July, driven by their deep love for the village, the Senju officially withdrew from public life. On the same day, their leaders took their own lives, leaving behind a solemn, tragic ending for a once-glorious clan.

From then on, the Senju name was no more. All that remained was Konoha.

Base treachery is the rogue's passport; noble sacrifice is the virtuous one's epitaph. So it has always been.