The air in the capital of the Land of Fire was thick with the scent of fried rice and miso soup, but inside a bustling restaurant, the usual midday clamor had fallen to a hushed murmur. It wasn't the food that captivated the patrons, but the man on the stool at the front of the room. He was a wanderer, a traveling bard, an old storyteller with a face etched by time and a voice that held the weight of centuries. He sat, his eyes scanning the eager faces, before he began.
"The time nearing the end of the warring states was a time of legends," he began, his voice a low rumble. "A time when great ninja families carved their names into history. Strong ninjas like the God of Shinobi, Senju Hashirama, or the fearsome Ninja Shura, Uchiha Madara, rose one after another. It was an era when bloodlines were everything—the Uchiha of the Sharingan, the Hyuga of the Byakugan, the monstrous Kaguya, the sealing clan Uzumaki, and the Senju of the Forest. But two stood above all others: the patriarchs of the Senju and the Uchiha clans."
He paused, letting the names settle in the minds of his listeners. "Time passed, and the alliance between these two great clans brought an end to the long period of turmoil. In their quest for peace, they built Konoha, the first shinobi village, and with it, the system of one village for one country was born."
"But nothing remains the same forever," the old man sighed, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. "With time, disputes arose, and their values diverged. The conflict between the Ninja God and the Ninja Shura reached its climax at a place now called the Valley of the End. Their battle was so titanic, so cataclysmic, that it reshaped the very landscape. Its tremors were felt across all nations."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "The Ninja God, the First Hokage Senju Hashirama, emerged victorious, yet he succumbed to death just a few years later. With the fall of the Shinobi God, who brought peace with love, and the Ninja Shura, who stopped wars with terror, conflicts rose once more. But this time, it wasn't clans that fought; it was whole nations."
"Two great Ninja Wars followed, and in their wake, many of the great clans, once known for their battle prowess, withered and disappeared. Only a few survivors remained. But as the war calmed, something strange happened—a surprising bit of news surfaced. On the sites of these clans that had died out, monuments were found."
A young man in the crowd waved a dismissive hand. "So what?" he scoffed. "All those old clans have monuments, don't they?"
The storyteller smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. He gestured with his hands, weaving the tale as if shaping clay. "The monuments weren't the surprising part. The surprising thing was the content. Every single monument mentioned the same thing: the Sage."
A wave of whispers rippled through the crowd. A young man leaned forward, his eyes wide. "The Sage of Six Paths? The one the Fire Temple preaches about?"
The old man shook his head, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. "No, no, no. If it were the Sage of Six Paths, it wouldn't be shocking. But all the monuments mentioned the 'Sage of Senju.'"
"Who is that? Someone from the Senju clan?" the young man questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"I don't know," the old man said, his animated voice filling the room. "In fact, nobody knows. All the great shinobi villages have been searching for information, yet it seems more a myth than a person. It's as if someone like that never existed."
A lady in the corner raised her hand. "But if he isn't a real person, then why is everyone looking for him?"
"Because," the old man said, his gaze sweeping over the audience, "while the words on each monument may be different, every one contains words of gratitude for the Sage's guidance and protection."
Another man spoke up, a touch of nonchalance in his voice. "Maybe the Sage just helped their ancestors? What's the big fuss?"
"Ah, but that," the storyteller said, a dramatic sigh escaping him, "is the problem. All these monuments came into existence after these clans were already known to have gone extinct."
A collective gasp swept through the patrons. "What!? How is that even possible!?" a man shouted, his voice echoing with shock.
"Just like you, the whole ninja world is shocked," the old man said, the somber atmosphere returning. "Everyone is questioning who the Sage of Senju is and where those monuments came from. What is his relationship with these clans and the disappeared Senju? Is he their protector? If so, then why are they all dead? Or, if they are dead, does he protect the dead, too?"
The audience was hooked, their eyes fixed on the storyteller. He cleared his throat and gestured to his donation box, and the clinking of coins broke the silence.
"Since you are all so enthusiastic," he continued, a conspiratorial tone in his voice, "I will tell you something special. I know more about this matter because I was friends with a Senju clan member in the village before their clan withered. There was a legend among them, a prophecy whispered by the God of Shinobi himself. It said that when the Senju clan faces extinction, the Sage of the clan will come to lead them."
"And a monument exists in the old Senju clan compound that says, 'Senju follows the Sage.'"
A child, her eyes wide with wonder, piped up, "So the Sage is real?"
The old man's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "I don't know. But there are rumors that the Senju compound is a sealed fortress, a masterpiece of sealing arts by 'Lady First Hokage' herself, and that the Sage rests within its depths."
"Did nobody go in to check?" someone from the crowd asked.
"Many have tried," the storyteller said, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "Some were unable to get in. Some got in but lost their way and walked back out. Some swore there was nobody inside. Yet, a few say they saw a silhouette in the manor. But in the end, nobody truly knows if the Sage of Senju truly exists."