Zeenon
patreon
Respectfully, I Will Not Be Your Messiah
🕑 Added 2025-08-05 05:04:46 +0000 UTC{Sup! I'm back}
The next morning arrived with a collective groan from the Hidden Leaf.
Somehow, every single household in the village had been disturbed by the sound of thunder all night, it was loud and chaotic. No one knew who the culprit was. No one had seen any storm clouds. But by morning, one thing was certain.
Sleep had been stolen from all.
Ren, on the other hand, was up bright and early, stretching with a lazy yawn and absolutely no guilt whatsoever.
After all, he’d had a great night.
His morning began like any other, after ruining the collective sleep cycles of an entire village, of course; with a run.
He arrived at the gates, nodding toward the gate guards. As expected, they gave him the usual uninterested glance. Frankly, these were the same men who wouldn’t bat an eye even if someone got kidnapped in front of them in broad daylight. Ren suspected they were legally blind or just deeply apathetic, but either way, they never questioned anything unless you reached the gate itself.
The weight of his training seal had long since surpassed the 1,000 kg mark, and even that wasn’t enough anymore. He couldn't keep increasing the weight as it would literally have him leaving craters around the village and summon unwanted attention from every shinobi and officials within a mile radius.
So he did the next best thing.
Gravity seals, that too two of them, placed in opposite directions on his body.
That meant his body was being crushed from both sides by immense pressure, up and down, front and back, canceling and overlapping, constantly straining his frame. It took some intense micromanagement at first. The two opposing forces would try to negate each other or push him in weird directions, but he eventually found the sweet spot, it was a balanced configuration where his body was always under constant, overwhelming pressure.
Every step of his run was now like dragging himself through invisible stone walls.
And he loved it.
As he moved, he couldn’t help but notice the eyes on him. A lot of them.
He ignored them, of course because there was nothing else could he do.
It was inevitable. He’d made a massive spectacle just yesterday with the parade and everything else and now the whole village knew exactly who he was.
That, plus the Senju heir thing.
News had already spread that he is Tobirama Senju’s grandson, direct heir of the Senju clan. Word traveled faster than even his own chakra sometimes.
Being left alone was no longer a realistic dream.
So, Ren just did what was easiest.
He ignored everything.
Until he couldn’t.
As he ran past a shaded lane, he found himself surrounded by a crowd of old people. Not just random elders either, these were the civilian branch of the Senju clan. Most of them were too old to serve, too frail to fight, and hadn’t had chakra flow in decades. They had lived quietly, holding onto the name “Senju” with nothing but memories and fading pride.
But one man among them stood out, Yoshido. Old, yes, but not weak. His level flashed in Ren’s mind, 58, a solid jonin. How the hell he survived this long without being dragged into one of Danzo’s blood rituals was a mystery, but Ren respected the stubbornness.
And then, without a word of warning, they all kneeled.
Dozens of old men and women, some barely held together by sheer willpower and prune juice, dropped to their knees before him and spoke in unison.
“We greet the heir.”
Ren flailed his arms in panic.
“Oh no no no, stop that! I’ve received your greetings! Thank you, but get up! Look, I understand this is emotional and all, but please, I really don’t want to be the reason all of the Senju clan finally reunites with their ancestors!”
His voice was half-exasperated, half-concerned. A few of the elders laughed softly. Even they knew the risks of sudden movement at their age but still, their hearts were light. The Senju name, the legacy they had carried in silence all these years, was alive again.
Someone had come back to carry it.
Yoshido stood up first, dignified despite the creaking joints, and the others slowly followed. Ren let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Good.
He didn’t want to be the reason anyone died of pride today. Not these people, anyway.
There were plenty of other old folks who could be shortlisted for that.
Yoshido stepped forward, his posture straighter than before, and spoke calmly, “We want to take you to the ancestral house first. Please come with us.”
He even gave a respectful bow.
Ren blinked. That surprised him more than a little. The Yoshido he remembered was usually irritable, quick to snap, and always five seconds from throwing his sandal at someone’s face. Seeing him this formal was… unsettling.
Leaning in conspiratorially, Ren whispered, “Old man Yoshido, you don’t have to do all this. I heard people who suppress their true selves live particularly sad lives. Be honest with yourself. I’m not the type who cares for ceremonies and reverence, so you can just let it go, yeah?”
Yoshida gave him a look.
A long one and sighed in his mind, ‘Are we sure this kid is Tobirama’s grandson and not Hashirama’s? He’s got that same free-spirited nonsense.’
Luckily, Ren didn’t push further. He gave a casual shrug and said, “Well, let’s go see the house anyway. I heard a few months back that it was open to me, but I never found the time to check it out.”
Yoshido gave a simple nod and turned, taking the lead as he walked forward. Ren followed half a step behind, hands tucked into his pockets. The other elders trailed behind at a slower pace. They wanted to make a full procession, maybe hum a hymn or something, but their joints unanimously vetoed the idea. So, with small steps and soft sighs, they followed as best they could.
The group kept walking, past the market, beyond the denser districts until Ren realized something.
“…Hey, old man. Why are we going farther from the village center?”
Yoshido didn’t even glance back. “That is because the Senju were the first and final line of defense for the village. They didn’t care to compete with the other clans about whose compound was closer to the Hokage Tower. For the Senju, the entire village was family. And what do you do for family?” He paused. “You stand in front of them when the enemy comes.”
Ren raised an eyebrow but kept walking.
Yoshido continued, voice tinged with both pride and bitterness. “The entire outer wall used to be lined with Senju homes. We didn’t need a gate between us and the rest of the village. We were the gate for the enemy. But the other clans didn’t see it that way. They thought nobility came from proximity to power. So they squabbled for space in the center, built their halls like palaces, and called that honor.”
Ren stayed silent, his mind half-drifting.
‘Hmm… he’s not trying to force any ideology on me, just venting his thoughts.’
He glanced at the man again and thought dryly, ‘Still, the Senju brainwashing pipeline is shockingly durable, even after all these years.’
The buildings began to thin out. The streets gave way to overgrown paths. Civilization ended, and nature took over. Tall trees, thick brush, birdsong became more prominent in the outer perimeter of Konoha.
Yoshido slowed, his tone softening. “As per our clan’s belief, whenever a member of the Senju dies, we plant a tree in their honor. Not a stone. Not a flame, but a living tree. That’s why there’s such a vast jungle on the inner edge of the village wall. People think it’s just a forest.”
He stopped walking.
“…But to us, this is the graveyard of the Senju. This forest is our memorial.”
Ren glanced around. Trees as far as the eye could see. There was a strange stillness in the air, not lifeless, but calm. It did feel sacred in a way, silent and forgotten.
Still, he couldn’t stop the thought from creeping in.
‘How does he still have so much reverence for a clan that barely exists anymore? There’s what, two Senju alive with actual chakra? Me and Tsunade? That’s it.’
Yoshida’s emotion was real, no doubt. Seeing Ren must’ve shaken something deep in him. Decades of loyalty, of silence, of carrying a dead legacy, it was all bubbling up now. Still, Ren couldn’t fully relate.
It wasn’t just the Senju.
The Uchiha were the same.
The Hyuga too.
All the clans. Even the village.
They clung to ideologies forged in war and passed them down like sacred scripture. Whether it was the Senju's doctrine of sacrifice, the Uchiha’s pursuit of power through love and loss, or the Will of Fire, each system used words as armor. They used them as justifications and weapons.
And maybe the deadliest weapon of all, purpose.
‘The Will of Fire says kids should be protected but they are still sent to war for the village. And when they die, it's a noble sacrifice. And everyone just nods along.’
He exhaled quietly.
‘Words really do have more power than strength. That’s how it was in my old world too. Looks like this one’s no different.’
He looked back at Yoshido, who had paused with his hand on an old wooden post, his gaze lost in the forest.
Ren didn’t say anything.
He just followed.
Soon, the trees began to change.
Although most trees carried a hint of life within them, what Ren felt now wasn’t just life, it was chakra. Thick and dense chakra. His steps grew quieter, not because he intended it, but because his body reacted on instinct. These weren’t just trees. These were Hashirama’s trees.
He’d read about it before, how the First Hokage had used Wood Release to shape entire forests. It wasn’t surprising that some of them had lasted to this day. Most of the outer forests surrounding Konoha were his doing, and they were still thriving. The fact that they were still alive wasn’t the surprising part.
The surprising part was how alive they felt.
Each step he took felt like walking deeper into a memory that wasn’t his. And yet, it was quiet and peaceful. The kind of silence that didn’t feel hollow.
Yoshida came to a stop a few paces ahead.
Ren followed his gaze and saw it.
A massive stone torii gate stood at the heart of the clearing, half-swallowed by nature and time. The stone had long since darkened, moss blooming along its base and thick vines coiling upward in slow, strangling loops. But at the top, carved into the crossbeam with unnerving clarity, was the Senju clan’s symbol.
It was untouched and it stood firm even after so much time passed. There was not a single crack, not a patch of moss dared to touch it. As if even the forest remembered what it meant.
Yoshido stared at the symbol, unmoving. His back straight, hands clasped behind him, but his shoulders trembled slightly. Even from behind, Ren could see it. The old man’s eyes were glassy. Just a bit. Like someone looking at the ghost of something they’d long buried.
But for Ren, it didn’t mean much.
To him, the Senju was just a name, an echo from the anime he used to watch. He’d been in this world for years now, and finding out that he bore the name Senju was... something. But it wasn’t emotional. There was no deep, swelling pride. No inherited burden.
It was just a surname.
People like Yoshido, these relics of the past, might believe he was here to revive the clan. To rebuild their broken legacy. But Ren didn’t have those kinds of goals. The truth was simple.
He was just curious.
The Senju clan had already vanished by the time the main story began. All that remained were whispered legacies and vague memories. So, of course, he wanted to see what it was all about. There was curiosity, yes. But that’s where it ended.
He had no interest in carrying the weight of a dead clan.
Even the idea of “reviving” it was absurd. What did that even mean? One person having a few kids? That’s not a clan, that’s just a big family. Even Sasuke, who had the same dream of reviving the Uchiha in the early series, quietly gave up. He had one daughter with the love of his life. One.
And he was happy.
Ren didn’t blame him, he understood him. It’s one thing to dream and it’s another to live.
He wasn’t about to become some breeding project just because a bunch of half-dead old men wanted to see the Senju rise again. If they got too carried away, he’d pack his bags and disappear. Simple as that.
He shook off the thought and turned to Yoshido. “Should we go in?”
Yoshida didn’t answer immediately. He took a long breath, one hand resting gently on the moss-covered gate as if he were bracing himself. Then, finally, he nodded.
He stepped forward and Ren followed him.
~~~~~
{Well, I hope you guys also understand that I have no aspirations for Ren to revive the Senju clan for the reasons I just gave.
Also, just to remind you guys again, there will be NO HAREM in the story, because, as I said just now, having a harem in this situation is no different from a breeding ground and the fic isn’t going to turn so dark that I’d do something inhuman like that.
Anyway, most of you were here for No-Harem so I doubt you have any problems with it, but I still felt like there was a need to specify it.}
Comments
Ji Ning or Harith
Thx for ch. Yep i came for no harem
