Kaguya — After the Conquest
The world lay at her feet.
Earth bent under the weight of her will,
its rivers flowing according to her thoughts,
its mountains trembling when she wept.
She was Queen.
She was Goddess.
She was Alone.
The World Tree behind her withered into dust.
The mortals beneath her built temples and shrines,
offering prayers in tongues she barely heard.
But they were not the ones she feared.
It was not mortals who haunted her sleepless nights.
It was the stars.
The broken bloodlines that drifted beyond them.
The distant whispers of the primitive Otsutsuki clans —
the Kozurai, the Xavora, the Zorak, the Ravael, the Selvane, the Myraku —
who might remember this world.
Who might come seeking the fruit she had stolen.
Who might come seeking her head.
At night, she would stand atop the highest peaks,
her Primordial Tenseigan burning with silent terror,
and she would stare into the sky.
And she would scream.
A scream that shattered clouds.
A scream that rippled through the Earth's molten veins.
A scream of rage.
Of grief.
Of fear.
"You will not take it from me!"
"I will not let you touch what I have prepared for Him!"
Her voice carved cracks into the heavens.
Her desperation birthed something terrible.
Something loyal.
Something incomplete.
From the soil, from the roots of dead trees, from the broken dreams buried deep beneath the mountains,
they rose:
White bodies.
Blank eyes.
Silent mouths.
The White Zetsu —
creatures born of Kaguya's primal fear,
designed to be her invisible army.
Shadows of loyalty.
Echoes of her refusal to surrender.
They would wait.
They would prepare.
They would defend this world until the King returned.
But Kaguya knew —
Zetsu alone would not be enough.
She needed more.
More power.
More will.
More blood tied to the Earth itself.
And so, beneath a sky that still remembered her scream,
Kaguya reached into her own being,
and split her soul.
Two beings were born from her flesh:
Hagoromo —
The Sage of Six Paths.
A soul heavy with the weight of destiny.
Hamura —
The Silent Moon.
A soul fierce and vigilant.
They were her sons.
But they were also her weapons.
Not weapons for conquest.
Weapons for protection.
A wall she placed between the world she held
and the predators she feared.
"You will grow strong," she whispered into their sleeping forms.
"You will guard this world.
You will prepare it.
For Him."
And far beyond the stars,
in the depths of the Silent Abyss,
the Black Throne pulsed once more.
A crack, thin and glimmering,
appeared across the Cocoon of Authority.
And within it,
the sleeping King shifted slightly.
Not yet awake.
But closer.
So much closer