[Timeline: Second Hokage Era]
[Year: 17th Year of Konohagakure]
[Unification Progress: 23%]
"Look deeper."
Kai's voice cut through the clearing like a quiet blade.
"You're only thinking about the surface level. You're looking at the result and assuming it's a failure."
He glanced toward the two brothers, his tone patient but precise.
"But if you step back and observe what Konoha actually gained after the first [Five Kage Summit]—you'll realize something else entirely."
He extended a hand, ticking off each point one by one.
"First: Konoha obtained an enormous amount of development capital by selling off the seven tailed beasts to the other great villages—both land and money."
"No more depending on the Fire Daimyō for funding."
"Second: Konoha kept the Nine-Tails, the strongest of the tailed beasts, and sealed it using the Uzumaki clan's elite sealing techniques. The result? A stable Jinchūriki, unlikely to lose control without external tampering."
"Third: Konoha alone possesses the Uchiha Sharingan, which provides a natural counter to tailed beasts. Not only can it suppress Konoha's own Jinchūriki, it could be used, under the right circumstances, to control the tailed beasts of other villages."
"Fourth: And this is key… By distributing unstable, barely-sealed tailed beasts to the other villages, you've effectively planted time bombs inside each of them. Every time one of those beasts loses control, that village weakens itself."
"In other words… every riot elsewhere becomes Konoha's indirect strength gain."
"..."
"...Wait—what?"
Hashirama blinked, stunned. "You mean to say… giving away the tailed beasts actually made Konoha stronger?"
Tobirama slowly shifted his gaze sideways, lips tight, eyes slightly avoiding his brother's.
Kai smiled knowingly. "Your brother likely figured out all of this years ago. He just didn't tell you."
Hashirama turned, shocked. "Tobirama? You knew?!"
A long pause.
Tobirama exhaled slowly… and nodded.
"Yes."
He didn't look proud. If anything, his expression was tired. Worn down.
"Part of the reason I didn't oppose your plan outright was because I saw the potential benefits. The money. The strategic advantage. The chaos it would sow—just not in our village."
"I also knew," he continued quietly, "that most of those other villages lacked the sealing techniques to make effective use of the tailed beasts anyway. So even if they had them, it wouldn't matter for a while."
"In fact… during the entire First Great Ninja War, none of them successfully weaponized their beasts in battle."
"Then—then that makes me…"
Hashirama's voice wavered.
He looked down at his hands, as if seeing them for the first time.
"...a swindler?"
He looked up, dazed.
"I tricked the Five Kage?! I made them think I was giving them power for peace… but really I was just planting seeds for future disaster?!"
Tobirama's tone turned uncharacteristically firm.
"Brother. Don't be so naive."
He pointed at him, not with anger, but with harsh clarity.
"You think the other Kage didn't realize that too? You think they were genuinely moved by your speeches about peace and harmony?"
"They accepted the beasts because they thought they could profit from it. Because they believed they could control the power. Just like we did."
"You had already knelt down, handed them the beasts, made yourself vulnerable—what were they going to do, spit in your face? Risk war with the strongest man in the world who just offered them a gift?"
"No. They smiled, bowed, and took it."
Hashirama opened his mouth… and then closed it again.
He felt, inexplicably, like the dumbest man in the world.
He turned toward Kai with a sheepish expression.
"...But wait, sir. If Konoha had all these advantages—why did so many Ninja World Wars still break out later?"
Now that was a good question.
Kai raised an eyebrow.
"Excellent."
Then he folded his arms.
"And here's your answer: Konoha imploded."
He sighed.
"You started with the perfect setup. You had money, the strongest tailed beast, a solid military, and passive weakening of your enemies. It was well planned."
"But then—"
You let the Senju clan dissolve itself through years of battlefield attrition.
You stood by and allowed the Uzumaki clan to be annihilated—your closest allies and sealing experts.
You planted the Uchiha clan on the outskirts of the village, nurtured resentment, and ultimately oversaw their massacre.
You watched the Fourth Hokage die in battle, then mistreated his orphaned son—the very Jinchūriki you relied on for your defense.
"One bad decision? Fine. But Konoha chose every wrong path like it was a talent competition."
"You had four aces in your hand… and still folded."
Kai threw up his hands.
"I can't even be mad. It's… honestly impressive."
Tobirama grimaced. Even he didn't know half the details about what happened after his death.
"...That bad?"
Kai didn't respond. He didn't need to. The silence said enough.
Hashirama could only rub his temple, groaning.
"Unbelievable..."
"Still," Kai said, "it wasn't all your fault. The system itself was flawed."
"Flawed?" Hashirama repeated.
"The tailed beast system you created wasn't a bad idea. But it had a fatal weakness."
Kai turned to Tobirama.
"You should know this better than anyone. What's the single worst drawback of giving away tailed beasts?"
Tobirama replied instantly.
"The beasts themselves. Their strength. That's the problem."
Kai nodded. "Exactly."
"From a foreign threat perspective, it's one thing. It's hard for a village to steal or weaponize a tailed beast from another nation. They'd need a perfect Jinchūriki, and that's no easy feat."
"But the real danger…"
He looked pointedly at Hashirama.
"...is inside. The tailed beasts themselves."
"Internal rebellion," Tobirama muttered. "Tailed Beast Riots."
"Correct."
Kai gestured toward the still-smoking crater from earlier—the one caused by Kinkaku's failed Tailed Beast Ball.
"That? That's what you're up against."
"You're not afraid of a tailed beast's claws or speed or roar. No. What's terrifying is that they can fire a mountain-destroying projectile from twenty kilometers away and wipe out an entire hidden village."
"Stealth. Range. Annihilation."
"The tailed beasts are not military weapons. They are strategic bombs."
Hashirama frowned.
"But… aren't they just big animals with chakra?"
"Some are," Kai said. "Some aren't. But all of them share the same weapon: the Tailed Beast Ball."
"And you've seen its power firsthand. That explosion just now?"
He pointed again to the charred earth.
"If that had hit Konoha?"
"Gone. In one strike."
The realization hit both brothers hard.
Even Tobirama was visibly rattled.
"...Which is why," Kai continued, "you were right to use the Uzumaki sealing arts. You needed airtight containment. Especially for the Nine-Tails."
Hashirama nodded solemnly.
"I remember… during my final fight with Madara, what frightened me most wasn't the Nine-Tails itself."
"It was… the range. The destructive capability."
"So in theory," Hashirama reasoned, "if everyone had a tailed beast, the threat would balance itself out. Like a nuclear deterrent."
Kai sighed.
"And that's exactly what you tried. Mutual destruction as peace. But that's not peace. That's just… waiting."
"A timer on the next war."
Hashirama turned to Tobirama.
"Then… if you knew all of this, why didn't you stop me?"
Tobirama didn't flinch.
"We had the Uzumaki sealing methods. We had the Sharingan. We had the means to contain our beast. The other villages didn't."
He looked away.
"And that's exactly why I agreed to divide the tailed beasts."
Hashirama narrowed his eyes. "...Why?"
"Because," Tobirama said flatly, "every time one of them loses control, they weaken themselves."
"And the weaker they get…"
"The safer Konoha becomes."
Hashirama stared at him.
"...Tobirama, why are you like this?"
Tobirama: "..."
He turned his head with the blankest expression possible.
Kai burst out laughing.
Hashirama threw his arms up. "Fine! Yes, yes, yes—it's all your fault! You're the evil mastermind, okay?! Happy?!"
Tobirama remained silent, grumbling to himself.
I'll gladly be the bad guy if it keeps the village standing.
Let his brother sulk. Tobirama didn't regret a thing.
If someone had to do the ugly work, he'd wear the villain's mask himself.