The messenger ninja left in a hurry after passing on the message, leaving Gin rubbing his chin, puzzled.
At this point in time, instead of preparing for the conference, why was Hashirama calling a salted fish like him?
"Chi-ri, put these little brats' bill on me. I've got something to do."
The kids thought Gin would abandon them, but hearing this heavenly reassurance made their hearts settle. They dug into their ice even faster.
"Got it, go handle your business."
Leaning on the counter, Chi-ri nodded calmly. Her cool eyes showed a flicker of thought—if the Hokage himself was summoning Gin, it had to be something important.
The bell chimed as Gin slipped out through the curtain. Looking up at the not-so-late sky, he smacked his lips and shuffled lazily toward the Hokage Building.
If he stalled long enough, maybe he could catch dinner at Hashirama's house.
"Sigh… I wonder if this building's deed is under the Uchiha name."
He stopped before the towering, gilded Hokage Building. Thinking about how his cousin had taken a loan to build it, Gin's heart bled.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Come in."
Hearing Hashirama's voice, Gin scratched his head and pushed the door open—surprised to find the office buzzing with tension.
"Well, well. If it isn't my little cousin. A few days and you already look like crap."
Gin grinned at Madara, who was locked in a silent staring contest with Tobirama. At least the kid had enough brains to show his face now. Otherwise, he'd have zero chance at that Second Hokage seat.
"Big cousin. It's been a while."
Madara finally broke the stare-off, greeting Gin with mixed feelings.
"They bullying you? Numbers against you? Don't worry, big cousin will go round up the boys right now!"
Seeing Madara's stiff look, Gin immediately assumed his cousin was being picked on. He rolled up his sleeves, ready to storm out.
"Gin-nii! Don't misunderstand, no one's bullying Madara! I care about him more than anyone—how could I?"
Hashirama panicked, jumping up to explain before Gin got the wrong idea.
"Better be. I don't want to hear rumors about that white-haired brat messing with Uchiha. Otherwise, we're cutting ties at New Year's."
Gin stopped, giving Tobirama a long side-eye, his tone dripping with warning.
"I swear, as long as I'm Hokage, no one in Konoha will lay a finger on an Uchiha!"
Protecting his son's New Year allowance, Hashirama immediately pledged with a straight face.
"Alright, alright, don't be setting up flags now. Out with it, what's the deal?"
Gin smirked at first, but then frowned, doing some mental math. Not much time left…
"Gin-nii, I'm convening the first Gokage Summit tomorrow. But there's a… small dispute over who should attend."
Hashirama sat up straight, his eyes flicking over Madara and Tobirama before landing firmly on Gin.
"Dispute?"
Gin instantly understood. No wonder Madara and the white-haired brat were exchanging dagger-eyes—it was about who got a seat at the table.
Whoever joined the first Gokage Summit was basically marked as the future successor, destined to wear the Hokage hat.
"And what's that got to do with me? Don't tell me you want me to play mediator?"
Gin scowled. If Hashirama wanted him to talk Madara into stepping aside, no way. That'd make him the bad guy. His cousin had worked hard for years—did all that mean nothing? Was Hashirama just staring at Uchiha beauty instead of merit?
"No, no, you're misunderstanding again—"
Hashirama waved frantically.
"Hmph. Big brother wants you to go to the Summit."
Tobirama finally couldn't hold it in and coldly revealed the truth.
"Hah? Me? At the Gokage Summit?"
Gin had imagined countless possibilities, but this wasn't one of them. What right did he have to sit in a room like that?
"Stop joking. Me? Me?"
"No joke, Gin-nii. You're the most suitable choice in Konoha—bar none."
Hashirama's eyes practically glowed, staring straight at him. Gin felt his skin crawl.
"But I don't have the strength. Wouldn't that embarrass Konoha?"
He threw out his usual excuse.
"Don't sell yourself short. Sure, you've got an old injury, but you're still strong enough… a jōnin, right?"
Hashirama looked to Tobirama, who gave a curt nod.
"Jōnin?"
The word hit Gin like a foreign tongue. When did Konoha start throwing around that rank?
"Oh, right, you don't know yet. After the Summit, we were going to announce it: from now on, ninjas will be divided into genin, chūnin, and jōnin."
Hashirama scratched his head, grinning sheepishly, and explained the new system.
Jōnin? No thanks. Dangerous missions, babysitting brats—completely against his core values.
"No, no, no. I know my limits. If I take jōnin, people will think you're playing favorites. Not happening."
Gin shook his head furiously.
"But we already numbered everything… you're ninja No.1. The very first jōnin."
The three had agreed earlier, making Gin the symbolic No.1. They thought it'd be a surprise gift.
"Change it! Right now!"
Gin nearly popped a vein. He'd been hiding so well all these years, and these kids wanted to drag him into the spotlight? If he hadn't caught it now, he'd be finished.
"Uh…"
The three were stunned. Any other person would've killed for this honor, yet Gin acted like they were handing him a death sentence.
"But—"
"No buts. No jōnin. If you make me a jōnin, forget tomorrow's Summit—I'm packing up tonight!"
"…Fine. If you agree to attend, I'll change it."
Hashirama frowned deeply, baffled, but gave in.
"Good. Once you change me to genin—or even chūnin—I'll go to that Summit. If I so much as frown, may my cousin live a lonely life."
Gin grinned. Anything to escape the jōnin title—even if it cursed Madara's love life.
"Hah? Why me?!"
Madara stiffened.
"Deal. Once the Summit ends, I'll officially make you No.1 genin."
Hashirama clapped his chest, sealing the promise.
"Solid, little brother!"
"Then let me brief you on the agenda."
At a signal, Tobirama pulled out the prepared meeting notes and handed them over.
"Hmm… mediating wars, peace treaties, not bad. Distribution of bijū… wait, selling them?"
Gin flipped through, nodding—until he saw the last part. Then his grin spread.
"Now I get why you called me~"
So Hashirama wasn't completely senile. He knew to find the right man for the job. Konoha's No.1 Salesman reporting in.
Snap!
Gin shut the folder, his eyes sharp, lips curling into a cold smile.
"How much are you planning to sell them for?"
"This…"
The brothers exchanged a glance. After a pause, Hashirama nervously held up a single finger.
"One tail… this much."
A hundred million per beast—surely fair?
"Pfft. You sure about that?"
Gin frowned. Charging one hundred billion for a single bijū? That was pure highway robbery.
"It's already a friendship price. If they buy in bulk, I'll even give a discount."
Hashirama shrank a little under Gin's stare.
"No. Bijū are rare, one of a kind. That price isn't unreasonable."
Gin shook his head. He'd do what he could.
"Then tomorrow it's all on you, Gin-nii. Whether Konoha soars depends on your pitch."
"But what's the commission rate?"
Gin smirked. No way he'd sell monsters like that without his cut.
"You never lack money! Why are you always digging for more?"
Tobirama finally exploded, pointing right at him.
"Doesn't matter if I'm rich. Doesn't mean I'll let you freeload. You still owe me pay for guarding the bijū! What, you want this for free too?"
Gin spread his hands shamelessly.
"Alright, alright. He's not wrong. Fine, Gin-nii—you'll get thirty percent of the proceeds as your task reward."
Hashirama quickly pressed his fuming brother down and made the promise.
"That's my solid little brother. Always trustworthy."
Satisfied, Gin nodded with a grin.
"Then, tomorrow it is."
Afterward, Gin and Madara left together.
"Cousin, did you gain anything from your… meditation?"
Walking side by side, Gin casually asked.
"…Some. Not much."
Madara stiffened, clearly hiding something.
"Trouble you can't solve alone?"
Gin's dead-fish eyes turned serious, piercing into Madara.
"You can tell me. I'll help you out."
Madara fell silent for a long while. Finally, his eyes flickered.
"Big cousin… do you think eternal peace is possible? A world where everyone's dreams come true, no one dies in war, no friends ever turn blades against each other?"
Bingo. He'd seen the Infinite Tsukuyomi plan.
Gin betrayed nothing. Maybe that lurking creep was listening. Instead, he smiled faintly, half mocking.
"So you're a peace ambassador now, eh? Nice thought. But… hard to pull off."
"…I knew it."
Madara's shoulders slumped.
"Cousin, as long as people exist, there'll be conflict."
Gin clapped his shoulder.
"Take you and that white-haired brat. Konoha's peaceful, Uchiha and Senju are one family… but don't you still get the itch when you see him?"
"…Well, yeah."
Just thinking of Tobirama's smug face made his fists twitch.
"See? Small conflict. Everyone's ideas clash—that so-called eternal peace is impossible. But…"
"But what?"
Madara looked up.
"Eternal peace is out of reach. But relative peace? That's doable."
Gin's eyes narrowed, his tone calm.
"Hashirama's plan will work. I guarantee—while he's alive, there won't be a great war. Everyone will live, develop, prosper."
"And if Hashirama's gone?"
Madara pressed, his voice tight.
"If he's gone, odds are you're gone too. You'll both be dead. You really care about what happens after? From the Pure Land, you planning to come back and 'dance' with them?"
Gin rolled his eyes.
"…Uh."
Madara froze, lost for words. Looking at his cousin's nonchalant face, warmth bloomed in his chest.
Maybe only big cousin would be so patient with him.
"Enough heavy talk. I skipped lunch. Let's go eat. What're you craving?"
"Barbecue."
"Then I'm ordering!"
After Gin's words, Madara smiled faintly, letting go of the stone tablet's burden for now. The last passage remained unread anyway.
Later, as they staggered out of the yakiniku shop under the rising moon, Madara drunkenly slurred:
"Big cousin… if I'm Hokage, I'll make you warden of Konoha's prison. You can interrogate whoever you want. If anyone complains, I'll just throw them in for you to play with…"
Gin chuckled, touched.
"Little brother, that's enough for me."
He slipped a blue vial from his pouch, uncapped it, and handed it over.
"Drink this sweet water. You've got a job tomorrow."
Madara gulped it down.
"Whew! This stuff hits harder than that deer-wine! Why didn't you give it earlier?"
The sorcery elixir lit up his eyes red. His spirit burned, brain buzzing with dopamine.
"Not much left. Don't waste it."
Gin "reluctantly" pulled out two more bottles and handed them over.
"I'll save them. Maybe share with Hashirama."
Madara tucked them into his pack, excitement gleaming.
"Remember to get me more next time."
Gin shrugged. Typical Madara. The guy could even give away the Hokage building; what were two potions?
"Big cousin, tomorrow… if anyone gives you trouble, tell me. I'll avenge you."
"Solid little brother."
The next morning—
Gin rose early, swapping his loose home clothes for the Uchiha high-collared robe.
"…Why's this so tight?"
He tugged at the collar, frowning. It fit perfectly when Konoha was founded. A year later, it was snug.
"Hmph! Too much candy!"
Banma, tying his belt from behind, gave him a sharp tug—
Snap!
"AAAHHH! My waist!!"
Gin collapsed, rolling in pain, wailing like the damned.
"Don't panic, I'll fix it!"
Banma grabbed him, and with another crack reset his spine.
By the time Gin limped through the streets, face pale, he overheard whispers:
"Look, it's that guy! The one who ordered that obscene spread at Taro's BBQ!"
"And he can still walk? Truly a role model!"
"I need that menu!"
Ignoring the gossip, Gin shuffled onward—until at a corner, he spotted two men moving just like him.
Two dark-skinned powerhouses, clutching their lower backs, inching toward the Hokage Building.
"Oi, Ai-kun."
"Here!"
Gin hurried to greet the First Raikage.
"…Gin-brother, what happened to you?"
The Raikage blinked, realizing their identical posture. His face grew awkward.
Before Gin could explain, the Raikage chuckled knowingly.
"Last night, you weren't with us… Did you snag that Wind Country No.36 masseuse before we could?"
(End of Chapter)
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