"Anyway, let's forget about Madara for now. At least we know your knowledge, while fragmented, is truthful. Now that I know everything about it, I'll figure out its source." Hashirama declared, his easygoing tone evaporating as a focused intensity settled in his eyes.
"I think you're rushing it a bit, Lord Hashirama," the child replied, their voice a tranquil counterpoint to Hashirama's sudden gravity.
Hashirama's brow furrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "Why? Is there something else I should know?"
A slight, almost imperceptible tilt of the child's head was their only response. "What makes you believe my knowledge is limited to just your past?"
Hashirama blinked, then a broad, genuine grin stretched across his face, chasing away the earlier tension. "Ho ho! Don't tell me you know about someone else, too?"
A beat of silence passed between them. "No. I'm not talking about people. I'm talking about time." The child's voice remained calm.
The grin faltered, replaced by a look of profound confusion. "What do you mean?" Hashirama asked, his brow deeply furrowed.
"What if I told you that what I know isn't just the past, but I also know about the future?" the child stated.
"Future?" Hashirama's voice dropped to a low whisper, edged with a mixture of curiosity and deep-seated disbelief. "Like what?"
"Like, your wish to maintain peace in the ninja world won't work. The tides of destiny are not in your favor," the child stated matter-of-factly, as if commenting on the weather.
A cold wariness replaced Hashirama's easygoing demeanor. "Huh? What do you mean?" He straightened up, his easy stance gone.
"You don't believe me, do you?" The child's unblinking eyes seemed to bore into his.
"No, no, I mean... yes, what you said is hard to accept," Hashirama stammered, his usual eloquence failing him. "Why do you think so?"
"Because it is a certainty." The child's small voice held a conviction that was chilling in its finality, a weight that no child should bear.
"But how can you be so certain? I will do my best to make sure this peace lasts," Hashirama pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.
"And as I said, destiny is not in your favor." The child simply repeated their previous statement.
"What does destiny not favoring me mean?" Hashirama pressed, his gaze locked on the child's.
"It means what I said: after some time, wars will eventually break out, this time with an intensity greater than ever before," the child explained.
"That won't happen. I'll be there to stop it," Hashirama insisted, his voice hardening with resolve.
"But what if you're not there?" The child's voice was a soft, but pointed question.
Hashirama's pupils shook, a flicker of genuine, gut-wrenching shock in his eyes. He quickly masked it. "Then Madara will do it in my stead," he said with a forced calm.
"What if Madara Uchiha was absent, too?" The child's voice was unrelenting.
A deep sigh escaped Hashirama's lips, and his eyes narrowed slightly. He understood the ruthless logic of the child's questions. "Then Tobirama will do it."
"He can't. There is only one shinobi god," the child stated simply, yet the words landed with the weight of a heavy blow, a cold, unfeeling assessment of reality.
Hashirama fell silent, his gaze fixed on the child, a complex mix of emotions swirling in his eyes—grief, confusion, and a burgeoning sense of dread. He finally broke the silence with a single question. "What is this tide of destiny you speak of that can render even me powerless?"
"There are many factors that, when working together, create what I call the current of destiny—a converging of situations and opinions that makes certain events inevitable. Let me ask you a question. Why were you able to establish the one-country, one-shinobi village system?" The child's voice took on the precise, measured tone of a seasoned scholar.
"Because me and Madara joined hands with a lot of strong clans to do it," Hashirama replied, still wrestling with the weight of the child's previous words.
"And why did they join you?" the child asked.
"Because they wanted peace," Hashirama said, a slight weariness creeping into his voice.
"Exactly. After a few hundred years of constant fighting, they were tired and sick of it, so the desire of the masses was in your favor. Because you and Madara, the two strongest people, far outclassed the rest, and your clans and many others joined, the factor of strength was also in your favor. So were the merchants and nobles who wanted prosperity by limiting the battle. Almost everyone was in favor of one choice, which turned the tide of destiny to your support.
But now that peace is achieved, people will desire more, breaking the factors that united the tide. Human desires and the greed of men will shift their direction, which will inevitably give rise to conflict." The child's voice was full of authority.
"I don't think that's enough for wars to break out," Hashirama said, desperately trying to cling to his optimism.
"Why do you think so?" the child asked, their gaze steady.
"Because I will be there to stop them." Hashirama's voice was firm.
"What if you can't?" The child challenged him.
"Child, I'm not exaggerating, but even if all the shinobi of the other four villages come together, they would not be my opponents," Hashirama replied, his voice firm and filled with a quiet confidence.
"Who ever said that they would stop you?" The child's words were a cold, sharp blade.
Hashirama was stunned into silence. He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the child's face, his mind racing. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"What if the person who stands against you is the only other person in this world who is your equal in power?" the child's voice was unbothered.
"That won't happen. I believe Madara. He isn't one who wants to start wars," Hashirama insisted, a deep conviction in his voice.