The moon hung low over Konoha, bleeding pale silver into the tiled roofs and courtyards below. It was the hour when shinobi didn't sleep—but also didn't speak.
And yet, Tobirama was already awake when Naori arrived.
He stood on the high watchtower of the Senju compound, arms folded behind his back, eyes cast across the silent village. His posture, as always, was statuesque. But tonight, something behind his gaze shifted—ever so slightly—as she landed behind him.
She didn't announce herself. He didn't turn around.
"Uchiha," he said. "Unusual for your clan to travel uninvited this deep into Senju grounds."
Naori didn't answer at first. Her Mangekyō Sharingan slowly unraveled, fading into sharp black irises.
"You know why I'm here."
Tobirama exhaled. "Enlighten me."
Naori stepped beside him, her cloak rustling in the soft wind. "There's something unnatural growing beneath this village. Beneath your land. I traced the pulse from the forest, followed it through the leylines under the academy, and into this compound."
He didn't respond.
"I saw a boy yesterday," she continued. "He fell during training, twisted his arm. It should've taken a week to heal. It took hours."
Tobirama said, "Are you accusing the Senju of forbidden medical jutsu?"
"No," Naori said, tone flat. "I'm accusing you of doing something more dangerous. You're changing the nature of chakra itself."
Tobirama turned at last. His face was composed—but behind it, a strange quiet gleamed.
"And what if I am?"
Naori's eyes sharpened. "Then I need to know why. And I need to know where it ends."
---
They stood in silence for several moments, the village breathing softly below.
"I did not start this," Tobirama said eventually. "But I allowed it. Because the old system is broken. We build peace on borrowed blood. We teach children to kill before they can reason. The gods you fear—the ones you imagine watch over us from the sky—are gone."
Naori's mouth tightened. "So you replace them with something alien? Something that rewrites chakra like parchment?"
"No," Tobirama said. "I replace them with something we might control."
"And what if you're wrong?" she asked quietly.
His eyes narrowed. "Then I burn it. Myself."
---
Naori's gaze lingered on him a long moment. She didn't trust easily. Least of all a Senju.
But Tobirama wasn't lying.
And beneath his cold certainty, she saw it—the tension, the restraint. He wasn't leading a revolution. He was standing on the edge of one, trying to decide whether to jump… or push.
"Who gave this to you?" she asked at last.
He looked to the sky. "No one gave it to me. But someone showed me a door."
She raised a brow. "And did they tell you what was on the other side?"
Tobirama gave a rare, dry smile. "No. But they promised I could build it myself."
---
That night, Naori left the compound with no report filed.
But she returned home and began compiling everything—chakra diagrams, chakra density records, cross-referenced genetic awakenings from various clans.
She called the file simply:
"Senju Divergence – Pattern One."
---
And in the deeper garden of the Senju compound, hidden behind layers of silence and roots, Soromon Kenja sat quietly beneath the old tree.
He had heard every word.
And he was pleased.
Because paranoia bred scrutiny.
And scrutiny, in time… bred understanding.