"Damn it, those bastards!"
"This absolutely has something to do with them!"
Senju Tobirama's face was ashen as he slammed the desk to vent his anger.
Uchiha Makoto—that naturally evil Uchiha brat—is a clansman of the Uchiha!
Tobirama refused to believe the Uchiha in Konoha hadn't dipped their hands in this. Even with broken bones, the tendon still connects!
And the very fact that Uchiha Makoto split off to found his own village right before Konoha's establishment was suspicious from the start. Now the Uchiha were colluding inside and out, scheming to usurp Konoha—the lifeblood he and his brother built!
That must never happen!
He swore it to himself, forced his mind to cool, and began to analyze. What he felt was helplessness. The current situation tied his hands.
The Uchiha had likely planned this long ago.
He'd been careless.
Busy with village affairs, he'd relaxed oversight of the Uchiha. In that brief lapse, Makoto outside and the Uchiha inside had linked up!
Makoto was stirring storms beyond the walls while the Uchiha fanned the flames within. Konoha would soon know no peace.
Worse, the Uchiha had already harnessed public sentiment. If Konoha stood shoulder to shoulder with Dawn Village to strike Kumogakure for refusing that "surrender treaty," the victory would be certain—but Makoto and the Uchiha would reap immense prestige and seize more say inside Konoha. That was the last thing Tobirama wanted.
But if Konoha slammed the brakes now, it would go against the will of the people. Even if it were for peace, riled-up villagers and shinobi wouldn't see reason.
When venting, people are no different from beasts.
His elder brother's prestige would take a hit—and that, in turn, would raise the Uchiha's influence.
A daylight trap with no clean answer.
Advance or retreat—both were wrong.
"Tobirama, is it really that bad?"
"It's just your guess."
Tobirama poured out his worries to Uzumaki Mito. His sister-in-law was someone he could trust—someone who might offer a way through.
She trusted his ability, yes.
But here, she felt he was simply overthinking.
She'd met Uchiha Makoto! As the woman who had awakened her to a new sense of self, she saw him through a gentler lens. How could that handsome, devoted, forward-thinking young man be the scheming villain Tobirama described?
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
Tobirama was maligning him.
"Big Sister-in-law, you and my brother are too kind. You can't see the Uchiha's true face. The Sharingan thrives on extremity—the more radical the mind, the stronger the eye. They're a latent danger. Those people are capable of anything!"
He looked every inch the lone sober man among drunkards. He had seen the Uchiha's essence and would show no softness or naïve hope.
"Then what do you plan to do?" Mito asked. This was urgent; she wouldn't keep arguing.
"First, bring my brother here. He has to take the helm."
He dispatched an ANBU to summon Senju Hashirama while he ran through contingencies—all of which required his brother. A shadow can only be a shadow; he was not the true Hokage under the sun.
But…
His brother always leaned outward—toward Madara. Tobirama could only sigh.
Not long after—
"Tobirama, what's going on? The mood in the village feels… off!"
"Big Brother, you're too dull!"
ANBU brought Hashirama to the office. He was even slower on the uptake now than when he led the Senju. Tobirama chalked it up to being "bewitched" by Uchiha Madara.
Tobirama sketched the situation, then laid out his suspicions about the Uchiha—clearly and completely.
"Brother, this is dangerous. Your choice will shape the village's future. For Konoha's sake, use True Several Thousand Hands on the Uchiha. Anyone making trouble in the village—hit them with a thousand fists, one Uchiha per punch!"
"Enough, Tobirama. You're speculating! I don't believe Madara or the Uchiha would do this. If Madara wants to be Hokage, he can just tell me!"
"For Konoha's peace and future, Madara can be the Second Hokage."
Hashirama slapped the desk. He didn't buy Tobirama's theory at all.
For a title?
Why would Madara and the Uchiha scheme that deeply, even start a war? If Madara wanted the hat, he could tell him now—Hashirama would step down and hand him the Second Hokage seat.
Tobirama's eyes bulged. He nearly swore out loud, but swallowed it. Mito covered her face—speechless. The wildest part? It really could happen.
"Fine, I won't argue!" Tobirama snapped. "Answer me this—Dawn Village blew this up. How are Makoto's 'compensation terms' any different from defeat terms? What does he want?"
"He's maliciously expanding this to ignite a war!"
"Konoha is already in an uproar. With public opinion boiling, war could spark at any moment!"
Hashirama faltered. He too felt Makoto's terms were excessive—leaving Kumogakure no off-ramp. Whoever signed would be a sinner, and the village a joke.
"Makoto's gone too far. We should have Madara quickly send Uchiha to negotiate with him. Then it should be fine…"
Tobirama snorted.
"And if Madara and the Uchiha think the same way as Makoto?"
"Impossible. Madara loves peace!"
"Even if Madara has no such thought, he can't speak for the entire clan. If he could, Makoto wouldn't have founded his own village."
Tobirama rebutted coldly. His brother was too naïve.
The Senju and Uchiha only clasped hands because Hashirama and Madara dominated the discourse. Millennial blood feuds don't vanish in a year or two. The Uchiha in Konoha surely still chafe. They want to win back what they lost—by other means.
So even if Uchiha sent envoys, it would be lip service. They'd return empty-handed.
Unless Madara went himself.
But even then, Tobirama wouldn't rest easy. His brother and sister-in-law had both been swayed by Makoto's rhetoric. What if Madara was, too?
That would be worse. Unfixable.
"Tobirama, what do you suggest?" Hashirama's head hurt. He hated twists and turns. Why couldn't people just be simple and kind?
"Your stance is paramount," Tobirama said. "Since we can't reel this back, the best way is to ride the wave. Konoha should strike directly—bypass Dawn Village and hit Kumogakure. Seize the initiative, turn passive to active, and establish Konoha's prestige. Your standing will rise."
Break Makoto's board: Hashirama leads Konoha's army, forces Kumo to bow, and all the fame falls to the Senju. Makoto and the Uchiha sip soup at best.
But his brother—
"I can't!"
"Why must we turn to war when we can talk? Many will die!"
"One day, the hatred and humiliation will trap Konoha in endless wars!"
As expected, Hashirama shook his head like a drum. Too naïve—believing everyone else was, too.
"I'm used to it," Tobirama sighed inwardly. He knew this answer was coming, but had to try—on the off chance his brother awakened.
"If you insist on peace, then first cool Konoha's mood. We can't reach into Dawn Village; we'll have to counter as it comes."
Hands spread, his voice held helplessness. Even with a thousand methods, he was boxed in.
His brother was the deadlock. Hashirama would not smash the table—only talk.
Negotiations don't beat a Great Buddha.
He wouldn't strike Kumo, so he wouldn't strong-arm Dawn Village either. Without force behind it, Konoha's so-called diplomacy meant nothing to them.
And Dawn Village held the moral high ground—seeking justice for the dead.
No one could openly say "no."
As for the harsh terms? The rank and file didn't care. They were celebrating Makoto's stance. They wanted a boss who would be their shield—even if he didn't play fair.
Hashirama wanted peace. And Tobirama had to "figure it out."
Now wedged between the villagers' anger and Hashirama's ideals, Tobirama felt like a daughter-in-law stuck between in-laws and children. If he couldn't appease both, he'd rather slight the children than the elders.
Brother… I must have owed you in a past life.
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