"Uchiha Makoto, calm down. Think of peace in the shinobi world—if you act on your own—"
"Silence. Remember to address me properly while we're working."
"Right now you will address me as Light Shadow. And Senju Tobirama, don't forget your status and your stance."
Tobirama recalled his elder brother's instructions. For the sake of stability, he still decided to swallow his pride and speak softly to Uchiha Makoto, but Makoto gave him no face at all under everyone's eyes. The shinobi of Akatsuki Village and the Uzumaki wore open disgust. At a time like this, Konoha's higher-ups were still speaking up for Kumogakure—truly shameless.
The Konoha shinobi felt their faces burn with shame.
The higher-ups of Konoha felt a deeper sourness inside.
They knew Senju Tobirama's character in the village.
He was the shadow Hokage, Konoha's "Nine-Thousand-Year Lord," a hard-edged iron-blood who would brook no sand in his eyes.
When faced with troublesome civilians, he could unhesitatingly order the ANBU to strike hard—beat them down and throw them into ANBU custody.
If not for the Hokage personally interceding, those troublemakers would still be rotting in ANBU's cells.
For Tobirama to throw away his face like this in such a headwind clearly meant he was shouldering the stance above him.
Lord Hashirama was, in the end, too merciful.
So merciful he didn't seem like someone who walked out of the Warring States over mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Lord Tobirama would carry the blame this time.
The moment Tobirama spoke, he felt the weight of everyone's gaze. His heart plunged to the bottom of the sea. He'd been so fixated on his brother's charge that he'd forgotten which way the wind was blowing. Speaking up now would only draw hatred.
Uchiha Makoto's smug look was the most obvious.
In an instant, anger, frenzy, unwillingness—every kind of dark emotion sprouted in Tobirama's heart. He was Konoha's "Nine-Thousand-Year Lord," the shadow Hokage.
Today he had been embarrassed by that "inherently evil" Uchiha brat in front of so many people. When had he ever lost so much face? If he were an Uchiha instead of a Senju, he'd have awakened at least a three-tomoe Sharingan by now—maybe even a Mangekyō.
But Senju Tobirama was no ordinary man.
Though he wanted to explode into a brawl and use Flying Thunder God to hack off Makoto's dog head, he kept his reason.
In a few seconds he fully recognized the situation.
He should have kept silent and not taken the bait.
But since he'd already blundered, he could only steel himself and carry on. He must not turn against Makoto here, and he must not speak in a way that followed Makoto's lead; otherwise Makoto might start issuing orders and presume to declare Konoha's stance—war on Kumogakure.
"Yes, Light Shadow."
"I understand your feelings right now, Light Shadow. I only stood up to speak fairly. As for Kumogakure's responsibility, I guarantee Konoha will pursue it to the end. But if we further expand this conflict, I hope Light Shadow will think twice."
"Lord Hokage would not wish—"
A chest of thunder yet a lake-like face—
Worthy of a great general.
Despite the great humiliation, Tobirama's face remained impassive.
He drew a deep breath to clear his head and spoke slowly.
The subtext was clear: Uchiha Makoto—fine, you win.
Konoha would help Akatsuki Village pressure Kumogakure to extract more benefit. But if Makoto wanted to expand the war, Konoha would not agree, and the elder brother would act personally.
"Hm. Now that's a sensible line."
Makoto nodded, a look of long-awaited vengeance on his face. "Inherently evil" Senju old ghost—so you strutted before me days ago; now you finally get put in your place.
He could leave it at that.
Continuing to slap Tobirama's face was meaningless, and the man could really endure—staying calm even now. It's true what they say: the dog that bites doesn't bark.
"Tsuchikage, did you hear that?"
"Kumogakure must give me a satisfactory account. Otherwise we can only continue this war."
"Konoha won't let Kumogakure off either."
"Right, Senju Tobirama?"
Makoto turned to the First Tsuchikage, declared his stance, then cued Tobirama again.
This wasn't over.
Kumogakure must pay.
If they wanted a ceasefire, the notion of "unconditional" needed to be tossed aside. What awaited them was a defeated party's terms.
Tobirama's deathly gaze swept across without words—counting as consent.
"Good. Good."
"Rest assured, Light Shadow, I will press Kumogakure. And they will quickly find that Kumogakure shinobi. He must die to atone."
Only after Makoto's promise did the First Tsuchikage finally exhale.
Damn.
Getting Kumogakure to withdraw unconditionally was now impossible. They would have to bleed heavily to end this war. And the culprit—the Kumogakure assassin—must die. Forget Makoto wanting him dead; even the First Tsuchikage wanted him dead.
A complete fool.
He not only forced Kumogakure to bleed, but left the Tsuchikage bowing and scraping here. A thousand deaths wouldn't be enough.
"In that case, all the better."
Makoto smiled as the play he'd directed wrapped up perfectly.
Iwagakure had sold a few favors to Kumogakure; the result wasn't ideal, but they had saved the Cloud.
Akatsuki Village had two strategic goals: a war to establish prestige, and to use the chance to weaken Kumogakure as much as possible. Both were essentially achieved.
Konoha had come to make a show and share spoils; now they'd fulfilled their duty as allies and would still get to gnaw a bone at the winners' table. Their aim was met.
The only real casualty was Kumogakure.
But careless words can pierce mindful hearts—
Tobirama froze as though struck by lightning.
"...?"
"Wait a second… that Kumogakure assassin still hasn't been caught."
"Did he escape, or… was this whole thing a play directed by that inherently evil Uchiha brat?"
Clearly, the earlier chaos had rattled even Tobirama's keen mind.
When things settled—
When the dust fell—
He quickly sensed something wrong.
The assassin's shout had been clear.
His kunai had indeed nicked Makoto's ear, and Makoto's guards had immediately given chase. But almost instantly, Makoto shifted the focus from the assassin to Kumogakure at large.
He was stabbed one moment; the next, it was as if he'd prepared a script—pressing the Cloud. Everyone's attention followed. Akatsuki, the Uzumaki, and Konoha shinobi all moved to Makoto's rhythm and bore down on Kumogakure.
And that crucial assassin turned invisible—ignored for the moment.
Too strange.
"Did the assassin escape your guards?"
"Yes… he was very sly."
"Oh?"
Watching the smile at Makoto's lips, Tobirama nearly had his answer.
Who benefited most from the assassination?
Could it be Kumogakure?
Obviously not.
Even if their shinobi had succeeded in killing Makoto, then what?
At best, they'd avenge the First Raikage.
Important, yes—easing their hate.
But the aftermath—
Disastrous.
Makoto's prestige was at its apex—in Akatsuki and across the shinobi world. The Cloud daring to assassinate the Light Shadow at the negotiating table?
If that happened—
Not only Akatsuki and the Uzumaki would retaliate regardless of cost.
Even Konoha would. Talk of peace would be useless. Hashirama would act with force, and the Cloud's end would be worse than now.
Would those black-skinned bastards really do something so foolish?
Unlikely.
By the principle "who profits most is the mastermind," the answer was obvious: Akatsuki.
Makoto had used this chance to lock Akatsuki's stance to Konoha's.
Even if Konoha wanted to preach peace and urge a quick ceasefire, with this incident they had to join Akatsuki in pressuring the Cloud.
Someone had to carry the blame.
"Unconditional" was now a fantasy.
A surrender-as-defeated ceasefire from Kumogakure was inevitable.
Before the war even began, Akatsuki had parlayed two dead chūnin into near-defeat terms for the Cloud.
Now the Cloud had truly lost—who knew what monstrous demands that inherently evil Uchiha brat would make?
Makoto was plainly the biggest beneficiary.
Tobirama quickly stitched the clues together and reached his conclusion.
Damn it.
From start to finish, this had been a play directed by that inherently evil Uchiha brat.
Frankly, Makoto's method wasn't even that sophisticated.
He simply seized "human sentiment."
Akatsuki, the Uzumaki, even Konoha's shinobi had repressed emotions. At a sudden spark, Makoto poked them and they lost their heads—piling onto the Cloud without even pausing to confer, starting a mass brawl.
Everyone's attention was consumed by that brawl, leaving no time for the assassin.
The more Tobirama thought, the uglier his face grew.
The rougher Makoto's methods, the worse Tobirama felt.
He fancied himself the bane of Uchiha. Apart from the overpowered aberration Uchiha Madara, whom he couldn't suppress by wits, he'd never put other Uchiha in his eyes—mere toys in his palm. Yet today, right under Uchiha Makoto's gaze, he'd been played like a fool.
Perhaps days ago—
When he agreed to help Akatsuki with the publicity—
Makoto was laughing at him inside.
The more fervently Konoha publicized, the more Konoha had to seek justice for Akatsuki.
Otherwise Konoha's name would rot.
Shaking with rage.
That inherently evil Uchiha brat—
How could he be so wicked?
Worst of all, Tobirama had only conjecture.
He had no proof.
The only witness was the assassin—either an Akatsuki plant or a Cloud shinobi under Makoto's control. So much time had passed.
If you don't catch such a person on the spot, you'll never find him later—no matter the mastermind. Even if the Cloud truly plotted it, anyone with a brain would ensure the assassin stays silent forever.
And who stays silent forever?
Without a doubt—the dead.
"Senju Tobirama, what are you thinking? Why does your face look worse and worse?"
"Did the big scene frighten you today? I'm the victim who was attacked, and I'm not afraid—what are you afraid of?"
"Need me to summon a medical shinobi?"
Makoto was no fool; he was as sly and dark as Tobirama.
He knew him very well.
Just hearing Tobirama's sudden question, Makoto realized the man had guessed the truth—this was a show written and acted by the Light Shadow.
As time passed, more would see through it.
There are always many clever people in the world.
But Makoto wasn't worried. Without evidence, casually slandering a great village's Kage—who also happened to be a moral paragon and the victim—what would happen?
Sending such a slanderer to meet the Sage of Six Paths would feel reasonable.
"I'm fine… fine…"
Facing Makoto's malicious taunts, Tobirama's face was a mask of grief, his eyes sunk into darkness.
Uchiha Makoto—just you wait.
I will kill you.
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