Night fell.
Uchiha Seiji sat back in the wicker chair of his bedroom, eyes shut, replaying the day's events in his head.
"Brat, what the hell are you trying to pull…"Tobirama Senju's voice slithered out of the shadows like a ghost—though what was funnier was the faint note of confusion buried in it, impossible for him to disguise.
Seiji ignored him, but Tobirama continued anyway, as if lecturing himself:"You claim to believe in the Will of Fire, but there's no way I'll buy that. A clever and dangerous brat like you can't possibly miss the Will of Fire's real flaws…"
"So—are you trying to worm your way into the Hokage's circle, biding your time to one day turn the Will of Fire into an Uchiha bargaining chip?"
He hesitated. "…No, that doesn't add up. If that's your goal, then why crush that other Uchiha brat, Obito? And why go out of your way to imitate my combat methods? Either one of those things tanks your standing inside the clan."
Tobirama's spectral voice sharpened. "But the real problem is—because you sealed my soul inside yourself, I can't shake the thought you might actually be serious about protecting Konoha. If that's true, then all my years fighting the ninja world were a joke…"
"Yet you're Kagami's descendant."
Even the calculating Second Hokage was unraveling.
From a clan-politics perspective, everything Seiji had done so far was political suicide.
He openly flaunted the Will of Fire as though it were his personal creed. He borrowed Tobirama's water-style to flatten a double-tomoe Obito, and then mocked him for letting his Sharingan wreck his emotions. Every single move carried a symbolic weight—too much for Tobirama to ignore.
And yet—if he set aside the whole "sealed-my-soul-like-a-jerk" thing—Tobirama had to admit, Seiji's character was irritatingly flawless.
He encouraged Gai, bandaged his wounds, and even promised to face him as a rival. He shared advanced jutsu with Rin Nohara, a civilian-born kunoichi with talent but no backing. He showed respect toward Ikkaku Umino, a plain, unremarkable chūnin. He cared for his younger brother with the warmth of someone who actually understood responsibility.
Even among the Senju, that kind of humility and quiet kindness was rare.
But Tobirama couldn't ignore the soul-binding.
Could it really be as Seiji had said when they first met—that he wasn't one of those twisted, self-destructive Uchiha, but just a kid who wanted to live a normal life, dragged into studying forbidden techniques out of desperation, summoning Tobirama's soul by accident?
For a moment, Tobirama felt something absurd: guilt.
If that were true, then hadn't he been the one to crush a genius Uchiha who truly carried the Will of Fire?
He shook his head violently, banishing the thought. Too abstract. Too dangerous. But the doubt had already eaten its way into him.
Seiji's voice cut through his spiral. Calm, steady:"Tobirama, I read something in an old scroll once. It said, 'Judge a man by his deeds, not by the shadows of his heart.'"
He met Tobirama's gaze with those dark, spinning tomoe."You're not just Hokage. You're a scientist. You should know—when you start with a biased conclusion, you've already lost objectivity."
"Because I once respected you, I'll say this again, clearly. My goal is simple: I want good people to live better lives. I want bad people to pay what they deserve. With my own justice—as Uchiha Seiji—I'll cut down evil and bring peace."
Silence. Even Tobirama's piercing eyes couldn't find a trace of deceit in Seiji's Sharingan—only sincerity.
"…Brat, I'll be watching you."
"Good. I'll need your insight to keep me sharp. If you ever feel like lecturing me, don't hold back."
"Don't call me Tobirama! Damn brat, I'm your grandfather's master—your great-grandfather's generation!"
"Yeah, yeah. Relax, you're dead anyway. Don't sweat the family tree."
[Congratulations! From sparring with your debate target, Senju Tobirama, you've gained: Swordsmanship (Tobirama-style)!]
The delightful ching of coins rang in Seiji's head. He burst out laughing, staring at Tobirama still grumbling about "respecting elders." That smile—it was the same one Tobirama had seen the first time they met. Bright. Certain. The smile of a farmer watching fields heavy with harvest.
Tobirama's chest tightened. Then—darkness swallowed his senses once more.
"Goodnight, Tobirama," Seiji said.
He stripped down, humming a cheerful tune."Harvest is harvest, big or small. Tobirama's sword style's not bad. Time to get myself a proper blade…"
He paused. "Right, there should be some good Warring States relics in the family vault. I'll check them out tomorrow."
A glass of milk, a few stretches, and he fell asleep soundly.
But across Konoha, few others managed the same.
In the next room, Shisui tossed and turned, feeling crushed by Seiji's overwhelming presence. He had to grow stronger, faster.
Might Guy, dragging his father along, ran laps through the village under the moonlight, Seiji's recognition fueling his legs like fire.
Rin Nohara lay on her futon, staring blankly at the moon outside her window. Her mind replayed the moment Seiji's fingertip brushed her throat—an electric shiver that sent color rushing to her cheeks.
Kakashi sat alone, gripping his short blade, calculating and recalculating: if he fought Seiji, could he win?
Asuma Sarutobi snuck into his father's courtyard, stole a cigarette from his brother's stash, and exhaled into the night. His thoughts tangled with Seiji, the Uchiha, and the Will of Fire.
Hiruzen Sarutobi wasn't home—he was in the Hokage's office, sweating over exam papers, carefully preparing questions for the subjects Seiji had requested.
Meanwhile, Obito Uchiha found himself suddenly beloved, visited by elder after elder led by Uchiha Setsuna. A seven-year-old awakening double tomoe? That was rare even in a thousand years of clan history.
In the shadows, Tobirama brooded. The more he observed Seiji, the less he understood him. But that only made his curiosity—and his competitive itch—burn hotter.
And far away, in his cave, Madara Uchiha sifted through White Zetsu's reports. Seiji. Obito. His gaze darkened.
From Konoha to the edges of the shinobi world, the stage was trembling. The arrival of Uchiha Seiji had tugged the threads of fate into wild new patterns.
Would the future be brighter—or worse? Seiji didn't know.
He just knew he was sleeping damn well.