Seiji and Asuma sat in silence, smoking side by side as their eyes rested on the distant lights of Konoha.
Asuma dragged on his cigarette like every puff was meant to exhale the bitterness gnawing at his chest. His brows stayed locked in a deep frown.
Seiji, on the other hand, let his own cigarette burn down untouched. Staring at Asuma's expression, a name came to mind—an infamous Uchiha.
Uchiha Itachi.Though, at this moment, he was probably still in Uchiha Mikoto's womb.
At just four years old, Fugaku had dragged little Itachi onto the battlefield, forcing him to witness carnage no child should see. From then on, the boy brooded on peace and life, until the day he was ordered to become a double agent. Obsessed with the Will of Fire, he came to see the Uchiha as a cursed clan—and eventually raised his blade against his kin, his lover, even his own parents.
In short: a paranoid brat, shocked into a breakdown, brainwashed by enemies, and turned into a demon who recognized no bonds.
Asuma and Itachi… in some ways, they weren't so different.
Hiruzen Sarutobi wasn't nearly as heavy-handed as Fugaku, but he had still failed his son. Asuma's sharp, observant nature picked up the village's contradictions early. From scraps and shadows, he pieced together the darkness beneath the Will of Fire—and began to doubt the very blood in his veins.
And what's a shinobi raised from childhood to be nothing more than a blade?If that blade starts to think for itself… will it strike the enemy—or its own allies? No one can say.
After all, what "truth" can a weapon ever think up?
In the shinobi world, sanity was rare. Not only among the Uchiha—most ninja were terrifyingly obsessive. And Itachi, molded young by both Hiruzen and Danzō, had finally chosen to betray his clan.
Asuma, by contrast, had been protected thanks to being the Hokage's son. He only wasted his youth drifting, rather than staining it with blood.
But now things were different. Now he'd found Seiji.
Seiji—who could be the sharpest blade or the hand that wielded it.
"Asuma," Seiji finally said, eyes narrowing at the Hokage Rock. His gaze lingered on Tobirama's stone face as his words fell heavy:"You doubt the Will of Fire. You even question the village itself. So why come to me? If I embody the Will of Fire, shouldn't you have stayed far away?"
Asuma shook his head. His eyes softened with memory.
"It's not that I think the Will of Fire is wrong. I just think the people interpreting it now are liars. Their words and their actions never match."
He hesitated, then asked, "Can I call you Seiji?"
Seiji gave a simple nod.
Relieved, Asuma pressed on:"To me, you're the true bearer of the Will of Fire. Strong, humble, willing to help others. Even though you're an Uchiha, your presence—your story—inspires so many of us."
"Especially that day, when you helped Inada Kojiro. You didn't push him to keep chasing the path of a ninja. You helped him open the shop he really wanted. I saw his smile, and it wasn't forced—it was genuine happiness."
"Even if I, or any other Academy instructor, wanted to help him, we'd only think of how to shape him into another shinobi. But you… you're different, Seiji. I knew then I had to talk to you."
Turning fully toward Seiji, Asuma's voice deepened. "That's why I came to you."
Seiji nodded knowingly, then lobbed a sharper question:
"Asuma, tell me—if you could sacrifice part of Konoha's happiness for the greater good of the rest, would it be worth it?
"Your friends who joined Root… some might have wanted lives in the sun, some might have dreamed of running a shop like Kojiro. Instead, they were thrown into Danzō's shadows. Their lives were cut away—but Konoha's defenses grew stronger in return. Was that sacrifice worth it?"
Asuma's eyes narrowed. He shook his head hard.
"My friends didn't choose Root! That strength might make Konoha look powerful, but it's not real power. It won't last.
"The First Hokage said it himself—Konoha was founded so people could unite, stand together, and resist invasion.
"But people like Danzō… using that as an excuse to hurt their own first? That, I will never accept!"
By the end, his fists were clenched so tight his knuckles whitened, voice low and almost a growl.
Seiji smiled faintly. "If that's how you see it, then let me push you one step further.
"Imagine this: the Third Great Ninja War breaks out, and Konoha is on the losing side. The enemy village offers peace—ten full years of peace—if Konoha hands over a few unremarkable shinobi.
"If you were Hokage, would you agree?"
Asuma opened his mouth, but Seiji raised a hand, cutting him off.
"Think carefully. Refuse, and hundreds, maybe thousands of Konoha shinobi will die in the fighting. Accept, and only a few will be sacrificed—but you gain a decade of peace. What's your choice?"
Asuma froze, struggling with the weight of the question.
Tobirama, listening in silence, finally scoffed. His answer was instant, cold:
"A boring question. If any Konoha leader dared hand over comrades for a truce, I'd cut him down myself.
"Monkey, Danzō—they make mistakes, sure. But they're not so stupid.
"This isn't about numbers. It's about pride, about spirit. If Konoha can't even muster the will to fight for its comrades, then it doesn't deserve to exist."
Seiji eyed him with interest. "And what if this happened during the First Great War, Tobirama? Same deal—but the enemy demanded an Uchiha?"
The Second Hokage smirked with disdain.
"Don't mistake my prejudice for stupidity. Yes, I've kept the Uchiha under surveillance—I'd do the same for any unstable element. But hand them over to outsiders? Use internal strife to patch external threats? If I ever stooped to that, I'd no longer deserve to be Hokage."
Seiji clapped slowly, softly. "I believe you, Tobirama."
Meanwhile, Asuma—tormented by the same impossible question—finally gritted his teeth and spat out his decision. For a heartbeat, he looked every inch the Hokage he might have been.
"Seiji, I wouldn't hand over a single Konoha shinobi. Not even a genin."