The council chamber was quiet, save for the faint crackle of a brazier burning in the corner. Outside, the newly founded village bustled with noise—children's laughter, the sound of hammers striking wood as homes were raised, and the chatter of civilians and shinobi alike who had only recently set aside generations of bloodshed. The dream of peace had just begun to take form.
Yet within these walls, tension brewed like a storm.
"Big Brother!" Senju Tobirama's voice carried sharpness, his usually controlled tone now trembling on the edge of frustration. "Why are you wasting time with these useless scraps of wood? What matters most right now is deciding the position of our leader!"
Hashirama Senju, First of the Senju and the man most responsible for ending centuries of endless clan wars, looked up from the wooden figurine he had been carving—something meant to entertain the local children. His eyes, always soft and warm, blinked as if he had been pulled from a daydream.
Tobirama clenched his fists at his side, his jaw tightening. This… this is my elder brother. A man strong enough to shake the earth itself, yet too simple-minded to recognize what lies ahead. He has a heart too soft for this world. And that softness will be our undoing if I do not act.
The younger Senju took a deep breath, steadying his temper. His blood pressure was rising, a familiar heat in his temples, but he forced it down. "The village is young. Its foundation is fragile. People's hearts are unsettled. Now more than ever, a single leader must be chosen—someone capable of unifying everyone, guiding them toward a shared future. Without that, this fragile alliance will shatter before it even takes root."
Hashirama set down the figurine, tilting his head. His expression was thoughtful, though Tobirama knew that in his brother's heart lay an almost childlike hope.
"Tobirama…" Hashirama began slowly.
"I am not targeting the Uchiha Clan," Tobirama pressed quickly, before his brother could drift into another sentimental speech. "I know what you are thinking. But since I promised to honor your wishes, since I gave my word to treat the Uchiha as comrades, I will not break it. Still, the matter of leadership must be settled now—for the good of all."
He folded his arms across his chest, his sharp crimson eyes narrowing. His words were deliberate, calm, and restrained, though his inner thoughts were anything but.
For your sake, Big Brother, I will tolerate them. I will even call them comrades. But never will I truly trust them. Madara and his kin must be watched carefully, lest the Sharingan consume everything we have built.
Yes. This was not for his own sake, nor for any personal hatred. This was for the village. For the stability of the fragile dream they had dared to weave together.
Hashirama, hearing the firmness in his brother's tone, finally gave a slow nod. He leaned back, folding his arms as well, his face uncharacteristically serious. "You may be right. Perhaps before anything else, we should decide who will stand as the village's leader."
Relief flickered across Tobirama's face. His heart unclenched slightly. At last, Big Brother listens. For once, he sets aside his naivety and accepts reason. There is hope yet.
He allowed himself the smallest exhale, a victory contained in the tilt of his chin. "Yes. That is what must be done. For the village, for its future, you must become that leader. You, Big Brother, will stand as Hokage. I will serve as your right hand, your assistant, as I always have. Together, we will guide this village into an age of stability."
For the briefest moment, Tobirama allowed himself to imagine it: Hashirama as Hokage, the face of strength and compassion the people admired, while he himself worked behind the scenes to ensure everything ran with order and efficiency. And the Uchiha? They would be forced to live under Senju leadership, their claws blunted, their fangs carefully monitored.
It was perfect.
But then—
"Tobirama," Hashirama said, smiling softly, "why don't we let Madara be the leader?"
The words struck like a kunai straight into Tobirama's chest.
"…What?" His voice was sharp, incredulous, his breath catching.
Hashirama looked utterly serious, no trace of humor in his expression. "Madara is strong, capable, and has the heart of a leader. I believe he could be the one to guide everyone. You know, Tobirama… I've never been good at managing affairs. I'm a warrior, not a planner. But Madara—he can do this."
Tobirama's face paled, then flushed red with rage. His mind whirled. My younger brother prepares himself to fight to the death to secure your position, and yet you—my elder brother—surrender first?
"You cannot mean this," Tobirama spat. "Big Brother, this is madness!"
"Madara is my friend," Hashirama said simply, as though that explained everything. "He has the vision to carry the village forward."
"Friend?!" Tobirama's voice cracked, the veneer of calm breaking. "That man is dangerous! To hand the reins of the village—the destiny of all clans—to him would be to court disaster! Have you forgotten, Big Brother? It was by my own hand that his younger brother, Izuna, fell. Do you think he has forgotten? Do you think for one moment that Uchiha Madara will allow me to live peacefully by his side?"
Hashirama flinched, his brows drawing together in pain at the memory.
But Tobirama pressed on. "I can assist you, Big Brother. Just as I always have! I will handle the affairs of governance, of discipline, of justice. You need only stand as the figurehead of strength and hope. That is enough. That is all this village needs. Why would you throw that aside for Madara?"
"Because I trust him," Hashirama replied firmly, his voice gentle but unyielding. "And I trust you, Tobirama. If Madara becomes leader, you can assist him as well."
The words were like a slap.
"…Me?" Tobirama said slowly, his tone cold as ice. "Assist him? Assist Uchiha Madara? You would have me—the second-in-command of the Senju—bow my head to the very clan I have spent my life fighting? To the man whose brother I killed with my own jutsu?"
His nails dug into his palms so tightly they nearly broke the skin.
Hashirama frowned. "Tobirama, do not speak of the Uchiha as if they are inherently evil. That way of thinking is dangerous. We have already shaken hands with them, we have already declared peace. To speak so now only sows division. We must change our hearts if this dream is to survive."
"Inherently evil," Tobirama repeated bitterly, the words laced with venom. "Yes, perhaps I am too harsh. But reality is harsh, Brother. Reality is cruel. You cannot erase centuries of blood with a single handshake, no matter how sincere your heart."
His chest heaved, anger and desperation spilling over. "Big Brother, listen to me! My stance is clear. Uchiha Madara is not fit to be leader. Not compared to you. And I am not the only one who thinks this—the entire Senju Clan stands behind you. They will not accept him as Hokage."
Silence fell heavy in the chamber.
Hashirama looked torn, caught between his brother's fury and his own heart's loyalty to Madara. His fingers drummed against his knee, his brows furrowed. He wanted unity, peace, an end to the cycle of hatred. But Tobirama saw only danger, only betrayal lurking in the shadows.
Two brothers. Two visions for the same dream. And between them—Madara's name, a blade sharper than any forged steel.
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