In order to slap Akira in the face, Tobirama threw down a ninjutsu scroll that was taller than half a person's height and hurriedly left the study to deploy troops for the next battle.
Akira, who received the scroll, couldn't wait to check it.
"Shadow Clone, Mutual Detonation Talisman, Flying Thunder God, Impure World Reincarnation, Darkness Walking Technique…"
These powerful ninjutsu, initially drafted by him and eventually completed ahead of time by Tobirama, were now displayed here as if they were free of charge. This sense of harvest, planting in spring and reaping in autumn, was truly addictive.
After sealing the scroll into another scroll with satisfaction and hiding it close to his body, Akira was about to say goodbye to Hashirama when he noticed his older brother looked a little sad.
"Hashirama, you are…"
"How is she, Madara?"
Only then did Akira remember that Hashirama was a powerful opponent, and when he started pretending to be depressed, his lethality surpassed that of any ordinary handsome man.
"Brother, you're about to get married. Don't worry about Madara. I'll take the loss if there's one to take."
He didn't dare say the second half aloud. He had no idea how much Hashirama cared for Madara now, or how Madara felt about Hashirama. If they were in some kind of tragic love story and he interfered, he might not live to tell anyone about it.
More importantly, Hashirama was getting married. He was out of the game. Akira knew better than to talk too much right now.
To stay close to someone powerful in the future, Akira naturally wouldn't speak carelessly.
"Well… I just want to know how she's doing," Hashirama said quietly. The sadness hadn't left his face. Other than Akira, Madara was the person he'd once gotten along with best.
They were close in both age and ambition. If fate had been different, Madara might have been the one marrying Hashirama now.
In Hashirama's heart, Madara was that lingering white moonlight.
Akira knew that well, but love wasn't a thing to yield on. And Madara wasn't just anyone to Akira either. Her power and pride had left a permanent mark on his mind.
"Madara's had a hard time these past years. Even though she became clan leader, few of her people actually listen to her. That's why I gave her that plan, to help her win just once before peace finally comes to the ninja world."
"Hmm?"
Although those words were different from what Akira had said before, Hashirama could feel that this time he was being honest.
He lowered his head and thought for a few seconds. When he looked up again, he was once again the confident and commanding Senju Hashirama.
"As long as peace returns to the ninja world… Madara won't have to suffer anymore."
"I understand now, Akira… Thank you."
Akira: ???
Inwardly, Akira swore at him, What gratitude? What did I even say? Don't you dare go Obito on me now!
Before he could speak again, Hashirama patted his shoulder firmly and smiled with warmth that only made things worse.
"You probably won't have enough time to learn those ninjutsu over the next few days. Come, I've prepared another gift for you."
"Gift?"
Akira opened his mouth to complain but perked up instead when he heard the word "gift."
"What gift?"
"Follow me."
They left the study together and walked out into an open training space behind the building. When they stopped moving, Hashirama raised both hands and clapped them loudly.
"Come out!"
As soon as those words dropped from his mouth, fwip!, three figures appeared at once and kneeled before them in silence.
"Master Patriarch. Master Akira."
"Mm."
Hashirama looked pleased with their entrance, clearly proud of their stealth and discipline.
"These three…"
"Don't underestimate them," Hashirama said as he gestured toward the kneeling figures. "They are part of the first group to graduate from the Assassination Tactics Special Forces. In strength and loyalty, they're second to none among those chosen, and they're now your personal guards."
"Anbu?" Akira frowned silently. He looked skeptical as he examined the three masked ninja kneeling before him. One of them looked about Mito's age.
Yes, the ninja world had children like Kakashi who became jonin at twelve, but they were as rare as lottery winners. Akira couldn't recall any Senju clan members in later generations ever reaching that level at that age.
Hashirama either ignored or failed to notice Akira's doubt. He continued speaking with unshaken confidence.
"From today on, they obey only your orders. Even if you ask them to die, or ask them to attack me, they will follow your command without hesitation."
"This is basically a death squad…"
Akira held that thought back and instead turned his attention inward again. Hashirama probably wouldn't go that far, but Tobirama? Different story entirely.
"So this is Tobirama's work?"
"How could I have had time?" Hashirama put both hands calmly into his sleeves and began explaining like it was nothing important.
"This whole unit was organized by Tobirama. I just helped with training now and then."
"I knew it… Tobirama doesn't trust me at fucking all."
Even though these people were handed over under the label of "protection," Akira knew perfectly well this was really surveillance.
He genuinely couldn't find it in himself to care. Their names were on his roster now, that made them subordinates in practice if not in loyalty, and it couldn't hurt to have dedicated errand runners around him 24/7.
Besides, with Tobirama's forbidden techniques in hand, what Akira lacked most right now was time. As for Mito? He could easily assign someone from this team to look after her too, two birds with one stone.
"They won't rebel anyway," he thought with mild amusement. "Might as well use them however I want."
"If Tobirama trained them personally… I guess they're solid enough."
Hashirama gave him another slap on the shoulder, just as upbeat as ever.
"If you're satisfied with them, they'll escort you back home for now. I'll head out too, it's almost time to prepare."
"For what? The wedding?"
"I'm worried... The Uchiha might attack, "
"No chance."
Akira cut him off sharply and grinned wide enough to show teeth.
"I gave Madara thousands of scrolls. Even if she only reads them? Ten days minimum before she pulls any of those apart, let alone choosing which ones might actually work."
"So relax, and just enjoy being a groom for once. Think of this as my wedding present."
"Hahaha…"
Hashirama laughed from deep in his chest, but it wasn't just amusement buried in there anymore. It was awe too.
For the first time since this whole operation began, he really understood how dangerous Akira's planning could become. Predicting each move Madara would make before she even made it? Turning that into leverage for weeks of peace?
It was terrifying, but it was also reassuring.
"At least he's on our side…"
"Akira... You really are remarkable," Hashirama said quietly. "Looks like Tobirama might finally lose this one."
He rested a hand on Akira's shoulder again, this time with none of his usual boisterous energy, and gave him a firm nod.
"Welcome back."
Akira gave a quick nod in return.
"…Mm."
--------
Uchiha clan.
Several days passed quickly, and today marked the wedding day for the Senju clan leader himself. Many within the Uchiha clan had planned an ambush timed precisely with the ceremony, ready for anything under their battle, seasoned leader's command.
Except...
Madara hadn't shown herself even once since preparations began, and unrest within the Uchiha exploded like wildfire through dry brush.
"Izuna… where's our clan leader?"
Initially, Izuna thought Madara stayed locked away because she was focusing on final preparations for battle, but clearly that wasn't it anymore.
As pressure built across the compound and tension reached its peak, even Izuna had no choice but to intervene at last.
"I'll go check on her," she finally said aloud.
Several elders shared glances among themselves, they smelled opportunity, but said nothing aloud as they followed Izuna straight toward Madara's estate in silence.
They stood outside her door without speaking. The door remained shut tight, but Madara's presence inside was unmistakable.
Knock knock.
Izuna tapped her index finger lightly against the wood, then waited in silence.
After a moment, Madara's voice drifted out lazily from beyond the doorway, dry and hoarse from days without rest:
"…What is it?"
"Sister... It's time. The attack on the Senju clan we planned, it starts now."
"…Already? Huh... Time flew."
Her next line came without hesitation, and shot through everyone like a kunai:
"I'm busy. Cancel it."
Everyone froze, especially Izuna, but their leader's tone left no room for interpretation.
She wasn't joking, and she wasn't coming out either.
Though hesitant at first, several elders exchanged grim looks, then made an unspoken decision between themselves as they stepped forward together and opened the door without asking for permission anymore.
They found scrolls scattered everywhere across the wooden floor, layered so deep that they covered every inch from wall to wall. Most had been opened already, and in their center sat Madara herself: hair unkempt, eyes bloodshot behind dark shadows of exhaustion and obsession.
"Izuna... perfect timing," she yawned without turning around. "Help me sort these scrolls, I haven't slept in three days... I'm taking a nap."
She pulled out a quilt from a nearby cabinet and wrapped herself up without so much as a glance at anyone else in the room.
Less than ten seconds later, soft snoring filled the silence from beneath the blanket on the floor.
Every elder stared, speechless, not daring to even comment on what they'd just witnessed.
They'd seen rage before, but waking up Madara early? No thanks.
All of them looked at each other again, and backed away slowly until they slipped out through the open door without saying a single word about anything they'd seen or heard inside that room…
Izuna stayed behind alone, a thousand questions stirring behind his eyes, but no fear in his heart anymore as he bent down slowly beneath her blanket and picked up one of those abandoned scrolls at random…
His breath caught instantly as his eyes flicked over its contents.
And then.
He froze completely solid where he stood.
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