Explanation

Utsusemi looked at the usually dignified clan head before her, his head hanging like a puppy soaked by the rain.

Her fingers ran through Hashirama's silky black hair, dispelling her idealized image of him as a dignified and magnanimous clan head.

Her expression gradually softened. Now curled up before her was

nothing more than a young man who looked especially adorable because he felt wronged.

Hashirama Senju was only four years older than she was, her senior at most.

His slightly puffed cheeks and downturned mouth made her want to pinch them.

Without hesitation, she pinched her cheek and watched the skin in her hand turn red.

"Madara even 'cooked' beef rice for me himself this morning." She drew out the last word, ignoring Hashirama's widened eyes.

"Last night, I casually praised the Land of Lightning's beef, and he actually sent a Ninja Hawk to bring back marbled beef overnight. He even watched the grill with his Sharingan to control the heat himself..."

"He made a special effort to cook breakfast for me this morning." She wore an intoxicated and smug expression.

She said softly, "Aside from my family, this is the first time anyone's ever done something like that for me. He really is my dear friend."

Hashirama Senju's shoulders began to tremble suspiciously, and more and more mushrooms sprang up wildly from the ground as his Chakra ran out of control.

"What about you? Have you ever eaten anything Madara made?" That mocking question was the last straw.

Hashirama Senju jerked his head up, his handsome face twisted with jealousy. "He told me he couldn't cook! He even said, 'Cooking is a skill only the weak need to learn'!"

Tobirama Senju finally reached the end of his patience and snapped the record scroll in his hand shut. "Are you talking about Madara Uchiha?"

He simply couldn't reconcile the gentle image Utsusemi described, a man who would personally cook a boxed lunch,

with the "Ghost of the Battlefield" who controlled the Perfect Susanoo on the battlefield.

The room suddenly fell silent. Hashirama and Utsusemi turned their heads at the same time and shouted in unison, "Madara's always been gentle!"

The two were so in sync that they seemed to share a brain. They exchanged a glance. That's my dear friend, all right!

Moved to have found a true kindred spirit, Hashirama felt fresh tears well up in his eyes.

Utsusemi proudly puffed out her chest, and two pairs of hands with distinctly different skin tones clasped tightly together.

Their Wood Release and Flower Release Chakra resonated of their own accord, and a patch of little flowers bloomed.

Utsusemi planted her hands on her hips and shared her exclusive insight with Tobirama, whose worldview had crumbled. "Don't listen to what the Uchiha say. Look at their eyes."

Seeing the silver-haired shinobi look as though he had seen a ghost, she leaned close with an air of mystery and lowered her voice. "The Uchiha hide their true feelings in their eyes."

Tobirama Senju took half a step back in disbelief. "And then get killed by an Uchiha's Sharingan Genjutsu? Do you think everyone's immune to Genjutsu like you?!"

Utsusemi winked playfully. "Of course..."

She suddenly straightened her back as sunlight streamed through the glass window onto her.

"For ordinary people..." She lifted her chin proudly. "It's better to stay away from the Uchiha! After all..."

"Only the strong deserve to have beauties!!!"

Hashirama Senju listened to his dear friend's words in rapture. "Utsusemi really is my kindred spirit. Our thoughts are always so perfectly aligned."

He wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes and solemnly added, "Only someone strong enough to withstand eighty consecutive Great Fireballs is qualified to befriend an Uchiha."

A fighting spirit flashed in Utsusemi's eyes, and she immediately chimed in, "That's not enough. You have to be able to withstand a Susanoo's slash at the very least!"

They smiled at each other, sparks of mutual appreciation dancing in their eyes.

Only Tobirama stood in the shadows with his arms crossed, the veins bulging at his temple and his twitching mouth betraying his inner collapse.

He wished he had never set foot in this room full of absurd conversations. Were those two even speaking human language?!

After the sustained excitement faded, exhaustion swept over her in waves.

Utsusemi's vision began to blur, and her body tilted uncontrollably toward the fluffy ferret-fur collar.

The silver-haired man remained motionless, even the rise and fall of his breathing barely perceptible.

"So soft." She buried her cheek in the fur, her eyelids as heavy as lead.

Hashirama Senju asked worriedly, "Why don't you rest first? Do you still have to treat Izuna tonight?"

He leaned forward slightly, his broad hand hovering over her shoulder. "Treating Izuna must be hard on you, right?"

His lowered voice brushed past her ear. "Do you want... me to ask Madara to reduce the number of treatments for you?"

Utsusemi's forehead nearly touched the clan crest on Hashirama's collar, and sleepiness dulled her senses.

Even with her mind already sinking into a haze, she stubbornly shook her head. "Izuna needs... treatment every day."

Her final words dissolved into a succession of yawns. She couldn't help leaning back, sinking into the fluffy fur.

Her back pressed against the body behind her, whose high temperature, characteristic of the Senju, made her even more drowsy.

Tobirama Senju didn't move, letting her lean against him.

Hashirama Senju gazed at her lowered eyelashes and gently stroked her hair with his palm.

Tobirama, who was being used as a support, moved his Adam's apple slightly and lowered his voice further. "Brother, it's time to go."

Seeing his brother remain bent over, he repeated more forcefully, "Brother, let's go."

Tobirama roughly shook the nearly sleeping Utsusemi awake. "Go back to your room and sleep!"

"Mm..." Swaying on her feet, Utsusemi watched the two say goodbye and, in her daze, gestured for Itama to lock the door.

She used the Body Flicker Technique to return to the Spacetime Tower, intending to check on Izuna before going to sleep.

The moment the door closed, young Itama's trembling fingers left five indentations in the metal handle.

"Satisfied now?" Tobirama stared at his brother's profile, now calm again.

In the sunlight, he could clearly see the veins at his brother's temple that had yet to fully subside.

The red marks that had been intermittently visible beneath Utsusemi's collar had brought a chilling expression to the God of Shinobi's face.

The pressure had even made the birds in the courtyard stop singing.

Fortunately, Utsusemi's complete lack of awareness had imperceptibly defused the crisis, like snow melting in early spring.

Hashirama Senju suddenly laughed. "I'm so happy she and Madara are such good friends."

"You scared Itama." Tobirama glanced at the tightly shut door, keenly picking up the sound of someone deliberately holding his breath behind it. "That boy still doesn't dare make a sound."

Hashirama Senju scratched his head, his white teeth gleaming in the sunlight. "When Utsusemi comes back, I'll apologize to Itama in person."

He gazed at the residence, its mistress now absent. Utsusemi had left as she always did, but she would return.

The shadow in his eyes passed like a fleeting reflection, replaced in an instant by his usual radiant smile. The shadow just now seemed to have been nothing more than a momentary illusion.