Everyday * Sparring

Konoha.

Uchiha Izuna, a 21-year-old young man, is currently slumped over his desk.

His face was pressed against the table, his arms stretched out in front of him, his fingertips barely touching the edge of the table, like a piece of melted rice cake lying among the documents.

"Why make things so complicated..." he muttered to himself, his voice muffled and indistinct as it hit the table. "Why are all my ideas so difficult to implement... Why did I have to build Amusement Park... Why did I have to come up with this three-year, Five-Year Plan... I've brought this upon myself..."

Madara Uchiha looked up from his documents and glanced at him. "Why didn't you go and rest? You wanted to come and work, and now you're saying you're tired?"

Izuna lifted his face slightly off the table, a red mark appearing on his forehead.

"Heh." He gave a forced smile. "Brother, you can mock me all you want, but don't steal my Three-Colored Dango."

He stared at the plates on the table.

Ban followed his gaze.

There were three strings of Three-Colored Dango lying on the plate beside him. He had casually brought them over that morning, but hadn't touched them since he got busy.

He looked at Izuna.

"These Three-Colored Dango are on my desk, aren't they?"

"I don't care." Izuna rested his chin on the table, his eyes fixed on the plate of Dango, unmoving. "What I see is mine."

Madara was both amused and exasperated. He got up, picked up the plate, and placed it on Izuna's table.

Izuna immediately jumped up from the table, grabbed a skewer of Dango, and started eating.

His cheeks puffed out as he chewed, making a muffled sound, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Hehe, Ban-ge is the best."

Tobirama Senju didn't even look up. "Be careful not to get cavities."

Izuna chuckled as he chewed on Dango, "Then I'd be happy to too."

Madara looked at Tobirama with disgust.

Madara is really strange. Tobirama returned from Capital City, he's been acting very strangely.

Specifically, referring to the matter concerning Izuna.

Ban refused to admit that it was concern or care, because that would give him goosebumps.

Recently, this guy has been talking to Izuna much more often. He talks to Izuna whenever Izuna isn't around.

It's all work-related, of course, but it's still pretty strange.

In the past, he would either throw a piece of paper at him or have Hashirama, but now he actually takes the initiative to communicate with him.

Moreover, this guy doesn't care at all when he gets choked up; he'll just keep talking without any expression and continue explaining his work.

In his words, verbal expression is more effective at conveying meaning.

She's completely impervious to reason.

At first, he thought the guy's rationality had kicked in and he intended to use it to speed up the process.

But after observing him for a few days, he realized that this guy was only being nice to him because of Izuna.

This disgusted and loathed him.

This guy killed Izuna once, and now he's actually concerned about another Izuna?

They definitely have ill intentions.

Madara stared at Tobirama's profile.

Tobirama was reading a document, the pen scratching softly on the paper.

Suddenly he looked up.

The two people looked at each other for a moment.

"Something's come up," Tobirama said.

Ban stared at him and said calmly, "No."

Tobirama glanced at him, then lowered his head and continued writing.

Ban withdrew his gaze and returned to his desk to continue reviewing documents.

With Three-Colored Dango in her mouth, Izuna also began to work.

Just then, Hashirama pushed the door open and came in.

"The Daimyo has begun his journey."

Izuna removed the bamboo skewer from his mouth. "When did the news arrive?"

"The messenger hawk returned half an hour ago." Hashirama walked in, closing the door behind him. "The journey should take three or four days."

He walked to his seat, sat down, and continued speaking.

"So we have some extra time to prepare."

Izuna blinked, puzzled, and asked, "Why are they so late?"

"Because their conversation lasted for seven days."

Izuna, bewildered, remained silent, still chewing on the bamboo skewer. "Seven days of talks? What could possibly take that long?"

If this level of efficiency were in modern times, the boss would have to execute these slow and inefficient workers.

Hashirama smiled helplessly. "Diplomatic policy exchanges, information sharing, and determining tariff ratios all need to be discussed. Their mission to our country this time isn't just to see Konoha, Izuna."

"--No, I know that's how it is, but I was wondering if these things really need to be discussed for so long?"

Tobirama glanced at him. "You're not happy that we have more time to prepare?"

Izuna rolled his eyes. "Deadlines are torture, but deadline delays are just plain annoying."

Hashirama's beady eyes, "D... uh, what's that?"

"The deadline," Izuna sighed, "Is a matter of 'one effort at a time, then decline, then exhaustion.' We've already prepared for it, and now they're telling us we have to wait a while longer. Everyone will be very upset."

"Sigh, how am I supposed to tell everyone about this..."

Ban said, "Didn't you say before that some things were too rushed and we had to give up? How about we deal with them now?"

Izuna waved his hand, "Actually, it's pretty much done. Everything that needed fixing has been done..."

His voice gradually faded, and suddenly, as if he had thought of something, he sprang up from his chair.

"Hey! There really are areas that need improvement!"

He took the bamboo skewer off and put it on a plate, then rummaged around for a bit, pulled out some documents, tucked them under his arm, and ran off in a flash.

"I'm going to get started now, you guys do your best!"

The door was opened and then closed. The footsteps faded away down the corridor.

The room fell silent.

Hashirama chuckled as he looked towards the doorway. "I wonder what kind of surprise Izuna will bring us this time?"

The spots didn't continue.

He sat in his seat, still holding the document he had been halfway through reviewing, but his eyes were not on the paper.

He looked at Tobirama.

Tobirama naturally walked to Izuna's desk and tidied up the documents Izuna had messed up before leaving. He picked up the scattered pages one by one, aligned the corners, and stacked them into a pile.

Meticulous, unusually serious.

Ban put the document down.

"Tobirama Senju, would you mind if we talked alone?"

Tobirama's hands didn't stop. He aligned the last dozen documents and placed them on top of the stack, then looked up.

"I don't mind," he said, "But what do you want to talk about?"

The room fell silent for a moment, and a tense atmosphere instantly filled the room.

Hashirama sat in his seat, glancing left at Madara and right at Tobirama.

"No—what did Tobirama do to offend you, Madara? Why suddenly...?"

"This is none of your business, Hashirama."

Madara stood up, with Tobirama following closely behind.

The two walked towards the door, one after the other.

Hashirama jumped up, the chair legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor.

He took two steps and then stopped, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"Hey Madara, go easy on me! Tobirama! If there's danger, run!"

Ban paused in his steps. He turned his head, and a vein throbbed on his forehead.

"I didn't mean to hit anyone!"

Tobirama walked past him expressionlessly, his steps unwavering. "Thank you, Big Brother. But my Flying Thunder God isn't for running away."

Madara sneered.

"It's for stabbing kidneys."

Tobirama paused for a moment, but said nothing and continued walking towards the door.

The two figures disappeared outside the door.

Hashirama stood beside the desk for a while before sitting down again, sighing.