Setting Sail

On the familiar stool, Rikusei wore a sly smile and shook his head, rejecting every suggestion Tobirama made.

"You don't want chakra refinement or chakra control, so what do you want?" Tobirama asked, staring helplessly at the boy in front of him, who had bluntly demanded a "consulting fee." His earlier misgivings had been right.

The Uchiha Clan already had all those things. Rikusei wasn't about to fall for Tobirama's shallow tricks.

With no other choice, Tobirama decided to tempt him with one of his own specialties. "Do you want to learn Water Style?"

Rikusei immediately shook his head. "If I dared learn your Water Style, Elder Setsuna would never let me hear the end of it."

At that, Tobirama took off his coat and hung it on the chair. His lean, capable build stretched the black, form-fitting shinobi uniform. His strong fingers tapped against the desk as he drove from his mind the image of a certain masked man.

As he turned, he happened to catch the amusement hidden in the boy's eyes. Only then did he realize Rikusei had known what he wanted all along and had deliberately let Tobirama guess.

Tobirama sat upright and gave a slight nod, his eyes full of anticipation. "Go on, then. What have you set your sights on here?"

"Do you still have the sample?"

Rikusei's question made Tobirama realize what he wanted. He hurriedly took the tea kettle from a drawer and set it on the desk.

"So that's what this is about." Tobirama toyed with the kettle, feeling the unusual texture of the metal in his hand. A hint of gossip gleamed in his eyes as he lowered his voice. "Are you looking to have a blade made, or to have a new one forged for your little girlfriend?"

Rikusei's smile suddenly faltered. He lowered his voice as well, ready to turn the tables. "Teacher Tobirama, did you really not save any materials for yourself while forging those sealing tools?"

Tobirama's smiling face stiffened ever so slightly. Rikusei knew he'd guessed right. "Teacher, please wait a moment. I'll go get Naori."

The boy's back gradually disappeared from view. Tobirama slowly closed his red eyes, which glimmered with an inexplicable light, then relaxed and leaned back contentedly. His silver hair rustled softly against his coat.

In the quiet classroom, Naori sat lazily at her desk, her purple hair falling loosely over her shoulders as she focused on reviewing her class notes.

Yesterday, Rikusei had whispered to her that she must bring her Ninja Blade. He'd said this was a chance to score another bargain.

As she turned a page, she glanced up from the corner of her eye and only then noticed the boy sitting beside her. Her cool voice carried an apologetic note. "I was so absorbed in studying that I lost track of time. Teacher Tobirama's lesson on practical Shuriken techniques was excellent."

"I'm the one who kept you waiting so long." Rikusei shook his head and glanced at her drawer. "Come with me."

Naori slung the long case containing her short blades over her shoulder. Its white strap couldn't hold back her shimmering purple hair as it bounced while she jogged. Inside the swaying case, the hilts knocked together with a faint hum.

When the leisurely Tobirama heard footsteps outside the door, he straightened in his seat and tidied the cluttered desk.

Sure enough, it was Naori.

He took the two short blades she pulled from the case. He set one on the desk and drew the other from its sheath, examining it closely.

The blade slid slowly from its sheath in Tobirama's hand. Its snowy-white surface brushed against the scabbard, ringing clear and bright, while its keen edge gleamed coldly in the room.

A fine blade.

Tobirama thought to himself.

His red eyes were filled with approval. These were the two blades he'd seen at the Uchiha Clan Tournament. His gaze shifted slightly as he carefully recalled the scene.

It was difficult to tell from their appearance who had wielded which blade that day.

Fortunately, he clearly remembered the direction and pattern of the cord wrapped around each hilt. The snowy-white blade in his hand reflected the setting sun sinking behind him.

This one belonged to Naori; the one on the desk belonged to Rikusei.

Tobirama was a little entranced. He realized the craftsmanship of the two blades was remarkably similar, and they were very likely the work of the same person.

Rikusei looked at Tobirama, surprised to see such a rare expression on his face. But to Rikusei, there was no such thing as a good blade or a bad one. If it cut well, it was a good blade.

He discreetly glanced at Naori and saw the same gleam of affection for the blades in her eyes.

No.

Rikusei decided he had to break the strange atmosphere, which was on the verge of turning into a fan club for blades. "What I want is for you to have the Artisan Ninjas reforge these two blades."

The unexpected voice cleared Tobirama's gaze. He slowly sheathed the short blade and placed it neatly on the desk. "Reforging them? No problem. What do you think, Naori?"

Naori stood with the now-empty case on her back. Her voice was gentle but firm. "Please help us, Teacher."

"Leave everything to me. Anything else?"

"Are you going to give me a share of the money you make selling Tailed Beasts in the future, so I can become Konoha's richest man?"

Rikusei's outrageous joke made the serious Tobirama narrow his eyes and curl his lips into a smile. He beckoned Rikusei to come closer.

The same trick only worked once on the Uchiha. Rikusei wouldn't fall for it again. He hurriedly grabbed the girl, who had no idea what terrifying thing might happen next, and ran out of the office.

The evening twilight always filled people with wonder. The brilliant colors of the sunset spread across the sky, where shapeless clouds held limitless possibilities, like shinobi.

After spending these past few days helping Hashirama review documents in the Hokage's Office, Madara had gained a general understanding of the new village's various affairs.

The perils of battling through mountains of paperwork were no less daunting than those of a battlefield where every blow drew blood.

The first was nowhere near as quick or satisfying as the second, where every punch landed. But the second concerned the livelihoods of countless people and shinobi, as well as the village's development. And even major policies would only show results after they were implemented.

They were growing more and more adept at handling the everyday conflicts between clans, as well as those between ordinary shinobi and shinobi from clan backgrounds when assignments were distributed.

Dressed in his robes, Hashirama looked more and more like the Hokage. He seemed to be drifting further away from the man Madara remembered, the one who could summon Wood Release and sweep across the land.

Which one was the real him? Or were they all the real him?

"What's wrong, Madara?" Hashirama stopped writing and walked over to his desk, gazing at him with concern. "You looked down just now. Are all these densely packed words getting to you?"

Madara shot him an irritated look. He swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue and glanced at the Hokage's seat. He didn't want to see Hashirama looking so dejected again. "Are there any more documents? Bring them over."

Hashirama's face lit up with delight. He gathered the huge stack of documents from his own desk and carried it over. The mountain of papers landed on Madara's desk with a heavy thud.

"This should be fine. I'll finish them in no time."

Madara finally couldn't take it anymore. The corner of his mouth twitched. All he wanted now was to see the Hokage looking dejected. "I think you're the one being overwhelmed by all these densely packed words!"

"It can't be helped. I know every character, but once they're put together, I can't understand them anymore." Hashirama sighed, propping himself up on the desk. His unfocused eyes stared blankly at his friend.

The mood in the room was visibly turning gloomy. Madara was just about to make another jab when he sensed a shinobi arriving with Body Flicker Technique.

The masked shinobi stepped into the sunlight streaming through the window and delivered his report. "We've found the Nine-Tails' location. We're still searching for the other Tailed Beasts."

After the brief report, the Anbu handed the scroll to Hashirama.

The rolled-up scroll lay quietly on Madara's desk. The character "Nine" was clearly visible on its green surface.

Madara rose abruptly from his chair and looked Hashirama in the eye.

Their gazes followed the ribbon as it was untied, then fixed on the scroll as it unfurled.

A detailed map of the Land of Fire was reflected in their eyes. Then the last rays of sunset fell over them, slipped through the gaps in their hearts, and reached deep inside. The dying embers of the sunset rekindled the fire in their blood.