Konoha Year Seven, late summer.
Having just finished all the preparations for the Hokage succession ceremony, along with the various social engagements, Tobirama sat in the laboratory where his weary mind could finally relax.
Facing the glaring white light shining from nearby, he opened the experimental log concerning Black Zetsu.
"Has it already been seven years?"
Tobirama paused his pen. A murmur escaped his cracked lips, and the still-wet words on the page drew out his thoughts.
The recent turbulence in the Shinobi World had left him feeling rather melancholy.
Following the Senju, the Uchiha and Hyuga Clan—the two great shinobi clans—had gradually begun separating their respective clansmen.
The drastically diminished Uchiha Clan left him with a sense of loss. The era centered around the Senju and Uchiha had completely bid farewell to the Shinobi World.
The pen tip resting on the paper swayed slightly with his fingers, leaving a mess of lines across the clean white space.
Peace?
His rational mind, honed through years of developing ninjutsu, made Tobirama understand that in a Shinobi World rife with deceit and treachery, with human nature selfishly centered on oneself, he simply could not wholeheartedly believe in Elder Brother's and Madara's dream.
After Madara lost the Hokage election, he had prepared for the worst.
But reality—
Like a sudden flash of insight while developing a forbidden technique, it toyed with his mind and overturned every path he had prepared beforehand.
The Tailed Beasts, the Shinobi Alliance, and the God Tree that touched upon the very origin of chakra.
What had happened in just a few short years was more extraordinary than everything he had experienced in his previous life.
Brilliant scenes flickered through the dazzling white light like lamplight and shadows. Tobirama indifferently exhaled a breath of stale air, picked up his