Tobirama, who had appeared in the Hokage's office, surveyed the furnishings within. The documents that would normally have annoyed him now gave him an immense sense of relief.
Thankfully, the unexpected scene he had feared had not occurred.
He had truly been afraid that, while he was away from the village, the two of them would pull out the local specialty they had not finished drinking last time, cast off their burdens, and drink themselves into oblivion.
Shifting his gaze to the neatly stacked newspapers on Madara's desk, he let out a long breath.
Once he had calmed his turbulent thoughts, he left the office and quietly made his way toward the meeting room downstairs.
Tobirama, who had arrived uninvited, was not foolish enough to simply push open the meeting room doors. He had already left himself a backup plan when the building was constructed.
His finger touched an irregular grain in the wooden wall. Like a drop of water falling onto a lake, ripples spread across the wooden board from his fingertip.
The tiny hole that appeared allowed him to see the entire meeting room. The three people seated and talking made him nod inwardly, and their voices gradually became clearer as well.
Tobirama had no concern about being discovered. He had great confidence in his concealment and sensory abilities.
In his youth, he had witnessed quite a few of the secret meetings between those two.
The pupils in his crimson eyes rapidly dilated as he stared at the words recorded in the document on the table.
The writing was small, but he could see it clearly. Based on their conversation, he began to judge what stage the meeting had reached.
"Your Konoha tax rate ought to be raised a little." Though the Daimyo was elderly, his voice remained