The Twelfth Chapter

"I never thought anyone would underestimate me, the head of the Uchiha Clan," Madara murmured. "And I never thought it would be Uchiha Tai." He laid his hand over the map and sighed softly. "Never mind. Some things simply aren't necessary..."

The Merchant Alliance, the Fujiwara Clan, the Land of Fire, the Land of Water, the Tailed Beasts... and, finally, the Hyuga. Every piece had been put in place, just as planned.

The quiet, composed air about him vanished. When he raised his eyes, they gleamed with dazzling, intimidating arrogance. "It's time I finally met you, Senju Hashirama."

Senju Hashirama had always been curious about what kind of person Uchiha Madara was.

There was no doubt that Uchiha Madara was powerful. How else could he make the Uchiha Clan, a clan that valued strength above all else, submit to him?

He disliked going out, rarely took missions, and had mastered many things that ninjas considered beneath them. He was particular about his tastes and attentive to the smallest details... In every way, he seemed unlike a ninja. His influence in the Ninja World seemed to rest entirely on his surname. As clan head, his renown on the battlefield was no match for that of the Uchiha Clan's rising stars.

On the other hand, the Uchiha showed no signs of decline. They were thriving more than ever, and every country feared Madara more with each passing day.

Ordinary people and ninjas alike—some were fiercely loyal to him, some hated him to the core, some were grateful to him, and some feared him so much they didn't even want to speak his name. Gentle and refined, aloof and arrogant, generous and forgiving, yet quick to take revenge; calculating, perceptive, and wise... The contradictions in these many descriptions blurred his image even further.

As usual, the Senju Clan had gathered intelligence on the Uchiha Clan head, but they had little to show for it. The clan had acquired from the black market what was supposedly a painting and calligraphy piece created by Uchiha Madara himself. Its scenery was exquisite, and its brushwork elegant yet keen, without a trace of a ninja's bloodlust. They had crossed paths only twice during missions, and both times, the two sides had deliberately avoided one another. They had met face-to-face only once, by chance. In their brief encounter, Hashirama had glimpsed Madara's tender expression as he took his younger brother by the hand, and the calm black eyes that remained composed even after recognizing him.

No matter how wary his clan was of the Uchiha, Hashirama had always felt a certain kinship with Uchiha Madara. That feeling had only grown stronger since he came to the increasingly prosperous and peaceful Land of Lightning. War was what gave ninjas their worth, yet Uchiha Madara had gone to great lengths to preserve peace throughout the country. He kept ninjas entering his homeland in check and gave ordinary people a better life.

Perhaps he felt the same way, too—the desire to protect something...

That night at the Spring Festival, the harmony, tranquility, and warmth were everything Hashirama had dreamed of. From the bottom of his heart, he wanted to bring an end to the centuries of chaos, restrain the power of ninjas, and make people stop looking at them with hatred and disgust. Every life was precious; no one should have to waste theirs on meaningless slaughter.

To achieve this, he would have to communicate with the Uchiha Clan and perhaps even work with them. Hashirama had a feeling that Uchiha Madara would make an excellent ally—his vision, his influence, his resolve, and his skill at governing a country.

But just as the Uchiha were willing to assume the worst of the Senju, those within the Senju Clan slapped the label "ulterior motives" on anyone or anything associated with the Uchiha. The burden of their clans' history troubled Hashirama just as much as it troubled Madara. Even now, the Senju didn't understand why the Uchiha were gathering Tailed Beasts. And after Madara had infiltrated the Land of Fire alone and taken the Four-Tails Shukaku, he had sparked panic in the Land of Wind, the Land of Earth, and the Land of Fire. So the Senju had been assigned to capture the Three-Tails Isobu.

The Three-Tails Isobu was currently in the waters off the Land of Snow.

The Land of Snow was cold all year round, with snow falling for at least two seasons. The local fishermen spent a long part of every year observing a fishing ban. In recent years, rumors that a "sea monster" was devouring people had spread across the waters, and fewer and fewer people dared to come near. As far as the eye could see, the boundless blue sea held only one vessel: an expensive-looking private boat. Hashirama hesitated for a moment, then decided he should borrow a boat from a nearby fisherman.

In the waters where the Three-Tails rampaged, any boat might end up wrecked... Hashirama wasn't ready to face the dark scowl of a certain money-obsessed clan elder.

"No need to look. It's not the fishing season anyway, and I've chartered these waters." The young man's loosely tied hair whipped in the biting wind. Turning around on the boat, he had a small, dark-blue cat sprawled over his shoulder. He leaned against the railing with one elbow and raised his cup to Hashirama from a distance. "Senju, would you care to come aboard for a drink?"

Hashirama's whole body tensed. His gaze sharpened. "You're—" The question had barely left his lips before he already knew the answer.

"Uchiha... Madara."

Noticing how Hashirama's nerves had tightened in an instant, the young man seemed to smile faintly, then turned and went back into the cabin.

A thick, dark-red carpet covered the floor, its crimson beauty as eerie as the Sharingan. A large tapestry depicting mountains and rivers hung on the wall. Near the window stood a low tea table with two small drawers beneath it. A stove beside it held a small pot, with an assortment of exquisite cups stacked nearby. There was no other furniture, leaving the room very spacious.

Uchiha Madara knelt beside the stove, head bowed as he fiddled with the teacup in his hands. The curtains, in the same color scheme as the carpet, were half-drawn across the window, dimming the Land of Snow's dazzling white sky. The interplay of light and shadow outlined his chiseled, handsome features.

Madara's composure made Hashirama feel a little uneasy.

"Please, sit, Senju."

Hashirama knelt on the other side of the tea table. "Uchiha Madara..." His gaze met a pair of golden eyes in the shadow beneath the curtain, and his nerves jumped again. "Matatabi?"

"The real thing," Madara replied with a faint smile.

Matatabi gave the two men, each lost in his own thoughts, a sidelong glance. It stood, shook out its fur, and leaped onto Madara's lap, where it curled up again. Madara's hand paused around his cup.

—What's the matter?

—Strong-hearted, kind, and bright. He's way better than you, meow!

—Of course. Someone who's only powerful isn't worth working with.

—Right. You drag people like that out as meat shields, you cold-hearted schemer~

—You should call me master, Matatabi...

Maybe it was just his imagination, but Madara's smile across the table seemed momentarily rather frightening. The Matatabi on his lap shivered and curled into a ball of fur.

It's so fluffy and cute... No, that's Matatabi, the Two-Tails!

"The Uchiha Clan's intelligence network is impressive," Hashirama said solemnly. "So, were you waiting here for me?"

"Since we share the same goal, wouldn't working together be a better choice?" Uchiha Madara held up three fingers and smiled faintly. "Besides, you haven't gone out of your way to conceal your movements, and you've stayed at Uchiha-owned establishments several times."

Remembering the famous inns, restaurants, and bathhouses he had visited along the way, all bearing the Gunbai crest, Hashirama felt conflicted. He didn't know that the rest of the Senju felt indignant and depressed—as if the Uchiha had been taking their money right out of their pockets!

Seeing Gunbai crests everywhere really hurt...

"This boat..." Hashirama observed. "You're the only one aboard. Who's steering?"

"I sent the crew away. There's a chakra-detection device installed in the hull, so the boat can make its way to the Three-Tails' habitat on its own," Uchiha Madara explained softly.

"Because of the Three-Tails?"

"It is a Tailed Beast, after all."

"...You take good care of your clan."

"I'm the clan head. It's my responsibility to keep them from sacrificing themselves over things that aren't necessary." As he spoke offhandedly, Madara gently poked at the charcoal in the brazier with a small hook. "Have you eaten anything since you arrived?"

Hashirama didn't understand what he meant. "Uh, a little..." It was normal to build up his strength before a big battle, wasn't it?

Madara took a set of white porcelain teacups painted with plum blossoms from the bottom drawer. He added a spoonful of boiling water, swirled it around, then poured it into a waste bowl. He switched to a larger spoon, scooped half a cup of warm water from a wide-mouthed, lidded cup on his left, and poured it into the teacup before sliding it over. "Lemon water."

Hashirama composed himself and accepted it politely. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Madara took out another set of teacups, rinsed them with water, poured half a cup of plain water, and pushed it over. "By the way, the first cup was to rinse your mouth and clear away any aftertaste. This one's for drinking."

Senju Hashirama, who had already reached the last sip of his lemon water, nearly choked. His face flushed with embarrassment. He was stuck, not knowing whether to drink it or leave it alone. Catching sight of his reddening ears, Madara's private mischievous streak was quietly satisfied.

He did that on purpose... Hashirama's instincts told him so, but the other man's smile was as sincere as a gentle breeze, making it hard to doubt him.

I'm overthinking this, Hashirama reassured himself silently.

You'll regret missing your chance to learn someone's nasty true nature for the rest of your life, future First Hokage!

Before long, wisps of steam rose from the small pot on the stove, carrying a rich wine fragrance. Madara opened the lid. The icy-red liquid looked all the clearer and more intoxicating against the white porcelain. "Fifty-year-old fruit wine. I only brought it out because of you, Senju."

Hashirama fell silent for a moment. He lowered his head and saw a small cup of wine already in front of him. What was he supposed to say? I'm honored? Drinking before a battle didn't seem like a good idea!

"The Three-Tails' chakra... it's close."

"Why the rush?" Madara savored the fine wine unhurriedly. Hearing Hashirama, he set down his cup and chuckled. "What is there to fear beneath the Nine-Tails?"

The words were followed by a violent shudder from the bottom of the boat. Feeling the immense chakra rising from underwater and the Three-Tails' savage fury, Hashirama smiled bitterly. "I guess I've fallen into your trap."

"Let's say you've got a ticket for the ride." Madara teased him lightly. His smile vanished as his Sharingan turned, his blood-red eyes brimming with the chilling foreboding of death. "Let's use this beast for a little practice. Show me your strength, Senju Hashirama..."

"Fire Style: Dragon Flame Song—"