Chapter 35

In the original work, Hashirama is referred to as [First Hokage], [The First], or [Senju Hashirama] (full name).

In the original work, Madara is referred to as [Uchiha Madara] (full name).

In this text, Hashirama is only referred to as [Hashirama].

In this text, Madara is referred to as [Madara].

There were too many questions in his mind, but reality allowed no time for deep thought. Hashirama's gaze suddenly sharpened as he looked up, sensing something.

A subtle, imperceptible disturbance came from the trees and the wind—someone was approaching!

Though he did not know if the newcomer was friend or foe, avoiding them was the wisest choice under these circumstances. He made a prompt decision, bent down to scoop up Madara, and vanished into the woods in an instant.

A moment later, a group of ninjas appeared at the spot. The lead ninja was followed by a ninja hound, and his sharp eyes caught a smear of dark red blood on the ground. After scouting the area, he said to the ninja behind him: "Ino, go back and report to the Hokage! The person who broke into the altar perimeter is gone! The rest of you, follow me in pursuit!"

With Hashirama's skills, he naturally would not be caught by these ninjas. He carried Madara southward, skillfully erasing the traces he left behind, and crossed this modest forest in less than half a day.

Ahead lay a valley. Standing on a ridge, Hashirama looked out, and the view before him suddenly opened up. Beneath the azure sky, mountains rolled in waves, interspersed with rivers and streams that shimmered under the midday sun. Madara, still in his arms, had not yet woken. Hashirama tightened his grip around Madara's waist, took a deep breath, leaped off the rock face, and jumped down.

Not far from the foot of the mountain was a waterfall. As he approached, he felt a cool, refreshing sensation on his face as the fine mist from the cascading water sprayed toward him. Looking up at the white, veil-like torrent, Hashirama was dazed for a moment.

This place is... that place!

He finally understood where the inexplicable sense of familiarity came from. The Senju clan was responsible for surveying and exploring the terrain in the Land of Fire for city-building, and he had personally been here—it was the valley closest to the site he and Madara had designated for their city!

From the area where the Nine-Tails was sealed to here was at least half the distance of the Land of Fire! It was true that the Nine-Tails possessed space-time abilities, but its chakra had been sealed at the time, hadn't it? How could this be...

The shock lasted only a moment before reason took over. Things had reached this point, and with the Land of Fire currently embroiled in constant warfare, they were still some distance from the strongholds of both clans. The most urgent task was to treat Madara and then find an opportunity to contact his clan.

Thinking of this, he found a flat stone surface and knelt, carefully placing Madara upon it. Blood was seeping through the clothes over Madara's abdomen; the white inner garment was already stained and matted to the wound. For some reason, his chakra could not heal it, so he had to use the most basic first-aid methods. He tore off a piece of cloth, soaked it in the river beneath the waterfall, and used the water to moisten the wound, slowly separating the fabric from the skin. Finding a few clusters of wild hemostatic herbs in the bushes, he washed and chewed them into a paste, applied it to the wound on Madara's abdomen, and then wrapped a clean strip of cloth around his waist, layer by layer. With the external wound treated, Hashirama touched his forehead—good, no fever.

The injury wasn't that severe to begin with. Moreover, given a ninja's recovery rate, such a wound would usually be ignored—why was he still not waking up?

He tried to channel chakra again, but it failed.

It seemed the situation was not as optimistic as it appeared on the surface. Hashirama pondered: could it be the Nine-Tails' doing?

...Regardless, he had to get him back to the Uchiha clan first.

Hashirama found some wild fruit nearby to replenish his energy, then sat aside to rest. Madara lay quietly on the stone, his complexion much improved, no longer as pale as before. His breathing was steady and light, unconsciously maintaining the habits of a top-tier ninja in hiding. Hashirama remembered that Madara walked the same way; every step was as silent as if he were executing a secret mission, perfectly concealing his presence at all times.

Was this out of habit, or caution? Perhaps both, Hashirama thought.

Yet, someone who acted with calculated steps, excelled at manipulating hearts, was proficient in calligraphy and painting, enjoyed the finer things, and pursued power... such a person stood out from other ninjas the moment they appeared.

At this moment, Madara's brows were relaxed, and his pursed lips were curled ever so slightly, exuding a sense of pure tranquility.

He didn't look at all like a powerhouse who could manipulate the winds and clouds or stir the tides of the continent.

Madara's long hair pressed against the stone behind him, splayed out boldly without the restraint of a hairband. Hashirama reached out to pick up a strand and touched it: smooth and black, though a bit prickly—he pulled his hand back. He looked back at Madara, a smile forming on his lips involuntarily: generally speaking, people with coarse hair were impulsive, straightforward, and resilient. Except for the last point, Madara... didn't fit the mold at all. It seemed there were no absolutes in this world. At the same time, he understood why Madara wore his hair long—if hair of this texture were short, it would definitely stand up as wildly as Tobirama's!

After lingering for a while, Hashirama looked at the person who showed no signs of waking, then at the sky where clouds were beginning to gather. He formed a seal, used Wood Release to clear away their traces, and picked him up to leave once more.

If he remembered correctly, continuing south from here would lead to the nearest small town by dusk. It didn't matter where he was, but Madara's current condition could not afford any mishaps.

At night, the man in the office building was still reviewing documents. Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in."

"Lord Hokage." The person who entered was the lead ninja responsible for the morning's pursuit, his shoulders stained with faint water marks. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the sound of the rain.

"Did you find the person who broke into the altar perimeter?"

"No. The opponent is a powerhouse with extensive experience in anti-tracking. And..." the ninja hesitated, "there were traces of Wood Release under the waterfall at the Valley of the End."

"Wood Release?" Senju Hashirama was stunned. Wood Release was the specialty of the Senju clan, and he was the only one in this generation who could use it. He said sternly, "Are you sure?"

The ninja nodded. Having followed Senju Hashirama for many years, he was very familiar with his Wood Release.

Senju Hashirama pondered for a long time without finding an answer, then ordered: "Continue the investigation, you may expand the range. Report any developments immediately!"

At the same time, in the Uchiha mansion, the atmosphere was as cold as midwinter.

The main residence was unlit, and the floor was a mess, with tea sets and cups smashed to pieces after being swept away with great force. Uchiha Madara sat upright in the empty room, his body wreathed in materialized killing intent.

His hands were clenched so tightly they nearly bled. In the darkness, those Sharingan eyes were a shocking, blood-red, like an Asura.

Years of composure were destroyed in an instant. He flicked his sleeve, and a massive surge of chakra instantly shattered the entire residence. Accompanying the thunderous collapse of the main house was an unbearable, furious roar: "--Nine-Tails!!!"

Traveling by vague memory inevitably caused some delays. By the time Hashirama found the town, it was already raining under the twilight sky.

The late spring rain fell in large drops; it didn't sting the face like summer rain, but it carried a chill, much like dew. Madara was left with only his inner garment and a white outer shirt, and he was still wounded. Thus, Hashirama released his chakra to form a barrier that blocked the rain. The sight of him walking through the downpour without getting wet at all was quite strange to ordinary people.

"Excuse me, do you have any guest rooms?" Hashirama knocked on the half-open door of an inn and asked inside.

"Yes, yes, yes!" The sound of wooden clogs clattered down the stairs. The landlady, wearing a simple kimono, looked to be in her forties or fifties. Her thin eyebrows were arched, her hair combed meticulously, and she had a very kind face. She pulled the door open and said, "Please, come in."

Hashirama nodded slightly, said thank you, and stepped inside. Looking around, the inn was very neatly arranged, the soft lamplight casting a warm glow throughout the room, with beautiful spring flowers placed in the corner.

"Would you like one room or—" she glanced at the person in his arms and gave a knowing, ambiguous smile, "I understand, one room it is!"

Hashirama was taken aback and nodded, a bit confused by the landlady's attitude. Looking at Madara's state, it was true that he needed to be nearby to look after him.

"Very well, the Ding-style Room is vacant right now. It's quite cold with the heavy rain outside, would you like something to eat?" The landlady enthusiastically pulled the door open for him. Inside was a typical Japanese-style room with a wooden tea table, a large tatami mat, and simple paintings hanging on the walls; it was clean and refreshing.

"A bowl of rice porridge and some water, please." Hashirama nodded. Madara hadn't eaten all day, so he should have some liquid food to keep his strength up.

The landlady smiled and agreed, taking small steps back to the door. Before leaving, she added a compliment: "Your wife is truly beautiful!"

Hashirama hurriedly explained upon hearing this, "She is not my wife." He glanced down at Madara, who remained unconscious—to avoid the wound on his abdomen, he was carrying him in a bridal hold. With his face turned inward against Hashirama's shoulder, all that was visible of Madara was his cascading ink-black hair and the pale profile peeking through—the Uchiha were naturally inclined toward delicate, handsome features. No wonder the landlady had mistaken him for a woman.

"Do you think I'd be mistaken?" The landlady covered her mouth and chuckled. "If not a wife, then surely lovers. No need to be shy; who hasn't been young once? Why, back in my day..."

Watching the landlady chatter away with such enthusiasm, Hashirama felt speechless for the very first time.

"You look to be in your twenties; it's fine to go out and have some fun, but if you're eloping, don't blame me for being a busybody: the world is so chaotic right now, and there are bad people everywhere. Wandering ninja, down-and-out samurai—if they see someone with a bit of coin, there's nothing they won't do. It's only a little better here in the Land of Fire, and that's all thanks to the Ninja Village established by the Hokage. The bandits in this area have dwindled, and even the wandering ninja have become much better behaved. Even here, look around—who dares to wander out at night? If there's an issue, you should settle it with your family; eloping is never a good solution!"

Established a Ninja Village? Hashirama was shaken to his core. He had no time to dwell on the elopement accusation and hurriedly asked, "Hokage? Who is that?" He had no such person in his memory.

"You don't know?" The landlady eyed him with surprise, then relaxed—perhaps he was from some remote, minor nation. "He's the leader of Konoha Village, the one who pacified the chaotic world!"

"What is his name?"

"It seems to be... Senju Hashirama."