The door closed softly. Without even looking at the person who had entered, he stepped over the flowerpot beside the door, as if he knew the office's layout by heart.
Hashirama's pupils contracted.
Madara was nothing like the one he remembered. Or rather, he had never seen Uchiha Madara like this.
His hair was long, just as before, but stiffer and more unruly than the Madara from his world, its uneven lengths jutting out in every direction. The cold arrogance between his brows made him radiate an overbearing aura, as if he looked down on all living things. Just looking at him was enough to feel an invisible pressure.
Unlike the Madara he knew, who silently schemed from behind the scenes, this was a true elite who had carved his way through a chaotic age of blood and fire and across countless battlefields!
With the same face, the strong and the king carried entirely different airs. Their contrasting temperaments made them seem like different people. If the Madara from his world was water and ice, then this world's Uchiha Madara was fire and wind. One was deep and reserved; the other, proud and unrestrained. The only thing they shared was the splendor in their bones—the splendor of an unparalleled strongman bearing the Uchiha name.
Was this the Uchiha Madara of this world?
Uchiha Madara paused and coolly surveyed the two Senju Hashiramas present. His gaze swept over Hashirama before settling precisely on the First. "Who is he?"
The First was momentarily startled, then smiled faintly. "So you can tell them apart." He and the Senju Hashirama from the other world looked almost exactly alike. How had Madara distinguished between them? Was it instinct?
Uchiha Madara scoffed. "I don't have time for jokes."
The First sighed. "It's a little complicated. I'll explain later. Take a look at this document first. We need to make use of the Uchiha's forces."
"They say you've been busy lately, but you seem pretty free to me. Why would you need to ask me, Lord Hokage?" Though he said that, Uchiha Madara pulled out a chair and sat down, casually taking the document the First handed him and reading it carefully.
"If you hadn't been so angry lately, I wouldn't have had so much extra trouble to deal with." The First rubbed his forehead, looking a little troubled. "Madara, there's nothing that can't be resolved." In other words, it had been three or four days already. Whatever had happened, surely his anger should have passed by now!
"You're wrong. I hold grudges." Uchiha Madara snorted. As if remembering something, his expression darkened again. He turned to Hashirama. "What are you still standing around for?"
Had he just been... told to leave? Hashirama felt conflicted.
The First gave him an apologetic look. "You can stay with the Senju Clan for now. Tobirama will arrange it for you."
Hashirama refused. "No need. Just find me a place to stay—a two-person room." He still had to look after Madara. Staying with the Senju Clan... wouldn't be convenient.
The First studied his face for a moment, looking troubled. The Senju were different from the Uchiha. Several hundred Uchiha all had black hair and black eyes, with similarly handsome features, but the Senju had all kinds of different looks. He and Tobirama alone were proof enough: one had black hair and black eyes, the other silver hair and red eyes. Someone with a face exactly like his would cause an uproar in the village.
Hashirama considered this, then said, "There's no need to hide it, but don't make a big deal of it either. Let things take their natural course. Our appearance will benefit Konoha in every way, and we'll return eventually." After spending so much time with Madara, he had naturally grown better at reading the minds of those in power across the nations.
The First understood at once and nodded in agreement.
Indeed, having two "Senju Hashiramas" in Konoha would only intimidate the great nations that were itching to put pressure on the village. A deliberately ambiguous stance could make things seem both true and false. Sometimes it wasn't the truth that made people hesitate and back down, but the unknown.
"Thank you." Hashirama smiled, glanced at Uchiha Madara from the corner of his eye, and turned to leave.
The door closed without a sound. Uchiha Madara snapped the document shut and raised an eyebrow. "All right, now you can tell me!"
The First took the document back. "You agree?"
Uchiha Madara said proudly, "They're weaklings. No matter how many come, I'll kill them all. Even if the Uchiha move to the Land of Fire, how could those insignificant nobodies possibly shake their standing in the Land of Lightning?"
The First said with relief, "Good. Things are almost settled in the Land of Wind, too. Once the situation in the Land of Lightning stabilizes, the pressure on us will ease considerably, and the village will be able to devote more energy and resources to development. As for what just happened—brace yourself first." He hesitated for a moment, but decided to tell him.
After all these years together, the First knew just how proud Uchiha Madara was. He wondered whether Madara could accept the fact that there were other worlds beyond theirs—and another "Uchiha Madara" just like him.
Unexpectedly, Uchiha Madara didn't seem particularly shocked. Instead, he furrowed his brow, lost in thought.
Night fell deeper.
"Brother..."
In the night, when all should have been silent, flames blazed across the land. A pair of Mangekyō Sharingan reflected the crimson firelight as they pleaded with him. The pattern in those eyes was so familiar.
"Take them..."
No, don't!
"Please, brother..."
The voice, growing fainter, became more urgent. Cold fingers climbed up his face, their damp chill seeming to seep into his very heart.
"Take my eyes! Watch this world become the way you want it to! Take my place!"
"This is my last wish, brother!"
Something spilled from his eye sockets and ran down his face... Were they tears?
He reached out and touched it. A startling crimson stained his fingertips.
...It was blood...
His breathing grew uncontrollably ragged, and the air around him seemed to choke him. Yet his heart gradually grew cold, as if it had lost all life. The suppressed sounds in the silence rang all the clearer. The heart-wrenching pain reached its peak, turning into the numbness he thought he had forgotten. An inexplicable sorrow swept over him like a tide. He struggled to escape, only to sink into it again the next instant.
Suddenly, the bedroom fell silent once more. The person who had been trapped in a nightmare opened his eyes.
The blood-red color in his eyes slowly faded, settling into the tranquil darkness of night.
He rose slowly, smoothing the white yukata he wore. He opened the door and made his way along the path toward the entrance, strolling at his leisure as if enjoying the garden scenery. He wore wooden sandals, yet his steps made not the slightest sound.
It was just before dawn. The surroundings were silent, and above him stretched nothing but a sky full of stars.
Hashirama had barely slept all night.
The day before, he and this world's Senju Hashirama had reached a temporary agreement. He had been given a place to stay for now and promised further help, but that didn't mean he could stop worrying.
First, the reason for Madara's condition was still unknown. He continued to sleep soundly beside him. If not for his faint, almost imperceptible breathing, Hashirama would have wondered if he was dead.
The threat of the Nine-Tails remained unresolved, and Hashirama worried about how his clan back in his own world would deal with the situation. Ever since the Senju Clan had allied with the Uchiha, the pressure they faced had come not only from the Ninja World; they often had to contend with the ruling powers of the various nations as well. After years of experience, he had keenly sensed that the Nine-Tails' appearance in this war was part of a conspiracy. Madara must have sensed it too. Otherwise, why would he, who usually preferred to scheme from behind the scenes, have taken action himself?
His instincts told him that their journey through time and space wasn't caused by the Nine-Tails' power alone. If he couldn't find the true cause, how could he return? The situation in their world had already descended into chaos, and the war was raging fiercely. The sudden disappearance of the heads of two clans and two top shinobi would have an immeasurable impact on the situation.
And if they truly couldn't return, what would he do in this world? This world already had a Senju Hashirama. His own existence was superfluous... That meant all his efforts in his original world would have been for nothing.
This world's Senju Hashirama had already accomplished what he himself had wanted to do. He had already reached the pinnacle of the Ninja World—not just in strength.
His thoughts were a tangled mess. The feeling of suddenly losing everything was impossible to describe. No one could easily abandon the past. If he lost the younger brother he cherished, the clan he protected, the work he had devoted himself to, and even the ideals he had held to, could Senju Hashirama still be called "Senju Hashirama"?
If he were as old as this world's Senju Hashirama, he surely wouldn't be so troubled by these things. Having lived through ceaseless wars and a chaotic era, the First had already passed through most of his life. He understood that the greatest value of life lay in the endless hope it brought. The hopes of countless living people gathered into the hope of the whole world—an unending, surging current. That was why he devoted himself to maintaining peace and stability, and why his heart was softer and more resolute than those of other shinobi: soft for the sake of the common people, resolute for the sake of his convictions. Those memories and beliefs had given him a steadfastness that remained unchanged in every world, even beyond death.
Hashirama was lost now only because he had not yet been tempered by enough years. Even so, he was more rational and composed than most people.
One had to take things step by step. Things weren't hopeless yet; there was still a chance to turn them around.
He lay with his eyes closed, unable to sleep, and rolled over. He found himself face-to-face with Madara's peaceful profile, so close that his warm breath brushed lightly against the corner of Madara's eye.
He lay staring for a long while, then his gaze flickered and shifted slightly upward. The vast, boundless starry sky gradually emptied his mind and calmed his thoughts. Venus shone especially brightly in the ink-black sky, and a gentle breeze stirred his hair.
...Wind?
A warning flashed through his mind. He scooped Madara up and used the Body Flicker Technique to leave their spot! Someone else immediately appeared where they had been.
"Not bad." The other man praised him. His white yukata stood out against the darkness. "I didn't expect you to be here too, Hashirama."
Hashirama studied him warily: the familiar face, the wild, flowing hair, the sharp eyes. The image instantly matched the memory from the day before. His brow furrowed slightly... "Uchiha Madara?"
"More or less." The other man smiled faintly, lifting his chin toward him. The gesture was indescribably graceful. "What, it's only been four days and you don't recognize me anymore?"
Hashirama's peripheral vision followed the direction of his gesture and caught sight of the sleeping Madara. He stared in shock. "You're—"
"That's right. The one you know... Uchiha Madara."
Before you continue