Chapter 38

The door clicked shut softly. The newcomer didn't even glance at the potted plant by the entrance as he stepped over it, clearly well-acquainted with the office layout.

Hashirama's pupils constricted.

The Madara in his memory was never like this—or rather, he had never seen this version of Uchiha Madara before.

Though both had long hair, this one's was straighter, coarser, and jagged at the ends, spiking out with unbridled arrogance. The cold pride etched into his brow gave him an aura of dominance that looked down upon all living things. Just looking at him was enough to feel an intangible pressure.

Unlike the Madara he knew—the man who stood behind the scenes, calmly orchestrating the world—this was a top-tier powerhouse who had truly carved his way through the chaos of blood and fire on the battlefield.

Same face, yet one was a powerhouse and the other a king; they possessed vastly different temperaments. Because of these distinct auras, the two men felt entirely different. If the Madara of his world was water and ice, the Uchiha Madara of this world was fire and wind. One was deep and restrained, the other haughty and flamboyant. The only thing they shared was the elegance in their bones—the elegance belonging only to peerless powerhouses who bore the Uchiha name.

Was he truly the Uchiha Madara of this world?

Uchiha Madara paused, his cold eyes scanning the two Senju Hashiramas present. His gaze swept past Hashirama and locked accurately onto the First. "Who is he?"

The First was slightly startled, then offered a faint smile. "So, you can tell the difference." His appearance and temperament were nearly identical to the Senju Hashirama of the other world. How did he distinguish them? Was it intuition?

Uchiha Madara sneered, "I don't have time for your jokes."

The First sighed. "It's complicated; I'll explain later. Look over this document first. It requires the mobilization of Uchiha forces."

"Everyone says you've been busy lately, but you seem quite idle to me. Do you really need to come to me, Lord Hokage?" Despite his words, Uchiha Madara pulled out a chair and sat down, casually taking the document the First handed over to read it seriously.

"If you weren't so full of rage lately, I wouldn't have so much trouble on my plate." The First rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Madara, there is no problem that cannot be resolved." The implication was clear: it had been three or four days; no matter what happened, the anger should have faded by now!

"You're wrong. I hold grudges." Uchiha Madara scoffed. His expression darkened as if he had recalled something, and he turned to Hashirama. "Why are you still standing there?"

Had he just been... shown the door? Hashirama felt a strange sensation.

The First gave him an apologetic look. "You should stay with the Senju Clan for now. Tobirama will make arrangements for you."

Hashirama refused. "No need. Just assign me a civilian residence—a double room." He still had to look after Madara, and the Senju compound... would be inconvenient.

The First's gaze lingered on his face for a moment, looking troubled. The Senju and Uchiha were different; the Uchiha had hundreds of people with the same black hair and eyes and similar delicate features, but the Senju clansmen each had their own distinct traits. Not to mention, he and Tobirama were a pair of black-haired/black-eyed and silver-haired/red-eyed men. The fact that the stranger shared his exact face would surely cause a massive stir in the village.

Hashirama mused, "No need to hide it, but don't make a spectacle of it either. Just let things take their course. Our presence is nothing but beneficial to Konoha, and we will return eventually." Having spent so much time with Madara, he had naturally gained insight into the psychology of the upper echelons of various nations.

The First understood immediately and nodded in agreement.

Indeed, having two "Senju Hashiramas" in Konoha would only serve to deter those great nations that were constantly eyeing Konoha and applying pressure. An ambiguous attitude would create an effect of uncertainty—sometimes, it wasn't the truth that made people hesitate and retreat, but the unknown.

"Thank you." Hashirama smiled, cast a sidelong glance at Uchiha Madara, and turned to leave.

The door closed silently. Uchiha Madara slammed the document shut and raised an eyebrow. "Alright, now you can talk!"

The First took back the document. "You agree?"

Uchiha Madara said haughtily, "They are merely weaklings. Let them come; I will kill as many as show up. Even if they move to the Land of Fire, the status of the Uchiha in the Land of Lightning is not something those petty thieves can shake!"

The First said with relief, "That's good. The situation in the Land of Wind is also nearing a resolution. Once the Land of Lightning stabilizes, our pressure will be much lighter for a while, and the village can devote more energy and resources to development. As for the situation just now—you should prepare yourself mentally." He hesitated for a moment before speaking.

Having spent many years together, the First knew exactly how proud Uchiha Madara was. He wondered if he could accept the fact that there was another world beyond this one, and another identical "Uchiha Madara" within it.

Unexpectedly, Uchiha Madara didn't seem shocked; instead, he frowned, lost in thought.

The night deepened.

"Brother..."

In the night where all things should have been silent, flames raged across the earth. A pair of Mangekyo Sharingan, reflecting the blood-red firelight, looked at him in supplication. The pattern within them was so familiar.

"Take them..."

No, don't!

"I beg you, brother..."

The fading voice grew more urgent. Cold fingers climbed onto his face, the damp chill seemingly seeping into the depths of his soul.

"Take my eyes! Watch this world become what you want it to be! Replace me!"

"This is my final wish... brother!"

Something flowed from his eye sockets, dripping down his cheeks... were those tears?

He reached up to touch them, his fingertips stained a glaring, blood-red.

...It was blood...

His breathing became uncontrollably rapid, the surrounding air feeling as if it were suffocating him. His heart grew cold, bit by bit, as if it had lost all vitality. In the silence, those suppressed sounds became even clearer. The heart-wrenching pain reached its peak, turning into a numbness he had thought he'd forgotten. An inexplicable sorrow drowned him like a tidal wave; he struggled to break free, only to sink again the next moment.

Suddenly, the bedroom returned to its usual stillness. The man who had been trapped in a nightmare opened his eyes slowly.

The blood-red in his pupils gradually faded, coalescing into the calm, waveless color of the night.

He rose slowly and smoothed out his white yukata. He pulled open the bedroom door and walked along the path toward the gate at a leisurely pace, strolling as if he were wandering through a garden. He wore wooden clogs, yet his footsteps made not a single sound.

It was the hour before dawn. The surroundings were silent, and looking up, one could only see the vast, starry sky.

Hashirama hadn't slept soundly all night.

Yesterday, he had reached a temporary agreement with the Senju Hashirama of this world, securing a temporary residence and the promise of follow-up assistance, but that didn't mean he could rest easy.

First, there was the mystery of Madara's condition. He remained in a deep, unchanging sleep beside him. If not for the faint, almost imperceptible sound of his breathing, he would have suspected the man was already dead.

The threat of the Nine-Tails remained unresolved, and he worried about how his family in his original world would break the deadlock. Ever since they had allied with the Uchiha, the pressure the Senju faced hadn't just come from the Ninja World; they often had to play mind games with the upper echelons of various nations. Through accumulated experience, he had keenly sensed that the appearance of the Nine-Tails in this war was tied to a conspiracy. Madara must have sensed it too; otherwise, a man who preferred to sit behind the scenes and plan would never have taken action himself.

As for the phenomenon of crossing through time and space, his intuition told him it wasn't just because of the Nine-Tails' power. If he couldn't find the true cause, how was he supposed to return? One had to remember that his original world was in a state of chaotic, full-blown war. The sudden disappearance of two clan heads and top-tier ninjas would have an incalculable impact on the situation.

Furthermore, if he truly couldn't return in the end, where would he go in this world? This world already had Senju Hashirama; his own existence was redundant... This meant that all his efforts in his original world had been cast to the winds.

The Senju Hashirama of this world had already accomplished what he had set out to do, standing at the pinnacle of the Ninja World—and not just in terms of power.

His thoughts were tangled and chaotic; the taste of suddenly losing everything was beyond words. No one could easily abandon their past. Having lost the younger brother he cherished, the clan he protected, the cause he fought for, and even the ideals he held fast to, could Senju Hashirama still be considered "Senju Hashirama"?

If he had reached the age of the Senju Hashirama in this world, he certainly wouldn't be so conflicted over these matters. Having endured endless wars and traversed a chaotic era, the First, who had already lived more than half his life, understood deeply that the greatest value of life lay in the endless hope it brought. The hopes of countless living people converged into the hope of the entire world—a world flowing, vast and mighty. That was why he dedicated himself to maintaining peace and stability, and why his heart was both softer and firmer than other ninjas: soft for the sake of the masses, firm for the sake of his convictions. These memories and beliefs gave him a consistency that remained unchanged in any world, even in life or death.

The current Hashirama was only lost because he hadn't been sufficiently tempered by the passage of time. Even so, he was still more rational and composed than the vast majority of people.

The path must be walked one step at a time; as long as it hadn't reached the point of despair, there was still a possibility of turning things around.

Unable to sleep with his eyes closed, he turned over, coming face-to-face with Madara's peaceful, serene profile, so close that the warmth of his breath brushed gently against the corner of Madara's eye.

He stared blankly for a long while, his gaze flickering before shifting slightly upward. The vast, boundless starry sky gradually emptied his mind, allowing his mood to settle. He saw Venus shining particularly bright in the ink-black night sky, and a faint breeze brushed through the gaps in his hair.

...Wind?

An alarm flashed through his mind, and he scooped up Madara, using Body Flicker to vanish from his previous position! The spot he had just occupied was immediately replaced by another person.

"Not bad reflexes," the other party praised, their snow-white yukata standing out sharply against the darkness. "I didn't expect you to be here too, Hashirama."

Hashirama scrutinized the stranger: familiar features, flamboyant long hair, sharp brows and eyes. The image quickly aligned with his memories from yesterday, and his brow furrowed... "Uchiha Madara?"

"In a sense," the other replied with a light chuckle, tilting his chin toward him with an indescribably elegant motion. "What, it's only been four days, and you don't even recognize me?"

Glancing out of the corner of his eye toward the sleeping Madara, Hashirama said in shock, "You are—"

"That's right, the... Uchiha Madara you know."