Chapter 48

No pacts, no witnesses, just a single sentence. The sincerity and honesty within it imbued this promise with immense weight. Both understood that this very moment was the true beginning of their trust.

Clasping the hand extended toward him, Hashirama and Madara looked at each other and smiled.

A sudden exclamation erupted nearby, accompanied by a child's joyful cry: "Fireworks! Look, fireworks!"

The crowd stirred, surging collectively toward the source of the display. Hashirama and Madara turned their heads simultaneously toward the southern sky. A crimson firework bloomed in the deep blue night; after a moment of brilliance, the greyish-white smoke drifted away and vanished. People held their breath in anticipation. Moments later, three or four vermilion fuses shot into the night sky as expected, overlapping in a breathtaking, magnificent display. A roar of cheers erupted from the crowd.

Hashirama looked at Madara. "Do you want to go?"

Madara shook his head. "I have no interest in these fireworks."

Recalling the exquisitely crafted fireworks at the Muyun City banquet, Hashirama had to admit that Madara had the right to say that. Unlike the commoners who had survived the chaotic era, what novelty or rarity had someone living at the pinnacle like Madara not seen? It would have been strange for him to run over and get excited like everyone else.

Glancing around, the shops nearby were less crowded than before. Madara said with satisfaction, "Finally, it's a bit quieter. Since we're here, let's try some of Konoha's specialties."

Hashirama explained, "Konoha hasn't been built for long, so these so-called specialties are just things from the folk of various nations—takoyaki, goldfish scooping, puppet shows, and the like... You shouldn't be a stranger to them."

"True, but I've never tried them." Receiving Hashirama's surprised look, Madara coughed lightly and turned his head away. "...A clan head needs to maintain his image."

Hashirama paused, then laughed. "Alright, let's go."

And so, a strange sight appeared before a street stall: two top-tier ninjas squatting down, sleeves rolled up—scooping goldfish!

The shopkeeper looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, ninja-sama, this place isn't really for you..." What kind of physical fitness did ninjas have? Their eyes were sharp, their hands were fast, and they had chakra! A single ninja could bankrupt a small shop like this! It had become an unspoken rule that such stalls did not serve ninjas.

Madara asked a question he already knew the answer to, teasing with a smile, "Refusing ninjas? Wouldn't that count as a form of discrimination?"

Seeing the shopkeeper's expression turn instantly uneasy, Hashirama tugged on his sleeve helplessly, then smiled at the owner. "We will return the goldfish we catch to your shop. This is payment for the damaged paper nets." He handed over a stack of money.

The man breathed a sigh of relief and respectfully provided a pile of paper nets.

Madara picked one up to test it, then swiped up several goldfish in quick succession; the paper net remained completely intact. He curled his lips, turned to Hashirama, and said, "The difficulty is too low. Let's change the rules."

Hashirama said, "You name it."

Madara poked holes in all the paper nets and held up the only remaining empty hoop. "Use chakra to form a net and scoop the goldfish. Ten-second time limit."

Hashirama looked back, raised his own empty hoop, and smiled. "Ah, challenge accepted!"

The two of them were having a blast, not to mention how the Senju and Uchiha clansmen who passed by occasionally were driven to madness, turned to stone, or simply couldn't believe their eyes. On the other side, the First walked through the streets with Fuji and Tobirama, half-playing and half-inspecting. After the fireworks started, Tobirama, who enjoyed the bustle, went off with the crowd. The First instructed his brother to keep an eye on the scene to prevent any accidents—since most people were gathered there—and parted ways with him, walking against the tide of people toward the dim, quiet corners.

Unexpectedly, as he turned a corner and looked down, he found himself face-to-face with a pair of bright black eyes.

The First said in surprise, "Fuji?" Wasn't this child supposed to be with Tobirama?

"You're going to look for him again," the boy said with certainty, his eyes, so similar to the First's, staring straight at him.

This brat... The First was helpless against his son, who was elusive and possessed a fake straightforwardness that hid a truly cunning heart. He leaned down and pinched his cheek. "You come along too!"

Senju Fuji looked up and blinked, enjoying his father's rare display of affection. "Isn't he the one who doesn't want to see me?"

The First smiled. "As an excellent ninja, you must learn to distinguish between true and false information."

Senju Fuji suddenly struck his palm, nodding. "I understand. It's a matter of nature, right?"

The First: "..."

Uchiha Madara sat alone on the heights of the Hokage Rock, overlooking the bustling, lively village below. Tonight, the full moon was like a silver plate, its light clear and bright, making the rock face appear even more rugged and uneven. He sat in a hollow of the cliff, his long, drooping hair blocking the only sliver of moonlight, his entire person submerged in shadow. Darkness and light separated him from the village into two different worlds.

"Madara."

He didn't need to turn his head to know who it was. "You can find me even here. Do you have the nose of a hound?"

The First smiled, said nothing, and tossed a flask of wine to him. Uchiha Madara popped the seal, and the rich aroma of wine hit his nose. He took a swig, the stinging, spicy heat rushing straight to his brain. He couldn't help but cough, wiping the wine stain from the corner of his mouth with his hand.

The First found a spot next to him and sat down, gazing into the distance where the lights were bright, his low murmur scattering into the evening breeze. "How could I not know where you are..."

Uchiha Madara's fingers tightened around the flask. He turned his head slightly to avoid the probing gaze, changing the subject as if nothing were wrong. "The wine is so strong. Are you not planning on doing any real work tomorrow?"

The First lowered his eyes and answered in kind. "Don't worry, just drink. I'll give you the day off tomorrow. My constitution is special; alcohol has no effect on me."

Uchiha Madara scoffed. "The Senju constitution is good for everything, except for that."

"Indeed. The spicier it is, the more sober I become," the First said with self-mockery. "The forever-sober Senju Hashirama."

"Wasn't that your choice? For the sake of Konoha." Uchiha Madara turned his head, lifted the flask toward him, and said, "Forget it. Why talk about these things on the night of the Summer Festival? I'm getting drunk first."

The First also raised his flask. "I'll keep you company."

The wine didn't actually taste good, at least not to the First. Under normal circumstances, he didn't drink, and even at banquets, he would politely decline others' generosity. Only when facing Uchiha Madara was he willing to drink flask after flask with him. Feeling the strong liquor burn like a trail of fire from his mouth to his stomach, a strange pain churned in his heart, stirring up indescribable feelings. It was as if only in this way could he share the pain of being alone with this person.

Uchiha Madara didn't like drinking either; alcohol numbed a ninja's nerves and affected the agility of his movements. But occasionally, he needed to blur his reason and release the pent-up frustration in his heart. Besides killing, only wine could help him.

As they drank, one flask was soon empty. Uchiha Madara turned to the First and tossed the empty flask over. "Any more?"

The First pulled another one from behind him and tossed it back.

Uchiha Madara caught it accurately, looked at the full flask, then at the other man. "So many? How did you carry them up?"

The First just smiled, pulled out a full one for himself, and broke the seal. "By the way, Fuji wants to see you."

Madara's expression immediately became unnatural, though it was hard to see in the shadows. He took a heavy swig of wine, controlling his voice to sound as normal as possible. "Oh? Isn't that brat living quite well out there?"

"It has always been you who rejected him." The First stared at the person in the shadows. "Otherwise, he wouldn't have left the village just to avoid appearing before you."

"Is this a reproach?" With his face submerged in darkness, Uchiha Madara's tone betrayed neither anger nor joy. "He has already received so much, things he should have and things he shouldn't... What else does he want?"

"It was my insistence at the time; it had nothing to do with him." Even though he couldn't see his face, the First kept his gaze fixed on him, whispering, "He is innocent."

Forced to turn his head away by that gaze, Uchiha Madara closed his eyes. "...Then, my attitude toward him is my own business, and it has nothing to do with you."

The youth behind the rock heard Uchiha Madara's reply, and his hands, clenched in anxiety, loosened dejectedly. Usually calm, his eyes grew hot. He hesitated for a moment, seemingly wanting to walk over, but ultimately stopped and turned to leave in silence.

Silence descended upon the scene.

After a long while, the First said in a low voice, "You know full well that he is..."

A cold snort from Madara was the only response from the shadows.

The First sighed. "Knowing he's back, you're actually a little expectant, aren't you, Madara... Since you care about him, why must you always put on this front?"

"Senju Hashirama!" Uchiha Madara finally turned to look him straight in the eyes, his black pupils reflecting a sharp, cold light under the moonlight. "Stop with your self-righteous assumptions! I'll say this one last time: I don't want to have anything to do with that brat!" He sneered, "If he wants to keep wandering around in this world, tell him not to provoke me!"

Senju Hashirama watched him in silence.

The surroundings finally fell completely quiet.

The clamor from the village reached the high Hokage Rock, reduced to a faint and distant noise that seemed ready to dissipate. Fireworks bloomed continuously in the night sky opposite them. All that liveliness had nothing to do with the two men here.

They stood opposite each other in silence, only their audible breathing remaining. They drank cup after cup, and before long, the sake bottles were all empty. The empty bottles lay scattered about, rolling here and there; one rolled off the edge of the rock and shattered with a snap.

With limbs turning weak and his mind in a haze, Uchiha Madara finally stumbled out of the shadows, his face, bathed in the silvery moonlight, flushed with a deep red. The First hurried to support him.

Uchiha Madara reflexively blocked the reaching hand, but relaxed his guard the moment he made contact. He tugged at the other man's sleeve, squinting his eyes to carefully examine the face before him.

"Senju Hashirama?"

"Mn, I'm here."

"Senju Hashirama."

"Mn."

"Senju Hashirama..."

The man finally collapsed into the arms within his reach. The First half-cradled him, his fingers gently stroking the flushed, hot face as they sat quietly in the evening breeze.

Uchiha Madara's furrowed brow gradually smoothed out, and in his sleep, he murmured a name: "Izuna..."