That day, a gentle breeze stirred and the river murmured. Young Hashirama gazed at the smoke of war spreading across the distant horizon and spoke softly, his voice carrying the tenderness and compassion unique to youth.
"I really hate war."
"People die every day. Children lose their parents every day. Homes burn in the fighting every day."
"Everyone just wants to live a good life, so why do we have to keep killing each other?"
"I've already lost so many brothers that I only have one left."
Beside him, young Madara quietly watched the distance. His gaze was sharp and his nature proud and aloof, yet he nodded gently in agreement with Hashirama.
"War has no end. The killing never stops."
"Generation after generation dies in battle, and generation after generation seeks revenge. Hatred keeps piling up, never fading away."
Hashirama turned toward Madara, his eyes bright, sincere, and ardent, and spoke earnestly.
"Madara, I have a dream."
"I want to end this endless age of war."
"I want to build a great big village, a place where there's no more war, no killing, and no hatred."
"In that village, no child will ever have to pick up a weapon, go to the battlefield, or experience the pain of losing someone at such a young age."
"Every child will be able to grow up safely, laugh without fear, and live a good life."
It was the purest, most untainted, and greatest wish a boy living in a war-torn age could have.
There was no desire for power, no ambition, no selfish yearning to conquer the world.
He wished only for ordinary people to live in peace, for children to be free of worry, and for the world to be free of war.
Beside him, Madara Uchiha watched Hashirama, whose eyes