Hashirama stepped forward.
He stood beside Genya with his hands behind his back. The rain parted around him on its own, leaving even the hem of his clothes dry.
He carried the solemn gravity of an elder judging the younger generation.
"Does your Akatsuki have no fear of starting a war in the shinobi world?"
Every word Hashirama spoke rang like a bell across the battlefield.
"Peace was hard-won. How many sacrifices, how much blood and how many tears did it take to secure these dozen or so years of quiet? Do you want to destroy all of it?"
His voice was calm, but beneath that calm lay a volcano that could erupt at any moment.
Obito said nothing. Neither did Black Zetsu.
Orochimaru watched Hashirama, curiosity gleaming in his golden eyes.
Hashirama continued, his voice growing graver.
"I founded Konoha not to make it a battlefield. I pursued peace not to let it be destroyed by the selfish desires of a few."
"Anyone who destroys peace, whether they are my family or my friends..."
His gaze pinned Obito in place like a pair of blades.
"I will not spare them."
He had once spoken those words to someone else.
That had been in the Valley of the End, with Madara Uchiha standing opposite him.
Now, the man standing opposite him was Obito Uchiha.
History was like a river running in circles, always turning back to its source where least expected.
Black Zetsu's body trembled slightly.
He had witnessed that scene.
Hashirama and Madara had stood at opposite ends of the Valley of the End, one saying, "I won't let you destroy Konoha," and the other replying, "Then try stopping me."
Now Hashirama stood here, saying almost exactly the same words.
The difference was that this time, Madara was absent.