Surprises and upheavals were the theme of life

Before long, however, winter arrived, and the clans entered their customary winter break.

Each clan took the opportunity to reorganize, unwind, and rest. The adults who needed to marry got married, and those who needed to make babies made babies. Children like Madara Uchiha and Hashirama Senju had it rough, though: the clan elders forced them to train every day to improve their chances of surviving the coming year.

The two were watched so closely that they had no chance to slip out.

Watanabe Ichiro was in no hurry. For a transmigrator like him, who could create and discard disguises whenever he pleased, time was effectively endless, and his lifespan infinite.

Madara and Hashirama's gatherings had earned him some points. He made a few cheap, disposable disguises and wandered around throughout the winter.

He admired the scenery, enjoyed good food, and stirred up trouble in other clans' territories.

Life was very comfortable. The only disappointment was that causing trouble elsewhere earned him very few points, so he still needed to focus his meddling on the main characters and key plot events.

War broke out frequently, and Hashirama and Madara grew busy as their clans' heirs. They repeatedly missed the meetings they had arranged through messages on stones, and their desire to bring their younger brothers along to meet everyone faded. It became difficult for all three of them to gather again.

After an unknown stretch of time, they finally managed to free up their schedules, but...

"Lord Ichiro, those wounds..."

The younger, white-haired boy was wrapped in thick bandages. His face was pale, his lips pressed tightly together, his expression blank.

"It's nothing. Just minor injuries. Madara, Hashirama, these are for you."

There were two bamboo pendants, with Hashirama's and Madara's names carved in bold, flowing strokes on the front, and Watanabe Ichiro's name in tiny characters on the back. Beside them were two little wooden carvings depicting chibi versions of Hashirama and Madara.

"What are these?"

"Things my older brother left behind."

"What?! Ichiro died?"

"A few days ago, my brother and I were caught in a battle between the Senju Clan and the Uchiha Clan. We accidentally stepped on an explosive tag someone had planted. My brother saved me and... died on the spot. I was lucky enough to escape. I've been recovering ever since, and only now can I move around."

Watanabe Ichiro's voice was utterly calm. Only at the word "died" did he falter for a long time, his eyes reddening.

"We fled here from the Northern Lands because of those two clans. The Senju and Uchiha were fighting, and their Fire Release and Water Release completely destroyed our clan's territory. Our parents and many of our clansmen died in the fighting. Only my brother and I escaped. And now, even my brother..."

"!!!"

Both boys fell silent, their pupils trembling. Guilt and self-reproach filled their hearts. It was their own clans that had reduced the Watanabe brothers to this.

"What... are you planning to do next?" Hashirama Senju's throat felt so dry that he could barely speak.

"Next, I'll take revenge on the Senju and Uchiha Clans, whatever it costs. I'll kill every last one of them until the day I die. My brother won't have died for nothing. I'll... cough, cough... have my revenge!"

He could no longer keep his voice calm. His desperate, crazed gaze swept over them as he forced out each word. He leaned forward, only to suddenly collapse onto the ground, coughing uncontrollably and spitting blood all over it. Even his words seemed steeped in the bloody chill of murder.

"My brother didn't do anything wrong... He only... only wanted to pick mushrooms for our next gathering. He just wanted to cook a meal. He didn't want to hurt anyone. What did he do wrong? Why did he have to die...?"

Watanabe Ichiro gasped for breath, his voice thick with tears. His bewildered, blunt questions became the sharpest of blades, cutting into them until they felt cold all over.

Neither had any idea what to say. Their own clansmen had accidentally killed their friend, and his only surviving younger brother was crying before them, vowing to wipe out their clans. But what should they do? What could they do?

At the same time, both realized that they would inevitably take to the battlefield someday. What if Watanabe Ichiro discovered that his brother's closest friends belonged to the very clans that had killed him?

Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha wilted instantly. Just thinking about it filled them with despair. Neither had personally wronged the Watanabe brothers, but this life-and-death blood feud, indirectly caused by their clansmen... How were they supposed to face him?

Hashirama Senju and Madara accepted the wooden pendants and carvings. Any words of comfort felt pale and powerless. In the end, they could only say awkwardly, "Lord Ichiro, take care of yourself."

"It's all right. Lord Black Zetsu will help me." Watanabe Ichiro steadied his breathing and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "Madara, Hashirama, we'll meet again if fate allows."

"Lord Ichiro..." Watching that frail, white-haired figure, Hashirama thought of his own young brother and could not help hugging him. "Take care."

"..." Madara Uchiha hugged him too, pressing his lips together. "Take care."

They watched Watanabe Ichiro stagger away in silence, neither making a move.

The best way to resolve a blood feud like this was to strike first, before it brought disaster upon themselves and their clansmen. But neither could, in good conscience, lay a hand on Watanabe Ichiro's only surviving younger brother. In the end, they let him leave.

Not far away, Tobirama Senju watched them quietly with his red eyes, then departed without a word.

Not long afterward, Madara and Hashirama broke ties at the river. But each had already begun to suspect the other's identity, so their falling-out was not quite so bitter.

The two took up their responsibilities as their families' eldest sons and began fighting for their clans' interests. They felt compassion for Watanabe Ichiro, but for their clans' sake, they had to remain vigilant.

Fortunately, neither received reports of clansmen mysteriously vanishing or being slaughtered in large numbers, and both breathed a sigh of relief.

Soon, however, they began worrying again. Could Lord Ichiro have been killed by their clansmen because he was not strong enough? If that were the case...

That would be too tragic! The more I think about it, the worse it gets!

But Lord Ichiro never appeared again after that day, and the two could only bury their worry and grief in their hearts.

Afterward, both took particular care in battle, doing their best not to drag innocent people into the fighting.

"Flying Thunder God Slash!"

A blade flashed, and blood sprayed. Uchiha Izuna's eyes widened in disbelief as he coughed up blood, his body swaying.

It worked. Tobirama Senju panted, the sword clenched in his hand trembling slightly. He had spent so long preparing for this moment.

Members of the Uchiha Clan could awaken their eyes simply through intense emotion, easily increasing their power through the surges of love and hatred.

He, on the other hand, had to earn every improvement in his strength through hard work and research.

Tobirama Senju accepted that their talents were different. After all, he also enjoyed the powerful recovery abilities of the Senju bloodline, along with chakra reserves far greater than those of ordinary shinobi.

But what he could not stand was that the Uchiha took the new ninjutsu he had painstakingly developed over countless days and nights, watched them once, and used them themselves!

Those were all my techniques! Apart from Fire Release, everything the Uchiha Clan used was fucking copied-from-me!

His sworn enemy, Uchiha Izuna, was especially guilty. Every time, he would openly stare with his Sharingan and copy them!

He actually used my own techniques against me!

And he provoked him again and again, saying things like, "Curse your fate for not giving you a Sharingan! Hahahaha..."

Who could put up with that?

The master of forbidden techniques, Tobirama Senju, brought out his newest creation, developed over half a month of sleepless nights-the Flying Thunder God Technique-to give Uchiha Izuna, who had no concept of copyright whatsoever, a harsher challenge.

"Izuna!" Madara Uchiha, who had been quietly keeping an eye on the battle between their younger brothers, immediately flashed over and caught Uchiha Izuna as he collapsed. He frowned at the blood pouring from the wound. "Stay with me. I'll save you!"

Hashirama Senju followed close behind. He and Tobirama Senju surrounded the two Uchiha from the front and rear. After a few moments of panting, he steadied his breathing and raised his long sword, his expression grave.

"Madara, you can't defeat me."

"Let's end all of this. As long as the Uchiha and Senju, the strongest clans in the shinobi world, join forces, no nation will find another clan capable of standing against us. The fighting will gradually die down, too."

He threw down his keen-edged sword, burying it half a foot into the ground.

He extended his right hand without taking any defensive precautions, meeting Madara Uchiha's blood-red, three-tomoe Sharingan with sincere eyes. If Madara Uchiha wanted to attack, this distance was close enough to make Hashirama pay dearly.

Hashirama Senju's earnest, open expression reminded Madara Uchiha of his goofy childhood bowl cut, of the days they had skipped stones together, and of that ridiculous cry on the battlefield: "Madara, let's form an alliance!"

Scene after scene from the past surfaced before his eyes.

If it's Hashirama, perhaps peace really could come. A life where everyone could sit together and enjoy good food... Madara Uchiha could not deny that he was genuinely tempted. Maybe we could give it a try.

Just as he began to waver...

Shhk.

The faint sound of a blade piercing flesh erupted beside them like a thunderclap.

"...Huh?" Tobirama Senju stared blankly at the blade protruding from his chest over his heart.

"Tobirama!!!"