At the tail end of the twelfth lunar month in Konoha Year Nine, the wind howled like wailing ghosts, whipping the last flecks of snow against the Hokage Building's cold glass windows with sharp, crackling taps.
The office lights were off. Only the gloomy daylight filtered through the window, making Tobirama Senju's face look darker than the sky outside, blacker than the ink on his desk. Two documents lay open before him. On the left was an urgent report just delivered by the Anbu, its ink not yet fully dry. On the right was the personnel roster for the Konoha Military Police Force's East District branch-oh, perhaps it should be called the "former" East District branch now-covered in alarming swaths of red crosses.
The air had congealed, thick enough to suffocate. Only the old clock in the corner kept ticking, its second hand moving steadily and slowly, each tick seeming to strike the most stifled spot in one's chest.
Who knew how much time passed? Perhaps a few breaths, perhaps a century. Tobirama Senju's fingers, resting on the armrest, curled almost imperceptibly, his knuckles turning bluish white with the force.
He slowly raised his eyelids. Behind his lenses, his gaze settled on some point in empty space, unfocused, with nothing but an icy sense of absurdity stirring beneath suppression pushed to its utmost limit.
"Now..." he began, his voice hoarse, like a rusty blade slowly grinding over gravel. "That inherently evil Uchiha brat..."
He paused, seemingly searching for a more precise description, only to find that every word felt pale and powerless at this moment. In the end, he could only force the newly bestowed title through clenched teeth, one word at a time, though it already grated unbearably on his ears:
"...has become an inherently evil Toyotomi brat."
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