The candlelight in the Hokage Palace's council chamber flickered in the draft, casting long and short Kageko. News of Hashirama Senju's death was being kept under wraps, and Konoha maintained its semblance of peace. Everyone knew that this peace was like thin ice, ready to crack at any moment.
Early the next morning, Tobirama Senju, his face grim, and Akira Senju entered the hall one after the other. "I've invited everyone here today for just one thing!" Tobirama Senju's voice was as cold as ice. " Tsubasa is from a branch family. A branch family member took the family's sealed inheritance and became the clan leader. This is against the rules!" Over the years, his brother has made foolish decisions, and he will handle the aftermath.
The moment these words were spoken, the hall erupted in chaos. The white-haired elder in the front row jumped to his feet, slamming his cane heavily on the ground. "For thousands of years, the Main Family has inherited the family tradition; the rules of our ancestors cannot be broken!"
On the other side, the younger head of the family slammed his fist on the table and shouted, " Lord Hashirama before his death, how can we ignore it? Look at how much wealth the Ten Family has built for the village over the years!" Some people were so angry that their faces turned red and the veins on their necks bulged; others paced back and forth anxiously, their robes rustling as they swept across the ground.
Senju Yasuhei huddled in a chair in the corner, as thin as a withered leaf. He coughed, covering his mouth with a handkerchief, his cloudy eyes half-open, half-closed, it was hard to tell whether he was listening or dozing off. Mito Uzumaki sat upright at the head of the table, her hands folded on her knees, her nails almost digging into her palms, but her face remained expressionless, just quietly watching this farce.
Tsubasa stood in the center of the crowd, his Adam's apple bobbing. He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and opened his arms, trying to quiet the noise. "Elders!" His voice was somewhat low, "If we keep arguing, even our relatives will become estranged. How about we vote? A bet is a bet, is that alright?"
When the last ballot was turned over, the air in the Hokage Palace seemed to freeze instantly. Tsubasa stared at the difference between the two votes on the table, feeling somewhat disappointed. Tobirama Senju expressionlessly put away his ballot, thinking to himself, "Brother, I still think the position of clan leader should go to a member of the Main Family, and Sho is the most suitable candidate." Akira Senju, on the other hand, could not hide the wild joy in his eyes, leaning forward so much that he almost fell onto the token and scroll.
"I..." Tsubasa's voice was so hoarse when he spoke that it startled even himself. He slowly picked up the clan leader's token, the coolness of the metal spreading through his palm, as if still carrying the warmth of his master. The Senju Clan emblem engraved on the edge of the token made his eyes burn, and in a daze, he saw again Hashirama expectant eyes of Hashirama before his death. But the murmurs around him pulled him back to reality. Some people stamped their feet and sighed, some whispered, and some supporters rushed forward to try to stop him from handing over the token.
"The clan leader can't be handed over! Lord Hashirama clearly..." Mumei Senju grabbed Tsubasa's wrist, tears streaming down his wrinkled face. Tsubasa gently patted his grandfather's calloused hand, his throat tightening. "Grandpa, let go." He straightened his back, but felt a thousand-pound weight on his shoulders, each word as if draining a sliver of strength from his body. "My Ten Family has long been merchants. Being valued by my master is a blessing I've accumulated over eight lifetimes. But the clan leader isn't child's play. Half the clan members are shaking their heads, which means I'm truly not qualified."
Akira Senju reached out impatiently to snatch it, his sleeve swishing across the table with a rustling sound. Tsubasa, however, suddenly gripped the scroll tightly, his gaze sweeping over everyone. " Martial Uncle Tobirama, Senior Brother Akira," his voice low and firm, "I am still young. The Mirai of the Senju Clan is in my hands." He spoke these words very slowly, and the moment he released his grip, he felt a sense of relief.
Supporters surrounded him, refusing to leave. Some wiped away tears, accusing him of unfair voting; others waved their arms excitedly, wanting to confront other branches. Tsubasa took a half-step back, bowed deeply to the crowd, his Little Tsubasa almost touching the ground. "I appreciate everyone's kindness. But to stubbornly refuse to leave is truly letting down Master." As he straightened up, a relieved smile played on his lips.
Tsubasa bowed deeply to Mito Uzumaki, his forehead almost touching the ground. When he straightened up, his gaze briefly met that of his teacher's wife, and he read complex emotions in her bloodshot eyes—regret, guilt, and a hint of barely perceptible relief.
Akira Senju gripped the token, his voice trembling with excitement. "From this day forward..." His words were interrupted by Mito Uzumaki's sudden rise. This usually composed lady gave Tsubasa's departing figure a deep look, her skirt brushing against the ground with a soft rustling sound, before leaving the hall without looking back. Tobirama Senju stared at the scroll in his hand, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the sealing runes, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes, along with a hint of unease.
Tsubasa turned and walked towards Senju Yasuhei, his steps unconsciously becoming lighter. He stepped forward and took the old man's elbow. "Grandpa, let's go home." His voice was very gentle.
The two walked slowly along the tree-lined path, the soft rustling of their shoes crunching on the fallen leaves particularly clear in the silence. Senju Yasuhei suddenly stopped, looked up at the dappled shadows of the trees, and chuckled, " Little Tsubasa, are you unhappy?"
Tsubasa forced a bitter smile, "Do I look like someone who would be unhappy?" His gaze swept across the woods, looking towards the distant Hokage Palace, a hint of pity flashing in his eyes. "I just feel sorry for my clansmen, Martial Uncle Tobirama and Senior Brother Akira Sheng... sooner or later we'll all be dragged into the battlefield."
Senju Yasuhei up, tapped the ground with his cane, and the withered leaves fell in a rustling sound. "I'm glad you can see things clearly." His voice carried the vicissitudes of time. "But you don't understand, there's a fire burning in the blood of us ninjas. Young people who learn Ninjutsu feel restless if they don't fight; we old bones also hope to die on the battlefield, which is better than dying in bed." As he said this, the old man's eyes suddenly lit up, as if he remembered some glorious past.
Tsubasa's brows furrowed, his fingers unconsciously gripping the ninja tool pouch at his waist. "But war always involves sacrifice. Must we just throw our lives away in vain?" His voice rose involuntarily, startling a few sparrows from the treetops.
Senju Yasuhei slowly shook his head, his aged hand resting on his grandson's hand, the calluses on his palm causing a slight ache. " The Shinobi World is such a cannibalistic place. Back in the Warring States period, the average lifespan was only thirty-five years. I lived to sixty-three, I've already made my money." His gaze became distant. "Back then, your second uncle, Tenjin Senju, led eight men to hold off two thousand allied troops. He fought with a bloodthirsty ferocity, his self-created Overbearing Spear Formula routing the enemy. When he finally died in battle, even the Uchiha clan members respectfully returned his body..." The old man's voice suddenly choked, and cloudy tears slid down his wrinkles. "Back then, which member of the clan didn't envy his heroic death? Even Hashirama's initial intention in establishing Konoha was simply to keep his children from going to the battlefield."
Tsubasa's Adam's apple bobbed a few times, feeling as if a Taiseki was pressing on his chest. Looking at his grandfather's aged face, he said, "But you're already 63 years old, do you still want to go to the battlefield?"
Senju Yasuhei tapped Tsubasa's head with his cane, making a "thump-thump" sound, "That's why I voted against it. You were born in peaceful times, you don't understand us old folks who crawled out of piles of corpses. We're afraid of our children and grandchildren dying, but we ourselves long for one last charge. My parents, wife, children, and friends all fell on the battlefield; that's where I belong." His tone suddenly turned serious, "Those old folks who voted against it today know perfectly well that you're capable, but your thinking is completely different from ours. They're afraid you'll break the 'old rules'—the elders of the Senju Clan must die on the battlefield to have dignity!"