Tobirama Senju was furious. His heart burned with indignation, and no amount of discipline could completely suppress it. He truly could not believe that his elder brother, Hashirama, could be so biased toward Madara Uchiha and even Izuna.
Yes—he had done it intentionally all those years ago. He had spoken those words knowing full well that Madara was listening outside the window. He wanted to test him, to provoke him, to force Hashirama to see reality. But Tobirama now understood that perhaps he had miscalculated.
The Uchiha clan was a clan bound by emotions, tethered to their passions in ways unlike any other shinobi lineage. For them, love and hate were two sides of the same coin. And once they lost someone dear, once that bond was severed, their grief could consume them, pushing them toward a path of destruction.
Madara was proof of that.
And yet, Hashirama had once suggested that Madara should take the mantle of Hokage. Hokage! The thought itself still made Tobirama seethe. His elder brother was blinded by sentimentality, too quick to see the best in others, too quick to forgive.
But what then? What if Madara, driven by grief and vengeance, had been entrusted with the position of village leader? Would the fragile dream they had built together—Konohagakure—have been reduced to ashes before it could even flourish?
Tobirama clenched his fists, his jaw tight with frustration.
No. He was not wrong. His policies toward the Uchiha clan were not mistakes. He had done what was necessary—what was required—for the survival of the village. Even if it meant becoming the villain in the eyes of his brother or of history itself. Everything, every single decision, had been for Konoha.
Weighed down by his own thoughts, Tobirama wandered aimlessly until he stopped beneath a large tree. With a heavy sigh, he sat at its roots, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun dipped low, casting the skies in a warm, melancholic orange.
"Why…" Tobirama muttered bitterly. "Why don't you understand my painstaking efforts, brother?"
It was then, as the wind whispered through the leaves, that a familiar presence approached. Perhaps because of his distracted mood, Tobirama failed to sense it at first. Only when the figure came closer did he snap to attention.
"Who's there?" he barked sharply, hand instinctively reaching for a kunai.
A calm yet commanding voice answered. "It's me, Tobirama."
From the shadows emerged none other than Madara Uchiha.
Tobirama narrowed his crimson eyes, his body tense. "Madara… what are you doing here?"
Madara did not immediately answer. Instead, he allowed himself a faint smile before stepping forward. Without hesitation, he sat down beside Tobirama, his gaze fixed not on his old rival but on the same sunset.
The younger Senju studied him warily. This was the first time, in all the decades of enmity, that they were truly alone together. Their first meetings had been on battlefields drenched in blood, with clansmen at their backs. Later, when the village was founded, Izuna's death had driven a wedge so deep that solitude between the two became impossible. Hashirama's presence had always stood between them like an unmovable pillar.
Yet here they were.
Tobirama's suspicion hardened his tone. "What are you doing here?"
Madara's eyes softened slightly as he continued to stare into the horizon. "I came to talk with you."
The words made Tobirama scoff, his lips curling in disbelief. "You? Madara Uchiha? You expect me to believe that? That you would come simply to talk to me?"
But Madara did not waver. He turned, meeting Tobirama's sharp gaze with steady conviction. "You heard correctly. I came here because there are things I must say—things only you can hear."
Tobirama let out a short, bitter laugh. "Very well. Then speak. Tell me, Madara—why are you so desperate to talk to me?"
Madara inhaled deeply, then exhaled. "Tobirama, you have always despised the Uchiha. Your prejudice is no secret. That is why I came—to ask you directly. Why do you hate us so much?"
The Senju's eyes flashed with cold light. "You're mistaken. I hold no prejudice against the Uchiha. What I have always spoken are truths. You, Madara, were once a vibrant and open man, but after Izuna's death, what became of you? You grew consumed by darkness. You lashed out against my clan with greater fury than ever before. Do you deny it?"
Madara's face stiffened as the name of his brother was uttered. He clenched his fists, then let out a long breath. "No… I cannot deny it. Izuna was my last brother, my last anchor. When I lost him, I lost everything. If it were you, Tobirama, if you had died—do you truly think Hashirama would have remained calm?"
Tobirama's voice was ironclad. "Don't twist the truth. Even if I had died, my brother would not have fallen into the abyss as you did. That is the difference between the Senju and the Uchiha. You Uchiha allow your emotions to rule you. I know this better than anyone. That is why I watched your clan closely. That is why I worried about what you might become."
He leaned forward, his tone fierce. "Do you know why I assigned the Uchiha to the Konoha Police Force? Orochimaru, that snake, later claimed I did it to make the villagers hate you, to isolate you from the rest of Konoha. And yes, that was part of my calculation. But the true reason—the greater reason—was to protect your clan from extinction."
Madara frowned, his Sharingan flickering faintly. "Protect us?"
Tobirama's voice rose with passion. "Yes! By placing the Uchiha within the Police Force, I kept your clansmen from serving en masse on the frontlines. I prevented your bloodline from being bled dry in endless wars. Tell me, Madara, what happens when an Uchiha loses someone dear? They awaken greater power, yes—but also greater despair. They spiral into hatred and madness. I sought to shield you from that fate!"
He jabbed a finger at Madara. "Look at Fugaku's time! By then, the Uchiha numbered so many that even the Konoha Council grew wary. Why? Because most of your clan survived! Only a handful served in the ANBU or in external defense units. The rest lived, prospered, multiplied. That was by design. My design."
Tobirama's eyes turned distant, his voice lower now. "I will admit… during Hiruzen's time, mistakes were made. The leadership mishandled the Uchiha. But do not place all the blame on Sarutobi. Konoha was beset by enemies on every front, and internal power struggles were fierce. At that time, your clan had no leader strong enough to bridge the gap between the village and your people. Kagami had already died too soon… and the only ones left were Shisui and Itachi—brilliant, yes, but too young, too unproven."
Madara listened intently, his expression unreadable.
Tobirama continued, his voice heavy with regret. "Do not mistake me. I did not despise all Uchiha. Uchiha Kagami… he was one of my most trusted men. He had the vision to see beyond the curse of your clan, the wisdom to act for the greater good. If he had lived, things would have been different. The massacre would never have happened."
A shadow crossed Tobirama's face. "But fate was cruel. My brother pitied you for Izuna's death. He sheltered your clan far more than necessary, and yet in the end, they turned their backs on him. And what of my clan? The Senju… my brothers Kawarama and Itama both died at Uchiha hands. Did Hashirama ever let hatred consume him? No. And now, look—the once-great Senju are all but gone. Only Tsunade remains."
For the first time in years, silence stretched between the two men, unbroken.
Madara finally spoke, his voice quieter than before. "Tobirama… I see now. Perhaps I misjudged you. Perhaps you were never the narrow-minded man I thought you were."
The admission made Tobirama's chest tighten uncomfortably, as though a thousand ants crawled beneath his skin.
Madara looked at him firmly. "But you must also acknowledge this—your suspicion, your harshness, your calculated coldness… all of it hastened the Uchiha's fall into darkness. Your measures protected us, yes, but they also isolated us."
Tobirama said nothing. Images of Danzo, of shadowy manipulations, flickered in his mind. He sighed deeply. "I never wanted it. But for the sake of Konoha, I had no choice."
Madara stood, brushing the dust from his cloak. "Izuna has returned. With him by my side again, I no longer wish to carry the burden of old grudges. The world we now see—this peace, this unity—it is a world Hashirama and I never dared to dream. It would be foolish to cling to hatred when both our clans stand on the brink of vanishing into history."
He extended his hand toward Tobirama. "Come, Tobirama. Let us set aside this rivalry. Look into my eyes and tell me honestly—back then, when you spoke those words outside the window, was it not fear? Fear that I would place Izuna's life before Konoha's future?"
Tobirama was silent. The truth lingered bitter on his tongue. At last, silence was his only answer.
Madara's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "I thought so."
He straightened, his hand still extended. "Your brother loved you more than anything, Tobirama. Do not forget that. And if he were here, he would want us to reconcile."
For a long moment, Tobirama stared at Madara's outstretched hand. Finally, with a heavy exhale, he took it.
Madara pulled him up, and the two former enemies stood side by side. For the first time in decades, they exchanged not glares of hostility but faint, weary smiles of understanding.
Perhaps the chains of the past could finally be broken.
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