The room was quiet, but the air felt restless. Hashirama Senju paced back and forth, his sandals tapping against the wooden floor with a rhythm that betrayed his unease.
"Tell me," Hashirama muttered aloud, unable to contain himself, "Madara will end up fighting with Tobirama, won't he?"
Izuna Uchiha, who sat nearby, frowned. Even though he had reconciled with seeing his brother alive, he still harbored bitterness toward Tobirama. Hearing Hashirama's words, however, he couldn't deny that the possibility felt real.
"Knowing those two… yes, that is possible," Izuna admitted with a heavy sigh.
The Sandaime Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, quickly interjected, trying to soothe the First Hokage's nerves. "Shodai-sama, it's fine. If Madara-sama and Nidaime truly fought, the whole village would know. The movement of such a battle could never go unnoticed."
Hashirama paused mid-step, considering the words. It was true—if Madara Uchiha and Tobirama Senju clashed, the resulting chakra surge would have shaken Konoha to its core. Still, he couldn't shake the nagging fear in his chest.
The Yondaime Hokage, Minato Namikaze, sat silently in the corner. His lips curved into a small smile at Hiruzen's attempt to reassure his teacher. He knew better than most how heavy the history between Madara and Tobirama was. Comfort was necessary, even if it came in half-truths.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound at the door startled Hashirama. He rushed forward and pulled it open quickly, already calling out:
"Madara? Tobirama? You've returned—"
But the sight before him stopped his words.
"Oh… Tsunade."
Tsunade Senju, dressed in her Hokage robes, raised a brow at her grandfather. "What's wrong, Grandpa? What were you just shouting about?"
Hashirama's big hands waved dismissively. "Ah, nothing! Nothing at all. Don't concern yourself with adult matters."
Tsunade crossed her arms, irritation flashing across her face. "Grandpa, I am the Godaime Hokage. I'm not a child you can brush aside anymore."
Hiruzen chuckled warmly. "Tsunade, in Shodai-sama's eyes, you will always remain his precious child."
Tsunade's scowl softened into a reluctant smile. "Hmph. Fine." She turned to Hiruzen and Minato. "Sarutobi-sensei, Minato—you'll stay here for now. Once I arrange new housing, I'll have proper quarters built for you."
But Hashirama shook his head. "No need, no need. We're only here through Edo Tensei. We don't eat, we don't drink, we don't sleep. There's no point in wasting the village's funds on us. But…" He leaned forward and pointed across the room. "Madara is flesh and blood again. He'll need a house, and not just any house—build him something grand, Tsunade. Decorate it well. You know what I mean!"
Tsunade blinked, taken aback, then nodded reluctantly.
Izuna suppressed a sigh, his heart tightening. Brother Hashirama truly does care for my brother Madara…
Before the silence could stretch, the door opened again. This time it was Madara himself, with Tobirama right behind him.
"We're back," Madara said calmly.
"Madara!" Hashirama beamed with obvious relief. "You're safe!"
Tobirama coughed pointedly.
Hashirama turned on his younger brother with a stern glare. "You! How could you vanish like that and make us all worry? You're not a child throwing a tantrum!"
Madara raised a hand, his lips tugging upward. "Calm yourself, Hashirama. There's no need for worry. Tobirama and I… have reconciled."
"What?!" Hashirama froze, eyes widening. "You—reconciled?"
"Yes," Madara said evenly. "I've come to understand. Some of Tobirama's policies toward the Uchiha clan—though harsh—were meant for the clan's long-term survival. It was never his intention for events to spiral as they did. Life is unpredictable. His original intention was not the destruction that followed."
Hashirama gaped in disbelief, struggling to process the words. His younger brother, the man who had despised the Uchiha clan with unwavering resolve, had reconciled with Madara?
Izuna's eyes narrowed sharply. Reconciled? My brother Madara… with this man? The one who indirectly caused my death? Can he truly forgive that?
Sensing their confusion, Madara recounted what Tobirama had told him. The room fell silent afterward, each person contemplating the words. They could not deny the truth—Tobirama's intentions had indeed been twisted by circumstance and time.
Hiruzen bowed his head, shame heavy in his voice. "Nidaime believed in me. He entrusted me with the Hokage's mantle… and I failed him. I failed Konoha."
Tobirama's sharp eyes softened, if only slightly. "Monkey, don't debase yourself. I chose you for a reason."
Minato lowered his gaze. "If only I had realized the masked man was Obito from the start… so much tragedy could have been avoided."
Hashirama waved them off impatiently. "Enough! What's done is done. If you really want to blame someone, blame me. I dragged Madara down and forced him to accept peace my way. Maybe if things had been different, so much pain wouldn't have followed."
Tsunade exhaled deeply, cutting into the self-blame with firm words. "The past is gone. All of you were given a second chance—resurrected, against all odds. Don't waste it drowning in regret. Focus on the present, on what can still be mended."
Her words struck the room like a bell, clear and undeniable. Heads nodded slowly in agreement.
Then Tsunade turned to her grandfather. "I heard reports today. Sasuke Uchiha has resurrected members of the Uchiha clan. Is it true?"
Hashirama nodded without hesitation. "It's true. Naruto approved it, and so did I."
Tsunade frowned. Naruto had never mentioned this. Hearing it from her ANBU had been a shock—and now, to have it confirmed by the Shodai himself…
Hashirama saw the concern in her eyes. "Don't worry, Tsunade. We were present when it happened. The Uchiha who returned won't threaten the village. Sasuke and Naruto are guiding them. Tell your ANBU to stand down and keep their distance."
Her gaze flicked toward Madara and Izuna. She measured their expressions carefully, then nodded once.
Tobirama added, his tone softer than usual: "Tsunade, leave the matter of the resurrected Uchiha to us. This is the business of the old generation. We will handle it."
Tsunade let out a long breath. With her grandfather, great-uncle, teacher, and even Madara present, she truly had no reason to worry.
Madara inclined his head slightly toward her. "Forgive us for troubling you, Hokage."
Tsunade stiffened. Madara's voice was unusually polite, even humble. She nodded back, uncertain how to respond.
Hashirama laughed heartily, clapping Madara on the shoulder. "See? I told you before, Madara—you need to soften your expression. When you speak politely with that face, people don't know whether to bow or run away!"
Madara rolled his eyes.
The tension broke into quiet laughter. For a moment, the heavy weight in the room lifted.
As the evening grew late, Tsunade excused herself. Madara and Izuna retired to a separate room to talk privately, while Hashirama, Tobirama, and Hiruzen stayed together, reminiscing. Minato, however, declined to stay. He had his own thoughts to sort through.
That night, Minato Namikaze walked alone through the streets of Konoha. To avoid recognition, he cloaked himself in a Transformation Technique, appearing as a simple shinobi.
The night air was filled with warmth and the scent of food. Stalls lined the streets, villagers laughing and chatting. The night market had grown far more vibrant than in his time.
He stopped suddenly. Before him stood Ichiraku Ramen.
Minato lingered, staring at the familiar shopfront. Memories washed over him—the countless times he had eaten here, the laughter he had shared with Kushina. He longed to step inside and order a bowl, but his Edo Tensei body had no need for food. The thought ached in his chest.
He smiled wistfully and continued walking.
After twenty minutes, he arrived at a familiar home. His home.
He turned the knob, locked tight. With a practiced seal, Minato vanished in a flash of the Hiraishin and reappeared inside. The mark of his Flying Thunder God kunai still lingered here, unchanged by time.
The air was clean. Someone had been maintaining the house. His eyes scanned the room, hope sparking.
Could it be… Naruto?
He walked into the master bedroom. The closet creaked open, revealing neatly folded clothes. His hand trembled as he pulled out a cloak—his own Hokage cloak. The sight of the red flames on white fabric made his breath hitch. He held it close for a moment, then carefully returned it.
Next, he found another piece of clothing. Soft, well-kept despite age. Kushina's maternity robes.
His eyes lingered on the fabric. The scent was long gone, but the memories burned vividly in his mind. Kushina's laughter, her fiery temper, her love for him and their unborn son. The night Naruto was born. The Nine Tails. Her sacrifice.
Minato clutched the clothing to his chest, eyes clouded with sorrow. His heart ached with a longing no resurrection could erase.
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