The air outside Mali's chamber had thinned to the sharp quiet before a storm.
Minato waited with Hashirama at the cliff path leading down to the harbor, where the fastest vessel was ready to take them to Konoha.
For a long while, neither spoke. Then Hashirama broke the silence.
"You're the Fourth Hokage… Minato Namikaze?"
Minato nodded once. "I was."
"You died for the village," Hashirama said slowly, "yet you do not carry the air of a man at peace with it."
Minato's face stayed calm, but his voice lowered.
"I gave my life for them. I sealed the Nine-Tails inside my own son to save everyone… and the village repaid him with nothing but hatred."
Hashirama's brow furrowed. "Repayed him? How?"
"They didn't treat Naruto as my son. They treated him as the fox," Minato said, tone tightening. "He grew up eating expired noodles… spoiled milk… because shopkeepers wouldn't sell him proper food. They beat him when he was small. And all that time, the Third Hokage, who raised his own grandson Konohamaru in comfort, watched and turned away."
Hashirama stopped walking, the muscles in his jaw hardening.
"…What have you done, Tobirama? What did your teachings turn into?" His voice was low, but the anger in it was unmistakable.
Minato stood quietly, the expression in his eyes saying there was worse yet unsaid.
The gates of Konoha came into view by sunset.
The two Hokage walked through in silence, villagers freezing in place as they recognized the massive red-armored figure beside the Yellow Flash.
Word spread ahead of them like fire: Hashirama Senju is here.
In the Hokage's office, Tsunade had already been warned. She stood as they entered, her eyes widening at the impossible sight of her grandfather.
"…Grandpa?"
Hashirama gave her one quick glance before his tone dropped into command. "Tsunade. We're leaving. Pack whatever you need that matters to you."
She blinked in shock. "What are you talking about? I'm the Hokage—"
"That's exactly why," Hashirama cut in. "This village is a shell. It can't protect itself. And it doesn't deserve to be rebuilt."
Tsunade's voice sharpened. "I won't abandon it. Not after everything!"
Hashirama stepped forward, his shadow falling over her desk. "Do you even know what your predecessors have done? What's been allowed in my name?"
"I know more than you think," Tsunade shot back.
"Then you know about the boy," Hashirama's voice was cold now. "Minato's son — left in filth, beaten by the same civilians his father died to save. And all the while, Sarutobi gave the best of everything to his own blood. My village?" His hand curled into a fist. "This is not what I built."
Tsunade's hand twitched toward her desk's edge. "Even so—"
Hashirama's hand moved faster. He tapped two fingers to her forehead — not hard, but enough to channel a faint burst of chakra to daze her without harm.
Her eyes rolled back and she slumped forward. Minato caught her before she could fall.
Hashirama turned to the ANBU that had appeared in the doorway. "Stand down. This is my doing."
Then he stepped out onto the balcony of the Hokage Tower. His voice built, layered with chakra until it carried over rooftops and streets.
"I am Hashirama Senju — the founder of Konoha!" his voice boomed, echoing through the village like a war drum. Villagers spilled into the streets, craning their necks.
"I am ashamed. Ashamed of what my brother's disciples have done in my absence, and of the rot this village has become. Your so‑called leaders have sown hatred, abandoned children, and crushed the will of the very people they swore to protect!"
He paused, letting the wave of murmurs settle into stunned silence.
"From this day, I disband the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Konoha is no more. Those who wish for a true home will come with me. Those who wish to rot in the ruins, stay."
The declaration rolled through Konoha like thunder, leaving shock in its wake.
Hashirama turned, Tsunade in Minato's arms, and walked out into the gathering dusk without looking back.
Far away, in Mali's stronghold, Izuna sensed the shift in the air and smirked.
"Told you he'd do it."
Mali didn't look up from the scroll he was marking. "Now we prepare for the real work."
The ink on his brush darkened as he wrote one final name in careful strokes: Tobirama.