He had endured. And endured again.
He had lowered himself, tolerated humiliation, swallowed pride, and even forced himself to fight shoulder-to-shoulder with an Uchiha he instinctively distrusted—Uchiha Makoto, the brat who seemed born to irritate him. The boy's every gesture, every smirk, every calculated statement carried a level of audacity that grated on Tobirama's nerves like steel on bone.
Yet Tobirama had endured it all for the sake of Konoha.
So when the time finally came—when all the representatives, envoys, and minor village shinobi had cleared the negotiation hall—Tobirama finally allowed the tension in his jaw to release. The moment the last foreign shinobi left the room, he turned sharply toward Uchiha Makoto.
The armistice agreement lay open on the table between them. Every clause had been signed. Every term finalized outside his control.
He lifted the document, hands trembling—not from fear, but rage.
"Uchiha Makoto, don't you think you've gone too far?" Tobirama snapped, pointing directly at the parchment. "Konoha traveled all this way for the war, and you only give Konoha this little bit?"
His voice echoed sharply through the empty venue.
He'd had to wait all day to say this. Earlier, he couldn't speak freely—not with envoys present, not with allies watching, not with Hashirama's eyes occasionally lingering on him. But now, with just Uchiha Makoto present, the dam finally burst.
If Konoha was going to gain anything substantial from this war, it had to be the monetary compensation. All other treaty clauses were locked; Makoto had crafted them carefully, cleverly excluding Konoha from any deeper benefits. The one remaining lifeline—the only negotiable piece left—was the massive war compensation Hidden Cloud had to pay.
Thirty billion ryo.
A sum that could reshape village finances for years.
So Tobirama didn't hesitate.
"Thirty billion ryo, Konoha wants ten billion ryo!"
Uchiha Makoto froze for a moment and then laughed—sharp, dismissive, unrestrained.
"Senju Tobirama, even if you're too poor to buy a mirror, you can at least pee on the ground and use it as one, right? How can you have the face to say such a thing? Konoha didn't kill a single Kumogakure Ninja from beginning to end, and now you have the nerve to open your mouth and demand ten billion ryo from me?"
Makoto's voice was laced with ridicule.
His expression didn't soften even a little. In fact, the more he spoke, the more the corner of his mouth curved in amusement—as if Tobirama's demand was not only outrageous, but laughable.
And in terms of tangible contribution, Makoto wasn't wrong.
Everyone shows their ugliest behavior when money is on the line. Makoto didn't hold it against Tobirama personally—after all, Makoto himself would snatch anything he could if it benefited his people.
But he still had to mock him.
And he did so mercilessly.
Tobirama inhaled sharply. "If Konoha hadn't personally supported you, how could your Akatsuki Ninja Village have retreated unscathed? You don't actually think your Akatsuki Ninja Village could truly fight two against one and defeat the combined attack of Iwagakure and Kumogakure, do you?"
His tone tried to sound rational—measured. But emotion leaked through every word.
He believed this. Truly believed it.
Konoha's name, its prestige, its military presence—even if unused—had provided crucial deterrence. Without that deterrent, Akatsuki wouldn't have completed its retreat cleanly, much less corner Kumogakure into surrendering harsh compensation.
A mere name had value. The Senju name had value.
Tobirama's argument wasn't baseless.
But it wasn't enough.
Makoto's eyes grew colder.
"Bah! Do you really think I'm scared? At worst, I'll personally go beg Lord Madara! I am an Uchiha, after all. Mere Iwagakure and Hidden Cloud Village are nothing but chickens and dogs in Lord Madara's eyes. Senju Tobirama, do you think Lord Madara would stand by and do nothing for me?"
The moment the name "Uchiha Madara" left Makoto's lips—
Tobirama froze.
His pupils narrowed slightly, memories of past battles and political nightmares flashing through his mind. That name alone carried enough weight to crush arguments in an instant. It was a name that belonged to someone unpredictable, terrifying, and overwhelmingly powerful.
And Makoto wielded it like a blade.
Tobirama's voice trembled with anger. "Damn it, Uchiha Makoto, you inherently evil Uchiha brat, have you been colluding with the Uchiha Clan in Konoha all along?!"
Makoto clicked his tongue.
"Tsk, Senju Tobirama, you really can't say anything good. My normal interactions with my clan members become internal and external collusion in your mouth. Don't make baseless accusations, or Lord Madara might bag you in the middle of the night… He hasn't forgotten about Izuna-sama's matter. If he can't kill you, he can at least beat you up, and Hashirama-sama would probably turn a blind eye and pretend not to see."
Tobirama swallowed harshly.
Because it was true.
Hashirama was kind—too kind—and incredibly tolerant of Madara. If Madara wanted to toss Tobirama around like a sack of grain, Hashirama might indeed sigh, gently admonish Madara, and then quietly look away.
Makoto continued casually.
"So don't provoke me. There's definitely no money for Konoha."
Tobirama's eyes tightened. His voice grew strained.
"This ten billion ryo, you'll give it whether you want to or not!"
"You're playing dirty with me, aren't you!"
"I just won't give it to you. What can you do?"
Makoto leaned back slightly, tone flat, unyielding. He looked Tobirama directly in the eyes, and Tobirama suddenly felt a chill run through him—because Makoto wasn't bluffing.
Makoto repeated himself, firm as bedrock.
"How many times do you want me to say it? I won't give a single penny!"
The silence grew heavy.
Tobirama's last line erupted like a final flame before extinguishing.
"Uchiha Makoto, you will definitely regret this!"
Makoto didn't even blink.
"Enough, Senju Tobirama, you're not the Hokage, you have no right to lecture me!"
The words landed with the force of a hammer.
"Bang!"
Tobirama stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Makoto watched his retreating figure with a calm expression. Their relationship, already brittle, had finally snapped.
But what was there to lose? It wasn't as if they were ever friendly.
As long as Senju Hashirama lived, the alliance between Akatsuki and Konoha would hold. But the moment Hashirama fell, the village ruled by Senju Tobirama would become the greatest threat to Akatsuki—greater even than Iwa or Kumo.
A quiet presence entered the room.
"What's going on? Tobirama-sama, why did he storm out of the room?" Vortex Shinji asked, returning just in time to witness the aftermath.
Makoto shrugged.
"Oh, Senju Tobirama wanted to take one hundred billion ryo from the three hundred billion ryo compensation, but I firmly refused him, so he got angry."
"This… this is too much. How could Senju Tobirama be like this!" Shinji muttered, face darkening.
Makoto didn't reply, letting the absurdity speak for itself.
Shinji took a breath, then asked the most pressing question.
"So, Kage-sama, how should we split this money?"
Makoto answered without hesitation.
"Akatsuki Ninja Village gets twenty billion ryo, and the Uzumaki Clan gets ten billion ryo. Shinji, what do you think of this distribution method?"
Shinji nodded immediately.
"No problem."
Makoto then added lightly, "Since you said so, then I'll listen to you. Let's each take out one billion ryo, and the two billion ryo in compensation will be their travel expenses. You give it to Senju Tobirama, and I'll give it to Uchiha Setsuna."
Shinji blinked. "Mm, alright… War… these cruel days are finally over… It's just the injured and disabled Uzumaki…"
Makoto's expression softened slightly.
Shinji continued quietly, "Probably not… but it doesn't matter, the clan will definitely compensate them."
He paused.
Then, with genuine earnestness:
"I do have an idea. Let's start a movie company together. The stories of heroes shouldn't be forgotten…"
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)