Shihara Emiya did not immediately reply.
His silence was not from ignorance; it was because the answer was obvious to anyone who truly thought about it. Yet if Tobirama Senju had reacted a heartbeat faster, his sharp mind might have caught a disturbing truth—the man before him, who had once stepped into the Pure Land itself, spoke of time there as though he personally possessed it.
Shihara Emiya did not merely understand the Pure Land.
He held a power that brushed against divinity.
Still, in his calm, detached tone, he described the Sage of Six Paths as if he were an observer recounting an old myth. That slight dissonance kept Tobirama from realising the full implications, for his mind was already racing to decode the secrets of the underworld.
"I don't quite understand," Hashirama admitted honestly. Concepts such as time without time were too abstract for a man who preferred action to theory. "Maybe Tobirama can grasp it, but I…"
"Then let me phrase it differently."
Shihara's head moved faintly. He left time aside and shifted to another fundamental truth.
"Besides time," he said softly, "space is also a luxury."
The First Hokage blinked. "Space?"
"In death," Shihara continued, "human souls are terribly alone. They cannot tell how much space they occupy in the Pure Land, nor even where they are. The obsessions they carried in life are freed; they drift toward souls resonating with them, yet they never truly know which region they inhabit. They do not even think to ask."
He paused. His dark eyes grew distant, as though gazing across a boundless void. "Only beings like gods retain a sense of space. Only they know where they stand. Only they know the destination of every soul. Such beings can call a spirit to them at will, or draw upon its power while still alive."
Tobirama's stomach tightened. The Pure Land he had imagined as peaceful suddenly seemed monstrous. What meaning could remain to a soul stripped of time and place? Perhaps, he thought, death truly was a loss of all meaning. Perhaps eternity was merely numbness.
No… that wasn't quite right.
His eyes widened.
For ordinary people, yes, death meant oblivion. But for the Sage of Six Paths, who still perceived time and space even in that void, wasn't this essentially eternal life?
Shihara's voice deepened, cutting through Tobirama's thoughts. "And of course, even a god can prevent a soul from entering the Pure Land."
"I still don't understand…" Hashirama said again, frowning.
"Brother, be silent!" Tobirama snapped. He had already grasped the implication. His elder brother was dying; time was precious. "Forget it—I'll explain."
He turned back to Shihara, his face grim. "If the Sage can block a soul from the Pure Land, that means he can stop someone from dying at all, doesn't it?"
"That is correct."
Shihara lifted his palm. A ribbon of emerald chakra bloomed there like living flame. "For such a god, barring a soul's entry into the Pure Land makes preventing death itself a simple matter."
He let the chakra glow brighter. "For example, the Sage could grant Lord Hashirama a special power. That power would let his soul return to a body that was not truly dead."
"The power of Yang…" Tobirama murmured, recalling Shihara's earlier words.
"I think I understand now," Hashirama said quietly. "You mean, if I gain the Sage's favour, he can stop my death and allow me to continue living. Is that right?"
Tobirama's shoulders eased a fraction. Their ancestor might truly save his brother.
But unease returned immediately.
If the Sage of Six Paths still existed—if he could interfere with the world so profoundly—why had he never shown himself? Through a thousand years of Senju–Uchiha bloodshed, through countless minor clans swallowed by war, the Sage had done nothing. He could have ended the slaughter. He could have prevented death. He could have brought peace.
Yet he had not.
Tobirama forced himself to think. Perhaps the Sage refrained because divine favour would make human effort meaningless. If mortals could simply rely on a god, why strive at all? Yet the bitter irony burned: here they were, preparing to beg that very god for help.
"The Sage will save my brother, won't he?" Tobirama asked at last, searching Shihara's expression for any sign of certainty.
"I don't know."
Shihara's voice was calm, but it carried the weight of finality. "That is why I called this a last resort. No one knows the Sage's intentions. Perhaps, to him, the fragile peace you've built is meaningless."
Tobirama slammed his fist against the wall. This aloof contempt from a being so far above them sickened him. Even as he acknowledged the Sage as their ancestor, a part of him rebelled. Gods should not exist. Or if they did, they should not hold mortal lives in their hands.
Because if Shihara spoke truth, then the lives of ordinary villagers, the hard-won calm since the Warring States era—all of it—was nothing in the Sage's eyes.
Half of him wanted Shihara to be lying. But he knew the man would not. He might conceal facts; he would not deceive.
Only someone like Hashirama, still revering the Sage, could smile at such revelations. The First Hokage chuckled softly.
"Hahaha… so the Sage hasn't even noticed us?"
"It seems so…" Hashirama eased himself upright, careful not to wake the sleeping child in his arms. "Tobirama, don't blame him. Maybe we simply haven't done enough."
Tobirama had no answer.
Shihara spoke again, his tone cool and deliberate. "This is a plan with an extremely low probability of success. Hashirama is vital to your struggle against Madara. But to a god, Madara's current power is not even worth notice. Even Uchiha Madara himself draws less of the Sage's attention than my own existence does. That is why I hope to use Hashirama to test the Sage."
"Then let's try." Hashirama's smile was straightforward. "I've always wanted to meet the legend himself. At worst, I die."
"No." Shihara shook his head. "It may be worse than death. Your soul might not reach the Pure Land at all. It could drift in the gap between life and death, held there by your obsession."
He let that sink in before finishing. "A normal death will not catch the Sage's eye. Only by letting your soul fall into that liminal place can you even hope for his favour."
Somewhere in that in-between realm, Shihara added quietly, Hatake Kakashi's father still waited. If he passed fully into the underworld, he would never see his son again. That was the cost—and the hope.
Perhaps, Shihara thought, if Madara died, Hashirama would release his obsession. But Madara still lived, still threatened Konoha. That lingering purpose might be strong enough to hold Hashirama between life and death—strong enough to summon the Sage of Six Paths.
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