"Unite with the Uchiha…?"
The words sank into the room like cold iron.
Senju Hashirama exhaled, shoulders sagging. "Tobirama… you killed Izuna. With Madara's temperament, expecting him to join hands with the Senju is… nearly impossible."
"This…"
Tobirama froze, jaw clenching. Silence stretched between them before he finally forced out, "If I… personally apologize to Uchiha Madara… perhaps he might consider an alliance."
"Tobirama, you…"
Hashirama stared at him, stunned. His little brother, proud to the bone, who could barely say one kind thing about the Uchiha even on a peaceful spring day… offering to bow his head?
Itama's death had carved a wound into Tobirama that never truly closed. To hear him even suggest apologizing…
"…Then we'll try," Hashirama said softly.
The elders of the Senju clan clearly weren't pleased, but the reality was cruel: between Konoha's growing threat and the endless bleed of war, they had no better choice.
Three days later, the Senju patriarch and the deputy patriarch crossed the border into Uchiha territory.
Madara didn't agree to receive them. But he didn't block them either.
Which, for the Uchiha, was practically a welcome.
"Senju Hashirama has arrived!"
Two figures approached the village gate. Dozens of Uchiha shinobi watched with sharpened eyes. Hatred burned openly — but no one moved. Not without Madara's command.
"Hashirama walks in here with only Tobirama at his side… does he think we won't tear them apart?"
"Hold your tongue. They came for talks. No one moves unless the clan head orders it."
The air trembled with barely contained fury. The Senju brothers walked through it like men crossing a field of buried explosive tags.
Hashirama could feel the hatred pressing on him from all sides.
"When did it get this deep…?" he murmured.
Uchiha Mikado, one of the elders, stepped forward and motioned for them to enter. Under his lead, they crossed the grounds and entered the clan's meeting hall.
Madara was waiting.
Expressionless. Still as stone.
"Senju Tobirama!"
The instant the brothers stepped inside, Madara's killing intent detonated. He lunged with a roar, fist already cocked.
"Madara—!"
The room shook as Madara's punch met another fist — a red-armored figure stepped between him and Tobirama, intercepting the blow with a thunderous impact.
"Patriarch!"
Weapons rang as dozens of Uchiha instantly closed in, surrounding the Senju.
"Madara, stop!" Hashirama's voice cracked like a whip.
Madara didn't stop. His pupils twisted, bleeding into a crimson pattern Hashirama had never seen before.
"What… what is that eye?" Hashirama whispered.
The power pouring off those Eternal Mangekyō felt like a blade pressed to his throat.
"Hashirama," Madara said, voice hollow with grief, "my brother is dead. You've lost a brother before. You know this pain. So tell me… why shouldn't I kill Tobirama right now?"
Hashirama stood still, breath shaking. Then he met Madara's gaze head-on.
"That's exactly why I came. We must resolve this."
"Resolve?" Madara laughed without humor. "Do you truly think this can be resolved?"
He waved his hand sharply, signaling his clan to hold their positions.
"Konoha has its eyes on both our clans," Hashirama pressed. "If we continue fighting alone, we will be swallowed. Madara… Senju and Uchiha must unite. Only then can we survive."
Madara's laugh turned sharper. "Unite? Hashirama, you're the same fool you were as a child. Do you think the Uchiha will kneel behind the Senju again?"
"What will it take, then?" Hashirama asked quietly.
"What will it take?" Madara's voice chilled. "Either I kill Tobirama with my own hands… or you die here. Only then could the Uchiha even consider unity."
"Uchiha Madara, don't push your luck!" Tobirama snapped.
Madara's eyes flared dangerously. If not for Hashirama stepping forward again, blood would have already been spilled.
"Madara!"
Hashirama tore off his armor and let it crash to the floor.
"I know our hatred. I've wanted to change it since the day we first met by the river. But we grew up. Became clan leaders. We no longer carry only our own dreams — we carry the lives of everyone behind us."
He drew a shuddering breath.
"But that dream never left me. Not then, not now."
His voice softened to a calm, terrible resolve.
"If my death is the price that ends the hatred between our clans… then Senju Hashirama will gladly pay it."
He lifted a kunai.
"Madara… if I die here, promise me you will guide our clans toward peace."
Before anyone could shout, stop him, or reach him—
Hashirama drove the kunai into his own chest.