Silence settled over the round table after the truth about the Senju's fate was laid bare.
Tsunade didn't speak again. Her jaw was tight, her eyes fixed on the tabletop as if staring hard enough could rewrite history.
Hashirama and Tobirama, too, gradually recovered from the initial shock—but Tobirama's recovery looked nothing like calm.
It looked like bitterness.
His expression darkened, the kind of darkness that didn't come from fear… but from regret.
So these were the people I raised.
Of all possibilities, Tobirama had never imagined the ones he trusted—his own disciples—would one day turn their hands on the very bloodline that founded Konoha.
The Uchiha being targeted?
He could understand the logic, even if he didn't endorse the outcome. The Sharingan's history was dangerous. Power like that demanded caution. He had spent his life trying to prevent another Madara.
But the Senju?
The Senju being erased?
That was not caution.
That was ambition.
That was control.
That was betrayal.
A cold thought slid into Tobirama's mind like a blade:
If I move too slowly, those two will rise.
If I let it play out… I die, and they become untouchable.
His lips twitched.
Not a smile of humor.
A smile of decision.
Good. In my world, none of this has happened yet.
Then the solution is simple.
Kill them.
Only then did Tobirama straighten as another realization struck him.
"…So that's the real purpose of this group," he murmured.
He lifted his head, eyes bright with a dangerous clarity.
"We can change history."
Hashirama and Tsunade glanced at each other—both startled, not by the idea itself, but by how fast Tobirama had reached it.
Ryuji blinked.
Even he had to admit it was frighteningly sharp.
He hadn't even laid out the full implications yet, and Tobirama had already grabbed the heart of it.
Ryuji cleared his throat quickly, cutting in before Tobirama sprinted any further down that path.
"Ahem. Before we go there, I need to confirm something."
He looked around the table.
"What year is each of you in right now?"
Tobirama, still riding the momentum of "rewrite fate," forced his expression back into something more controlled.
"In the seventeenth year after Konoha's founding," he said. "The First Great Ninja War is nearing its end."
He paused, then added with genuine relief:
"In one month, I'm supposed to sign an alliance with the Raikage. After that… the war ends."
He breathed out. No one hated war more than the man who constantly had to plan for it.
Hashirama smiled and gave his brother a satisfied pat on the shoulder.
But the moment Tobirama finished speaking…
Ryuji's face turned strange.
So did Tsunade's.
Tobirama instantly noticed.
The relaxed edge vanished.
His shoulders stiffened.
"…Does something go wrong?" he asked carefully.
Ryuji hesitated, as if choosing the least painful way to deliver a fatal blow.
"Um… how do I put this…"
Then he said it.
"One month from now, at the alliance meeting, the Cloud's Kinkaku Force rebels. Kinkaku and Ginkaku lead the attack."
Tobirama's eyes widened slightly.
Ryuji continued, tone steady.
"The Second Raikage is killed. The alliance collapses."
He didn't stop.
"To cover the retreat of your squad—your successors—you stay behind."
"And you die in that battle."
The room went silent.
Tobirama sat very still.
I die… on the eve of the war ending.
If Tobirama had heard only that, he might have accepted it as the price of being Hokage.
But now?
Now he knew who rose afterward.
Now he knew what they did with the power he died protecting.
His fingers curled slowly on the armrest.
So I died saving them.
And then they turned around and butchered the Senju.
No wonder the clan didn't survive.
His death wasn't just a tragedy.
It was a vacuum.
And a vacuum always got filled by the worst kind of people.
Tobirama's eyes flickered with a cold, unreadable light.
No one at the table could tell what he was thinking.
But everyone could feel it.
Hashirama tried to lighten the heaviness, though his voice carried its own worry.
"I've been Hokage for ten years now," he said. "So… nothing bad happens in my timeline, right?"
He sounded almost hopeful, like a child asking if tomorrow would be sunny.
Ryuji answered honestly.
"Nothing immediate happens," he said. "But you'll be gone in two years."
Hashirama blinked.
Ryuji added, "People know you die in Konoha's twelfth year… but no one knows exactly why."
Hashirama stared for half a breath.
Then laughed.
"Two years?" he said, strangely cheerful. "Hahaha! That's not bad at all."
No bitterness.
No despair.
Just acceptance.
He rubbed the back of his neck, casual.
"After my fight with Madara… my body started failing. Like it hit its limit. The damage kept deepening, and I got weaker day by day."
Ryuji and the others exchanged looks.
That matched the most common theories—most paths led back to the Valley of the End.
And now the real Hashirama was confirming it, calmly, like he was describing the weather.
Then everyone's gaze shifted to Tsunade.
She inhaled, forcing herself to steady.
"The sixty-third year of Konoha," she said quietly.
Then the words she'd been holding back finally spilled out.
"Jiraiya just died in battle."
Hashirama's expression tightened.
Tobirama's eyes sharpened.
Tsunade continued, voice controlled, but the tension underneath was unmistakable.
"There's an organization called Akatsuki. They're capturing the tailed beasts."
"Right now, only two remain outside their hands—Kumogakure's Eight-Tails… and Konoha's Nine-Tails."
She clenched her fist.
"It won't be long before Pain attacks Konoha."
Now the urgency Tsunade had shown earlier made sense.
Hashirama and Tobirama finally understood.
The future wasn't just darker.
It was insane.
A group dedicated to collecting tailed beasts? Turning them into weapons?
Even in their era, that sounded like a nightmare concept.
But sitting in this impossible space—seeing living legends from different times—believing was no longer difficult.
Hashirama's expression softened.
He reached over and patted Tsunade's head, gentle the way only a grandfather could be in the middle of apocalypse-level conversation.
"Don't worry, Tsunade," he said.
"If this group exists…"
"…then that means everything can be changed."
Tsunade's eyes trembled.
Hashirama then looked at Ryuji, smiling with quiet confidence.
"Right, Fourth Hokage?"
Ryuji met his gaze—and couldn't help but respect him.
Hashirama acted carefree, but his heart was clear. He saw the path immediately.
Ryuji nodded.
"Of course."
He leaned forward, voice firm.
"If we can be pulled into this group, then we can unite—help each other."
"Tsunade's crisis can be resolved at the next meeting. Once the fifth member joins, we unlock mutual aid."
Then Ryuji's tone shifted.
"But the most important thing right now…"
He looked straight at Tobirama.
"…is you, Second Hokage."
All eyes turned to Tobirama again.
Tobirama lifted his chin slightly.
"Hm?"
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