The red marks on the Sage of Six Paths' cheeks still throbbed with a dull pain. He looked up at the golden giant hand hovering in the air, then sensed the weakness in his body after having a portion of his bloodline forcibly stripped away.
Ultimately, he did not dare to lose his temper recklessly again. He merely stared at Senju Makoto, his eyes overflowing with rage and unwillingness. He felt more than ever that Makoto's character was vile to the extreme; how was this different from a common bandit?
Now the boy dared to forcibly drain his bloodline power; in the future, would he go after his mother or beat his brother? It was sheer lawlessness!
The Sage grumbled wildly in his heart, yet he had to suppress his fury, secretly warning himself: Be low-key, endure, avoid his edge for now, and wait for the right time!
Senju Makoto slowly clenched his fists, feeling the majestic power surging through his body. This feeling of being reborn gave him immense peace of mind. He looked at the Sage of Six Paths with a gaze similar to a farmer looking at a well-fed pig ready for slaughter.
He had never claimed to be a pure and noble saint. In this dog-eat-dog Ninja World, weak kindness is the original sin; pragmatism is the true path. If being a villain allowed him to live as he pleased, he didn't mind being one.
After observing the Sage for a while and seeing his state of repressed rage and extreme frustration, Makoto found it quite interesting. After all, this was the mastermind who had overlooked the entire Ninja World for over a thousand years.
However, since the old man showed no intention of communicating—aside from glaring with his Rinnegan—Makoto didn't care to waste his breath. He glanced around the sealing space, preparing to withdraw his consciousness to feel the changes in his body. But then, his gaze suddenly froze...
On the other side of the sealing space, that "woman" bound tightly to the pink cross and covered in dense black markings—a small portion of her seal had somehow dissipated, revealing... a small, bare foot.
The ankle was incredibly slender, its lines as smooth and beautiful as a masterpiece crafted with a divine artisan's lifeblood. The skin was a translucent, cold white, emitting a pure and hazy shimmer in the dim sealing space. It was untainted by dust, both holy and eerie.
The curve of the arch was breathtaking, the five toes as lustrous as jade, with pale pink nails curled slightly like flower buds waiting to bloom. Most striking was the sole, slightly turned outward, revealing skin even more tender than the top of the foot, glowing with a faint, almost enticing crimson.
Even though it was perfectly still, it naturally exuded a sense of effortless laziness and a hint of supreme authority.
The Sage of Six Paths noticed Makoto's sudden fixated gaze. He followed the boy's sight to the woman's foot. It felt inexplicably familiar, yet no matter how he pushed his senses, he couldn't detect any aura from her.
But the more it was like this, the more he felt something was wrong.
He frowned, thinking deeply for a moment. Suddenly, a terrifying thought took shape in his mind, and his face changed drastically. He no longer cared about the golden hand in the void or his weakened body. The Power of Six Paths within him erupted into a frenzy.
Senju Makoto noticed the Sage's violent killing intent and irritation. A flash of surprise and contemplation crossed his eyes. Without hesitation, he withdrew his consciousness and instantly exited the sealing space.
He left the Sage of Six Paths behind, staring at the partially unsealed woman with eyes full of shock, fear, and unvented fury.
At the far end of the seal, on the pink cross, the tip of that jade-like foot seemed to move... ever so slightly. Like a deity slumbering for a thousand years, sensing the cool air of the outside world for the first time in the eternal darkness, it appeared almost playful...
Senju Makoto opened his eyes. Moonlight slanted in from the window. Everything that had just happened in the sealing space felt like a dream. But his skyrocketing strength told him clearly—it was no dream.
He sat up and examined his body. His skin was finer, his muscle lines were more defined, and most obvious was his chakra. Before, it was a small stream; now, it had become a rushing river, and it was still growing rapidly.
His strength was increasing across all dimensions, every second of every day.
"Otsutsuki bloodline..." Makoto pondered. Finally, his tense nerves relaxed, and he fell fast asleep.
The next morning.
Sunlight pierced the mist, draping Konoha in a golden veil. The statue of the First Hokage on the Hokage Rock looked exceptionally majestic in the morning light.
Since the battle at the Valley of the End, Senju Hashirama had finally had a good night's sleep. He had been slacking off for several days, dumping all of Konoha's administrative work on Senju Tobirama. Feeling a bit "guilty," he got up early, deciding to actually show up at the Hokage building today to slack off more professionally.
He stepped into the Hokage office under the morning light and the respectful gazes of the villagers. He saw a desk without piles of paper, a spotless floor, and the potted plant in the corner—which he had accidentally overwatered last time—now flourishing. Everything was in perfect order.
Hashirama scratched his head, his gratitude toward his brother, Senju Tobirama, growing.
"Tobirama really is reliable. He handles these troublesome matters so well."
As he lamented, he sat in the large Hokage chair. But the moment his backside hit the seat, the smile on his face stiffened.
"Wait... I think... I forgot to tell Tobirama something?"
The realization hit him, and cold sweat broke out. Taking Senju Makoto as a disciple was an impulsive decision, yet one that followed his heart. But he knew his brother's personality too well—rigorous, pragmatic, and wary of anything that might threaten the village's stability, especially regarding the Uchiha Clan...
If he had told him beforehand, Tobirama would have shut the idea down immediately with "more than a hundred unarguable reasons." So, he had chosen to act first and report later.
"It... shouldn't be a big problem, right?" Hashirama muttered guiltily. "Makoto is such an excellent kid; Tobirama definitely won't refuse..."
He tried to convince himself, but the instinctive "awe" he felt toward his brother made him restless.
As the saying goes, what you fear most will surely happen. The office door was pushed open silently.
Senju Tobirama walked in with steady, hurried steps, holding several documents. He was clearly there to perform his duties as the Hokage's assistant. When he saw Senju Hashirama sitting in the Hokage chair, Tobirama was momentarily stunned.
Then, the corners of his usually tight-pressed mouth twitched upward, forming a very faint, relieved smile—like a father seeing a prodigal son return.
"Brother," Tobirama's voice was calm. "You finally remembered that you are the First Hokage of Konoha?"
"Ha... haha, yeah."
Hashirama gave a dry laugh, his gaze instinctively drifting toward the window, not daring to meet Tobirama's red eyes that seemed to see through everything.
Tobirama's sharp perception immediately caught the guilt written all over Hashirama's face. That slight smile vanished, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He placed the documents on the desk, leaned forward slightly, and propped his hands on the table, creating an invisible pressure.
"Brother," his tone remained steady, but every word felt precisely measured. "Over the past few days, did you do something... inappropriate?"
At those words, Hashirama's heart skipped a beat.