Chapter 218 (Patreon)

Could there truly be an organization in this world that forever stood in the light—always righteous and completely untouched by darkness?

Hashirama Senju had once believed there could be. More than that, he had been willing to devote himself to making it a reality.

Tobirama, however, saw things differently.

In his eyes, such an organization could never exist. As long as it was made up of human beings, there would always be desires, emotions, and personal biases. No matter how noble their intentions were, those things would inevitably influence their decisions and prevent them from being completely fair.

The only realistic path was not to pursue some impossible ideal of absolute purity, but to establish laws and institutions capable of restraining those in power and reducing the village’s darkness as much as possible.

Because his beliefs differed so greatly from his brother’s, Tobirama could only feel exasperated when he learned why Hashirama had brought him back with the Edo Tensei.

Investigating the darkness hidden within the village, disciplining his former students, and correcting the mistakes he had left behind...

Sitting cross-legged on the tatami, Tobirama looked at Hashirama, who sat across from him and slightly to his left, his back resting against a pillar.

“I’ll deal with Monkey and the others.”

“This isn’t only about them. I had you brought back because I want you to investigate the village’s problems with me,” Hashirama stressed. “And when you say you’ll deal with Monkey and the others, what exactly do you intend to do?”

“I will give them a severe reprimand,” Tobirama answered coldly.

Hashirama frowned. “That’s all? A reprimand?”

“Elder Brother, be reasonable. We’re already dead. We have no business interfering too deeply in the village’s affairs.” Tobirama pressed a hand to his forehead. He could tell that his brother was becoming stubborn again.

“According to you, the village has developed well, and the villagers’ lives have improved considerably. Monkey and the others may have made mistakes, but they have also contributed greatly to Konoha. What do you expect us to do with them? Execute them? Throw them in prison?”

“I...”

Hashirama opened his mouth, but no answer came out.

He lowered his head and rested both hands on his thighs. Something about Tobirama’s argument still felt wrong, yet he could not immediately put that feeling into words.

Did contributing to the village give someone the right to sit in a position of power and take what belonged to the village?

Did it allow them to cover up the crimes committed by members of their own clans?

If that were true, then what had been the point of establishing Konoha in the first place?

Merit was merit, and wrongdoing was wrongdoing. One could not be used to erase the other. A shinobi’s importance to the village—or the service they had rendered in the past—could not place them above punishment.

Once Hashirama reached that conclusion, the hesitation disappeared from his face. He raised his head and met Tobirama’s gaze with a grave expression.

“No. That’s wrong.”

“What is?” Tobirama asked, a bad feeling stirring inside him.

“What you just said. Your way of thinking is wrong, and so is theirs!” Hashirama declared. “Whether someone is a shinobi or an ordinary civilian, they should be rewarded for their achievements and punished for their mistakes. Those are two separate matters. They cannot be mixed together.

“Monkey and the others have certainly contributed a great deal to Konoha, but they were also rewarded for those contributions. They cannot use their past achievements to excuse the wrongs they committed afterward!”

Deep down, Tobirama agreed with his brother.

From a practical standpoint, however, he believed they also had to consider the village’s stability.

He and Hashirama were already dead, and Konoha was approaching a critical confrontation with Uchiha Madara. If they suddenly emerged at a time like this and punished Monkey and the others, the resulting political upheaval could shake the entire village.

It was not that the matter should never be addressed. This simply was not the right time to deal with it publicly.

Suppressing the issue for now and resolving it internally would be the safest course of action.

That was Tobirama’s judgment.

“Elder Brother, if we follow your reasoning, then the Senju clan should be the first to face punishment.” Hoping to make Hashirama consider the larger picture, Tobirama chose a different approach.

“Us?” Hashirama’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you dissolve the Senju clan?”

“The Senju sacrificed too much for the village, particularly those of the main family. For the sake of both the clan’s future and Konoha’s, I chose to dissolve the clan and allow the Senju bloodline to spread among the village’s civilian population,” Tobirama explained.

It had been a remarkably shrewd decision.

After Tobirama’s death, the Senju would have possessed tremendous prestige and achievements, yet lacked the strength they once had. That combination would inevitably have made them a target of suspicion for Konoha’s leadership and the other shinobi clans.

By dissolving the clan first, Tobirama had protected the remaining children and elders of the main family, ensuring that they could continue living safely within the village.

At the same time, the Senju bloodline had spread throughout Konoha and mingled with its civilian families. It raised the potential of future generations and led to the birth of many talented shinobi from civilian backgrounds.

The decision had protected the future of both the Senju and the village.

“You made the right choice!” Hashirama readily admitted, clearly impressed by his brother’s foresight.

Then he leaned forward again.

“But you still haven’t answered me. What did you mean when you said the Senju should be punished first?”

“Assuming little Tsunade hasn’t gambled away the clan’s inheritance, the shopping district we passed through earlier still belongs to the Senju,” Tobirama replied. “And it isn’t only that street. At least one-third of the land in Konoha’s central district is Senju property.”

At the mention of Tsunade, Tobirama glanced toward Nawaki, who had been sitting quietly to the side.

“Sis has never sold any of our land,” Nawaki immediately protested, unwilling to let all the blame fall on Tsunade. Then, remembering that he had never managed the clan’s accounts himself, his voice lost some of its certainty. “At least... I don’t think she has.”

Tobirama sighed.

He truly did not know what to do with this grandniece of his, who had inherited far too much of Hashirama’s personality.

“Tobirama, why didn’t I know anything about this?” Hashirama planted his hands on the tatami and straightened his upper body, staring at his brother in disbelief.

“Because if you had known, the entire Senju clan would have ended up living on rice porridge and pickled vegetables,” Tobirama replied without the slightest hesitation. His expression made it perfectly clear what he thought of Hashirama’s ability to manage money.

“You used your authority for the clan’s benefit! That’s corruption!” Hashirama accused.

“I merely secured what the clan was rightfully owed. When Konoha was founded, the Senju contributed the wealth accumulated by our clan over several centuries. We alone provided one-fifth of the funds used to build the village.”

“I specifically said that the village’s land was supposed to be distributed fairly!” Hashirama was genuinely furious. More than anything else, he was angry that Tobirama had done all this without telling him.

“And was it not distributed fairly?” Tobirama shot back without a trace of guilt. “Even if we ignore the manpower we provided and count only the money, the Senju paid one-fifth of Konoha’s construction costs. Yet the land we received amounts to less than one-twentieth of the village.”

“But all the land we received is in the center of Konoha!” Hashirama may not have understood much about politics or economics, but even he knew that land in the heart of the village was worth far more than land on its outskirts.

“And why shouldn’t it be?”

“How is that fair?”

“How is it not?”

“How is it?”

“How is it not—”

Nawaki scratched his head as he watched his two grandfathers lean closer and closer until their foreheads were pressed together, neither willing to retreat an inch.

Should he step in and separate them?

“Tobirama! Just how many things have you been hiding from me?” Hashirama demanded, pushing his forehead harder against his infuriating younger brother’s.

“I didn’t hide anything from you. You simply never paid attention.” Tobirama admired his brother, but he had a temper too. He pushed right back, refusing to yield.

“How could I pay attention when you never told me?”

“You signed those documents yourself without even reading them.”

“Because I trusted you!”

“No. Because you were lazy!”

Tobirama shoved Hashirama away and rose to his feet.

“I will handle Monkey and the others. You don’t need to concern yourself with it. Just focus on dealing with that bastard Madara!”

“Madara isn’t a bastard!” Still sitting on the floor, Hashirama immediately corrected him. “He only lost his way. I believe there’s still good in him!”

“How long do you intend to remain this naive?” Tobirama snapped. “That madman Uchiha Madara has never been normal! Do you have any idea how many disasters he has caused over the years? How many of his messes have you cleaned up? How long do you intend to keep making excuses for him?”

The more Tobirama spoke about Madara, the angrier he became.

In Tobirama’s eyes, countless tragedies could ultimately be traced back to Uchiha Madara: Hashirama’s premature death, the outbreak of the First Shinobi World War, and even Tobirama’s own death after he had been forced to transfer the position of Hokage under desperate circumstances.

If Hashirama had killed Madara during one of their battles before Konoha was founded, none of the disasters that followed would have happened.

The Uchiha clan would likely have split into two groups. Those who recognized reality and were willing to accept peace would have joined the village, while the faction that still insisted on fighting could have been purged. Tobirama would never have needed to remain so wary of the entire clan.

Nor would Hashirama have died so young after Madara returned with the Nine-Tails and attacked Konoha, forcing him to overtax his body in battle and leaving behind the damage that eventually claimed his life.

Had Hashirama lived another ten or twenty years, Konoha would have developed far more smoothly. The village would not have been driven into such a desperate position when several other hidden villages surrounded it during the First Shinobi World War. With Hashirama still alive, Konoha could have fought four villages at once and established unquestioned supremacy.

If Madara had not done all those things, Tobirama firmly believed that Konoha would have reached its true peak under his administration.

“Tobirama... do you hate Madara?”

As though Tobirama’s words had struck him somewhere painful, Hashirama’s shoulders slumped. He lowered his head, his voice growing quiet.

“I suppose all of this was my fault...”

Seeing his brother sink into dejection, Tobirama could no longer bring himself to remain standing. He stepped forward, stopped in front of Hashirama, and crouched down.

“Elder Brother, I don’t blame you. I only want you to treat Madara as an enemy and let go of those illusions. You cannot change him.”

“Hahaha! Tobirama!” Hashirama suddenly burst out laughing and looked up at his brother, who was now right in front of him. “You’re still terrible at comforting people. Madara was much better at it than you!”

Bang!

“You bastard!”

Tobirama’s fist came down hard on Hashirama’s head, knocking him flat against the tatami. Trembling with anger, Tobirama turned toward the door.

“I’m leaving. Deal with this yourself!”

“Leaving? Where are you going?” Hashirama hurriedly sat up.

“Granduncle Tobirama, don’t be angry!” Nawaki rushed over as well and grabbed Tobirama’s arm.

Tobirama ignored Hashirama, but his expression softened when he looked down at Nawaki.

“I’m going back to sleep.”

With that, he started toward the door, intending to find an empty room where he could calm himself down.

“You’ve been dead for so many years. Haven’t you slept enough?” Hashirama blurted out, unable to decide whether he was trying to stop his brother or simply make him angrier.

The body of an Edo Tensei had neither blood vessels nor living tendons. Otherwise, veins would already have been bulging across Tobirama’s forehead.

“Hahaha! I was only joking! Don’t be so angry, Tobirama.” Hashirama stood and hurried after him. “I still have something important to discuss with you.”

Tobirama drew a deep breath and suppressed the urge to hit him again.

“What else is there?” he asked coldly.

“Nawaki, could you wait outside for a while?” Hashirama said.

“Grandpa, can’t I stay?” Nawaki asked, his curiosity immediately piqued.

“I’ll tell you about it when the time is right.” Hashirama’s expression became serious.

Seeing the look on his grandfather’s face, Nawaki could only nod. He reluctantly left the room, glancing back over his shoulder every few steps.

Once Nawaki was gone, Hashirama brought his hands together and erected a simple barrier around the room. He then returned to the middle of the tatami and sat down.

Patting the space in front of him, he smiled at his brother.

“Come sit down, Tobirama.”

“What is this about?” Tobirama asked as he sat. “If you intend to discuss the so-called darkness within the village, my position hasn’t changed. We can investigate it, but the matter must be handled internally. It cannot be allowed to spread.”

“I’ll discuss that with Kizaru,” Hashirama replied. Since he could not persuade his brother, he would simply find someone else who might agree with him.

“Kizaru may be the Fourth Hokage, but he’s still too young. Don’t fill his head with your ideas.”

From Tobirama’s perspective, there had to be members of the older generation supporting Kizaru from behind the scenes. No village would normally entrust all its power to someone so young.

It was entirely possible that Monkey and his old teammates had elevated Kizaru to the position simply to prepare him for the future, while the village’s true authority remained in their hands.

If Hashirama influenced Kizaru with his ideals and caused the young Hokage to act recklessly, he could end up breaking with Konoha’s older generation—or even with its shinobi clans. That would undoubtedly weaken his position as Hokage.

If the situation was mishandled, it could even trigger internal conflict and destroy the village’s current stability.

Seeing the concern on Tobirama’s face, Hashirama’s smile gradually became strange.

His brother was clearly underestimating Kizaru.

It was not Tobirama’s fault. Under ordinary circumstances, anyone would assume that a shinobi as young as Kizaru could only have become Kage because the older generation had placed him there.

“Do you know how old Kizaru is?” Hashirama asked with an amused smile.

Tobirama recalled Kizaru’s mature appearance and tall build, as well as the fact that he was Tsunade’s fiancé.

“Around twenty-five.”

Hashirama shook his head, still smiling.

“He only recently turned fourteen.”

Tobirama’s eyes widened.

Fourteen?

How was that possible?

Even setting aside Kizaru’s mature build, the difference in age between him and Tsunade was enough to leave Tobirama speechless.

He had been dead too long to possess a complete understanding of the current era, but by his rough estimate, Tsunade had to be more than ten years older than Kizaru.

His grandniece had certainly chosen a young fiancé.

“What year is it in Konoha?” Tobirama asked. He was beginning to realize just how much he still needed to learn about the village.

“The thirty-ninth year since Konoha’s founding,” Hashirama answered.

The thirty-ninth year?

Monkey and the others were only in their forties. Why had he stepped down so early? Even if Kizaru was exceptionally talented, Hiruzen could have waited until the boy reached adulthood before passing on the Hokage’s hat.

“Did something happen to Monkey?” Tobirama asked.

That was the only reasonable explanation he could think of. Perhaps Sarutobi Hiruzen had suffered an injury or developed some physical condition that prevented him from continuing as Hokage, forcing him to pass the position to Kizaru ahead of schedule.

“Monkey and the others are perfectly healthy. None of them suffered any serious injuries,” Hashirama replied. He had already guessed what Tobirama was thinking. With growing enthusiasm, he asked, “Do you know why Hiruzen handed the position to Kizaru so early?”

“Did Kizaru force him out?” Tobirama offered after considering another possibility.

“Hahaha! Wrong again!” Hashirama laughed.

“Then stop playing games and tell me,” Tobirama urged. He had no interest in continuing to guess when the village’s future was involved.

“Because Kizaru is simply that exceptional! His strength, his ability to govern the village, even the way he deals with the shinobi clans—he’s extraordinary!”

During the few days Hashirama had spent walking around Konoha, everything he had witnessed, combined with what Nawaki, Tsunade, and Danzō had told him, had left him deeply impressed with Kizaru.

In Hashirama’s eyes, Kizaru possessed his own strengths and Tobirama’s in equal measure. He was almost the perfect leader.

“You’re saying Kizaru performed so well that Hiruzen willingly surrendered the position of Hokage while still in the prime of his life?” Tobirama asked.

He could not shake the feeling that either Hashirama was lying or someone had successfully deceived him.

Tobirama knew that true geniuses existed. His own elder brother was living proof—a shinobi whose talent and power had been unrivaled.

But the person Hashirama described was a fourteen-year-old who possessed overwhelming strength, exceptional leadership, and the ability to manage relations between powerful clans.

That was nearly impossible.

Fourteen years old.

After excluding infancy, even someone as precocious as Tobirama had possessed only eleven years to learn and train. Reaching the pinnacle of a single discipline in that time would already mark someone as an extraordinary genius.

Yet according to Hashirama, Kizaru had needed those same eleven years—or perhaps even fewer—to reach the highest level in nearly every field.

“You don’t believe me?” Hashirama asked, clearly entertained by the doubt on his brother’s face. It was rare for him to have the chance to leave Tobirama at a loss for words, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

“I believe that you believe it,” Tobirama replied honestly. “But from a rational standpoint, what you’re describing should be almost impossible. Who told you all of this?”

“I couldn’t believe it at first either, but no one had to tell me. I saw it with my own eyes.” Hashirama leaned forward. “Do you know what Kizaru is called throughout the shinobi world?”

“What?”

“Konoha’s Golden Flash—the new God of Shinobi!” Hashirama declared proudly. “Madara sought Kizaru out precisely because people were calling him the new God of Shinobi. He wanted to see whether this little brat was worthy of the title, only to be defeated and sent running with his tail between his legs!”

The thought of Madara losing to someone from the younger generation filled Hashirama with delight. The next time he saw his old friend, he would have to tease him about it properly.

“The new God of Shinobi...” Tobirama repeated.

Hearing that title made Hashirama’s claims considerably more believable.

If Kizaru truly possessed strength comparable to Hashirama’s, it was not difficult to imagine people praising his leadership and skill with the clans as well.

“I can sense how strong that boy is,” Hashirama continued, his amusement fading as his expression turned serious. “No... calling him strong isn’t enough. He may already be stronger than I was when I was alive.”

Hashirama was not exaggerating for Kizaru’s sake.

He had sensed the terrifying amount of natural energy contained within Kizaru’s body. If Hashirama’s chakra reserves in life could be compared to those of a Tailed Beast, then the natural energy inside Kizaru alone was equally vast.

Since even Hashirama acknowledged Kizaru’s power, Tobirama chose to accept it. He nodded and said, “If he truly is stronger than you, then I can understand why he became the Fourth Hokage at such a young age.”

This time, it was Hashirama who shook his head.

The smile returned to his face as he stressed each word.

“Wrong again, Tobirama. Kizaru’s strength certainly played a part, but that isn’t the most important reason he became Hokage. What truly sets him apart is his ability to lead—and the vision he has for the future.”

“What exactly has he done?” Tobirama asked, his curiosity toward this younger shinobi growing stronger by the moment.

That was precisely the question Hashirama had been waiting for.

Barely able to contain his excitement and admiration, he began describing every reform Kizaru had introduced to Konoha—from education and medical care to scientific research and commerce.

He explained the Ninja Academy’s new class-division system, the establishment of the Konoha Research Institute, the commercialization of its inventions, the expansion of Konoha Hospital, the commercialization and civilian application of medical techniques, and the resulting increase in the village’s overall income.

One measure after another left Tobirama astonished.

He himself had improved the hidden-village system and established many of the institutions that shaped the shinobi profession, but Kizaru’s reforms were even bolder and more forward-looking.

They did more than increase Konoha’s income. They were fundamentally changing what it meant to be a shinobi.

If the reforms continued, combat and mission work would no longer be the only purposes for which shinobi existed. Chakra would become intertwined with ordinary people’s lives, and those who wielded it would branch into entirely new professions.

“Kizaru intends to redefine the shinobi profession itself,” Tobirama said, unable to hide his amazement.

“How did you know?” Hashirama asked in surprise.

Tobirama had uncovered Kizaru’s long-term objective before Hashirama could even tell him about his private conversation with the young Hokage.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Tobirama replied matter-of-factly.

“Was it?” Hashirama scratched his head. Standing beside his younger brother always had a way of making him feel somewhat foolish.

“Was it not?” Tobirama asked helplessly.

“Hahaha! Fine, you’re right!” Hashirama laughed. “These reforms are only laying the groundwork for something far more ambitious.”

He then recounted the private conversation he had shared with Kizaru on the day of his return to Konoha.

He spoke of separating those who merely cultivated chakra from shinobi as a profession, transforming that profession from its foundations, and using chakra to raise productivity and improve the lives of ordinary people.

Tobirama listened with complete attention. These ideas alone were enough to amaze him, and he found himself repeatedly marveling at the brilliance behind them.

Kizaru would become the greatest Hokage Konoha had ever seen—perhaps the greatest it would ever know.

That was the conclusion Tobirama reached after hearing only what Hashirama considered the appetizers.

Once those appetizers were finished, Hashirama moved on to the true feast.

He explained Kizaru’s view of why hatred continued to arise among shinobi. He spoke of the privileged class formed by the daimyō and nobility, and how that class exploited both shinobi and civilians to preserve its own power.

Finally, he revealed Kizaru’s ultimate plan: use the threat posed by Uchiha Madara to unite the entire shinobi world, establish a single unified shinobi alliance, eliminate the rule of the daimyō and nobles, and overturn the existing world order from its foundations.

If the earlier reforms had amazed Tobirama, the plan that followed left him utterly shaken.

Hashirama had praised Kizaru as the new God of Shinobi, but strength was not what made the title seem fitting now.

Kizaru possessed the vision to see through the surface of the world and identify the true source of its sickness—and he was preparing to tear that sickness out by the roots.

“I was wrong,” Tobirama admitted with a wry smile, his expression complicated. “I thought he might become the greatest Hokage in Konoha’s history. But now... he may become a god who saves this world—or a demon who destroys it.”

“Exactly. That’s why we have to help him,” Hashirama said with complete seriousness.

“To think that even after dying, I would still have to worry about the village’s younger generations...” Tobirama complained.

Yet the excitement in his eyes and the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his true feelings.

Kizaru’s plan had captured his interest completely.

If it succeeded, it would usher in an age of prosperity unlike anything the world had ever witnessed—a new era in which genuine peace might finally become possible.

Tobirama had once helped his brother create the era of hidden villages. As one of the foremost shinobi of his generation, he now wanted to take part in shaping the next era as well.

Not merely because Hashirama had asked him to.

But because Kizaru’s goal was grand enough to inspire him—and ambitious enough to be worth pursuing.