The Weight of Peace and the Shadow of War

Senju Hashirama fell into a deep silence after hearing his younger brother's words. The weight of the conversation pressed down on him like an enormous boulder. He had always believed in peace, in the idea that love and understanding would bridge the divide between the warring clans and villages. But now, decades after his death, the reality stood before him, undeniable and painful.

Uchiha Madara, who had been observing the conversation quietly, found himself in an unexpected situation. The one who first refuted Hashirama's ideals wasn't him, but the ever-stubborn Senju Tobirama. The man who had always viewed the Uchiha as dangerous had instead taken the stance that aligned more with Madara's own philosophy.

Hashirama looked at Tobirama in shock, clearly unprepared for his younger brother's strong words. "But... Tobirama..."

"Brother, shut up!!!"

For the first time in his life, Tobirama didn't hold back. He had wanted to say this for a long time. Why should he sugarcoat things just because the ever-infuriating Madara was standing there? His elder brother had made mistakes, and it was time to face them.

"When Konoha was founded, I already disagreed with your idealistic approach. You divided the tailed beasts and handed them out like gifts, believing that balance would create peace. But all it did was give future enemies the weapons they needed to start more wars! You should have known this would happen! The moment you were gone, war broke out almost immediately!"

His red eyes, filled with restrained anger, turned toward Minato. "Tell my brother what happened after he died!"

Minato, who hadn't expected to be pulled into the argument so suddenly, hesitated. He looked at Hashirama's hopeful expression and felt a pang of guilt, but he couldn't lie.

"After your passing, First Hokage, the peace you fought for was short-lived. The First Great Ninja War soon began, and it devastated the world. Then came the Second Great Ninja War, which tore nations apart once again. And after a brief moment of stability... the Third Great Ninja War followed."

With every sentence, Hashirama's expression darkened, his usual warmth replaced by something grim and sorrowful. His hands clenched into fists.

"I... I wanted a world where children didn't have to march onto battlefields… Where people didn't have to live in fear of war…" His voice wavered. "But it seems… I failed…"

Madara, who had been silent until now, sighed and placed a firm hand on his old friend's shoulder. "Hashirama, you and I both had a dream. A dream of peace. But the truth is, peace doesn't last unless it's enforced. You were too kind, too hopeful. And because of that, the cycle of war never ended. But I won't let you blame yourself alone. You tried. We both did."

Hashirama's eyes, once filled with the unbreakable will of fire, now looked uncertain. He was lost in doubt, in pain. The mighty First Hokage, the man who had once tamed the Tailed Beasts with sheer presence alone, now sat on the ground, drawing mindless circles in the dirt with a small wooden twig.

The atmosphere had turned heavy, but before the silence could drag on any longer, Uzumaki Mito took the initiative to shift the conversation.

"Husband," she said softly, her voice carrying the warmth of a summer breeze. "Perhaps now is not the time to dwell on past mistakes. The future is still uncertain. Instead, let's focus on the reason we were summoned."

She turned her gaze toward Shouta Kazuki, who had been listening attentively. "Brother Shouta, you mentioned earlier that you gained some unexpected benefits from summoning us. What exactly did you mean?"

At her words, everyone's attention shifted to Shouta. Even Hashirama, still lost in thought, perked up slightly.

Shouta smiled. "Well, there's nothing to hide. The ability to summon all of you isn't the only advantage I have. In truth, I have a unique gift that allows me to extract and inherit certain traits from those I summon."

Hashirama completely forgot about his earlier distress. His eyes lit up like a child's. "You have the strictest mouth?!"

SMACK!

Before Hashirama could react, Madara delivered a heavy blow to the back of his head.

"Be quiet, idiot!" Madara scowled. "You, of all people, have no right to talk about being discreet."

Hashirama groaned and rubbed the back of his head. "Madara, you jerk! Why'd you hit me?!"

Madara crossed his arms. "Because you have the worst mouth in the entire history of Konoha. If there's a secret worth keeping, you're the last person I'd trust with it!"

The entire group fell into stunned silence. Then, Tobirama smirked. "He has a point, brother."

But Shouta Kazuki, Namikaze Minato, and Uchiha Fugaku were unwilling to miss such an intriguing detail. Their eyes widened with curiosity and anticipation as they focused on the unexpected turn of events unfolding before them.

Click…

A small, yet unmistakable seal scroll tumbled out from the folds of Uchiha Madara's clothing and landed on the ground with a soft thud. The moment it came into view, Madara's usually composed expression faltered. A faint blush crept onto his aged yet dignified face as his hand instinctively shot forward, desperate to reclaim it before anyone could react.

But he was too slow.

Senju Hashirama, whose reflexes had not dulled despite the years, swiftly snatched the scroll up before Madara could reach it. Holding it up triumphantly, Hashirama turned to his old friend and rival, his lips curling into an amused grin.

"Madara! What do we have here?!" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity and playful mischief.

"Give it back! That's mine!" Madara snapped, his tone unusually flustered as he lunged forward, but Hashirama nimbly dodged him, laughing heartily.

"Come on, Madara! What's yours and mine at this point? Haven't we always shared things between us?" Hashirama teased, waving the scroll out of reach.

The other onlookers—Shouta Kazuki, Minato, and Fugaku—watched the scene unfold with great interest. Yet it was Shouta whose eyes gleamed with particular recognition. The sight of the scroll stirred his memory, and realization dawned upon him like a lightning strike.

Wait a minute… isn't that the blank scroll I handed to Uchiha Madara last time?

A thought struck him with great intensity, and his breath hitched in disbelief. Did Madara turn it into a seal scroll?! No way… could it be?

His gaze sharpened as he thought back to the discussion they had before. He had given Madara that blank scroll as nothing more than a simple exchange, but Madara—being Madara—must have used it for something more significant. If his suspicions were correct, then the contents of that scroll would undoubtedly explain Madara's sudden reaction.

Hashirama, sensing something was off, finally took a moment to study the scroll in his hands. His fingers carefully traced over the delicate seal markings imprinted on it. The craftsmanship was undoubtedly Madara's handiwork, meaning its contents were important—perhaps even embarrassing—to him.

Feeling the tension rise, Hashirama smirked. "Well, well, well… Now I really want to see what's inside!"

"Hashirama, I swear, if you open that—"

But it was too late.

With a flick of his wrist, Hashirama unraveled the scroll. A puff of white smoke erupted from the paper as the sealing jutsu activated. The surrounding air pulsed briefly with chakra, and the moment the smoke cleared… the contents were revealed.

A mountain—no, a hoard—of perfectly preserved pig trotters tumbled onto the ground, piling up at Hashirama's feet.

Silence.

For a moment, nobody moved. The grand warriors of history—men known for their prowess, their leadership, their unwavering courage—stood frozen, their expressions a mix of confusion, disbelief, and sheer absurdity.