Hashirama's decision left everyone present utterly speechless. Before the founding of the villages, clans operated as independent units, with their family name held in higher regard than life itself. A clan's name was synonymous with honor and strength.
No one could have imagined that Hashirama Senju would propose dissolving the mighty Senju clan into the fabric of Konoha itself. Was this act of selflessness visionary or foolhardy?
From a short-term perspective, it seemed like a loss—discarding the prestige of the Senju name. But looking ahead, Hashirama saw a greater purpose. By integrating the Senju bloodline into every family of the village, their legacy would persist indefinitely. A decade or two from now, even if the Senju clan ceased to exist as a singular entity, their blood would flow through all of Konoha, binding its people together.
To others, however, this decision carried a more pragmatic subtext. Hashirama and Madara had established Konoha as its founding clans, and while this unity brought strength, it also made them targets. "The tallest tree catches the wind," as the saying goes.
Perhaps Hashirama had come to understand this harsh reality the moment he was forced to "kill" his closest friend. Madara had never fully embraced the dream of Konoha, and Hashirama realized the road to peace was far longer than he had anticipated.
By dissolving the Senju clan, Hashirama not only strengthened the bonds of Konoha but also bolstered its collective power. The natural chakra reserves of the Senju bloodline would enhance the abilities of every shinobi who carried even a fraction of it.
The clan heads exchanged uncertain glances but ultimately fell silent, understanding that the stage today belonged to Hashirama alone.
Hashirama turned to Mito Uzumaki, his wife of over two decades. His gaze softened with affection.
"Mito, forgive me. I can't be by your side any longer."
Mito didn't cry. Instead, she gently caressed his face, her voice steady and resolute.
"Don't worry, Hashirama. From now on, I will carry your will forward."
Her hand instinctively rested on her abdomen, where the power of hatred and destruction had been sealed. She had taken on the burden of the Nine-Tails, a role Hashirama had once fulfilled with his unparalleled strength.
"Nine-Tails," Hashirama had once said to the Nine-Tails, "your power is too great. I have no choice but to seal you away." He had then lifted the massive beast as effortlessly as a kitten.
But this burden was now Mito's to bear. She resolved to protect Konoha in her own way, just as Hashirama had done.
Turning to his younger brother, Tobirama, Hashirama's expression softened further. The bond between them was unshakable, forged through years of shared battles and sacrifices.
"Tobirama," he said, his voice carrying the weight of finality, "I leave Konoha to you."
Tobirama's throat tightened, but years of war had taught him to suppress his emotions. Tears would not come, not now. He had to be strong, for the burden of Konoha would soon rest on his shoulders.
Hashirama's gaze swept over everyone present, his lips curling into a serene smile before his eyes slowly closed.
"Lord Hokage!"
The Senju compound was filled with the sounds of weeping as the God of Shinobi passed.
Beneath the cemetery, however, another story was unfolding.
Madara Uchiha's eyes snapped open as he gasped for air, his chest heaving. The cramped confines of his coffin made movement impossible. Anger flared within him, and he prepared to shatter the lid with a single kick.
But then he stopped, a strange sensation coursing through his body. His chakra remained, and the power of his Mangekyō Sharingan still surged, but something felt... off.
"Hashirama," he murmured bitterly, his voice trembling with uncharacteristic emotion. "Is this your doing?"
The memory of Hashirama's titanic power—the strength of a god—lingered in his mind. Yet, beneath that memory, a curious warmth stirred.
It was the piece of Hashirama's flesh that Madara had torn away during their final battle. Though its vitality was fading, it continued to radiate an almost inexplicable energy.
Tears welled in Madara's eyes, slipping down his cheeks. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried—not even at the death of his beloved brother, Izuna.
For the first time in his life, Madara wept for someone else. Perhaps it was the weight of their years-long friendship, the shared dream of a world united, or the knowledge that they had both been prisoners of circumstance.
As he lay in the suffocating darkness of his coffin, Madara's tears bore witness to the end of an era—and the faint hope of what might yet come.
If childhood dreams could truly come true... "Hashirama."
After softly calling out his name, Madara suddenly felt at peace. Perhaps it was a response to the deepest call from his heart, or perhaps Indra's obsession had faded away along with his tears. Slowly, Madara sat up, his tears already dried. He glanced upward, his gaze seeming to pierce through the ground, reaching the world above. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The past that once weighed so heavily on his mind now seemed inconsequential.
Going back up wouldn't change anything. He still had preparations to make for the plan he had been crafting for years.
Leaving behind a substitute identity to fake his death, Madara disappeared into the earth. He needed time in the depths to slowly accumulate power and recover from the injuries Hashirama had inflicted upon him—injuries that might be the only reminder of their bond.
...
A few days later, Konoha was draped in mourning.
The entire village wore black and white to bid farewell to the First Hokage. Even many Uchiha had come to pay their respects, a testament to the profound respect Hashirama commanded in everyone's hearts.
When the funeral concluded, Kakuzu, who should have departed, made an unexpected visit to Uzumaki Mito before leaving. The reasons were unclear—perhaps it was out of courtesy, or maybe it stemmed from a sense of obligation.
Mito graciously received him.
"Kakuzu-san, thank you for coming to send my husband off on his final journey. I also want to thank you for the vitality you've brought to Konoha over the years. This is a token of my gratitude, please, accept it."
Kakuzu raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected this. His visit was merely to console the widow, urging her not to grieve too deeply. He instinctively tried to refuse the gift, but as his eyes landed on it, his pupils contracted.
He looked up at Mito, suddenly recalling the Uzumaki clan's exceptional sensory abilities. Could this woman read minds? How else could she have known that this was exactly what he needed most at this moment?
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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