Chapter 506: The Senju Household
After handing Danzo over to the Velociraptors, Tobirama did not look back once at the student he had personally broken.
The Velociraptors moved quickly, claws pressing down on Danzo's soul-body, dragging him in the direction of the Animal Realm gate. Danzo's weathered face was written through with defiance and fear. Tobirama had already stopped wanting to look at it.
He went to find Hashirama.
The nighttime grassland. Tobirama walked across the grass, his gaze moving over the rows of small identical houses arranged around him.
They had a manufactured quality -- identical specifications, identical design, laid out in perfect orderly lines. Each one a compact single room. Enough space for one soul to live in.
This was part of what Naruto had built for every soul with the right to live in the Pure Land -- a basic allocation system. The functions were simple: three options only. Purchase daily necessities. Store personal belongings. Check the balance of your currency in the Pure Land. And this small house was the baseline living space every qualifying soul was entitled to.
Simple. Practical. Equal.
Tobirama approved of the arrangement. It matched his understanding of how things ought to be ordered.
He kept walking, following the direction of Hashirama's chakra through his sensory awareness.
Then he stopped.
What was this?
Tobirama stood where he was, eyes slightly wider than usual, staring at what was in front of him.
This was not the standard single-room allocation.
It was a two-story residence -- elegant in its proportions, with a carefully tended courtyard attached. White outer walls. Dark-framed windows. Several small flowering plants on the second-floor balcony. A small stone bridge in the courtyard garden, a manually dug pond beneath it, a few decorative trees planted in the corners.
Tobirama stood at the courtyard gate for a long moment without moving.
Did Brother build this himself?
That was his first thought. Hashirama's Wood Style was certainly capable of constructing buildings -- but using it for that purpose was roughly equivalent to firing a cannon to light a candle. The scale was absurd.
And could Hashirama's Wood Style actually produce something this refined? Tobirama studied the building more carefully. The delicate carved details on the window frames. The precise curve of the eaves. Every element of the courtyard showing evidence of considered attention.
No. Hashirama's Wood Style was not built for this. It was a weapon -- designed for colossal structures, large-scale jutsu, overwhelming force. Not for carved window moldings and garden bridges.
Puzzled, Tobirama stepped through the courtyard gate.
He crossed the small stone bridge, water running quietly below his feet. He walked through the garden, up the front steps, and pushed open the door.
And heard the sounds from inside.
Loud. Lively. Full of a particular brand of self-satisfaction.
"After that -- shinobi stopped fighting for their clans and started fighting for their villages! The era of warring states was finished! Done! Over!"
That was Hashirama's voice, delivered at full volume with the kind of energy that implied significant arm movement.
"I, Hashirama Senju, became known to future generations as the God of Shinobi -- the First Hokage! Even now, I'm one of the most famous names in all of history!"
"Wow -- !"
Two young voices rang out together, overflowing with admiration.
"Big brother is amazing!"
"I always knew big brother could do it!"
Tobirama stood in the doorway.
In the living room, Hashirama was seated at a low table, gesturing enthusiastically with both hands, wearing the expression Tobirama had seen on him a thousand times -- the one that appeared whenever he was deep in a story he was thoroughly enjoying telling.
Across from him, two small figures were sitting on the floor, faces tilted upward, eyes blazing with admiration.
Two children. Seven or eight years old at a glance.
One had light-colored hair and dark eyes, cheek propped on one hand, hanging on every word.
The other had hair that was half black, half white, mouth open, expression one of pure uncomplicated awe.
Two children sitting on the floor, looking up at their older brother the way a father's children might look up at him while he told them the story of his greatest achievements.
But these were not a father and his children.
They were younger brothers.
Hashirama Itama. Hashirama Kawarama.
Something lodged itself in Tobirama's throat.
He remembered them. He remembered what they had looked like as children. He remembered what they had looked like on the battlefield when they fell. He remembered Hashirama holding their bodies and weeping.
They had died too early.
Early enough that they had never had the chance to grow up. Early enough that they had never seen what the world could be. Early enough that their lives had stopped while they were still children, and simply -- ended.
So in the Pure Land, they were still this.
Still the same small, lively, bright-eyed younger brothers who had once sat and listened to Hashirama's stories with those shining faces.
"Second brother!"
Two young voices together, full of surprised delight.
Itama and Kawarama had spotted Tobirama in the doorway. They scrambled to their feet immediately and came running over in a rapid patter of small footsteps.
They stopped in front of him and craned their necks upward, trying to take in the figure that memory said should be about their height but now seemed to reach the sky.
Two small faces written through with happiness and expectation.
"Second brother, will you tell us the stories from after we died?"
Itama blinked those dark eyes up at him, with the particular brand of curiosity and wanting that belonged to children. "Big brother really is incredible -- he actually ended the wars!"
Kawarama nodded vigorously alongside him, his half-black half-white hair swaying with the motion.
Tobirama looked down at these two small brothers.
Across that sharp, composed face -- slowly, without him seeming to decide it was happening -- a smile appeared. A quiet one. But carrying a warmth that had not existed in him while he was alive.
He was full of tenderness for them, and full of something he owed them.
He had been hard on them when they were alive. Always pushing them to train harder, always presenting them with that straight, stern face, always finding something more to demand of them.
If he had known how early they would leave -- he would have been different with them. He knew that now.
"Of course."
Tobirama spoke, and something almost fond worked its way into his voice without him noticing it. "I may not be as impressive as your big brother, but I've left behind a few names for myself in later history as well."
His eyes stayed on those two small faces.
"But first -- let me speak with big brother." Itama and Kawarama gave understanding nods and retreated obediently to one side.
Tobirama crossed to Hashirama and dropped his voice. "Brother. What exactly is going on here?"
"Pretty impressive, isn't it?"
Hashirama grinned back at him, radiating satisfaction. "Honestly, I'm genuinely envious. The power to create things -- so much better than only being able to destroy them."
"What?"
"I bought it."
Hashirama explained cheerfully. "With Pure Land currency. Remarkably convenient -- uses the same system as the living world, it just exists on the terminal rather than physically."
He tapped open his Pure Land terminal as he spoke -- the simple three-function interface -- and navigated to the currency balance.
Tobirama looked at the number on the screen.
His expression changed completely.
Hashirama's balance: 568,130,139 ryo.
Five hundred sixty-eight million, one hundred thirty thousand, one hundred and thirty-nine ryo.
Tobirama's eyes went wide. The look on his face was one it almost never wore: genuine disbelief.
How. Hashirama had never had anywhere near this kind of money in his entire living life. Tobirama had checked his own balance. It was a perfectly miserable zero. Not one copper coin.
He had assumed he would need to earn currency here from the beginning, the way anyone starts from nothing. After all, this was the world after death -- how could wealth from life carry over? So how did Hashirama have this?
"The administrator of this place is genuinely a good person." Hashirama continued, his voice rich with gratitude and admiration.
"Look here -- all of this is my reward balance." He pointed through the line items on the terminal and explained them one by one.
"Founding the Leaf Village and ending the warring era -- that alone was five hundred million ryo."
Tobirama's brow twitched.
"And this one -- showing mercy to the Uchiha clan -- thirty million ryo."
The corner of Tobirama's eye twitched.
"And look at this -- even something as small as helping an elderly person cross a road earned a hundred ryo! Ha!" Hashirama laughed, with the pure uncomplicated delight of someone who has just discovered something wonderful. "The more good you did, the more currency you earn here. That's brilliant..."
His voice softened into something reflective. "People in the living world will start choosing kindness, won't they? Do good things, accumulate currency, and you can still use it after death. What better incentive could there be."
Tobirama said nothing. He understood the logic -- using reward mechanisms to encourage virtuous behavior, using economic incentives to guide souls toward better choices.
He just kept looking at Hashirama's five-hundred-million-plus balance and then his own zero, and felt something quietly, privately, considerably unbalanced inside him.
Then Hashirama shifted, and his tone took on a slightly guilty quality.
"Though with this much money -- I really do feel like gambling a little..."
He rubbed the back of his head, with a sheepish laugh. "I wonder if the Pure Land is ever going to have a casino or something... though -- that probably counts as a vice, doesn't it? Probably deducts currency if you do it?"
He sighed. "Ah, well. When I eventually see little Tsu again, she's going to be very disappointed in me. I was looking forward to playing a few hands with her..."