"Shattered dreams, huh…"
Madara fell silent, his gaze distant as fragments of his past resurfaced.
In this life, I stopped at nothing to achieve my goals.
To realize my dreams, I severed bonds, betrayed my clan, manipulated descendants, and even made comrades slaughter each other.
Originally, I despised war.
All I ever wanted was to protect my younger brother, to guard the Uchiha, to skip a single stone across the river…
But when that stone finally reached the other side—my brother was gone, and my best friend stood among my enemies.
I sought peace through the Infinite Tsukuyomi, believing it was salvation.
Yet in the end, I was nothing but a pawn—used by Black Zetsu to resurrect Ōtsutsuki Kaguya.
Thinking of that irony, Madara threw his head back and laughed.
"Hahahaha… Hahahahaha!"
It was a laugh stripped of arrogance, carrying instead the weight of acceptance—freedom, even.
Minato tilted his head, puzzled. "What's wrong with Madara?"
"Don't mind him," Tobirama said flatly. "That's just how the Uchiha are. They start laughing like that out of nowhere."
"There's… such a thing?" Minato blinked. "First I've heard of it."
Madara's laughter faded. His eyes grew sharp again as he looked at Boruto.
"Kid, even if my dreams are shattered…" His Rinnegan flared open. "I am still Uchiha Madara."
Boruto tilted his head slightly. "You want to dance too?"
"Madara, don't be rash."
Hashirama placed a hand on Madara's shoulder. "If what this young man says is true—if enemies like Ōtsutsuki Kaguya will return—then we're on the same side now."
Madara stared at the hand on his shoulder, then snorted. "Tch. Take your hand off me, Hashirama."
"Hahaha~!" Hashirama laughed awkwardly, scratching his head. "Alright, alright!"
Madara turned away, his cloak shifting with the motion.
Boruto murmured under his breath, amused. "Tsundere Madara…"
Hashirama ignored the comment and faced Boruto seriously. "Since Menma said the Ōtsutsuki will descend in the future, what do you plan for us to do?"
"I don't yet know the exact time of their arrival," Boruto said, thinking aloud.
"For now, you should split into pairs and investigate Kaguya's remnants throughout the ninja world. You might find clues about the Ōtsutsuki Clan."
"Investigate Kaguya's remnants?" Madara scoffed. "How boring."
He clenched his fist, his Rinnegan pulsing faintly. "Hashirama… right now, I just want to fight you again."
"Madara," Hashirama sighed, "we're Edo Tensei bodies. You still want to fight like this?"
"Of course," Madara replied instantly. "No matter how many times we fight, I'll always cross that river again, Hashirama."
Minato turned to Boruto. "Uchiha Menma, aren't you going to stop them?"
"Stop them?" Boruto smirked. "Why would I stop them? I'd rather watch."
"Our old spot, Hashirama!" Madara shouted.
"Wait a moment," Boruto interjected before they could leave. "Before you two start, I want to see a little performance from the Second Hokage."
"…A performance?" Tobirama frowned. "What do you mean, a performance?"
"Oh?" Hashirama looked intrigued. "What kind of show can Tobirama perform?"
Boruto raised one hand and flicked his wrist. An invisible force wrapped around Tobirama. His form shimmered—then changed.
In an instant, Tobirama stood dressed in an elaborate blue and white Peking opera costume, complete with a helmet, fish-scale pauldrons, and four blue flags fixed behind his back.
Hashirama whistled. "Oh, not bad! This outfit really suits you, Tobirama."
"Hey, Uchiha, you—"
Before Tobirama could finish, his limbs began moving uncontrollably. His mouth opened, and words flowed out against his will.
"Recalling those years, tears never dried,
A colorful tower, an embroidered ball for love's tide.
Ping Gui surrendered the Red Mane fight,
Emperor Tang rewarded me, governor's right.
The Xiliang Kingdom rose in rebellion's call,
My father rode to court, I donned armor for all.
Parted lovers torn apart by fate—
Mandarin ducks, each to separate gates…"
"What the—my mouth's out of control too?!" Tobirama screamed inside his own head.
Hashirama was already clapping along. "Oh! That's actually quite pleasant!"
Madara folded his arms, eyes half-lidded. "Hmph. Well danced."
Minato stood awkwardly to the side. "Second Hokage…"
Kabuto murmured from behind Boruto, fascinated. "So this is how you use Edo Tensei. I've learned something new."
Boruto laughed, genuinely entertained. "Good, good! Much better than paper dolls!"
After the last verse, Boruto released the jutsu, and Tobirama collapsed to his knees, trembling with fury and humiliation.
His expression twisted as he glared at Boruto.
"You inherently evil Uchiha brat! I'll—"
Before he could finish his jutsu, Boruto casually raised a hand, freezing him in place again.
"Damn Edo Tensei…" Tobirama cursed internally. "I should've never invented this cursed ninjutsu that toys with the dead!"
Later — The Final Valley
Moonlight poured down like liquid silver across the ruined canyon.
Hashirama stood at the edge of the cliff, surveying the devastation. "Is this really the Final Valley? Where are our statues?"
"After Ōtsutsuki Kaguya was sealed, Naruto and Sasuke fought here," Boruto explained. "Their battle destroyed both statues. They'll probably rebuild new ones later."
"Destroyed?" Hashirama's face fell. "And replaced with theirs?"
He sighed heavily. "That… hurts a little."
"Hmm. So that's how their story ends," Madara muttered. His eyes drifted toward the broken stone fingers that once formed the Seal of Reconciliation.
He stepped forward, voice rising. "Hashirama!"
"Madara!" Hashirama called back, moving to face him.
The night wind swept between them, rustling their hair as they stood across from each other—rivals, equals, and perhaps, friends.
A single green leaf drifted through the air. Madara caught it lightly between his fingers.
"What is a true dream?" he murmured, gazing through the leaf.
For a fleeting moment, Hashirama's face appeared within it—calm, resolute.
Madara's lips curved faintly. "Heh… It's Hashirama, after all."
But as the image shifted, Hashirama's face within the leaf transformed—into the reflection of a blade.
Madara's eyes widened. The leaf slipped from his hand and fluttered away.
By the time it touched the ground, Hashirama was already standing before him, a massive sword in hand—its edge gleaming coldly beneath the moonlight, pointed straight at Madara.
...
Author's Note:
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