"Quiet."
Senju Hashirama's voice cut through the arguing like a blade. The scolding around him died instantly. His eyes, usually warm, fixed on Senju Kuma with a steady, unsettling calm.
"Kuma… is that truly how you feel?"
"Patriarch…"
The boy froze under the stares of the others. Their rebukes stung, but Hashirama's gaze hurt far more. His throat tightened, then he shouted the words that had been eating him alive.
"Yes! It's what I really think! If the patriarch hadn't started all these battles… my parents would still be alive!"
"I… started these wars?"
The accusation hit harder than any jutsu. Hashirama's breath hitched. All the decisions he'd made since becoming patriarch piled on top of him like stones.
He always told himself he fought for the clan.
He never imagined his own people might see him as the one who led them into endless death.
"Enough, Kuma! The patriarch is still young. He carries the weight of all of us. Mind your tongue!"
A senior Senju grabbed the boy by the elbow, bowing quickly toward Hashirama.
"Kuma! Apologize at once!"
"I—Patri—"
Hashirama raised a hand, stopping him.
"We are all Senju. I believed I went to war to protect our family… but perhaps I've been wrong. I want to know what everyone truly feels. So… please. Tell me honestly."
Then he bowed. A full ninety degrees.
"Patriarch!"
Even the hardest Senju warrior felt something crack inside. Hashirama's sincerity burned through the cave like fire.
An older clansman swallowed, voice hoarse. "Ask, Patriarch. Whatever you wish to know, we'll answer."
Hashirama bowed once more.
"Then tell me… what do the Senju think of war?"
The question hung in the cold air.
A patriarch asking this was almost painful to hear.
Silence stretched. Years of grief pressed down on them all.
Finally, someone spoke.
"Patriarch… the clan is tired. Ordinary Senju have been tired for years. Since you took command, we've clashed with the Uchiha again and again. Every battle takes more lives. People are numb from losing family."
Hashirama clenched his fists.
"Then why does no one oppose it?!"
"What can we do?" another murmured bitterly. "We're the lowest-ranked shinobi. Weak. Replaceable. Our voices mean nothing to the elders."
Their helplessness hit harder than any insult.
"I see…"
Hashirama slumped back against the cave wall, closing his eyes. He had never felt so hollow.
The cave fell silent, the weight of their truth sinking into every stone.
In the days that followed, Hashirama joined the usual teams clearing Konoha territory. But with every patrol, his understanding grew sharper.
The Senju clan still held its pride, its strength, its legendary name—but only among the elites. Ordinary members carried nothing but exhaustion and grief.
"Maybe… this war really needs to end."
Confusion passed through him before hardening into resolve.
For the first time, he felt a clear decision forming.
"Patriarch! Movement ahead!"
Hashirama snapped out of meditation. Ahead, a group of about thirty shinobi rushed toward them.
One face stood out. Familiar, yet changed.
"That runt… Amamiya Shinsuke? He's grown so much… and he's already on the battlefield."
The Senju squad halted immediately, forming a defensive line. Hashirama's sharp gaze swept over the approaching formation.
"A vanguard unit? Then their main force must be right behind them."
A nearby Senju lit a signal flare the moment he realized it too.
The distance between this patrol and the frontline wasn't far. Reinforcements were close. The clan had nearly two thousand nearby, held back due to fragile relations with the Uchiha.
Everyone knew unity didn't erase centuries of blood.
So the clans camped separately, fought separately, lived separately.
The flare streaked into the sky. Konoha's vanguard tensed, preparing to engage—until their leader spotted the figure standing among the Senju.
His face went pale.
"S-Senju Hashirama…!"
How could they forget? The battle where Douren—now known as Raizen—fought beside Hashirama and Madara had shaken the entire region. That was the day Konoha shinobi learned the Senju patriarch was a monster who stood shoulder to shoulder with his own leader.
A man like that should've been resting in the command camp.
Not standing here.
The Konoha captain froze, unable to decide whether to advance or flee.