The atmosphere in Konohagakure was thick with the scent of damp earth and tension. The Warring States Period had ended, but the peace felt like glass—beautiful, yet prone to shattering at the slightest pressure.
Hashirama Senju walked with a spring in his step that betrayed his internal nerves. Beside him, Tobirama looked as though he were marching toward a firing squad.
"Wipe that scowl off, Tobirama," Hashirama chirped, though his eyes remained fixed on the Uchiha crest ahead. "This was agreed upon by the Clan Head. It's a bridge. A literal bridge made of... well, family."
"It is a political experiment with a child's life as the variable," Tobirama retorted, his voice a low rasp. "The Uchiha are governed by intense emotional volatility. Bringing one into the Senju household is a recipe for disaster."
"Or," Hashirama countered, stopping at the gates of the Uchiha Orphanage, "it is the only way you will ever see them as people instead of research subjects."
The orphanage was a traditional compound, clean and quiet. As the brothers stepped through the heavy wooden doors, the air changed. Dozens of children stood in the courtyard, arranged by age. The silence was absolute.
These orphans were the living legacy of the conflict between the Senju and Uchiha. As they looked at Tobirama—the man who had struck down Izuna Uchiha—a wave of complex emotion rippled through the ranks.
For many, the idea of leaving the clan grounds to live with a Senju felt like a betrayal of their fallen parents' pride. Yet, beneath the hesitation was a flickering, fierce resolve. They were Uchiha; they were not disloyal. If being adopted by the Second-in-Command was what it took to secure the clan's place in this new Hidden Leaf Village, then they would face the "enemy" with heads held high.
They weren't just looking for a home; they were looking for a way to prove that an Uchiha's heart could be the village's greatest shield.
Tobirama halted, his Sensory Perception flinching at the sheer weight of the expectation and quiet pride radiating from the children. He stood before the sea of dark, watchful eyes, realizing that for the first time in his life, he was completely out of his depth.
The tension in the courtyard shifted from solemn duty to a sharp, biting cold. While the children stood with chests puffed out—torn between the guilt of leaving their clan and the burning desire to prove their Uchiha loyalty to the village—the arrival of the Clan Head changed everything.
The Uchiha Clan Head stepped into the light, his eyes sweeping over the rows of orphans. His sharp gaze faltered, turning into a frown of immediate concern.
"Where is Uchiha Satoshi?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence.
The orphanage caretaker gasped, eyes widening as they scanned the group. The realization hit like a physical blow; Satoshi was gone.
The atmosphere among the children instantly soured. The previous air of noble sacrifice vanished, replaced by sneers and muttered complaints. "Forget about him," one of the older boys spat, his pride turning into vitriol. "Satoshi is a disgrace. He's a weirdo who doesn't even act like one of us. Why would a Senju want a failure like that?"
"Enough!" the Clan Head roared, his voice echoing off the compound walls. The children flinched. "He is not a disgrace simply because of whose blood runs in his veins. Being that man's child does not forfeit his right to this family."
The caretaker joined the scolding, face flushed with shame. "And having a strange hobby does not make someone a 'weirdo.' You children speak of pride, yet you trample on one of your own!"
Hashirama and Tobirama stood frozen, completely stunned by the sudden vitriol. Tobirama's sensory skills hadn't picked up a "disgrace" in the area, but the sheer hostility coming from the other Uchiha children toward this one boy was unlike anything he had expected from the "emotionally bonded" clan.
Hashirama stepped forward, his curiosity piqued and his heart already aching for the missing boy. "Who is this Satoshi?" he asked softly. "And what kind of 'hobby' could make his own kin turn on him like this?"
The Clan Head's voice dropped to a somber, heavy register. "Satoshi is Madara's son."
The air seemed to vanish from the courtyard. Hashirama's jaw dropped, his mind racing through decades of memories. "Madara? But... he's single! He's never even mentioned—"
"He was indeed single," the Clan Head interrupted, his gaze fixed on the ground. "But he was in a deep, private relationship with a woman of our clan. Had it not been for Madara's betrayal and departure from the village, they would have been wed. Satoshi is his illegitimate son."
He sighed, the weight of the clan's shame evident in his posture. "The boy was raised with immense love by his mother. But shortly after Madara fled, tragedy struck. A drunken clansman, fueled by rage over the 'traitor's blood,' went after the boy. His mother died shielding Satoshi from the man's blade."
The silence that followed was suffocating. The Clan Head looked at the sneering children. "Since then, he has been an orphan. The majority of the clan treats him as a living stain on our honor, unable to see that Satoshi is just Satoshi. He has nothing to do with his father's sins."
Hashirama felt a sharp, agonizing pang in his chest. As Hokage, he had sworn to protect every soul in the Hidden Leaf. Yet here, in his own village, a child had been hunted by his own kin and left to rot in isolation. To make it worse, this was the flesh and blood of his best friend—the man he still called "brother." He felt a wave of profound self-disappointment wash over him. Am I even worthy of this hat? he wondered, his shoulders slumping. I failed my friend, and I failed his son.
Tobirama, however, did not slump. His eyes narrowed, his mind immediately shifting into a state of high alert. The "Curse of Hatred" was a scientific fact to him, and the son of Madara Uchiha—the most volatile Uchiha in history—was a variable he couldn't ignore. He didn't feel pity; he felt a cold, calculating need for information.
"What kind of child is he?" Tobirama asked, his voice cutting through Hashirama's spiraling thoughts like a blade. "Is he a threat growing in our shadows, or a potential asset? And where is he hiding?"
The Clan Head gestured toward the back of the orphanage, near the tool sheds. "He doesn't train with the others. He has... a hobby. He spends his time building things. He says the village is a puzzle that isn't finished yet."