"Tobirama Senju… is already dead?"
The old man's back was slightly hunched, his expression complicated—relief mixed with regret.
In Madara Uchiha's heart, Tobirama should have died long ago.
From the moment Tobirama killed Izuna Uchiha—
He should have paid with his life.
"…What a pity."
"I couldn't kill him myself."
Madara murmured softly, then lifted his head toward the massive poster outside the cinema.
A Grand Production by the Third Hokage
"Saving Genin Obito"
Uchiha Ren
His remaining eye narrowed.
An Uchiha—
Had become Hokage?
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
Tobirama, narrow-minded and deeply wary of the Uchiha, would never pass the title to them.
Madara rubbed his eye.
Looked again.
Still—
Uchiha.
…Interesting.
Very interesting.
If Tobirama didn't pass it down—
Then there was only one answer.
This Uchiha named Ren—
Had seized power.
A coup.
Madara's lips curled.
"So the clan… still has someone capable."
Though the clan once betrayed him for false peace—
Seeing someone break Tobirama's restraints—
Defeat the Senju—
And ascend as Hokage—
Still pleased him.
"Uchiha… are unmatched."
Except—
You, Hashirama.
Madara's thoughts drifted.
Hashirama—
If you saw this now…
What would you think?
"Hey! Are you buying a ticket or not?"
"Third Hokage's film! Decide quickly!"
The staff's voice snapped him back.
People behind him complained.
Madara paused.
"…How much?"
Then realized—
He had no money.
But then—
A thought.
He was Uchiha.
An ancestor.
Watching a junior's film—
Required payment?
Ridiculous.
He walked in.
Without paying.
"...The world is filthy again."
Madara watched the film, disappointment in his voice.
He had expected it.
After he and Hashirama Senju died—
War would return.
Still—
Seeing it—
Left a bitter taste.
Their dream.
Their peace.
Gone.
"Hashirama…"
"…we failed."
But—
He had found a new path.
This time—
He would walk it alone.
The battles on screen—
Didn't interest him.
Flashy.
Inefficient.
Weak.
Then—
The line.
"Those who break rules are trash…"
"But those who abandon comrades are worse than trash."
Madara's expression shifted.
…This Uchiha Ren.
His thinking—
Resembled their youth.
But—
Impossible.
Humans were flawed.
Greed.
Jealousy.
Hatred.
Breaking rules wouldn't change that.
You couldn't make everyone your comrade.
The fate of shinobi—
Was still killing.
Madara grew thoughtful.
Did this boy—
Have the Mangekyō Sharingan?
That stone tablet…
He needed to see him.
Recruit him.
His body felt heavier.
Older.
Time was running out.
Even with the Eternal Mangekyō—
One eye had already lost its light.
But—
He still had Hashirama's power.
With both—
He remained unmatched.
"I must meet him…"
"Before it's too late."
As Madara left—
A black figure rose from the ground.
Black Zetsu.
Anxious.
Irritated.
"Why is he wandering around?!"
"He should be focusing on awakening the Rinnegan!"
"If Konoha notices…"
Zetsu clenched his teeth.
A thousand years of waiting—
All for this.
Madara—
A perfect vessel.
If something went wrong now—
Another millennium?
Impossible.
"Mother…"
"I miss you…"
Konoha.
"Is that Orochimaru?!"
"So handsome!"
"Can I get your autograph?!"
Orochimaru stood surrounded.
Ever since the film's release—
His popularity had exploded.
Girls from every class—
Queued up just to see him.
Talent.
Looks.
Presence.
He had it all.
Even film directors—
Were eyeing him.
If he entered the industry—
Hundreds of thousands—
Even millions per film—
Was possible.
"Sure…"
Orochimaru smiled stiffly.
Signing endlessly.
"Damn it…"
Jiraiya grumbled nearby.
"I played a heroic death scene!"
"Why is he more popular?!"
"Because he's better-looking."
"And stronger."
Tsunade answered bluntly.
Jiraiya took critical damage.
"…Tsunade?"
"I can help you get female fans…"
Jiraiya perked up.
Hope ignited.
"…If you lend me money."
"Just a few tens of thousands."
Hope—
Extinguished.
"No."
Jiraiya refused instantly.
He had learned.
"Orochimaru—"
"I have no money."
"I traded it for learning from the Hokage."
Tsunade froze.
Then—
Collapsed internally.
Her fifty thousand—
Gone.
Lost yesterday.
Half a year ahead—
With no allowance.
No milk tea.
No cola.
After school—
Orochimaru headed to the Hokage's office.
Inside—
Reports were underway.
"The film has broken records."
"Four hundred million in the Land of Fire alone."
"Estimated total—1.3 billion."
"Net profit—600 million."
Ren nodded.
Satisfied.
This—
Was just the beginning.
"Thirty percent goes to the Konoha Shinobi Welfare Fund."
"For injured and disabled shinobi."
He never forgot them.
Film—
Was a new path.
No risk.
High reward.
Fame included.
Shinobi—
Would flock to it.
"The next script is ready."
"The Birth of the Hidden Village."
The story:
Uchiha and Senju—
Endless war.
Then—
Two geniuses emerged.
Hashirama Senju.
Madara Uchiha.
They met.
They understood each other.
They dreamed—
Of peace.
Then—
Tragedy.
Tobirama killed Izuna.
Conflict erupted.
Battle.
But in the end—
Madara chose forgiveness.
Chose peace.
Chose unity.
Together with Hashirama—
They founded Konoha.
As for Tobirama…
"…he'll have to be wronged a little."
Ren nodded to himself.
This was—
History.
Accurate.
Completely accurate.
Even if Hashirama himself appeared—
He'd agree.
Tobirama?
He'd probably try to kill him.
This time—
Ren only wrote the script.
The same two assistant directors—
Would handle filming.
They gladly accepted.
No diva actors.
No corruption.
No interference.
No gangs demanding payment.
This—
Was a Konoha production.
Anyone causing trouble—
Would meet the Pure Land.
Immediately.
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