Chapter 44: The Fall of the Ninja God
Stelle unsealed a small scroll with a practiced flick of her wrist. A puff of smoke cleared to reveal a glass bottle, within which a pair of crimson Sharingan floated ominously in preservative fluid.
They were Uchiha Madara's Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan, a prize she had acquired from the system's lottery. After a brief, calculated hesitation, she handed the bottle to Senju Tobirama.
Tobirama's mastery of Fūinjutsu was second to none; Black Zetsu wouldn't dare attempt a theft right under his nose. Besides, she mused, if that shadowy creature somehow managed to sneak into Konoha and steal the eyes, she could always just snatch them back. A little game of cat and mouse couldn't hurt.
Senju Tobirama accepted the bottle, his expression unreadable as he secured it away. He turned back to her, his voice raspy with fatigue. "Come to the office tomorrow. Hiruzen is new to this and can't manage the workload alone."
He looked utterly haggard. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, and his usual sharp posture was slumped with a weariness that went bone-deep. Stelle's brow furrowed. The duties once shared by four people now rested entirely on his shoulders. Border skirmishes, political pressure from the other Great Nations, his brother's grave injuries, and the departure of his closest friend—it had all crashed down on him at once.
'And knowing this workaholic,'she thought wryly,'he's probably still sneaking into his lab for research on top of it all. If he wasn't running himself into the ground, who was?'
Surrounded by the cold, sterile equipment of his laboratory, a deep solitude clung to him like a shroud. He seemed smaller, frighteningly isolated. Stelle's resolve wavered. Perhaps her plan to log off and head to the Land of Wind could wait a little longer. Managing the desertification there wasn't an immediate crisis.
"Fine," she sighed, putting on an air of reluctance. "I'll deign to show the kid the ropes."
The next day, however, Stelle didn't go directly to the Hokage's office. She made a detour to the hospital first.
Senju Hashirama was being kept in a special ward. The air around it was thick with tension. Anbu operatives, their blank masks betraying no emotion, stood sentinel alongside grim-faced members of the Senju clan. Ordinary people were barred from entry. As Tobirama's disciple, Stelle found herself the subject of their most intense scrutiny, and a wall of bodies blocked her path before she even reached the door.
A knot of unease tightened in her stomach. This wasn't just standard security; this was a lockdown. Sentries every three paces, guard posts every five—it was a clear attempt to prevent any information from leaking to spies. If Hashirama's condition were improving, they wouldn't need such extreme measures.
It seemed the First Hokage's injuries were far more serious than anyone had let on. But he possessed the body of a Sage; logically, his recovery should have been assured.
Just as she was about to turn away, an Anbu operative approached the guards, murmured a few words, and the human barricade parted to let her through.
Stelle walked to the door and knocked twice.
"It's you, Stelle. Come in." Hashirama's voice, faint and weak, drifted from within.
She pushed the door open. The sight that greeted her sent a genuine shock through her system. The man in the bed was a pale shadow of the God of Shinobi. His vibrant energy was gone, replaced by a fragile stillness. But what truly stole her breath was his hair. Streaks of stark white had bled into his dark locks, a clear and terrible sign of his life force draining away. This was no simple injury.
Stelle quietly placed the basket of fruit she had brought on the bedside table. She had come with a dozen sarcastic remarks and trolling plans, but seeing him like this, the words died in her throat.
['System, why is he in such bad shape? It doesn't make sense.']
[Host, you need only look at yourself. You possess an immortal body with incredible regenerative power, yet even you sustained internal injuries after a few major battles. As powerful as a Sage Body is, it is not truly immortal. More, the blow he suffered was not merely physical. This is a sickness of the heart.]
The system's god's-eye view, as always, pointed out the one thing she had overlooked. In an instant, it all clicked into place.
Stelle sat and chatted with Hashirama for a while. He spoke of Senju Stelle, and from there, his words drifted to the dreams of peace they had once shared by the riverbank. He reminisced about the day Sōjin was killed. Once he started, the words flowed from him in a tireless, eloquent stream. Stelle listened in quiet stillness, staying until a medic-nin arrived to take him for his treatment.
When she finally arrived at the Hokage Tower, she found the regular guard contingent had been replaced entirely by Anbu. Entry now required official documentation. Tobirama, however, had already given the order. The moment she appeared, an Anbu operative materialized from the shadows.
"Assistant Stelle. Lord Tobirama has been called away on urgent business. He said for you to proceed directly to the office upon your arrival."
"Understood."
'Urgent business, my foot,' Stelle thought. Tobirama had only gotten his hands on the Sharingan yesterday. He was undoubtedly holed up in his lab, obsessing over the secrets of the dōjutsu. She could still picture the furious, almost envious look on his face when he'd witnessed Uchiha Izuna's copying ability. She understood perfectly.
To her surprise, while Tobirama was absent from the office, another person was present—none other than the man who would one day become the infamous "Scapegoat Kage," Shimura Danzō.
'So, Hiruzen couldn't handle the workload and roped in his best friend, huh?'
At that moment, the two of them were hunched over a document, their voices sharp with disagreement.
"Hiruzen, you're too soft! People like this need to be dealt with firmly."
"Danzō, I am the one assigned as Lord Tobirama's assistant."
"I was also personally appointed as an assistant by Lord Tobirama! In any case, I do not approve of your approach."
The exchange was so uncannily similar to their future clashes that Stelle had to suppress a laugh. Her arrival made both young men jump, and they awkwardly placed the disputed document into the tall stack reserved for Tobirama's personal review.
Now her curiosity was piqued. What sort of issue could possibly cause such a rift between them? She plucked the file from the stack and flipped it open. A moment later, dark lines creased her forehead.
"The Suzuki clan is requesting a redistribution of their clan territory due to a population surge," she read aloud, her voice dripping with disbelief. "You two are arguing over something this trivial?"
Hiruzen Sarutobi flushed and explained, "The Suzuki are a minor clan, but they were among the first to support Konoha's founding. They contributed funds, resources, and even shared their family's Nintaijutsu. But their clan is… prolific, and their housing has become cramped. As a founding-era clan, shouldn't we grant them some concessions to show our gratitude?"
Danzo immediately shot back, "Concessions just because they ask? On what grounds? If you ask me, we should send the Anbu to their compound for a 'stern warning.' They've performed no recent merits, yet they demand rewards."
"Danzō!"
"Hiruzen!"
Seeing them about to erupt again, Stelle slammed her fist on the desk with a loud thud. The sound cut through their argument, and she looked at them, almost laughing with exasperation.
"You have the nerve to push this trivial matter up to Lord Tobirama for review? Yes, the Suzuki are a veteran clan, but weren't they already compensated for their contributions back then? Now they want more just because they're good at breeding?" She then rounded on Danzō. "And sending the Anbu is even more ridiculous. What are you going to do, warn them for being too fertile? Just ignore it. Shove the file aside and let it gather dust. If it really bothers you, toss it in the trash. Got it?"
"Yes, Ma'am!"
The familiar terror of her classroom dominance resurfaced. The two future leaders of Konoha shrank like chastened schoolboys and obediently tossed the document aside.
From that point on, it was Stelle's show. The two prodigies were reduced to standing by, taking orders and shuffling papers as she tore through the workload with ruthless efficiency.
What she never expected, however, was the news that came the very next day.
Senju Hashirama, the First Hokage, had passed away.
When the message reached her, Stelle was certain she had misheard. She had just seen him. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. Anyone who didn't know the full story might suspect she had assassinated him.
She shook her head, pushing the thought away. 'Forget it. Why worry so much? I can just arrange a resurrection package for Hashirama later. If I obsess over this, my head will explode.'
Uchiha Madara's funeral had been scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Now, with Hashirama's death, a somber decision was made.
Logically, an event of this magnitude should have been suppressed, the burials held in secret to prevent panic and opportunism. But the deaths of both Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara—the two pillars upon whom the village was built—were simply too monumental to hide.
And so, Senju Tobirama made a simple, stark choice: he openly announced that the funerals for both men would be held on the same day.
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