"Tobirama!"
"You enjoy researching forbidden jutsu, I don't object. But everything has its limits," Hashirama scolded, his tone both stern and brotherly. "For example, if you dare place a Flying Thunder God Technique seal on me again—"
Hashirama leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I'll show you exactly why flowers bloom so beautifully."
The memory of that threat sent a shiver down Tobirama's spine. Years of brotherly bonds made it clear—Hashirama wasn't joking. Experimenting on his elder brother might seem entertaining in theory, but the risk was astronomically high.
Testing his Flying Thunder God Technique on Hashirama? That was a death wish in disguise.
Tobirama blinked back to the present and shuddered. He glanced at Kakuzu and waved dismissively.
"You go ahead. Just make sure you're tired of living first."
Kakuzu, ever the opportunist, smirked knowingly. "Tobirama, that's not the attitude you take when asking for favors."
Tobirama frowned. "What nonsense are you spouting now?"
"If you're going to ask someone for help—especially your older brother—you need to approach them properly," Kakuzu explained, his smirk widening. "Right now, you look more like a debt collector than someone seeking assistance."
The blunt critique gave Tobirama pause for exactly two seconds before he scoffed.
"Nope."
That was Tobirama's final word on the matter. No way he was subjecting himself to Hashirama's antics.
Kakuzu wasn't particularly disappointed by the refusal, though. He knew better than anyone that science and ambition were unstoppable forces. The seeds of curiosity were already planted.
"By the way," Kakuzu interrupted, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the faint glow of the Flying Thunder God Technique mark etched onto his arm, "when do you plan on resolving this little issue?"
Tobirama sighed, sitting up straighter. "The seal falls under the category of curse marks or sealing jutsu. I've seen countless examples of seals disappearing, taking their effects with them. That's where we'll start."
Tobirama rummaged through a stack of documents until he found the schematic he was searching for. Handing it to Kakuzu, he explained, "This is the blueprint for a new approach I've been considering."
Kakuzu took the scroll, scanning its contents with a neutral expression.
"Are you sure this will work?"
"No," Tobirama admitted, crossing his arms. "But if we don't try, we'll never know."
Kakuzu chuckled lightly. "Fair enough. Let's give it a shot."
And so began three grueling months of relentless research into forbidden jutsu. While progress was made, the desired effect—removing the Flying Thunder God Technique seal—remained elusive.
Tobirama gave Kakuzu's shoulder a reassuring pat. "Don't lose hope, Kakuzu. The Flying Thunder God Technique mark is intricate beyond belief. One failure doesn't mean the end. We'll just keep trying."
Kakuzu narrowed his eyes at Tobirama's expression. "Why do I feel like you're secretly enjoying this?"
Tobirama's deadpan face didn't betray a hint of amusement, but Kakuzu's suspicion lingered.
Meanwhile, back in Konoha, word spread like wildfire.
"Have you heard? The Hokage will be returning in a few days."
Tobirama nodded at the news. "The lookout tower received word from my brother. He'll be back in the village soon."
Tobirama gazed toward the horizon, his expression thoughtful. "I wonder how successful their mission was this time."
...
A piercing eagle's cry echoed through the sky as sunlight bathed the Fire Nation's winding roads.
Two men walked side by side, their hearty laughter reverberating through the mountain pass. Both exuded the presence of legends.
"Madara, it's been so long since I've felt this exhilarated!" Hashirama exclaimed, a broad smile lighting up his face.
"Hmph. Same here, Hashirama. It's been years since I've had such a satisfying battle," Madara replied, his rare grin matching his companion's.
The sight was reminiscent of their first meeting along the riverbank so many years ago.
"Madara, your scrolls contain some of the strongest tailed beasts. Make sure they don't escape."
"Hashirama, you worry too much. If they run, we'll just catch them again!"
The two men exchanged a look and burst out laughing. Their camaraderie was palpable, even amidst the weight of their responsibilities.
Despite their lighthearted banter, capturing the tailed beasts was no easy feat. One wrong move, and they risked accidentally killing them. And if that happened, they'd have to wait decades for the tailed beasts to reform from pure chakra.
"Madara," Hashirama mused, his tone contemplative, "don't you find it strange? When tailed beasts die, their chakra disperses into the world, only to recondense years later."
"It's as if they're an inseparable part of this world," he continued, "a piece of its natural order."
The bustling gates of Konoha were alive with anticipation. Amid the sea of villagers, clans, and shinobi, cheers erupted the moment two figures stepped through the entrance: Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara. Their triumphant return brought an energy that electrified the air. After all, they had accomplished the impossible—capturing all nine Tailed Beasts.
"Brother, you've worked hard. Hand it over to me," Senju Tobirama said, approaching with the ANBU at his side.
Hashirama, his usual air of carelessness on display, patted the large scroll strapped to his back before handing it over. The weight of the scroll symbolized not just the beasts they had captured but also the potential peace—or destruction—it could bring.
Madara, ever watchful, handed his scroll to Tobirama as well, though something about the moment felt... wrong. His keen Sharingan flickered as he scanned the gathered crowd. A question began to gnaw at him.
"Why are there no Uchiha here?"
Hashirama, still rubbing his chin as if lost in thought, spoke up, "You know, Madara, the balance between the Tailed Beasts and nature... it's fascinating, isn't it? Their existence, their connection to the world... it's almost as if they embody something eternal."
Madara paused mid-step, his expression freezing for the briefest of moments. He looked at his longtime friend, noting the glint of cleverness hidden beneath Hashirama's outwardly simple demeanor. This wasn't the first time Hashirama had surprised him, but something about the man's musings struck a chord today.
"The balance of yin and yang could indeed lead to something greater—like the very essence of all things," Madara said, his voice low and contemplative. He wasn't ready to share his full thoughts, though. What he was piecing together in his mind was far too profound to voice. The connection between the Sharingan, Hashirama's Wood Release, and the Tailed Beasts seemed almost... predestined.
Turning his gaze to the horizon, Madara couldn't help but feel as though an unseen force was orchestrating these events, pulling the strings of fate.
"Madara, what's wrong?" Hashirama asked, tilting his head.
"Nothing," Madara replied, a small smile playing on his lips. "I just think your perspective on the Tailed Beasts is... intriguing."
Their conversation ended as they stepped into Konoha, where the gathered clans—Hyūga, Akimichi, Nara, Yamanaka, and others—erupted into applause. Even the stoic Senju Tobirama allowed a rare smirk to appear as he accepted the scrolls.
The moment was a celebration of achievement, a shared triumph for the village. But for Madara, something darker brewed beneath the surface. His unease about the absence of his clan and the swirling questions about destiny lingered in his mind like a storm cloud refusing to dissipate.
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