At this dire moment of life and death, the legendary shinobi who once brought an end to the warring era and carried peace in his heart—the fiery warrior known as the God of Shinobi—stepped forward.
Hashirama Senju placed his remaining left hand firmly on Madara Uchiha's shoulder as the latter channeled his jutsu.
"Kakuan's Tenth-Edict On Enlightenment!"
The kanji for 'Sit' flared across Hashirama's palm.
A dense wooden cage erupted instantly from the earth, pinning Madara's limbs and suppressing his chakra network.
Madara's chakra flow ground to an abrupt halt, his body locked tight in the wooden vice.
He twisted his neck with agonizing effort, glaring back in sheer shock and fury.
"What are you doing?!" Madara roared. "Have you lost your mind, Hashirama?!"
Hashirama offered a faint, self-deprecating smile, his eyes filled with quiet resignation.
"It's over, Madara. We've already lost."
"Bullshit!" Madara spat viciously.
"Lose? I am Uchiha Madara! I never admit defeat!"
"It's just a damn falling moon! What's the big deal? Cut my gunbai free and I'll blast it right back into the sky!"
Hashirama shook his head slowly.
"It is pointless resistance. If this battle drags on any longer, countless more lives will be extinguished for nothing."
"We are surrendering."
"Surrender?!"
Madara's eyes flared with murderous disbelief.
"Are you even a man anymore?!"
"Where is the fiery, ambitious Hashirama Senju I used to know—the man whose booming voice promised to quell the chaotic world?!"
Hashirama chuckled softly, his expression nostalgic. "Didn't the two of us already work together and bring peace once before?"
He looked at his rival with genuine warmth. "Madara, thank you for standing with me all these years."
Madara's sharp, predatory glare softened by a fraction, though his scowl remained furious.
"Don't you dare get sentimental with me now!"
"If you surrender here, I will never forgive you."
"Release this wood jutsu right now and let me deal with that brat!"
Hashirama chuckled at his stubbornness. "Admitting that our era has passed really stings the ego, doesn't it?"
Madara turned his head away, refusing to look him in the eye.
Even if he died and had to crawl his way back from the pure lands all over again, Master Madara would never utter the word 'defeat.'
"Sometimes, bowing your head is a weapon in itself," Hashirama remarked gently. "You can remain the unyielding hero who never backed down, and I will be the sinner who knelt and begged for peace."
Madara scoffed angrily. "You're always so damn self-righteous! Do you really think that kid on the other side is just going to let us walk away?"
"He will," Hashirama replied with a knowing grin. "My granddaughter already filled me in."
Madara clicked his tongue in bitter annoyance. "Typical Senju clan—conniving with your women to keep me in the dark."
Hashirama threw his head back and laughed heartily.
"Madara... once this whole mess wraps up, how about you and I revisit our old spots?"
Madara fell silent, offering no reply.
Down below the towering wooden constructs, the Allied Shinobi Forces watched in utter shock as the First Hokage suddenly neutralized Madara.
A collective wave of confusion swept through the ranks.
The Great Toad Sage turned to Tobirama Senju, croaking in bewilderment, "What in the world is your brother doing?"
To Tobirama, anything disastrous naturally had to be an Uchiha's fault.
"It must be Madara plotting something nefarious," Tobirama declared coldly.
The First Raikage chimed in with a growl. "Damn it, those two must have fallen under an enemy genjutsu!"
The Fourth Raikage scoffed loudly. "You've got to be pathetic to get caught in a simple genjutsu like that!"
THWACK!
A heavy fist from the Third Raikage slammed directly onto Ay's skull.
"Watch your mouth, kid! If those two monsters are trash, what does that make the rest of us?!"
The other reanimated Kage immediately joined the fray, raining blows down on Ay.
The Fourth Raikage could only crouch on the desert sand with his arms over his head, entirely clueless about who was hitting him.
Nearby, Jiraiya turned to ask Tsunade for her perspective, only to find her muttering quietly into a sleek, black radio receiver.
She was in direct contact with Mufasa.
"My grandfather and Madara are fighting each other," Tsunade reported in a low whisper.
"I see it," Mufasa's voice crackled through the comms. "I've got a crystal-clear view from up here."
"Could it be some kind of genjutsu?" Tsunade asked.
"Definitely not," Mufasa replied smoothly. "I haven't used genjutsu in ages. Though thanks for the reminder."
Tsunade huffed sharply into the mic. "Listen to me: you are not allowed to lay a finger on my grandfather."
"Hey, I'm the one defending myself here, alright?" Mufasa argued back.
"I don't care," Tsunade threatened flatly. "If you hurt him, I'll beat you to death myself."
Mufasa was left entirely speechless.
Before the bewildered shinobi army could make sense of the brawl, Hashirama's booming voice rang out across the entire valley.
"Mufasa! You have won!"
"On behalf of the entire shinobi world, I, Hashirama Senju, officially surrender to you!"
"You can call off your attack now!"
The battlefield erupted into pandemonium.
The Great Toad Sage nearly choked on his pipe, his eyes bulging.
'No way... just like that?!'
The reanimated Kage were equally baffled, their jaws dropping in unison.
"What does he think he's doing?!"
"How can the God of Shinobi just wave the white flag?!"
Tobirama crossed his arms and snorted at the complaining Kage. "If any of you think you can do better, be my guest and step up. If you fail, we all get wiped out together."
The entire alliance went dead silent.
None of them stood a ghost of a chance against that descending celestial mass.
If Hashirama Senju—the pinnacle of combat strength in their era—had thrown in the towel, there was no shame in following his lead.
Hashirama cupped his hands around his mouth and called down to the leaders. "All Kage, gather up here!"
Leaping through the air, the various village leaders landed atop the massive wooden canopy.
The political heavyweights of the Five Great Shinobi Nations stood assembled to decide the future of the ninja world.
Mufasa descended from his sky-command platform, landing casually upon the massive chassis of his lead warmachine, looking across the canopy at the gathered leaders.
"Mufasa," Hashirama spoke, cutting straight to the point. "We concede defeat this time. We will withdraw our forces and sign a non-aggression pact never to invade Sunagakure again. How about we all live in peaceful coexistence from here on out?"
Mufasa offered a calm, amused smirk.
"Nice try, Lord First, but absolutely not."
"I have my own terms."
The expressions of the surrounding Kage instantly darkened.
Madara scoffed from within his wooden cage. "I knew surrendering would end in disaster."
Hashirama remained composed, gesturing forward. "Name your conditions."
Mufasa cleared his throat and counted off his fingers.
"First: Every shinobi village must enforce a standard eight-hour workday—shift starts at 9:00 AM sharp, and everyone clocks out at 5:00 PM."
"Second: Mandatory holidays with full pay. Unapproved overtime and canceled rest days are strictly prohibited."
"Third: A formal retirement framework. All shinobi must enter mandatory retirement upon reaching age fifty, backed by a village-funded pension."
The gathered leaders blinked, utterly lost.
"Fourth: A four-day workweek with three full rest days. Again, no unpaid overtime."
"Fifth: An absolute ban on child labor. No minor under the age of sixteen is permitted to register as an active combatant or take field missions."
"Sixth: The creation of a permanent Joint Shinobi Council. Every village must send delegates to negotiate grievances across a table first—military mobilization is prohibited unless authorized by the council."
"Seventh: Complete abolition of bloody, lethal graduation exams and inhumane internal selection processes."
Mufasa listed his points with an easygoing grin, looking thoroughly satisfied with himself.
The Kage, on the other hand, looked like their brains had short-circuited.
What kind of alien demands were these?
Onoki was the first to blow his top, floating up with veins popping along his forehead.
"You insolent brat! I knew you had an angle!"
"Mandatory retirement at fifty?! You're clearly trying to kick this old man out of office!"
"You just want me out of the Tsuchikage seat, don't you?!"
The Raikage cracked his knuckles, equally furious.
"Nonsense! Our Kumogakure is built on pure physical strength! Why the hell should we waste our time bickering in some pointless committee room?!"
"In this world, the biggest fists make the rules!"
The various Cloud village representatives flexed their muscular arms in unison, backing their leader's stance.
The Mizukage scoffed with a dismissive wave. "Kumogakure and Kirigakure have our own sovereign customs. Sunagakure has no right to meddle in our internal administration."
The reanimated Hokage furrowed his brow in deep concern. "Konoha produces brilliant young prodigies. Forcing kids to wait until sixteen will severely stifle their early development!"
The fourth Kazekage simply kept his mouth shut—his village was already under Mufasa's complete control anyway.
Mufasa couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"What is so funny, boy?!" Onoki snapped.
"I'm laughing at how painfully narrow-minded you all are," Mufasa replied smoothly.
"Watch your tongue before I dismantle you with Particle Style!" Onoki threatened.
Mufasa rolled his eyes with a sarcastic smirk.
"Am I wrong? Look at the miserable rat race you've turned the ninja world into."
"Onoki, you're pushing eighty, your lower back is practically turned to dust, and you still drag yourself to the office every single morning. Aren't you exhausted?"
"Shouldn't you be kicking back on a porch, sipping tea, and enjoying a stress-free retirement?"
Onoki flushed with indignation. "If I step down, what happens if another village marches on the Stone?!"
"I will die sitting in the Tsuchikage's chair!"
Mufasa sighed, shaking his head in pity.
"See? That toxic work-to-the-grave mentality is exactly what I'm talking about."
"You can keep your honorary title as an elder advisor in your seventies without running yourself ragged taking high-risk field commissions."
"Think about your elderly shinobi—sleeping in mud, nursing chronic injuries, risking their lives on dangerous hunts just to make rent."
"It's this endless paranoia—this constant, vicious cycle of 'they're mobilizing, so we must mobilize harder'—that ruined the entire ninja world."
"You've got six-year-old toddlers bleeding out on frontlines, and eighty-year-olds dying in ditches. Does that look like a functioning civilization to you?"
The gathered Kage fell quiet, exchanging troubled, contemplative glances.
Mufasa pressed his point without letting up.
"You operate under the delusion that the global volume of shinobi missions is fixed, and that resources must be hoarded through bloodshed."
"So you frantically expand your armaments, grind your people into the dirt, and squeeze every drop of blood from your clans. And for what?"
"What did that endless overtime bring you besides suffering and early graves?"
The Raikage snorted, crossing his massive arms. "At least overwhelming military power keeps the other villages from walking over us."
Mufasa smiled faintly, shaking his head.
"No matter how advanced your chakra cannons get, they can only obliterate the world once."
"Once your destructive capability crosses the threshold of total annihilation, endlessly stockpiling offensive jutsu and forcing your shinobi into grueling 996 work schedules yields zero tactical return."
"Because you've hit the ceiling of what force can extract."
Mufasa casually pointed a single finger back toward the sky.
"Look up. I have an actual moon floating over your heads. If I let it drop, your villages are erased from the map. Tell me—what's the point of stockpiling more swords against that?"
Madara let out a low grunt from his wooden bindings. "Arrogant little punk."
Hashirama, however, nodded slowly in deep appreciation.
"His core logic matches what I attempted when distributing the Tailed Beasts," Hashirama murmured.
"We both sought absolute deterrence to force a ceasefire."
"My mistake was failing to build an institutional platform to resolve diplomatic frictions, allowing resentment to fester until war broke out again."
Madara sneered under his breath. 'Hmph. Still far inferior to my Infinite Tsukuyomi.'
Across the canopy, the Kage began whispering among themselves, seriously weighing the viability of Mufasa's proposals.
Down below, Mufasa's voice had been broadcast across the entire valley via the Allied Shinobi Forces' tactical radio network.
The lower-ranked shinobi erupted into wild celebrations.
"All hail the Kazekage! Long live Lord Mufasa!"
"Finally! I can actually retire, go home, and marry my sweetheart!"
"Three whole days off every week?! Praise the heavens!"
"I'm booking a beach vacation the second this war ends!"
Jiraiya chuckled, rubbing his chin with a broad grin. "Man, that actually sounds fantastic."
Tsunade shot him a sideways glance. "What part of it sounds good to you?"
"I can retire immediately on a fat village pension, travel the hot springs, and write my romance novels without worrying about missing mission deadlines," Jiraiya said wistfully. "Just think of the masterpieces I could publish!"
Tsunade rolled her eyes, thoroughly unamused.
Farther back, the Great Toad Sage sighed heavily, shaking his aged head in despair.
"A four-day workweek with three days of rest? Humans will end up even lazier than us toads!"
The old amphibian felt a deep sense of gloom wash over him.
'The child of prophecy... bringing this level of chaotic deregulation... can the ninja world even survive such leisure?'
Mufasa spread his hands wide, sealing his pitch.
"Here's my final offer: I will personally donate our aerial fortress to serve as the permanent headquarters for the Joint Shinobi Council."
"The Five Great Shinobi Nations will hold permanent seats as the executive council, while smaller nations join as general assembly members."
"We can hammer out our voting rights and operational treaties like civilized leaders."
"Instead of massacring each other on battlefields, we can spend our days screaming at each other across a conference table."
"Doesn't that sound like paradise?"
Before the Kage could give their formal response, a sharp chime echoed through Mufasa's encrypted earpiece.
"Priority alert from the Fifth Division," a communications officer reported hurriedly.
"An unidentified strike team has breached our aerial fortress perimeter, while a secondary detachment is mounting an assault on Sunagakure itself!"
Mufasa raised his wrist terminal, parsing the live visual feed.
His brow raised slightly in amusement.
'Well, well... the Otsutsuki clan finally showed up.'
'What took them so long?'