The room was quiet, the faint scent of ink hanging in the air. A stack of documents lay on the wide wooden desk, their edges curled slightly from overuse. Behind the desk, Senju Tobirama sat with his usual rigid posture, his sharp eyes moving quickly across the page he held. The glow of the oil lamp caught on the edge of his white hair, outlining his cold, calculating expression.
"The naturally evil Uchiha brat is still too young after all," Tobirama muttered to himself, his lips curling with disdain. "The most important thing now is to build the ninja village, train more shinobi, and increase our mission output. Instead, he wastes time on pointless distractions… not doing his job properly."
As his pen scratched across the paper, Tobirama's expression briefly shifted into a smirk. The reports he was reading were about Akatsuki Village's recent activities. To a mind shaped by the brutal logic of the Warring States era, Uchiha Makoto's behavior made no sense. Tobirama, who had little aptitude or interest in business, instinctively dismissed such endeavors as foolish, even dangerous.
What mattered most to a ninja village, in his mind, was discipline, secrecy, and military strength. Not reckless commerce.
And yet, the memory of their most recent blunder still burned vividly in his thoughts.
The tulip disaster.
A fiasco that had drained Konoha's coffers and, worse, painted them as irresponsible before the eyes of the daimyō. The village had lost a massive amount of money in what seemed like a ridiculous scheme, and somehow, they were left carrying the blame.
"Isn't that lesson profound enough?" Tobirama muttered coldly, rubbing at his temple.
A ninja's duty was simple: complete missions, bring back rewards, and strengthen the village. Anything beyond that was dangerous indulgence.
"Perhaps only an inherently evil Uchiha would think otherwise," he scoffed. "Some nobles are already dissatisfied with Uchiha Makoto's reckless actions. Given time, Konoha's burdens will only grow heavier. And even if we agreed to that absurd seventy-thirty split with Akatsuki Village… so what? Those were missions commissioned for Konoha in the first place!"
The corner of Tobirama's mouth twitched upward in grim satisfaction. His instincts told him the tides of politics were shifting, and the nobles of the Land of Fire were already turning against the upstart village. Poor Uchiha Makoto—he would learn soon enough what it meant to challenge the established order.
Finished with his observations, Tobirama carefully organized the intelligence on Akatsuki Village, slipping the documents into his personal cabinet. Ever since being accused of plagiarism in his younger days, he had formed the habit of recording everything meticulously. A shinobi's memory could be sharp, but paper never lied.
With that done, he returned to his routine. His desk was piled high with proposals, petitions, and financial requests from various clans. Tobirama's fingers moved with practiced speed, flipping to the last page of each, scanning from bottom to top—an efficient method that allowed him to cut through the filler and reach the heart of the matter.
"Another clan, defrauding funds," he muttered. His pen scratched firmly across the margin: Not approved.
"This one, also fraudulent."
Not approved.
"Ridiculous excuse. Not approved."
Over and over, his crisp handwriting left rejection after rejection. By the time he paused to rub at his brow, there was a small pile of rejected forms beside him.
"These damn clans," Tobirama thought irritably. "They'll come up with any excuse to line their own pockets."
And the reason? His foolish elder brother.
Big Brother Hashirama was hopeless when it came to discretion. Financial matters were meant to be top-secret, yet as soon as he returned to Konoha, he had blurted out to anyone who asked that they'd brought back ten billion taels from the Land of Fire. Ten billion!
The exact figure was supposed to be confidential. In Akatsuki Village, even their own shinobi only knew that Lord Guangying was wealthy and resources were plentiful, but no one knew the numbers. That ignorance kept greed in check.
But Hashirama's loose tongue had undone it all.
Now, the clans of Konoha were clamoring like starving wolves, demanding a share.
Tobirama ground his teeth. Every penny of those funds must be used wisely—steel on the blade, not scattered on useless whims. My research, my experiments… only such things deserve allocation.
Just as he finished stamping another denial, the office door creaked. A shadow leaned in, and Tobirama's sharp ears instantly recognized the hesitant, sing-song tone.
"Brother, what a coincidence, you're in the office too."
Tobirama didn't even look up. "What a coincidence indeed. I thought you'd forgotten this office existed. You haven't set foot in here for three days. If you'd stayed away any longer, I might have forgotten you were Hokage at all."
Finally glancing up, he saw his elder brother standing there, looking sheepish and guilty, scratching his head with that same boyish grin.
"Hahaha, sorry, sorry," Hashirama chuckled. "You know me—I've never been good at paperwork. When I was clan head, you always handled the family's affairs. It's only natural that I leave these things to you now."
Tobirama's face hardened into a scowl. "Get to the point, Brother. I'm busy."
His instincts flared a warning. Whenever Hashirama came skulking like this, it never ended well.
"Well…" Hashirama's grin widened hopefully. "I came to apply for a grant."
"Impossible," Tobirama snapped before he could finish. "If you think I'll let you squander village funds on gambling again, forget it. Absolutely not!"
Hashirama waved his hands frantically. "No, no, you've misunderstood me! I wouldn't use Konoha's money for gambling! At most I'd gamble with my own pocket money… or yours."
"Not mine either," Tobirama growled.
Hashirama's face grew uncharacteristically serious. "This time it's different. I want funding for something that will benefit all of Konoha."
That gave Tobirama pause. His brother almost never spoke with such conviction. For a fleeting moment, Tobirama wondered if Madara had put him up to this. Could the Uchiha be manipulating Hashirama to siphon funds? The possibility couldn't be ignored.
"Speak plainly," Tobirama ordered.
Hashirama pulled two small books from his robes. One was titled New Ninja, the other Romance of the Warring States.
"What is this?" Tobirama asked warily.
"Ah, I grabbed the wrong one. Romance of the Warring States is just the novel Madara and I have been reading. Shame the author only updates once a day. Three times would be perfect," Hashirama said with a dreamy sigh.
"Not doing your job," Tobirama muttered, rolling his eyes.
Hashirama ignored him and flipped open the other book. "Here, it's this article."
The short story was titled The Kindness that Should Be Born in Akatsuki Village.
As Tobirama skimmed the words, he read of simple wooden boxes placed across the village—unlocked, filled with money, bearing the inscription: Take what you need, leave what you can spare. The story described genin borrowing for medicine and later repaying with gratitude, wealthy villagers quietly contributing, and an old woman selling oden remarking that the box was warmer than her soup.
By the end, even a visiting daimyō was moved, praising Akatsuki Village for building trust and compassion into its foundation.
Tobirama set the book down slowly. The folds of his brain felt strangely smoothed out, as though the story had stolen the harsh edges of his logic. For a moment, he could almost see the vision Hashirama dreamed of—villages built on trust, kindness, and mutual support.
Hashirama's eyes were moist with conviction. "This… this is what I want Konoha to become. A place where everyone helps each other, where no one is left behind. Tobirama, we can make this real."
"I'm applying for two million ryō," Hashirama declared. "Fifty wooden boxes, forty thousand ryō each. This is the first step toward shaping Konoha into the home we dream of."
Tobirama's eyes narrowed. "Two million ryō… Do you realize that's the reward for two S-rank missions? You're asking to gamble with funds more precious than gold."
His mind raced. The idea sounded noble, but Konoha was not Akatsuki. Their village housed clans with centuries of selfish habits, merchants chasing profit, and desperate civilians. Place money on the street, and it would vanish overnight.
Hashirama shook his head sadly. "Then this is exactly what I mean. If the money disappears, it only proves Konoha's bad habits. We'll replace it, again and again if needed, until those habits change. Tobirama, this isn't waste. It's planting seeds for the future."
His voice rose with fiery conviction. "Even if it takes everything I have, I'll do it. I won't let Konoha become just another village of suspicion and greed. We can be better. We must be better!"
Tobirama closed his eyes briefly, suppressing a sigh. His brother's heart was noble, but dangerously naïve. To Hashirama, every obstacle was simply something to endure with enough willpower. But to Tobirama, reckless idealism could doom them all.
Still, he said nothing.
The two brothers sat in silence, one dreaming of light, the other calculating the shadows that light would cast.
And somewhere, deep in Tobirama's heart, a whisper lingered: Perhaps… just perhaps… the village truly does need both of us.
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