Chapter 20: The Last Goodbye
Back in the camp, Tobirama summoned me to his private quarters. The air was thick with unsaid things. He looked at me, at the features I'd inherited from my father, and for a moment, his gaze was distant, lost in another time.
"Tenchi," he began, his voice uncharacteristically heavy. "I have fought the Uchiha since I was a boy. I have watched many of my kin die by Uchiha hands. That… shapes a man. It breeds a prejudice that is hard to shed. You understand that, don't you?"
I said nothing. I just watched him, waiting for the point of this confession.
When I didn't respond, he didn't get angry. He just continued, his eyes boring into me. "I despised Madara. From the bottom of my soul. And you are his son. That hatred… it transfers. It's an ugly truth, but it's the truth."
He leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly. "Konoha was built by my brother and your father. You know this. For a time, Madara was willing to set aside the clan hatred. To build something with Hashirama. I still didn't trust him, but even I had to acknowledge the change. This peace… it was wrested from generations of bloodshed. It was a miracle. And that bastard Madara wanted to shatter it. I would never allow that."
His voice hardened. "Your father is gone. But my hatred for him isn't. He's gone, but you remain. His flesh and blood. Madara's power was terrifying, but my brother was always there to be his counterweight. Now, my brother is gone. If you become another Madara… there is no one left who can stop you."
He was finally saying it aloud. The fear that had dictated every action he'd ever taken against me. "From the moment I first saw you, I wanted you dead. I was afraid. My brother and Mito stayed my hand, but the fear remained. So I took everything from you—your father's scrolls, his wealth, any path to power. I had you watched. I barred you from the Academy. I wanted you weak and contained."
I had suspected as much, but hearing it laid bare was different. His fear of my father was a living, breathing thing that had shaped my entire life.
"But in time," he sighed, the fight seeming to go out of him, "I came to a realization. You are you. Madara is Madara. You are not your father. So I lifted the restrictions. I wanted to see what you would become."
His eyes locked onto mine, and the fear returned, sharp and fresh. "But today, when I saw those eyes… the Mangekyo… my conviction wavered. So I need to know, Tenchi. Your honest thoughts on Konoha. No platitudes. I want the truth."
"Platitudes?" I finally spoke, a cold laugh escaping my lips. "Tobirama, you flatter yourself. I, Uchiha Tenchi, have never wasted a single pleasantry on you."
I dropped all pretense of titles. He was just Tobirama to me now.
"You want my real thoughts on Konoha? I'll give them to you. I have no thoughts on who sits in the Hokage's office. It means nothing to me."
I took a step closer, my voice low and clear. "I live by one simple rule: if you don't come for me, I won't come for you. But if you cross me, I will strike back without hesitation or regret."
"And as for your fear?" I finished, looking him directly in his weary, fearful eyes. "I am not Uchiha Madara. I enjoy this peace. I want to live in it. That's all you need to know. Think on that. I'm tired of this conversation."
I turned and left the room without a backward glance, leaving him alone with the ghosts of his past and the chilling certainty that he had misjudged everything.
That night, Tobirama did not sleep.
I, however, was in the mess hall with Hiruzen and the others, drinking. Alcohol was technically forbidden, but with the treaty signed and the war over, Hiruzen had looked the other way.
"Hahaha! Tenchi! I can't believe it!" Hiruzen slung a drunken arm around my shoulders. "You're so strong! The Mangekyo! I'm so damn proud of you, brother!"
"Yeah, Tenchi! Taking down a future Raikage? You're my hero right now!" Choza chimed in, his face flushed with drink and cheer.
"It was nothing, really, just a lucky break," I said, playing the part of the humble victor, though inwardly I was soaring. The weight was off. The fear was gone. I could breathe.
Across the table, Danzo drank in sullen silence. He'd lost his own duel and had no glory to bask in. I wouldn't have chosen to share a table with him, but Hiruzen insisted. I saw the way Danzo looked at me, the modesty he saw as gloating, the power he saw as a threat. His jealousy was a palpable, ugly thing.
Go on, hate me, I thought, taking a long drink. It just makes you easier to deal with later.
Three days later, it was time. Tobirama, along with his four students—Hiruzen, Danzo, Koharu, and Homura—set out for the capital of the Land of Iron to formalize the treaty.
I stood at the gate of the camp, watching them prepare to leave. As Tobirama passed, I spoke, my voice quiet, meant only for the air between us.
"Goodbye, Tobirama."
It was a finality. A severance. The melancholy I felt was brief, quickly replaced by a giddy, liberating thrill. He's not coming back. I'm free.
"Hahaha!" I couldn't help but laugh once they were out of sight. "No one to tell me what to do! No one to watch me! Let them try!"
Then I remembered. The system mission. I was still a few kills short. When Hiruzen and the others come fleeing back, I mused, I can clean up the stragglers. A perfect opportunity.
I ran through the history I knew. The Gold and Silver Brothers, the Kumo traitors. They would ambush the summit. Tobirama would sacrifice himself to let his students escape. He'd be remembered as a hero. The brothers would boast of killing two Kage before the Third Raikage hunted them down.
So that was the script. Tobirama walks to his death, unaware of the true strength of the traitors he'd have to face.
I felt no pity. Only a cold, clear understanding of how the pieces would fall.
It was the perfect end to his story. And the perfect beginning to mine.