"You shoulder the load, I lead the horse, wandering down the winding course..." Masahiko hummed to himself.
From the moment the procession had left the Uzumaki lands, a heavy silence had hung over the squad. Sensing the boredom thickening in the air, Masahiko had decided to lighten the mood by humming a medley of every tune that floated to the surface of his memory. The effect, however, was quite the opposite: the atmosphere grew even more awkward and strained.
Tobirama, his patience finally worn thin, decided to interrupt this impromptu concert and clumsily attempted to change the subject:
"Uncle from Uzumaki, your clan is renowned for its sensory abilities. Please, keep a close watch on our surroundings. The Senju have no shortage of enemies, and we cannot rule out the possibility of an ambush."
Masahiko stopped singing and measured the young man with a look.
"I am Mito's Second Grandfather. Based on family ties, you should also be addressing me as Grandfather. What is this 'Uncle' business? are you trying to lower Mito's status—and mine along with it?" He decisively shut down the familiarity.
The corner of Tobirama's mouth twitched nervously.
"Second Grand... father, please pay attention," he said, placing a heavy, strained emphasis on the title.
"Is it just me, or are you putting a bit too much grit into that 'Grand'? Ah, whatever," Masahiko waved his hand dismissively. "I won't bicker with the younger generation. If anyone appears within a kilometer radius, I'll let you know."
I won't bicker with the younger generation. The phrase echoed hollowly in Tobirama's mind. He chose to remain silent, and the conversation naturally withered away.
But the quiet didn't last long. Soon, Masahiko started up again:
"I watch the steel hooves trample rivers and peaks... Oh, I really want to live another five hundred years!"
Mito, who had been sitting silently in the sedan chair until now, couldn't take it anymore and spoke up:
"Second Grandpa, you seem to be acting differently today. Did something good happen?"
"Didn't I just sing about it?" Masahiko replied. "I feel like I could live another five hundred years. Is that not a reason for joy?"
All seventeen people in the squad, excluding the singer himself, mentally rolled their eyes. The conversation hit another dead end, and the group sank back into a focused silence, abandoning any attempt to find meaning in the elder's strange ramblings.
Unnoticed, they covered half the journey. The road dipped into a wide basin flanked by high slopes.
"A perfect spot for an ambush," Masahiko suddenly broke the silence, tired of the quiet. "Tobirama, this place isn't called 'Wild Goose Fall Slope' by any chance? Is it my destiny to perish here ingloriously?"
He tried to diffuse the tension with a grim joke, but in the harsh world of shinobi, humor was a scarce commodity. Tobirama took the words literally.
"If that is the case, Second Grandfather, be extremely cautious," he replied with icy seriousness.
The tone was so official that Masahiko couldn't find a witty retort. But just as they were about to exit the gorge, he suddenly stopped and signaled Tobirama to hold.
"Actually, there really is an ambush. Strange... why didn't they strike from both sides inside the valley? Why wait at the exit?"
Tobirama instantly tensed.
"Prepare for combat!" he commanded.
The Senju knew that anyone daring enough to attack such a squad was no common bandit.
"Wait, this chakra..." Masahiko muttered, frowning. "You handle the fight; I'm going to protect Mito."
With those words, he darted behind the sedan chair, vanishing from sight.
Tobirama was momentarily struck speechless by such shameless behavior from an "elder," but there was no time for indignation. He signaled everyone to be on high alert. Slowly exiting the gorge, the squad saw seven figures blocking the right side of the road. The enemies made no attempt to hide: two leaders stood in front, with five fighters behind them.
A calm, confident voice rang out:
"Long time no see, Tobirama."
Tobirama's gaze swept over the figures, and his heart skipped a beat.
"Uchiha Izuna... and Madara!"
To his horror, he realized that apart from the Uchiha brothers, the other five were all Elite Jōnin.
This is bad. Without Elder Brother, we can't hold off Madara, Tobirama thought, though his face remained impassive.
"Madara, why aren't you and your brother celebrating the New Year with your clan? Why come out to this wilderness?"
"We came to congratulate Hashirama on his wedding!" Madara declared with a challenge in his voice.
I'd have to be an idiot to believe you, Tobirama thought, furiously calculating whether to engage or attempt a retreat with minimal casualties.
At that moment, a painfully familiar voice drifted out from behind the sedan chair:
"Thank you for the congratulations, Madara."
As the speaker stepped forward, Tobirama's eyes went wide.
"Brother?! How are you here?"
"If I hadn't followed you, how could I peacefully marry a wealthy beauty and reach the pinnacle of life? Oh, my foolish younger brother..." the "Hashirama" whispered theatrically, addressing Tobirama.
Hearing that intonation, Tobirama barely suppressed a grimace—his face was already cramping from the tension.
"Impossible! You should be preparing for the wedding in the Senju lands; you cannot be here!" Izuna shouted.
Three tomoe began to spin wildly in his Sharingan, trying to pierce the illusion. Madara also activated his dōjutsu. He saw no obvious flaws in the chakra flow, but years of rivalry and friendship told his gut that something was wrong with this Hashirama.
Wasting no time on contemplation, the Uchiha rapidly wove hand seals.
"Fire Release: Great Fire Annihilation!"
A gigantic wall of flame, incinerating the very air, roared toward the Senju squad.
"Hashirama" reacted instantly, his hands blurring through seals:
"Wood Release: Wood Wall!"
A massive barrier erupted from the earth with a thunderous crash, taking the full force of the raging inferno. The fire roared, licking at the barrier, but failed to break through.
"Madara, thanks for the fireworks! Hahaha!" came a voice from behind the wall.
Madara frowned.
"Since the gift has been delivered, we're leaving, Izuna!" He slowly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the Sharingan had faded, replaced by the standard black pupils.
"Yes, brother!" Izuna replied with a clear note of dissatisfaction.
The enemy figures vanished into the distance. After a short while, the fake Hashirama was enveloped in a puff of smoke and reverted to Masahiko.
"They've gone far; they've left my sensory range," the old man reported.
"It really was you, Grand... Second Grandfather!" Tobirama exhaled, still unable to believe his eyes. "But how were you able to use Wood Release?"
"That wasn't Wood Release," Masahiko smirked. "I used Earth Release: Earth-Style Wall, and simply layered a Transformation Technique over it. It's a little trick I picked up after maxing out my Transformation to Level 10. Want me to teach you? I'll show you how. Not for 998 ryo, but just 9.8! Order now and take the secret home!"
Tobirama lapsed into silence again. He likely didn't understand a word of the old man's strange terminology, but the result was undeniable.
"Since the danger has passed, let us continue," Tobirama said after a few minutes, deciding not to delve into the details.
"Oh, oh, oh, now this is a problem," Masahiko suddenly muttered, freezing in place. "For some reason, they came back."
The scene was familiar; the formation identical. Seven people barred the procession's path once more, as if they had never left.
"I didn't realize it immediately," Madara began, taking a step forward. "Hashirama, since you are here, let us fight! It's a perfect chance to test my new moves! Um... Hashirama, where is he?"
An unbearably awkward pause hung in the air. Madara looked around, but his eternal rival was nowhere to be seen. Finally, Masahiko broke the silence:
"Thank you for the repeat congratulations, Madara."
Madara Uchiha likely experienced the most awkward moment of his life. He turned his head slowly, like a rusted mechanism, toward the old man.
"So it was you? Old man! That was a Transformation Technique? You managed to deceive my Sharingan?"
"At a moment like this, Madara, you are supposed to say," Masahiko said didactically, "'Of all the opponents I have fought, your Transformation Technique is the strongest! In the art of transformation, there is no one better than you! I, Madara, declare you the strongest!'"
Madara felt the flush of shame and rage flood his face. The level of absurdity had breached all conceivable limits. Losing his patience, he began weaving signs, intending to incinerate the insolent fool.
But out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glint of metal. A shuriken was flying along an incredibly treacherous trajectory. Madara was forced to abort his technique and dodge sharply to the side.
Looking up, he was surprised to discover two more shuriken: one appeared as if from nowhere right at the spot he had dodged to, while the second cut off his path of retreat. The Uchiha had no choice but to throw up his arm and deflect the projectiles with a metallic clang against his gauntlet.
"My Shurikenjutsu is also maxed out to Level 10," Masahiko remarked calmly, observing his enemy. "Madara, basic skills like the Three Basic Techniques or Shurikenjutsu offer unexpected surprises at maximum level. Earlier, my Transformation allowed me to disguise Earth Release as Wood Release. So, take a guess—what surprise is hidden in my throwing?"