"In three months…?"
Tsunade repeated it softly, then nodded once.
Three months wasn't comforting—but it was a window.
Jiraiya's latest intelligence suggested Pain wouldn't attempt to seize the Nine-Tails in the immediate future. Not that quickly. Not before his preparations were complete.
So there was still time.
Barely.
As Tsunade's thoughts spiraled into plans and worst-case scenarios, Hashirama's curiosity bubbled up again—bright and blunt, as if the world had never taught him to avoid painful questions.
"Tsuna," he said with a laugh that tried to keep the air light, "I never expected you to become the Fifth Hokage! Hahaha! So… how's the Senju clan doing?"
The words hit Tsunade like a thrown stone.
She stiffened.
Her eyes lowered.
The smile vanished from her face as if it had been erased.
For a moment, the only sound was silence.
Hashirama's laughter died halfway. He watched his granddaughter's expression change—watched grief rise like water behind a dam—and instantly understood.
This wasn't a simple "they moved away."
This was loss.
Hashirama might have been famous for his warmth and optimism, but he wasn't naive. He had built Konoha with blood under his fingernails. He knew exactly how cruel the shinobi world could be.
Tsunade didn't answer.
Hashirama turned toward Ryuji, the cheer gone from his eyes.
"Fourth Hokage… is the Senju clan alright?"
Beside him, Tobirama's gaze sharpened, fixed on Ryuji like a blade waiting for a flaw.
He couldn't understand it.
He had deliberately dissolved the Senju into the village structure—one core line remaining, countless others blending into Konoha's civilian and shinobi population. It wasn't just a clan; it was Konoha's foundation.
How could it be wiped out?
Ryuji exhaled.
Then, without dressing it up, he said, "The Senju clan is gone."
For a heartbeat, Tobirama didn't move.
Then his pupils tightened.
"…Gone?" he repeated, voice low. "Exterminated?"
He sounded like he expected Ryuji to correct himself.
Ryuji didn't.
Tobirama's jaw clenched. "How?"
Ryuji gathered his words carefully. He wasn't explaining a battle. He was explaining betrayal.
"In the seventeenth year after Konoha's founding," Ryuji said, "the First Great Ninja War broke out."
Tobirama's eyes narrowed. He already knew what wars cost.
Ryuji continued.
"You died in that war."
The words landed like a hammer.
"And after your death, Sarutobi Hiruzen—your student—became the Third Hokage. Shimura Danzō became his right hand."
Tobirama's expression darkened.
Ryuji's tone turned colder.
"Danzō built a hidden force within ANBU. A shadow unit operating outside oversight."
He paused for emphasis.
"Root."
The atmosphere around the round table thickened.
Ryuji looked directly at Hashirama and Tobirama.
"It was because of those two—the Third Hokage and his assistant—that the Senju were erased."
Tobirama's shock curdled into something sharper.
His voice dropped, controlled only by sheer will.
"…You're telling me the village did this?"
Hashirama's face hardened too. The gentle founder vanished, replaced by the man who had once faced Madara on equal ground.
For them, death on the battlefield wasn't shocking. They had accepted long ago that war demanded sacrifice.
But this—
This was different.
If Nawaki had fallen in battle, they would mourn.
But to learn he had been used—pushed, manipulated, and discarded by their own successors—
The rage that rose wasn't loud at first.
It was heavy.
It made the air feel smaller.
Hashirama's voice rumbled, no longer warm.
"How dare they."
Tobirama didn't shout.
He didn't need to.
His killing intent sharpened the space like ice forming on steel.
Ryuji reached into the interface and produced what he had prepared: compiled evidence—records, testimonies, traces of orders and operations.
He had gathered it in his own world for exactly this reason.
If the Hokage Chat Group pulled in other Hokage… then sooner or later, truth would be demanded.
And truth without proof was just another rumor.
Tsunade saw the evidence and her hand slammed down on the table.
Bang.
Her eyes burned.
After the Second Great Ninja War, she had noticed inconsistencies—things that didn't add up. She'd investigated. She'd found pieces.
But the full weight of the truth had been too much.
Her teacher.
Her village.
Her clan's blood.
She had run—not because she didn't care, but because confronting it felt like tearing her own heart open.
Now, seeing it laid out clearly, her anger surged back like a returning tide.
Hashirama and Tobirama read what Ryuji presented.
And their expressions told everything.
They believed him.
Ryuji didn't stop there.
"Hiruzen and Danzō didn't just erase the Senju," he said. "They eliminated anyone who got too close to power—or threatened their control."
His eyes were steady.
"Even the Uchiha weren't spared. The Uchiha clan was wiped out too."
Hashirama's frown deepened.
Tobirama's eyes narrowed, conflicted. He had feared another Madara, yes—but fear was not the same as a death sentence. His solution had always been restraint and guidance, not slaughter.
He had cultivated shinobi like Uchiha Kagami—proof that the Uchiha could choose the village over clan pride.
Hashirama drew a slow breath.
"This…" he murmured, voice grim. "This isn't what we built."
Ryuji leaned back slightly, then pointed to his own seat—head of the table, the admin's position.
"Because I'm the group leader," he said, "I can access information beyond what a Fourth Hokage should know."
His gaze swept across them.
"I don't just know the past."
"I know what happens after the Fifth Hokage's era, too."
And at that, the entire table fell silent—because everyone understood what that truly meant.
If Ryuji could see beyond their timelines…
Then this chat group wasn't only a meeting place.
It was a weapon.
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.