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Manji had purchased a courtyard home in the heart of Konoha. Now he stood watching two-year-old Jiraiya and Orochimaru play without a care in the world.
Children in the shinobi world tended to mature early, and both boys had already begun to understand the world around them. Their personalities were also taking shape.
Jiraiya was lively, reckless, and impossible to contain, while Orochimaru was calm, quiet, and reserved.
"Old Man, are you planning to send them to the ninja academy?" Kakuzu asked.
"That's the plan. A shinobi can make a good life in a world like this. You know how things work," Manji replied with a nod.
"There's nothing wrong with living as a civilian, but a shinobi has far more room to rise." Kakuzu nodded in agreement before a sly smile spread across his face.
"You aren't planning to groom them both for the Hokage's seat, are you?"
"We'll see what the two of them choose." Manji clasped his hands behind his back and smiled.
Warm afternoon sunlight filled the courtyard. Jiraiya raced from one end to the other with a twig clutched in his fist, chasing butterflies one moment and digging through the dirt the next. Once he wore himself out, he ran to Manji and Kakuzu, planted himself at their feet, and raised his round face expectantly.
"I want a snack!"
Orochimaru remained seated on the stone steps, turning a fallen leaf between his small fingers. He said almost nothing, though he glanced at Jiraiya whenever the other boy tore past him.
Kakuzu went inside and returned with two rice cakes.
"Yes!" Jiraiya sprang up, snatched one, and stuffed it into his mouth until crumbs covered his lips. Orochimaru accepted the other with both hands and ate in small, measured bites.
"Slow down." Manji wiped the crumbs from Jiraiya's face, then rested a hand on Orochimaru's head.
"Grandpa, Orochimaru and I are going to play!" Jiraiya announced through a mouthful of rice cake. He caught Orochimaru by the hand and pulled him toward the yard.
Orochimaru offered no resistance and followed at his usual unhurried pace.
"They couldn't be more different, yet somehow they play well together." Kakuzu watched the two boys cross the courtyard.
"They have their whole lives ahead of them," Manji said.
Raised side by side from such an early age, Jiraiya and Orochimaru would almost certainly share a much stronger bond than they had in the original timeline.
"The outside world has agreed to a ceasefire. That unprecedented war is finally over." Kakuzu tilted his head toward the cloudless sky.
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Deep within the Uchiha compound, a sealed chamber lay buried behind thick stone walls. No sunlight could penetrate the room, leaving its interior in perpetual gloom.
Madara sat motionless in an old wooden chair. His empty eyes stared into the darkness, and despondency hung over him like a shroud.
The wooden door opened with a muted scrape. Hashirama entered and stopped before his old friend, studying him in silence.
"Hashirama… why are you here? What happened to the war?" Madara asked, his voice hoarse and drained of strength.
"Madara, the war is over." Hashirama sighed.
Madara's pupils contracted. His fingers closed around the armrests with enough force to make the wood groan. He did not need an explanation. Hashirama had taken control of Konoha and negotiated the peace himself.
"The villagers hold you responsible for starting the war, and they have demanded that I throw you in prison. Many even called for your execution. You led the sons and daughters of every clan onto the battlefield, and countless families lost the people they loved. But you are Tajima Uchiha's son and the First Hokage's grandson. After deliberating, the village's clan elders agreed that you would be imprisoned for the time being." Hashirama struggled to keep his voice steady.
"Had I been the victor, this would have ended very differently." Madara broke his long silence with a bitter reply.
"You are no hero, Madara." Hashirama said.
"What do you intend to do, Hashirama?" Madara closed his eyes, then raised his head toward the man before him.
"I will never raise a hand against you. You are the brother I chose for life. But I cannot ignore the Will of the village, either. You will be confined to Naka Shrine, where you can spend your remaining years among the Uchiha ancestors and in the company of the Sage of Six Paths. I'll make sure you are treated well. You will want for nothing and can live out your days in peace." Hashirama answered without hesitation, his voice firm.
It was the compromise he had reached after turning the matter over in his mind countless times.
Madara lifted his head. The damage caused by his Mangekyō Sharingan had clouded his sight until he could no longer make out Hashirama's face, but he could still see the pale streaks at his temples.
"Hashirama, you've grown old." Madara's voice fell to a murmur.
"I've been a grandfather for years, Madara." A lifetime of shared history flickered across Hashirama's face.
They sat together after that and spoke in fits and starts about their younger days, revisiting old memories neither had mentioned in years.
"We're both old now, and neither of us has much time left." Hashirama coughed through the words, his lean shoulders trembling as the fit drained the strength from his face.
"What happened to Tobirama?" Madara asked after a brief silence.
"The same thing that happened to you. He has been confined to the Senju compound and will never be permitted to leave it again." Hashirama shook his head, unable to hide the loneliness in his voice.
"I see…"
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At the encampment in the Valley of the End, Danzō stared at the ceasefire agreement with naked resentment.
"No! Why are we stopping now? Why? Did everyone shed their blood for nothing, only for us to accept a ceasefire in the end? Why was Lord Madara removed from office? Why was Lord Tobirama stripped of his position?" Danzō slammed both hands against the table.
He and Hiruzen Sarutobi had endured bitter fighting on the Kumogakure front. Countless Konoha shinobi had died beside them, and the only result was a ceasefire.
"Hashirama Senju is unfit to lead this village!" Danzō shouted.
"Danzō, are you trying to get yourself killed?" Hiruzen clamped a hand over his mouth and glanced around the tent in alarm.
Danzō glared back at him.
He had been one of Madara and Tobirama's staunchest supporters. When Madara chose unrestricted warfare, Danzō had embraced the decision without reservation.
This was how wars should be fought, he believed: without restraint and by any means necessary.
Then Hashirama had staged a coup, removed Madara from the Hokage's office, and placed him under confinement. So many people had died. So much blood had been spilled. Was this ceasefire truly all they had to show for it?
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