"I've heard the saying that big breasts equal no brains, but I didn't expect that even flat-chested ones come without a brain."
Tamura Hao gave the kunoichi a disdainful glance, his eyes briefly pausing on her unremarkable chest. His tone carried undisguised mockery.
The insult hit its mark. No woman, especially a shinobi with pride, could endure such words unscathed.
Clang!
"Brat, I've had enough of you!"
The kunoichi unsheathed the sword on her back and pointed it at the masked boy, her teeth clenched in fury.
Even the most tolerant would find it hard to hold back in the face of such provocation.
"Sako!"
Sarutobi Shinnosuke caught her wrist just in time, restraining her. His tone was serious.
"Not here. We can't afford a scene."
Their mission was crucial: escort the future Nine-Tails jinchūriki. They had already negotiated with the Uzumaki clan's elders. Kushina would be personally entrusted by the Uzumaki to the Hokage's envoy. Any conflict now would jeopardize the fragile arrangement.
The Senju and Uzumaki clans were bound by deep historical ties, even intermarriage—like Hashirama and Mito. Starting a fight in Uzushio, especially with a supposed Senju heir, would be seen as an offense to that bond. Political repercussions would follow.
Tamura Hao stood unbothered, arms crossed, meeting the kunoichi's glare with nonchalance.
"I'm Senju by blood. This is the Uzumaki homeland—our kin by marriage for generations. Do you think you can attack me and walk away clean?"
His eyes were cold behind the mask.
"You said it yourself—none of the major clans in Konoha want the Senju to regain the Hokage seat. So tell me: would the Sarutobi and Shimura clans surrender power willingly?
You dominate the leadership. Your allies, the Ino-Shika-Chō, occupy key military and intelligence posts. Even if you had a change of heart, would your clique agree?
Knowing Sarutobi Hiruzen, he won't let the Senju rise again. He'd rather pick a civilian prodigy without clan ties, groom him into a loyal puppet to protect your group's interests."
Tamura's voice sharpened.
"Jiraiya or Orochimaru have better chances than Tsunade. But Orochimaru is too independent, too dangerous—he'd never be controllable. That leaves someone like Jiraiya. Or worse, his student. Tsunade? She'll never sit in that chair while Sarutobi lives.
So when you claim you support Tsunade becoming Hokage, are you that dim, or just insulting my intelligence?"
He didn't hide his hostility. It wasn't just personal—it was political. This was the position of the forgotten Senju.
The Uzumaki gatekeepers exchanged glances. This was more than just a squabble—this was an insight into Konoha's internal fracture.
"You…!"
Sako's chest heaved with fury. Ironically, it gave her previously unimpressive figure more presence.
"Sako, they won't listen. They've already judged us. Let's prove them wrong with time."
Sarutobi Shinnosuke sighed, masking his growing intent to eliminate the boy before him.
"Let's go."
He didn't argue further. With one last glare at Tamura Hao, he led the two away.
Sako glanced back one final time, her glare promising vengeance.
Tamura Hao puffed his chest out with deliberate provocation, making her grind her teeth in rage.
Had Shinnosuke not restrained her, she might've drawn blood.
What a brat!
Once the Konoha trio departed, Tamura turned to the Uzumaki ninja standing guard, his voice cold.
"How come Sarutobi Hiruzen's son can enter Uzushiogakure, but we—the Senju's kin—are stopped outside? Has the Uzumaki clan decided to forge new bonds with Sarutobi now that the Senju are out of power?"
He had planned to pose as a Konoha ANBU, but now had to fully commit to his Senju identity.
"Don't spout nonsense," a middle-aged Uzumaki replied, arms crossed. "We have sensory techniques stronger than any other village. Your chakra doesn't match the Senju of the Forest."
That was the real reason they had blocked Tamura and his escort at the gate.
Senju chakra was unique—strong vitality, deep connection to life force. This boy's chakra didn't match.
"It seems you're out of touch," Tamura replied calmly. "Haven't heard of the chakra mimicry technique?"
With that, he silently linked with Kaguya's phantom in his spiritual realm, using her power to simulate the chakra signature of Senju Tobirama. A fusion of illusion and chakra transformation—akin to White Zetsu's mimicry—allowed him to generate the distinct, vital Senju energy.
It wasn't perfect—connection across dimensions was fuzzy—but it would fool ordinary perception.
Sure enough, the moment Tamura emitted Tobirama's chakra, the Uzumaki ninja's eyes widened.
That potent vitality—the sense of power unique to the Senju—was unmistakable.
"My apologies. I didn't detect that before. Please, come in."
He bowed slightly and ushered Tamura's group into the village without hesitation.
"If I may," Tamura said as he walked, tone warm, "this is my first time in Uzushiogakure. I always heard stories from Grandma Mito—she said this was a place of pride."
The mention of Mito visibly softened the Uzumaki around him. They still revered her.
The three Anbu from Kumogakure glanced among themselves. None spoke. This boy might be weak, but his mind and tactics were sharp. Lord Tutai had good reasons to value him.
Thus, Tamura Hao was granted entry to Uzushiogakure and treated with rare courtesy. He was taken on a guided tour of the village, eventually reaching its spiritual core—a shrine devoted to the Shinigami. The walls were lined with fearsome death masks, used for advanced fūinjutsu techniques.
Naturally, the three Cloud ninjas were denied access to the shrine and waited outside.
"Which branch of the Senju are you from?" came a voice from behind.
An elderly man entered, eyes fixed on Tamura. His presence alone stilled the air.
"Clan head!"
The middle-aged ninja bowed. This was Uzumaki Masahiko, clan patriarch and acting village leader.
Masahiko waved him off, never taking his eyes off the masked youth. He had already heard the gate report. Too many strange things didn't add up.
Mito had sent no word about a Senju envoy. Who was this boy?
"If you trace the line carefully," Tamura replied, removing his mask, "you'll find I belong to Tobirama's line."
With that, he brushed his fingers through his hair.
His short black hair faded to snowy white. Simultaneously, he let loose another wave of Tobirama's chakra, stronger and purer.
He had used transformation techniques before to hide his identity, but now he showcased advanced partial transformation—more efficient and harder to detect.
Only the necessary features were altered: his face, his hair. His clothes were real.
Masahiko's expression shifted. That chakra… it was Tobirama's. He had known it during the First Hokage's era. Unique, dense, and precise like no other.
And yet—this child was not Tobirama.
"How do you have Tobirama's chakra?" he asked, baffled.
Chakra was more than energy. It carried intent, memory, nature. Even blood relatives never had the same signature.
He couldn't be mistaken. This was real—but it was also impossible.
Who was this boy?