[EVERY 100 POWER STONE'S= 1 EXTRA CHAPTER]
The walk through the Senju compound was a surreal experience for Madara. He had envisioned this moment a thousand times—storming these gates at the head of a victorious Uchiha army, his Susanoo casting a long, dominant shadow over the Senju's shattered defenses. He had never imagined walking through them flanked by his aged father and two clan elders, his posture not one of a conqueror, but of a supplicant. The air was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs and damp earth, a stark contrast to the Uchiha's preference for the crisp smell of ozone and kindling. Senju shinobi watched their procession with a mixture of hostility, curiosity, and a profound, shared exhaustion. The news of Tobirama's fate had hit them as hard as Izuna's had hit the Uchiha.
They were met by Kawarama Senju, his young face aged prematurely by grief and responsibility. The usual fiery challenge in his eyes was gone, replaced by a hollowed-out weariness.
"Madara-sama," Kawarama greeted with a stiff, formal bow. "The main hall is prepared. Hashirama and Toka await you."
"Kawarama," Madara acknowledged, his voice low. The formalities felt absurd given the circumstances, but he pressed on with the one question that mattered. "Your brother… how is he?"
Kawarama's composure cracked for a second, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "He is stable. The internal bleeding has stopped. But… his chakra pathways…" He shook his head, his fists clenching at his sides. "They are fully damaged. It's like they were burned out from the inside. And his leg… we cannot reattach it. The severed limb is… corrupted. A strange, vile chakra lingers in it, resisting all purification. It's as if the flesh itself has been cursed. My brother… he is crippled. For life."
The clinical description was a dagger to Madara's heart, mirroring the unspoken prognosis for Izuna. "My younger brother shares a similar fate," Madara replied, the words ash in his mouth. "His chakra network is in ruins. And his eyes… the attack from that shadowy figure… they are blind. Completely." He carefully omitted the truth of the transplant, weaving a half-truth that would bury the secret of the Eternal Mangekyo. It was a necessary deception, a shield against questions he could not afford to answer.
Kawarama simply nodded, a silent understanding passing between the two younger brothers of warring clans, bound now by a shared, terrible tragedy. "This way," he said, leading them onward.
The Senju main hall was spacious, built from dark, sturdy wood and lit by paper lanterns that cast a soft, melancholic glow. At the head of the room, seated not on a throne but at a large, circular table, were Hashirama and Toka. Hashirama, usually a bastion of boundless energy, looked diminished. His shoulders were slumped, his vibrant hair seemed dull, and his eyes, when they met Madara's, held a deep, abiding sorrow that spoke of a dream deferred by brutal reality.
But it was Toka who commanded attention. Seated with a straight back, her hands folded neatly on the table, she was the picture of stoic control. Yet, Madara's newly enhanced eyes could see the fine tremors in her fingers, the slight pallor of her skin, and the dark circles under her eyes that spoke of chakra exhaustion and sleepless nights. She was running on willpower alone, the mightiest kunoichi of the Senju reduced to a weary guardian holding a fractured clan together.
The greetings were exchanged—stiff, formal bows, a language of courtesy that felt alien in the wake of so much bloodshed. Tajima, Great Elder Amara, and Medical Elder Tamiko took their seats, their presence a silent testament to the gravity of this meeting.
Madara did not waste time with preamble. He leaned forward, his Eternal Mangekyo unconsciously pulsing with a faint light as he locked eyes with Toka. He knew, with an instinct that went beyond logic, that she was the real key here. Hashirama was the heart, but Toka was the mind.
"Toka-sama," he began, his voice cutting through the tense silence. "I bring news that changes everything. Our border scouts have sent word. Elder brother Indra has been spotted crossing into the Land of Rain. He will be here in two, perhaps three days."
The effect was instantaneous and electric.
On the Uchiha side, Elder Hikaku, who had accompanied them as a gesture of unity, let out a strangled gasp. The other Uchiha elders, Tajima included, grew visibly pale, their hands gripping their knees until their knuckles turned white. They had lived with the dread for days; now, it had a timeline.
But the reaction on the Senju side was, if anything, more pronounced. Two elders seated to Toka's right—Elder Senju Temari, a hawk-faced woman with a permanent scowl, and Kota Senju, a bulky man known for his fiery speeches—jerked as if struck. A sheen of cold sweat instantly appeared on their brows. They had been the most vocal opponents of any peace, the architects of the hardline stance that had ensured the war continued after Indra's departure.
Madara saw it all, his perfect vision cataloging every twitch, every dilated pupil. He understood immediately. The fear was not confined to the Uchiha. The legend of Indra Uchiha, the man with the eyes of a god, had seeped into the Senju consciousness as well. His name was a specter that haunted both sides of the river.
Seeing their panic, a cold, mocking smile touched Toka's lips. It was a humorless expression, full of bitter irony. "Elder Temari. Elder Kota," she said, her voice deceptively soft. "Your faces have lost all color. This is surprising. You were the ones who insisted we must never show weakness to the Uchiha. You said we must press our advantage, that to sue for peace was to spit on the graves of our ancestors." She tilted her head, her eyes glinting. "So, I ask you now, as our esteemed military strategists… what is your considerable plan for when Indra Uchiha arrives? How do we show him our strength?"
Her words were whips, lashing their pride. The two elders looked at her, their mouths opening and closing like fish out of water. The bravado that had fueled their decades of warmongering evaporated, leaving only raw, primal fear.
With a collective, pathetic shudder, both Elder Temari and Kota slid from their chairs and fell to their knees on the wooden floor. The sound of their prostration echoed in the silent hall.
"Toka-sama! Please!" Elder Temari begged, her voice cracking. "We were fools! Arrogant, short-sighted fools!"
"We didn't know!" Kota joined in, his face pressed to the floor. "We didn't understand! Because of our warmongering, the whole Senju clan now stands opposite a god who walked among mortals! If Lord Indra comes here seeking the ones who started the war… our lives are forfeit! Please, you must intercede! You must save us!"
They were not alone. A ripple went through the assembled Senju clansmen who had supported their faction. One by one, they too dropped to their knees, a wave of groveling terror that mirrored the scene Madara had just left in the Uchiha council hall. The Uchiha delegation—Madara, Tajima, Amara, and Tamiko—watched with a sense of grim, surreal familiarity. They were witnessing the same play, performed on a different stage.
Toka looked down at the prostrate forms of her clansmen, her expression unreadable. There was no pity in her eyes, only a cold, clear judgment. She did not hesitate.
"Your pleas are noted," she stated, her voice ringing with authority. "And your fates are no longer yours to decide. From this moment forward, there will be no more 'Senju' or 'Uchiha' as enemies. We are allies. More than allies. We are one. Let it be announced to the world that from today, the Senju and Uchiha clans stand as lifelong friends and brothers."
She then turned her gaze to Hashirama, who looked up, a spark of his old hope rekindling in his eyes. "We will formalize this union. And we will invite the Uzumaki clan to bear witness. The bonds of Senju and Uzumaki are ancient. They will stand with us, and together, the three great clans—Uzumaki, Senju, and Uchiha—will stand shoulder to shoulder, an unbreakable pillar in the shinobi world."
Outwardly, this was a strategic masterstroke. An alliance of three such powers would deter any would-be aggressors and create a foundation for lasting peace. But everyone in the room, from the kneeling elders to Madara himself, understood the unspoken, terrifying truth. This alliance, this historic moment of reconciliation, was not born solely from a desire for peace. It was a fortress being hastily constructed. Its walls were not made of stone and treaty, but of sheer, unadulterated terror. It was a desperate attempt to present a united front against the judgment of a single man.
The name 'Indra Uchiha' had, in a single day, accomplished what decades of warfare could not. It had crushed the pride of hawks and forged a peace born not of friendship, but of shared, pants-wetting fear. His name would be carved into history as the catalyst for this alliance, a figure more profound and terrifying than the future 'God of Shinobi' or the 'Ashura of Shinobi' that Hashirama and Madara might become. He was the specter that ended a century of hatred.
But as the proclamations were made and the plans set in motion, only Toka knew the true depth of the precipice they stood upon. As the others saw a deterrent, she saw a potential trigger. They feared a god's wrath. She feared a husband's heartbreak.
John… my love, she thought, her mind reaching across the years to the man she had known in another life. They see your power. They fear your legend. But only I know the man beneath. They think you are a force of nature to be weathered. I know you are a man of the purest love and a fierce, unwavering sense of justice. But that very purity… if you see what has become of your little brother, of the clan you left in our care… that love could curdle into a rage so absolute, so cold, that all the alliances in the world will not stop you from burning it all down to purge the injustice.
She watched Madara, saw the new, terrifying power in his eyes, and knew he was hiding something. She saw the broken forms of their brothers in her mind's eye. She felt the collective, cowardly fear of the elders.
Maybe, she thought, a chilling resolution settling in her soul, I will have to fight my beloved husband. Maybe I will have to stand against the man I have loved across two lifetimes, not to defeat him, but to break through the storm of his grief and rage. To make him see that the future is still worth saving. And I pray to any god that will listen that I am strong enough to make him see.
[EVERY 100 POWER STONE'S= 1 EXTRA CHAPTER][THANK'S FOR YOUR SUPPORT TO MY FANFIC]
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