Chapter 16: The Wicked White-Haired Old Devil
Though more and more of Konoha's so-called important figures gathered around them, not a single one dared to be the first to question Senju Morin.
Not while he stood drenched in blood.
Not while the corpse of Senju Tobirama lay strapped across his back.
In the end, it was an elder of the Senju clan who finally broke the silence. He let out a long sigh before speaking:
"Ah… tell us what happened, Morin. What exactly occurred?"
Morin seemed to have completely forgotten how fiercely he had clashed with this very elder during the clan assembly at the shrine just days earlier. Instead, he adopted the expression of a young man finally reunited with a respected senior.
After all—
this was precisely the moment when the name 'Senju' mattered most.
His eyes reddened, his voice hoarse and low.
"The Hokage was outnumbered and surrounded," Morin said, his words heavy with grief.
"He was ambushed by the Gold and Silver Brothers of the Cloud, along with their subordinates. Though he slew Silver Horn and several Cloud jōnin on his own, by the time I arrived, Lord Tobirama's wounds were already beyond saving. There was nothing I could do."
His voice trembled.
"Even in his final moments, the Hokage continued to fight. Together, we killed the gravely wounded Gold Horn. Fearing Cloud reinforcements, I could only bring Lord Tobirama's body back to Konoha."
The words caught in his throat.
It was a performance so sincere, so laden with emotion, that the surrounding crowd could not help but be moved.
Everyone—
Except the Hokage's disciples.
Sarutobi Hiruzen was far too sharp to be fooled completely. Morin's delivery was flawless, his sorrow convincing—but Hiruzen heard the malice hidden beneath every sentence.
Outnumbered.
Surrounded.
Fought alone.
Nearly perished alongside the enemy.
No Cloud reinforcements arrived.
Each phrase was a blade, carefully angled.
Who Senju Morin was targeting could not have been more obvious.
But since Morin had not torn the mask off outright, Hiruzen was not foolish enough to step forward and draw the fire himself. Even when Danzō seemed about to speak, Hiruzen reached out and stopped him.
Still, though he said nothing, Hiruzen could feel it.
Those glances being cast his way—
They were not all friendly.
After Morin finished speaking, the Senju elder who had asked the question felt his scalp tighten. After a brief silence, he forced himself to continue:
"Morin… you're badly wounded. Should we summon the medical corps—"
You detestable old fox.
Morin did not say it aloud, but the curse echoed clearly in his mind.
Those old fossils who trample clan interests in the name of "stability" and the so-called greater good should all have been lined up and executed according to the clan laws passed down from the Warring States era.
Naturally, Senju Morin had no intention of letting the topic be redirected so easily.
He ignored the elder outright and raised his voice to address everyone present:
"Everyone! In the past, Lord Hashirama fell in battle to protect Konoha. Today, Lord Tobirama has likewise sacrificed himself—laying down his life to protect the next generation and to carry the Will of Fire through to the very end!"
"Yes, we still stand beneath the shadow of war. Yes, we have just lost our most beloved Hokage."
"But do not waver, and do not lose heart! As the saying goes—where the leaves of Konoha dance, the fire shall burn without end!"
"I will inherit the Will of Fire of both Lords Hashirama and Tobirama! With my life and my blood, I will protect this village, protect our comrades and our successors—protect every single soul of Konoha!"
The moment his words fell, thunderous applause erupted across the scene.
At that instant, Senju Morin—holding the Bashōsen (Banana Palm Fan) and the massive scroll, with the former Hokage Senju Tobirama's body bound across his back—etched an indelible image into the hearts of all who watched.
When the applause subsided, Morin did not linger. Surrounded by young members of his clan, he pushed through the crowd and departed.
There was much to do.
Tobirama's funeral had to be arranged.
The contest with Sarutobi Hiruzen for the Hokage's seat had to be planned.
The great clans of the village had to be courted and secured.
Three and a half days remained until the date the jōnin had agreed upon for the "Hokage election."
After entrusting Tobirama's body to his clansmen for temporary safekeeping, Senju Morin did not immediately return to the Senju compound. Instead, he headed straight for an Akimichi barbecue restaurant and indulged himself.
Out in the wild, there had been no time—or opportunity—to cook. He had survived on nothing but soldier pills for days. His stomach demanded compensation.
A quick aside was worth noting: every barbecue restaurant in Konoha belonged to the Akimichi clan, just as every flower shop belonged to the Yamanaka. The only difference was that every barbecue place shared the same name—Yakiniku Q.
If one insisted on distinguishing them, it would have to be done mentally—something like Yakiniku Q (Hokage Tower West Branch).
Morin rolled his neck, shaking off that pointless bit of mental amusement, then focused on eating while listening to the conversations around him.
Channeling chakra into his ears wouldn't reach the absurd levels of the Inuzuka clan's sensory techniques, but it was more than enough to sharpen his hearing.
After just a few minutes, a satisfied smile crept across his face.
Looks like Yu had done his job well.
Sarutobi Hiruzen and his four companions had become the hottest topic in Konoha.
Not all of it was negative.
Thanks to Hiruzen's long-standing reputation and undeniable strength, many ninja still refused to believe he had abandoned the Hokage and fled.
Among ordinary civilians, however, that narrative had somehow gained alarming traction. More than a few villagers now spoke of Hiruzen with barely concealed disdain.
Once he had eaten his fill, Morin walked straight out the door.
Not because he intended to dine and dash—but because his family was, in a sense, a partial owner of the place.
Back when Konoha was first established, Senju clansmen occupied at least half of the village's key positions.
The clan of the "God of Shinobi," Senju Hashirama—the First Hokage himself—wanted to partner with you to open a barbecue restaurant. It wasn't like they weren't paying. Were you really going to refuse?
Of course, that investment had been made in his father's generation. Strictly speaking, Morin was only second-generation money.
"Haah…"
The thought made him sigh.
Under the Second Hokage's policies, the glory of the Senju clan from Hashirama's era had already faded into the past.
Compared to Hashirama—the good-natured fool who could negotiate anything that wasn't a matter of principle—Tobirama had shown precious little mercy, even to his own clan.
Just take apprentices, for example. The clan elders had brought it up at least five times.
Tobirama hadn't budged a single step.
That wicked white-haired old devil.
Good thing he was finally dead.
Humming an unfamiliar tune, Senju Morin stepped into the Senju clan compound.
The Senju lands lay remarkably close to the village center—so close that one could clearly see the upper portion of the Hokage Tower from the rooftops.
It was land allocated during Konoha's founding. No matter how heartless Tobirama might have been, he couldn't simply force his own clansmen to relocate without cause.
—Wait.
Morin suddenly slapped his forehead.
Right. Tobirama had been preparing to dissolve the Senju clan altogether. Once the clan stopped living together, there would be no reason for it to occupy such a large tract of land.
That wicked white-haired old devil.
Good thing he was finally dead.
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