[Timeline: Second Hokage Era]
[Year: 17th Year of Konohagakure]
[Unification Progress: 21%]
"Tobirama, are you alright?"
Hashirama knelt beside his younger brother without hesitation, immediately activating his Yang Release medical ninjutsu. Warm, luminous chakra surged from his palms and flowed into Tobirama's broken body like a revitalizing tide.
Tobirama winced at the sudden heat, but his sharp eyes trembled—not from pain, but from recognition.
That chakra…That presence…
"…Brother?!"
His voice cracked. The wall of restraint he'd spent years building shattered in a heartbeat.
It was really him.
The [God of Shinobi]. The one and only Senju Hashirama, alive and standing before him, shielding him from a Tailed Beast Ball like it was nothing.
Tobirama felt something sharp in his chest—not a kunai, but a wave of overwhelming longing. Something he hadn't let himself feel in years.
Like most shinobi, Tobirama had never truly understood what he had until it was gone.
When Hashirama was alive, Tobirama had challenged him, argued with him, even overshadowed him in matters of governance. The First Hokage was, in truth, more of a symbolic leader. The real work—village management, military strategy, internal security—had fallen on Tobirama's shoulders.
He was the iron hand beneath the gentle smile.
To the outside world, he was harsher. Colder. More authoritarian.
But what no one realized—not even Hashirama himself—was that Tobirama could afford to be that way only because his elder brother existed.
Because everyone feared the name Hashirama Senju, Tobirama had the freedom to be tough.
When Hashirama died, Tobirama finally understood the weight of that absence.
Konoha without its pillar was like a fortress without a foundation. Pressure surged from every direction—internal unrest, foreign suspicion, clan tension. Tobirama had risen to meet it, building and innovating as fast as he could:
He established the Konoha Police Force to stabilize civil order.
He created the Anbu, elite operatives loyal only to the Hokage.
He founded the Ninja Academy, ensuring future generations of disciplined shinobi.
He streamlined governance and centralized authority, forming the infrastructure every hidden village would eventually copy.
But none of it... None of it! could fully replace Hashirama!.
Even his greatest political reforms had been born from necessity. They were emergency stitches, not permanent cures.
And despite everything…War still came.
But now?
His brother was here. Alive. Whole. Younger, even.
And he'd just crushed a half-tailed beast ball with one hand.
"…You're really here," Tobirama muttered, voice hoarse.
Hashirama smiled warmly. "Of course I am."
Tobirama blinked. "…But I buried you."
He sat up slightly, wincing. "I sealed your body myself. Sent it to the Wet Bone Forest. I watched over your funeral rites, brother. How can you possibly be here?"
Hashirama scratched his head sheepishly. "Well… that's where things get a little complicated."
Meanwhile, at the center of the battlefield, Kinkaku—or rather, the feral, chakra-shrouded thing he had become—had not yet processed what had happened.
Mind nearly gone, reason overwhelmed by Nine-Tails chakra, he let out a guttural roar and charged straight at Hashirama.
It was a fatal mistake.
Hashirama didn't flinch.
He didn't even blink.
"Wood Release: All Encompassing Bind Technique."
A massive wooden hand erupted from the earth, reaching up like the fist of a god. It seized the tailed beast-empowered Kinkaku in one swift motion—gripping him like a child's toy.
"ROOOOOAAAAR!!"
Kinkaku howled, thrashing with wild fury, six tails whipping like razors. His chakra burned with raw rage, strong enough to crush mountains.
But it didn't matter.
The wooden hand didn't budge.
This was Hashirama's Wood Release, a power that had once subdued all nine tailed beasts. Against such a technique, Kinkaku's borrowed cloak meant nothing.
The hand tightened.
The air cracked with pressure. Kinkaku screamed as his transformation collapsed. His borrowed chakra was crushed and forced back into his body.
He fell from the half-beast state.
He returned to human form.
He regained clarity—just long enough to realize what was happening.
And then—Hashirama squeezed.
Splat.
Kinkaku was reduced to a meaty red stain, his body pulped in an instant. No final words. No begging. No second chances.
Just... death.
Tobirama flinched.
Even in his battered state, he shrank slightly, remembering just how terrifying his elder brother could be.
This was the God of Shinobi—not the smiling peace-loving idealist—but the man who had fought through rivers of blood in the Warring States era.
Merciful to allies. Merciless to enemies.
Hashirama turned, chakra gently receding as his eyes softened again.
"He tried to kill you," he said simply. "That's enough reason for me."
"…Right," Tobirama muttered, regaining composure. "Thanks."
At that moment, Kai finally walked up.
He wore a relaxed smile and strange clothes—jeans and a modern-style shirt. To Tobirama, he looked like some foreign traveler who had gotten lost between space and time.
Tobirama's eyes narrowed slightly. "Brother, who is that?"
"Oh—right." Hashirama scratched his head again. "I… actually never got his name."
Kai chuckled. "Name's Kai. Just call me Mr. Kai or if you prefer something more mystical—'Kai Sage.'"
Tobirama's eyebrow twitched.
"…Sage?"
He glanced at the man's Rinnegan, then at Hashirama's respectful demeanor, and his brain clicked into high alert.
Was this man claiming to be on par with the Sage of the Six Paths?
That would've been laughable—if he hadn't just watched him teleport Hashirama across time and space, intervene in fate, and effectively save his life.
"…I see," Tobirama murmured. "Then thank you… Mr. Kai."
Polite. But cautious.
Kai smirked. "You're welcome."
"Brother," Tobirama said, "how are you here? Are you… the real you? Or something else?"
Hashirama looked at Kai, who gave a nod.
He exhaled deeply.
"This version of me is… from the past. From the First Year of Konoha's founding."
Tobirama's face froze. "…You're joking."
"I'm not," Hashirama replied. "Mr. Kai pulled me across time… because, apparently, in this timeline—your timeline—you were supposed to die here. To Kinkaku and Ginkaku."
"..."
Tobirama's jaw clenched. That—he had to admit—tracked perfectly.
Without Hashirama's intervention, he absolutely would've died here.
But the idea of time travel still stretched the limits of what he considered possible.
Still… seeing was believing.
"…This is insane," he muttered.
Kai stepped forward, voice calm.
"Senju Tobirama, I brought your brother here not just to save you… but to change the world. If you still want peace—true peace—you'll need to work together."
Hashirama looked over. "Which is why I asked him… if I could have a little more time. I wanted to talk. To understand what happened after I died."
Tobirama nodded.
He owed him that much.
And so, he began recounting the years that followed Hashirama's death—how the power vacuum grew, how Konoha was tested, how the First Great Ninja War broke out despite his reforms.
Hashirama listened in silence, eyes darkening with every word.
Then he frowned.
"Wait. What about Madara?" he asked. "Even if I died… wasn't Madara still alive?"
His voice grew tense. "With him around, how could the other nations dare start a war?"
Tobirama hesitated.
"…Tobirama."
"Brother," he said reluctantly. "Madara… died. Before you."
"...What?"
"In the tenth year after he left Konoha, he attacked the village using the Nine-Tails. You… fought him. At the Valley of the End."
Hashirama blinked.
"You killed him."
The forest fell silent.
Kai tilted his head, watching Hashirama's reaction with amusement.
Tobirama braced for the shock.
And then…
"I WHAT?!"Hashirama shouted, eyes bulging. "I KILLED MADARA?! REALLY?!""Are you serious?!"
Tobirama stared blankly.
"…Is that the part that shocked you the most?"