> "This is... way too soon."
Hashirama screamed inwardly.
From the moment he realized he had transmigrated into the world of Naruto—into the body of Senju Hashirama—he knew a day like this would eventually come. A day where he would have to do something that shattered his past life's understanding of right and wrong.
After all, being a ninja meant living with death constantly at your side.
He had always understood this truth…
But understanding something was one thing—facing it head-on was another. Now that it was happening for real, he found himself unable to calm the storm inside.
He couldn't deny the deep discomfort he felt toward Senju Butsuma's "special birthday gift," but he also… didn't blame him.
In fact, putting himself in his father's shoes, Hashirama had to admit—it made sense.
As a ninja, combat was unavoidable.
And in the Warring States Era, children were regularly used as combatants. It wasn't even unusual.
But what determined the outcome of battle?
Sure, strength was a major factor—but raw power was just a vague metric.
The true deciding factor was how much of that strength you could actually unleash in a real fight.
And to do that, you needed more than just talent or training.
You needed a strong enough mind.
Even the most mentally resilient person would likely hesitate in their first real kill.
That moment of hesitation could become a fatal opening.
And Hashirama, as the most gifted youth in the Senju clan, couldn't afford that kind of weakness.
If he were to face this reality for the first time in a true battle, the cost of that opening… might be his life.
> "This child... is too soft."
That's what Butsuma must have thought.
And that's why he made this decision.
---
> "A group of bandits has been spotted near the Fire Country's border. Go with several of our men and eliminate them."
Butsuma's voice was calm and matter-of-fact.
He didn't try to lecture or console Hashirama. Because this was something no amount of talking could truly prepare someone for.
It was something that could only be experienced.
---
> "Bandits again, huh?"
Hashirama let out a dry laugh in his heart.
How many Naruto fanfics—including ones he had written—used bandits as the main character's first moral obstacle?
It was such a tired trope.
But right now, he didn't have the mental energy to complain about clichés.
Even though he could rationally understand Butsuma's reasons, knowing that he was about to take a life made his head buzz with static.
He didn't even remember to respond to the order.
> "Go. Unless there's an emergency, you're not to intervene on his behalf."
Butsuma turned to the Senju warriors standing nearby.
These were elite shinobi within the clan, far more than capable of handling a simple bandit purge.
But they weren't here to fight.
They were here solely because Hashirama—the clan leader's son—was involved.
> "Understood!"
They all replied in unison.
One of them glanced toward Hashirama and addressed him softly:
> "Lord Hashirama…"
That finally brought him back to his senses.
He nodded toward Butsuma, then turned and walked out of the tent without a word.
---
Right now, his mind was blank.
The bandits were located just a few dozen kilometers from the Senju encampment—hardly far at all.
Even with his current body, it would take him just over an hour to get there.
The whole way, Hashirama ran silent mental drills, trying desperately to build himself up.
> "If I don't kill them, more civilians will suffer."
"This is something I must go through."
Over and over, he repeated such mantras in his head.
Finally, they arrived.
Shff! Shff!
They landed quietly at the base of a mountain, hugging the rock wall.
The Senju warriors around him kept their eyes fixed on Hashirama, saying nothing.
> "God, how pathetic am I?"
His chest pounded, his eyes stung.
The truth was, what he was going through now was probably the most standard initiation arc for any transmigrator into the Naruto world.
He hadn't read that many fanfics himself, but he remembered a few he'd seen years ago.
When the protagonist faced their first kill, they'd bite the bullet, push through the mental block, then throw up afterward.
Simple. Clean. Done.
And it made sense. In the Naruto world, human life was cheap.
People died easily.
And it was shockingly easy to take a life.
So easy, in fact, that it didn't require any special training.
But—
But as a human being, no matter which world you came from, Hashirama's last moral line screamed at him:
> "You can't think like that."
No individual was God.
No one had the right to justify taking a life.
That was the single, irreducible line that separated a human being… from a beast.
Even in a world ruled by survival of the fittest, where there were no laws—only strength—
Hashirama, a man raised in the modern world, couldn't simply throw away all his values overnight.
It wasn't that easy.
His hand trembled.
He wasn't scared, exactly—but he couldn't calm himself.
The Senju warriors waited in silence, their gazes fixed on him.
And then, as dawn broke and sunlight spilled across the earth—
He moved.
Not with conviction.
Not with clarity.
But simply because…
> "If I can't make sense of it, then screw it. I'll just do it anyway."
When life throws you an impossible choice, sometimes the only way forward is to walk straight into it.
Gritting his teeth, Hashirama followed the faint sounds of breathing echoing from the mountain wall—and crept forward silently.
---
The target Butsuma had chosen was almost laughably weak.
Their guard was nonexistent.
They were so complacent that even on the verge of death, they didn't notice a thing.
All of the bandits were hiding inside a cave.
There were guards posted at the entrance—supposedly—but one of them was already half asleep, weapon clutched in a loose grip.
Inside, the rest were deep in slumber.
Hashirama could tell just by the sound of their breathing.
The dozing guard at the entrance didn't even sense the small figure closing in.
In the cold morning air, a kunai shimmered faintly in the light as it inched closer to the guard's back—
Right over his heart.
Yes, the First Hokage was remembered in the original story as someone overwhelmingly powerful.
But at his core, he was still a shinobi.
And a shinobi's most fundamental skill… is assassination.
As the blade drew near the man's back, Hashirama's eyes locked onto the cold glint of steel.
All it would take was one push.
One simple motion.
A motion so familiar, he'd practiced it countless times in training.
A motion so natural, he didn't even need to practice it at all.
Just a few inches.
Just one moment.
> Just one moment...