The room was thick with grimlight, Mito's anger radiating outwards like a force of nature.
Tobirama stood there awkwardly.
It wasn't just Mito who was furious; Tsunade's face was set in a stony mask, her eyes blazing with a fire that mirrored her grandmother's.
"I hate you, Grand Uncle!"
Tsunade's voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife.
Jiraiya, ever the opportunist, smirked from behind his mother's protective figure.
He'd always enjoyed seeing someone in discomfort, and this was no exception. Sayoh, however, was pale and shaken. The sight of her son being attacked had nearly stopped her heart.
"How can you do that to my son, Tobirama?"
Sayoh's voice was hoarse, filled with both anger and fear.
"It's not what you think, Sayoh..."
Tobirama's protests fell on deaf ears.
Mito's voice was firm, brooking no argument.
"I have to punish you for your misbehaving, Tobirama. You will have to help me grow my garden back and help me put fresh fertilizer on them."
Tobirama's blood ran cold. Not the fresh fertilizer!
He knew what that meant, the stench of manure clinging to him for weeks. He pleaded with his brother, his eyes wide with desperation.
"Not even I, The God of Shinobi, could avoid the fresh fertilizer. Accept your punishment like a man, Tobirama."
Hashirama's voice was gentle but full of hidden glee.
He had warned Tobirama, but his brother's impulsiveness had always been his downfall.
Jiraiya's curiosity was piqued.
"What is this fresh fertilizer they're talking about, Tsunade?"
Tsunade shook her head.
"I don't know. Grandpa and Grandma never tell me, and they don't want me to go near it either. It must be something super nasty."
Tobirama's fate was sealed. He would face the dreaded fresh fertilizer, and there was nothing he could do to avoid it.
The image of himself, covered in muck and grime, filled his mind. He had never felt so humiliated in his life.
But what was done was done. He was a man so he would accept the punishment however.
"I truly believe he has the potential to become an exceptional shinobi under my guidance,"
He insisted even when he faced punishment.
Jiraiya's innate talent was undeniable, and Tobirama couldn't bear the thought of squandering such potential.
Hashirama, however, remained resolute. With a gentle shake of his head, he explained,
"I understand your desire to mentor him, Tobirama. But I made a promise to Uzumaki Ashina long ago. I vowed to take care of one of his direct descendants."
Tobirama fell silent, grappling with his brother's words. The weight of Hashirama's promise was not lost on him. Yet, his yearning to take Jiraiya under his wing remained.
"Brother,"
He pleaded.
"I implore you to reconsider. Allow me to guide him."
It was an unprecedented request, the first of its kind from Tobirama. Hashirama found himself torn between his promise and his brother's heartfelt plea.
Suddenly, Jiraiya's voice pierced the air,
"Don't I have a say in this?"
Jiraiya emerged from behind his mother.
"I don't want to be your disciple,"
He declared, his gaze met Tobirama's.
"I can already tell you'd have me doing reckless things. Who attacks a kid out of nowhere like that?"
Tobirama's heart sank. Jiraiya's words struck a chord within him. It was the truth.
Tobirama released a heavy sigh, his disappointment showing clearly.
He had never encountered a situation where he had to relinquish a potential disciple.
But a flicker of reassurance ignited within him as he contemplated his brother, Hashirama, taking on the responsibility of Jiraiya's training.
A wave of relief washed over him as he acknowledged that, at the very least, Jiraiya was not with an Uchiha.
Unveiled to Tobirama, a concealed figure had already borne witness to Jiraiya's extraordinary capabilities, amplified by his Mangekyo Sharingan.
A sinister smirk curled upon his lips as he lurked in the shadows, patiently awaiting the opportune moment.
'Such exceptional talent would be squandered under the tutelage of that foolish Hashirama,'
He mused, his thoughts laced with disdain for the Hokage.
The hidden observer harbored his own ambitions for Jiraiya, recognizing the immense potential that lay dormant within the young shinobi.
Hashirama released a weary sigh.
As a sage who had achieved oneness with nature, he possessed an extraordinary sensitivity to the world around him.
Malicious intent radiated like a beacon, easily detectable from great distances. However, the presence he sensed now was different. There was no trace of malevolence within it.
Instead, it was brimming with an intense curiosity, an almost battle maniac wonder that was both intriguing and slightly unnerving.
"What are you up to this time, Madara?"
He muttered under his breath, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
"Can't I have just one day of peace, for goodness sake?"
Hashirama longed for a moment of respite, a brief escape from the constant vigilance that his role demanded.
But he knew that such a luxury was unlikely. The world was a volatile place, and threats lurked around every corner. As the protector of his people, he couldn't afford to lower his guard, even for a moment.
'No, You can't. You will have to work for the rest of your life, Hashirama.'
Madara also knew that Hashirama knew that he was there so he sent his words through the nearby fire. He also knew Uzumaki Ashina, just that they were not on good terms.
That didn't mean he had no right to have fun with his great great grandson. Just the sound of it seems to be so much fun.
'Maybe he can dance. I have to wait for him to grow up then.'
Craze: 6/6 this is it for today. If you want me to write more please help reviewing this fic and give me power stones.