For a moment— the air inside Tobirama’s house seemed to freeze.
The only sound was the faint bubbling of water inside the kettle.
Sora didn’t know what to say.
But suddenly, several things that had never quite made sense began connecting inside his mind.
So that’s why Tobirama never trusted Madara.
Why he was always convinced Madara would eventually bring chaos to Konoha.
This wasn’t simply because Tobirama was obsessed with protecting his older brother.
There was something much deeper beneath it.
Tobirama had killed Madara’s younger brother—
Izuna Uchiha.
And Madara had killed Tobirama’s wife and child.
That wasn’t ordinary hatred.
That was a blood feud.
Given even the slightest opportunity…
either man would probably have killed the other without hesitation.
Tobirama calmly continued preparing the second infusion of tea.
“In a battle between powerful shinobi, even a moment of carelessness can be fatal.”
“My strength was inferior to Madara’s.”
“I understood what consequences killing Izuna might bring.”
“But I did not hold back.”
Tobirama’s voice remained steady.
“If I were given the same choice again…”
“I would still kill Uchiha Izuna.”
Sora remained silent.
Tobirama continued.
“Back then, Madara and Izuna led the Uchiha clan.”
“Together, they fought their way through the major clans.”
“Almost no one could stand against them.”
His gaze lowered slightly.
“My brother was too merciful.”
“If Hashirama had fought with everything he had, he could have killed one of them much earlier.”
“But in every battle, he held back.”
“He always wanted to avoid completely destroying the other side.”
Tobirama’s expression hardened.
“So for the sake of ensuring the Senju clan survived…”
“I developed the Flying Thunder God Technique.”
“I did it despite the danger of space itself tearing me apart.”
“And eventually—”
“I succeeded in killing Izuna.”
“That shifted the war in favor of the Senju.”
Tobirama paused.
His eyes moved toward the steam rising from the kettle.
“But I underestimated the Uchiha.”
“A clan whose power grows from hatred…”
“After his younger brother died, Madara didn’t collapse.”
“He became even stronger.”
Sora quietly listened.
Tobirama’s expression barely changed.
But his voice became colder.
“I still remember that day.”
“The sky was overcast.”
“It was raining heavily.”
“She told me the weather was bad.”
“She asked me to postpone the mission.”
“I didn’t listen.”
For the first time— something resembling regret passed through Tobirama’s eyes.
“That is one decision I truly regret.”
He was silent for several seconds.
“Because that was the day Madara came to the Senju compound to assassinate me.”
Sora’s eyes narrowed.
“I wasn’t there.”
Tobirama looked toward the old photograph again.
“So instead…”
“he killed her.”
A pause.
“And my son.”
The room became silent once more.
Tobirama’s voice remained unnervingly calm.
“If nothing had happened…”
“my son would probably be only a few years younger than Hiruzen now.”
The tea was ready.
Tobirama poured a cup.
Then he calmly slid it across the table toward Sora.
“A clan whose strength is rooted in hatred…”
Tobirama slowly raised his eyes.
“Tell me, Elder Hatake.”
“Should a clan like that even be allowed to exist?”
Hatred filled Tobirama’s gaze.
Cold.
Deep.
Violent.
For an instant— he no longer resembled the strict, rational administrator Sora usually saw.
He looked like an injured wolf.
One that had survived long enough to remember exactly who had wounded it.
Sora could almost smell blood in the air.
He picked up the tea.
“I don’t know.”
That was all he said.
His expression remained calm.
He took a sip.
The truth was— if Sora had possessed strength in the past, he might have done the same thing.
The people who had killed his family…
he would probably have wanted revenge against them too.
But back then, Sora had been weak.
So weak that he couldn’t even compare to a genin.
Protecting himself had already been difficult.
Revenge?
That had never been realistic.
And now that Sora finally possessed strength…
the people responsible were already dead.
Not only them.
Their children were dead too.
Even some of their grandchildren were gone.
His hatred had simply outlived its targets.
Tobirama watched him quietly.
Then, little by little— the killing intent around him disappeared.
“My brother said you were an elder worthy of respect.”
“I didn’t believe him before.”
Tobirama’s voice returned to its usual calm tone.
“Now I do.”
Sora raised an eyebrow.
Tobirama changed the subject immediately.
“Let’s discuss the Academy.”
He stood up and walked into another room.
A short while later, he returned carrying a thick stack of documents.
He placed them beside Sora.
“I actually planned to establish a shinobi school last year.”
“But the conditions weren’t suitable.”
“So the proposal was never implemented.”
“Still, I completed most of the framework.”
He gestured toward the documents.
“Take a look.”
“See if anything needs to be added.”
“All right.”
Sora picked them up.
While he read, Tobirama explained.
“My current plan allows children to enter the Academy at age six.”
“The standard course will last five years.”
“The school will teach foundational subjects and the Three Basic Techniques.”
“Substitution Technique.”
“Clone Technique.”
“Transformation Technique.”
“For graduation, a student must be able to competently use at least one of the Three Basic Techniques and receive approval from the instructor.”
Tobirama continued.
“For the initial structure, I’m planning one principal and three instructors…”
Sora finished reading the proposal.
Then he set the documents down.
“Ninety percent of this is already complete.”
“But it’s designed mostly for average students.”
“It doesn’t properly account for geniuses or unusual cases.”
Tobirama immediately focused.
“What do you mean?”
“For example…”
Sora tapped the papers.
“Suppose a student enrolls and reaches genin level after only one year.”
“If you force that kind of genius to stay in the classroom for another four years, you’ll only slow down their growth.”
“So add an early-graduation rule.”
Tobirama listened carefully.
“If a student reaches genin-level strength before completing the full course, let them challenge an instructor.”
“If the instructor recognizes their strength, allow them to graduate early.”
Sora continued.
“Also, the Three Basic Techniques are ninjutsu.”
“Some people may possess exceptional taijutsu talent while having poor chakra control.”
“Others may have unusual limitations.”
“So instructors should be allowed to create individualized graduation tests for students like that.”
Tobirama nodded slowly.
Sora flipped another page.
“And there’s one more thing.”
“What happens after graduation?”
Tobirama looked at him.
“If we’re going to train them, then we should take responsibility for what comes next.”
Sora gave him a knowing look.
“Besides…”
“The real reason you wanted to create this Academy was to weaken the clans’ influence over Konoha, wasn’t it?”
Tobirama froze.
He clearly hadn’t expected Sora to say it so directly.
After a moment— he nodded.
“You understand.”
Sora smiled.
“Then don’t let graduates immediately return to their clans.”
“And don’t let civilian students simply attach themselves to whichever clan offers them protection.”
Tobirama’s expression became serious.
Sora continued.
“Put newly graduated students into teams.”
“Two to six students per squad.”
“Assign each team a jōnin or chūnin as an instructor.”
“Then let those instructors lead them on missions.”
Sora leaned back.
“As for which jōnin and chūnin you choose…”
“You understand that better than I do.”
Tobirama’s eyes lit up.
“That’s an excellent idea.”
“It would be similar to the way I currently lead Hiruzen and the others.”
He immediately understood Sora’s meaning.
“If students grow up within mixed teams instead of returning entirely to their clans…”
“they won’t develop the idea that the clan must always come before everything else.”
“They’ll learn to place Konoha first.”
Sora nodded.
“That’s all I can think of for now.”
“Once the Academy officially opens, I can adjust the system as we go.”
Tobirama seemed satisfied.
Then— he reached into his clothes and took out two small scrolls, each roughly the size of his palm.
He placed them in front of Sora.
“These are techniques I developed myself.”
Tobirama’s expression became serious.
“If either one spread outside Konoha…”
“a single technique could potentially create a very powerful shinobi.”
“These are the two techniques I promised you.”
Sora’s eyes immediately dropped to the scrolls.
Tobirama named the first.
“Genjutsu: Bringer-of-Darkness Technique.”
Then the second.
“Multiple Shadow Clone Technique.”
He paused.
“The second technique is dangerous.”
“If someone without enough chakra uses it recklessly…”
“they may kill themselves.”
Sora was delighted.
Now that’s a proper reward.
But his face remained composed.
He casually picked up the scrolls.
“They should be useful for supporting me in battle.”
Tobirama stood.
“All right.”
“Let’s go eat barbecue.”
Sora looked at him.
“Wait.”
“Didn’t you invite me to your house for dinner?”
Tobirama nodded.
“Yes.”
“You came to my house.”
“We discussed the Academy.”
“And now I’m taking you out for dinner.”
Sora looked around the immaculate room again.
“You really don’t have any cooking equipment, do you?”
“No.”
“I normally eat at my brother’s house.”
Sora stared at him.
Then sighed.
“You freeload off the Hokage with such confidence that I genuinely don’t know how to respond.”
Tobirama pretended not to hear him.
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