The Senju council hall was cloaked in silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of robes or the crackling of incense flames. At the head of the chamber, Hashirama sat with a grim, contemplative expression. Tobirama stood off to the side, arms folded, gaze locked on his younger brother with cool suspicion. Around them, elders and officers filled the room, their attention centered on the one standing alone at its heart—Itama.
He looked composed. But beneath the surface, his heart drummed a rhythm of steel and fire. This wasn't just a debrief—it was a reckoning.
"I was tasked with helping secure Kawa-no-Mura," Itama began, voice steady. "We assumed it was under Uchiha assault. When we arrived, the village was already in ruins. Buildings smoldered. Bodies littered the roads. The villagers were terrified—those who still lived."
He paused, letting the weight of memory settle on the room.
"But it wasn't the Uchiha main forces. It wasn't Madara's doing. It was a rogue Uchiha—one of their own, yes, but not acting with clan sanction. Someone who attacked indiscriminately. Someone who didn't care about allegiances—only about leaving destruction behind."
A murmur rippled through the elders. Tobirama's eyes narrowed.
"Did you engage?" one of the older councilors asked.
"Yes," Itama replied. "Briefly. But before I could strike the final blow, he fled. The damage was already done. Fires had spread. Civilians were trapped. We were too few to manage it all."
He drew in a breath, then spoke the words that had burned in his chest for days.
"That's when Izuna Uchiha arrived."
Shock flooded the room. Hashirama leaned forward. Tobirama's lips tightened.
"He wasn't part of the attack. He arrived after it was over. I don't know why he came—but when he saw the state of the village, he didn't raise a weapon. He didn't threaten us. He… helped."
"Helped?" one of the clan commanders echoed incredulously. "What do you mean, helped?"
"I mean he stabilized a burning structure to help children escape. He escorted civilians to safety. He treated wounds. Silently. Without speaking a word to me. And then he left."
The room fell still.
Tobirama's voice cut through like a blade. "And you expect us to believe that was anything but calculated? A ploy?"
"No," Itama said calmly. "I expect you to understand what I saw."
He stepped closer, addressing the room with deliberate clarity.
"Izuna came into that ruin, saw the same destruction we did—and chose to help. Not because it would gain him anything. He left without fanfare. No threats, no boasts. He never even acknowledged me by name."
"And that," Tobirama said coldly, "makes it more suspicious."
Hashirama raised a hand, silencing his brother.
"What do you think his motive was?" he asked.
"I don't know," Itama answered honestly. "But I know what I saw. He saved lives. Uchiha or not, enemy or not—he acted with compassion. In that moment, he wasn't a threat. He was… human."
One of the younger shinobi, a squad captain, hesitated before speaking. "Could it be guilt? A rogue from his clan did this. Maybe he came to cover it up?"
"Or to fix what he couldn't stop," Itama countered. "Maybe even he was ashamed."
The tension thickened. Hashirama closed his eyes, fingers interlaced in front of his lips. Tobirama, pacing now, seemed ready to tear holes in the floor.
"You've defended an Uchiha in front of the entire council," he said icily. "One who helped only after destruction. How do we know he didn't wait for the right moment to play savior?"
"I don't," Itama said. "But I trust my instinct. And my instinct says: this wasn't about deception. It was about choice. He didn't have to be there. He didn't have to do anything. But he did. And that matters."
"You've grown soft," an elder muttered.
"No," Itama replied firmly. "I've grown wise. If peace is ever going to be possible, it won't come from talking to allies. It will come from recognizing humanity in those we call enemies."
"You walk a dangerous line," Tobirama warned.
"And I'll walk it again," Itama shot back, "if it means saving lives—Senju, Uchiha, or otherwise."
The council stirred in quiet debate. Some looked skeptical. A few curious. Others clearly unsettled. But no one could deny the gravity of what had been said.
Hashirama opened his eyes. "This… changes things."
"It should," Itama said. "If Izuna can show mercy, then maybe there's more to the Uchiha than we've allowed ourselves to believe."
Tobirama walked to the doorway. "Mercy doesn't erase a history of blood," he said, then vanished beyond the chamber doors.
Silence returned.
Hashirama stared at his younger brother. Not as a child reborn, not as a soldier, but as something else entirely.
A spark.
The kind that could burn away war—or reignite it.