The afternoon sun bathed Konohagakure in golden light, filtering through the paper windows of the Hokage's chamber. The room was quiet, save for the distant sounds of life beyond the walls—the chatter of shinobi, the laughter of children, the ever-present hum of a village that had been built on blood and dreams alike.
Hashirama Senju lay upon his futon, his body frail, breaths slow but steady. The battle with Madara had left wounds that even his unparalleled healing could not fully mend. He was strong once—strong enough to carve valleys, raise forests, and command the very elements of nature. Now, his strength waned, slipping like sand through his fingers.
But his mind remained sharp.
He heard the deliberate steps before the door slid open, revealing his brother. Tobirama's face, ever a mask of sharp intellect and control, bore an expression of quiet concern.
"Brother," Hashirama greeted weakly, offering a tired smile. "You look like you've got something important on your mind."
Tobirama stepped forward, closing the door behind him. "We have a visitor."
Hashirama's brow lifted slightly. "A troublesome one?"
"A mystery." Tobirama crossed his arms. "He arrived in the village earlier today. No formal declaration, no disguise, no attempt to hide his presence. He simply walked in, as if he belonged."
Hashirama exhaled, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "And this concerns you because?"
Tobirama's eyes narrowed. "Because the entire shinobi network has heard whispers of this man. He has moved through the lands without allegiance, leaving no trace of malice, yet every village he passes through watches him with unease. Iwagakure's spies observed him for months. The Cloud and Mist have taken notice. Even Sunagakure remains cautious."
Hashirama studied his brother's face. Tobirama was not easily rattled. For him to speak of a wanderer with such weight meant there was something beyond mere curiosity at play.
"What's his name?"
"Renzō."
The name sat in the air for a moment, unfamiliar yet heavy.
Tobirama continued. "The reports say he does not seek power, nor does he align with any faction. He simply moves. But wherever he goes, something changes. Not through force, not through manipulation—just… presence."
Hashirama chuckled, though it was strained. "You sound almost impressed, Tobirama."
His brother's frown deepened. "I am not so easily impressed. I am cautious." He took a step closer. "I have already deployed ANBU to monitor him, but so far, he has done nothing. He and a young man travel together, and they merely observe the village, as if they are here to… understand."
Hashirama hummed thoughtfully. "A man who desires nothing is harder to read than one who seeks power."
Tobirama nodded. "That is why I am bringing this to you."
The First Hokage's expression softened. "I trust your judgment, Tobirama. You have always been the sharper mind between us."
Tobirama did not deny it. "Then what is your will on this matter?"
Hashirama closed his eyes for a long moment, as if listening to something beyond the walls of his chamber. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, resolute.
"Do not antagonize him. Do not provoke him. But watch him closely. If he seeks nothing, then we will offer him nothing in return—no hostility, no reason for conflict." He let out a tired breath. "But if he does seek something… then I want to know what it is."
Tobirama inclined his head. "Understood."
As he turned to leave, Hashirama spoke once more, his voice quieter.
"There are men in this world, Tobirama, who do not fit into the order we have built. They do not strive, nor do they destroy. They simply are. Perhaps Renzō is one of them."
Tobirama glanced back. "And if he is?"
Hashirama smiled, weary yet curious. "Then we must see whether he is a shadow cast by the past… or a whisper of what is yet to come."