Being born in the Warring States Period—and into a clan like the Senju—meant that even children lived incredibly intense and demanding lives.
Training. Fighting.
These were things every Senju child had to learn from the moment they were born.
In the year since arriving in this world, the phrase Hashirama had heard most often from Senju Butsuma was:
> "Even if your enemy is an infant—if they hold a weapon, you must kill without hesitation."
It wasn't an exaggeration.
In a shinobi clan, even the youngest children could be trained killers capable of landing a fatal blow.
In the Senju clan, it wasn't just kids like Hashirama—who could already refine chakra—that were being trained.
Even children like Tobirama, whose body was still too undeveloped to form chakra, were being taught basic combat techniques the moment they could stand.
It was the kind of thing Hashirama's past-life sensibilities struggled to comprehend.
Children only one year old, gripping wooden weapons, repeatedly striking at the weak points of straw dummies.
---
After finishing his training for the day, Hashirama finally got a moment of rest.
The setting sun bathed the land in orange light.
He sat on the branch of a massive tree, watching Tobirama and a few other toddlers training below—just barely older than infants—learning the most basic of techniques.
Hashirama himself hadn't gone through this exact training, but his body seemed to remember it faintly. The muscle memory was there, buried in the original owner's instincts.
Though the sight before him still felt surreal and out of place, his delicate young face showed a moment of dazed introspection.
> "Hashirama really was… a great Hokage."
That thought rose naturally in his mind.
Even though the original First Hokage had likely never shared the thoughts of a transmigrated soul like him, Hashirama felt a rare, sincere admiration for the fictional character he had once taken for granted.
He remembered the original manga—specifically Hashirama's motivation for founding a village:
> "So that children could grow up safely and peacefully—without having to fight."
Yes.
If you haven't truly lived through it, you'll never understand the kind of pain and obsession behind such a wish.
What he was seeing now felt fundamentally wrong:
Children learning to kill when they were barely old enough to speak.
If it hadn't been for the First Hokage's commitment to peace—if he hadn't founded the ninja village system—just how many more lives would've been trapped in this endless cycle of killing to survive?
In this world, if you don't kill, you'll be killed.
The Naruto universe was far more brutal than anything Hashirama had understood from simply reading the manga, watching the anime, or even writing fanfiction.
> "Sigh…"
He exhaled heavily.
As someone raised in the modern world, his moral compass had been fully formed long ago. That kind of foundational worldview wasn't easy to undo, even if he understood that this world operated by very different rules.
All he could do was slowly adapt...
---
And so the days passed.
As usual, he woke up before sunrise. After stretching his body a little, a thought popped into his head:
> "Today's… my birthday, isn't it?"
He muttered to himself.
This would be his first "milestone" moment since arriving in this world.
In his past life, unlike most people his age, Hashirama had never made much of a fuss about birthdays. To him, it was just a day that marked his birth—nothing more.
Now that he'd reincarnated into a completely different world, such anniversaries meant even less.
The only reason he even remembered was because of what Senju Butsuma had told him a few days earlier.
At the time, his first reaction had been that Butsuma might actually be planning to give him a birthday gift.
But thinking back on it more carefully, the wording of Butsuma's statement had been... ambiguous.
> "It's time. Let's consider it a little celebration, shall we?"
What did that even mean?
Was there something culturally significant about turning three in the Warring States Era of the Naruto world?
Before he could make sense of it, a voice came from outside his tent.
> "Lord Hashirama."
Hashirama snapped out of his thoughts and called out,
> "Come in."
The curtain was pushed aside, and a young Senju clansman in his early twenties entered.
Hashirama recognized him, but that wasn't what caught his attention.
It was what the man was holding in his hands.
Armor.
Clearly, it wasn't adult-sized—more like something made for a child.
Kids wearing armor wasn't unusual in the Senju clan, but even by those standards, this one was small.
Which led Hashirama to the most logical conclusion:
> "Don't tell me… that armor's for me?"
Sure enough, the man spoke:
> "The clan leader requests that you put this armor on and report to him immediately."
> "So this is the birthday gift?"
Hashirama rolled his eyes inwardly.
Of course, he'd been overthinking it.
Once again, his modern mindset had failed to keep up with the rhythm of this world.
---
After putting on the somewhat heavy armor, Hashirama wrapped a white cloth band around his forehead to tie up his hair.
It served a similar function to what would later become the ninja headband—but in Hashirama's opinion, he looked cooler without a forehead protector.
Still, not wanting to make trouble for himself, he obediently tied it on.
---
When Hashirama stepped into the clan leader's tent again, he noticed right away that things were different.
This time, Butsuma wasn't alone—several young Senju warriors were also present.
Hashirama's brow furrowed slightly.
The atmosphere felt... off.
That line Butsuma had said a few days ago clearly wasn't as simple as it had sounded.
> "Clan Leader."
In front of the other clansmen, Hashirama respectfully used the formal title instead of calling him "Father."
> "This armor suits you," Butsuma said, giving him a brief glance before continuing.
"There are things you need to start learning now."
Though his expression remained unreadable, there was a subtle shift in his tone that sent a chill down Hashirama's spine.
> "Oh no... no way, right?"
His dark pupils contracted slightly.
And Butsuma didn't beat around the bush.
> "You should already understand this much:
As a shinobi, as a member of the Senju clan—and especially as the son of the clan leader—there's something you must learn before anyone else."
> "Combat."
> "And to win in combat, there's something you must learn to accept as soon as possible."
Butsuma's tone turned solemn.
> "You must learn to take a life—without hesitation, without guilt."
He spoke as casually as someone talking about eating or drinking.
Meanwhile, Hashirama's mind was buzzing like a struck bell.
> "What the hell kind of parenting is this?!"
> "Teaching your THREE-YEAR-OLD how to kill?"
> "This rotten old man... is absolutely ruthless."
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