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As Second Tsuchikage 29
🕑 Added 2025-07-19 16:33:32 +0000 UTCChapter 29: My friend is dead!
“…Avenge me…”
“…Avenge me…”
“…Avenge me…”
Madara’s final words echoed without end in Hashirama’s mind, carved into his thoughts like a brand.
“MADARAAAA!!!”
He cried out in agony, his voice raw and broken. Clutching Madara’s body against his chest, tears streamed down his face in relentless waves. This wasn’t how their story was meant to end. Once, they had stood together as brothers-in-arms, fighting for peace, building a dream from nothing. Now, that dream lay dead in his arms.
He had killed Madara once before, on the battlefield, when Madara had attacked Konoha. It had torn him apart, but he had done it to protect their vision, the village, their people.
But this time was nothing like that.
Madara hadn’t attacked. He hadn’t betrayed anyone. He had simply walked away. And even then, he had still been Hashirama’s dearest friend. Now he was gone, murdered.
What was the difference now? How was this not the same as killing his closest companion with his own hands?
“Uh… this might be bad…”
Gengetsu, still trapped in the wooden restraints, looked visibly shaken. They had just survived a battle against Madara. Were they really about to face Hashirama next?
“This is bad. I don’t have much chakra left…”
Shamon’s tone was strained, his expression grim. The Second Raikage said nothing, but his breathing was shallow and uneven. He hadn’t fully healed; his leg remained unstable, and his movements were far from steady.
Mū hovered silently above them, eyes locked on Hashirama. His face was drawn tight. He had already unleashed his strongest Dust Release technique. If another battle erupted now, he wouldn’t last long enough to matter.
Worse, Hashirama’s wooden Buddha was a level beyond anything Susanoo could manage. Even at full strength, Mū wouldn’t be able to compete with that.
Still… would Hashirama really go that far? Would he lose himself in rage and cast aside all he’d built, all he stood for, just to avenge Madara?
Mū thought about the man he'd heard so much about. The stories described Hashirama as noble, idealistic, and a man who once chose duty over friendship. He had slain Madara once to protect the future of Konoha. Surely, he wouldn’t plunge the world into war now, over a man who had turned his back on the village.
“Aniki, Madara was too dangerous. He captured the Nine-Tails. I concluded he was a threat to Konoha’s future and had to be eliminated!”
Tobirama stepped forward, his voice firm and clear, trying to take control of the moment. But Hashirama didn’t react. He didn’t even seem to hear.
“Madara’s dead… Madara’s dead…”
He repeated it like a prayer, his voice quiet and hollow. His eyes stared into nothing, vacant, unaware of his surroundings.
Tobirama’s throat tightened. The last time he’d seen his brother like this was after the deaths of their younger siblings.
Hashirama’s head slowly lifted.
His gaze burned with sorrow and fury. His entire body trembled. A tsunami of chakra erupted from him, crashing across the field like a violent storm.
BOOM!!!
The ground beneath him cracked and split open. Trees shuddered. The earth groaned under the weight of his power. The pressure that followed flattened the grass and bent the air around them.
“WHO KILLED MADARA?!”
His voice tore through the land, loud enough to shake the skies. Dust exploded upward, and debris spun in the air like leaves in a hurricane.
Gengetsu, Shamon, and the rest felt their breath catch. Their muscles locked. The intensity was overwhelming.
“Hashirama-sama! Please, calm down! Do you really intend to start a war with the Four Great Nations over this?!”
The Second Raikage forced himself to speak, his voice heavy and cautious.
“Yes! Madara was already a rogue ninja. Technically, you had no right to interfere in the execution of a missing-nin. Rogue ninjas are fair game for everyone!”
Shamon immediately supported the claim, his voice quick and firm.
“Aniki!”
Tobirama reached out, grabbing Hashirama’s arm with urgency in his eyes. “Now isn’t the time to act on emotion. For Konoha’s sake, we can’t go to war with the other villages. Think of our people!”
For a brief instant, something flickered in Hashirama’s eyes. A glimmer of reason. But it was quickly overwhelmed by the storm churning in his heart.
If I don’t avenge Madara… can I still call myself his brother? His friend?
If I let this pass… what would Madara’s soul think of me?
That final gaze, that tired but peaceful look Madara had given him in his last moments, it haunted him. Hashirama couldn’t push it away. The sorrow in those fading eyes, the weariness… it stayed with him like a splinter buried in his chest.
The images refused to fade. The pain refused to lessen.
He found himself imagining a day when he, too, would pass on to the Pure Land. What would Madara say then? Would he turn to him and ask, “Hashirama… did you avenge me?”
And if that day came, what could he possibly answer?
Would he admit the truth? That he had done nothing? That he let it all go? Would he lie to hide the guilt that already bloomed in his chest?
Hashirama opened his eyes again.
This time, they were cold, icy and unyielding. All warmth had vanished, replaced by a void as deep and silent as winter.
“Tobirama. As Hokage, I order you to take your men and leave this place at once.”
His voice cut through the air like steel, sharp and final.
Tobirama’s expression changed instantly. He already knew what his brother had decided.
“Aniki! Don’t! You can’t start a war with the Four Great Nations!”
He stepped forward, trying desperately to change his mind.
“There is no ‘Aniki’ here. Say Hokage. There is only the Hokage!!”
Hashirama’s words struck like a hammer. His roar echoed across the battlefield.
Tobirama’s mouth clenched shut. He bit back everything he wanted to say. His fists trembled.
He had brought these outsiders to kill Hashirama’s dearest friend. If they weren’t family, if he wasn’t Hashirama’s brother, he would already be dead.
“Aniki… I’m sorry.”
The words came through clenched teeth. And then, with a flash of chakra, Tobirama moved, reaching out with Flying Thunder God, trying to pull Hashirama away by force.
“Lower your hand, Tobirama.”
Hashirama didn’t move. Instead, he released a pulse of chakra so heavy, so absolute, it froze Tobirama in place. He couldn’t move a muscle.
Frustration twisted Tobirama’s face. But there was no path forward. He stepped back, silently, retreating in defeat.
The other Second Generation Kage, however, were in far worse shape.
It was now clear that Hashirama wasn’t going to let them leave. The truth hit all four like ice water. They weren’t going to walk away from this. Not alive.
Without delay, each one activated their escape techniques.
Gengetsu’s body began to liquefy, oil slicking from his pores as he triggered his Hydrification Technique to slip through the Wood Release restraints.
The Second Raikage, already injured, summoned what remained of his strength and ignited his Lightning Chakra Mode. Electricity surged as he hacked through the roots and vines trapping him.
Shamon’s form dissolved into a swirl of sand, his body fading into dust as he used a Sand Body Flicker to escape.
Mū didn’t hesitate. His face turned grim as he activated his Flight Technique, rocketing into the sky at top speed.
But none of it mattered.
“My friend Madara is dead. Right or wrong, I no longer care to judge.”
Hashirama raised his head, his eyes matching those of a demon, “None of you are leaving.”
Hashirama’s voice rang out with a terrible finality. It wasn’t loud, but it struck like a verdict delivered by a god. The silence that followed was crushing.
“Wood Release: Deep Forest Bloom!”
His hands clapped together, and the battlefield exploded. The ground tore apart as an endless surge of trees erupted from the soil. Ancient trunks twisted upward like awakening dragons, their limbs sprawling in every direction with unnatural speed and violence. The forest swallowed everything, green and furious, racing after the fleeing Kage like a predator on the hunt.
Gengetsu, slick with oil, had just escaped one snare when another rose directly in front of him. He ducked, but thick branches lashed out, coiling around him in an instant. They squeezed down with brutal force, locking him in place before he could vanish again.
The Second Raikage carved through wave after wave of vines with his lightning-infused blade, but his efforts were barely a delay. For every tendril he destroyed, more emerged, thicker and faster. Exhaustion crept into his limbs. His chakra was dwindling.
Shamon attempted to phase through the chaos in his sand form, leaping from tree to tree, but the forest gave him no space. Vines surged midair, striking him down in a tangle of sand and bark, trapping him inside a living prison.
Even Mū, high above and fast enough to break the sound barrier, found no safety in the skies. The forest rose to meet him, flooding the air with spiraling vines. He started forming hand signs for Dust Release, but a whip-like branch snapped around his ankle and yanked him downward. He slammed into the ground hard enough to crater it.
“For Madara.”
Hashirama’s voice carried no hatred. Only grief. With a fluid motion, he gathered the four bound Kage into the center of his growing forest, their bodies tangled in roots and their chakra sealed by nature itself.
Then he struck the earth once more.
A second forest bloomed instantly, more vibrant, more alive. Towering flowers burst open from coiled vines, their petals wide and glistening. A fine golden pollen erupted from them in clouds, catching the light like dust motes. The air thickened. The scent was cloying, sweet to the point of nausea.
A rolling pink mist drifted through the woods, covering the ground and rising through the branches like smoke. It moved slowly, almost gently, until it reached the Kage.
The moment they inhaled, they faltered.
Their strength drained away. Eyes glazed over. Knees buckled. Breathing became labored. Their limbs grew heavy, and the forest began to spin around them.
“This... this pollen is toxic...”
“Water Release: Water Dome Barrier!”
Summoning what little chakra remained, Gengetsu managed to raise a watery dome around the group. The swirling orb glimmered faintly as it tried to hold the mist at bay. Inside, the Kage panted, half-dazed, their minds struggling to stay focused.
But the pollen continued to press in, invisible tendrils testing the seams.
It was only a matter of time before it breached the dome entirely.
