Published at 9th of November 2024 8:23 am

Chapter 174 Roots of the Leaf, Part 2

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The council room was quiet as Hashirama entered, his steps echoing off the wooden floors. He took his seat at the head of the table, his expression composed but solemn. The village elders sat around him, their faces lined with concern. Tobirama, his younger brother, was already there, his sharp eyes assessing each person in the room.

Madara was the last to enter. He lingered by the door for a moment, as if he didn’t quite belong, before settling into a seat beside Hashirama. His presence made the council uneasy, Hashirama could tell, but Madara’s insight—and his power—were things they could not afford to ignore.

Hashirama cleared his throat. “I’ve called this meeting because of the attack on the eastern border. It’s clear that we’re facing more than just bandits. These masked attackers are organized, and their intent is to destabilize us.”

One of the older council members, an elder from the Akimichi clan, spoke up. “But who would target us so directly? And why? We’ve tried to make peace with all the surrounding clans.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to find out,” Hashirama replied. “But we need to prepare for the possibility of more attacks. Tobirama, I want you to strengthen the patrols along our borders. Make sure our shinobi are ready for anything.”

Tobirama nodded, his face grim. “I anticipated as much and already sent word to increase our defenses. I’ll personally oversee the rotation of patrols and ensure our response time is minimized.”

Madara spoke next, his voice calm but intense. “This isn’t a matter of defense alone. We should find these attackers and eliminate the threat before they strike again.”

Hashirama hesitated. He had hoped to avoid direct conflict, but Madara’s words struck a chord. If they waited too long, the enemy would have more time to plan, to spread fear.

“There may be truth in that,” Hashirama admitted. “But we must be careful. Whoever they are, they’ve studied us closely, and they know our weaknesses.”

Madara leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “Then we’ll turn those weaknesses into strengths. We have shinobi from every clan here in the village, each with unique abilities. If we coordinate their skills, we can track down these attackers and eliminate them before they have another chance to harm us.”

Hashirama considered Madara’s plan. It was aggressive, but it was also practical. And deep down, he knew Madara had a point. Konohagakure was built on the unity of the clans; perhaps it was time to test that unity against a common enemy.

“Very well,” Hashirama said, his tone decisive. “We’ll take the fight to them. I’ll lead a scouting team to gather more information. If we find anything, we’ll act swiftly.”

As the council members nodded their approval, Tobirama glanced at Hashirama, a flicker of worry in his eyes. But Hashirama dismissed it. He trusted Tobirama to understand the necessity of their decision, even if he didn’t fully agree with it.

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That night, Hashirama gathered a team of trusted shinobi from different clans. Madara joined him, as did Tobirama, and three other skilled ninja from the Hyūga, Inuzuka, and Sarutobi clans. They moved through the forest in silence, each shinobi alert to the slightest sound, the smallest shift in the shadows.

The moon was high when they found the first clue: a scrap of fabric caught on a tree branch, marked with strange, intricate symbols that neither Hashirama nor Tobirama recognized. Madara examined it, his eyes narrowing.

“It’s a summoning pattern,” he muttered. “A complex one. Whoever left this didn’t want to be tracked.”

Tobirama frowned, his mind already racing through the possibilities. “If they’re using forbidden jutsu, they may be more dangerous than we anticipated.”

Hashirama took a deep breath. “We proceed with caution. No one engages unless I give the order.”

They continued, tracking faint traces of chakra that led them deeper into the forest. The night was thick and silent, the trees looming like ancient sentinels. Hashirama felt a strange unease settle over him, a sense that they were being watched. But he pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the trail before them.

At last, they reached a clearing. Hashirama signaled for the team to stop, and they crouched among the trees, peering into the open space. In the center of the clearing stood a small group of figures, cloaked in dark robes and wearing strange, expressionless masks.

The sight made Hashirama’s blood run cold. These were no ordinary bandits; they were organized, disciplined, and prepared for confrontation.

Madara clenched his fists, his chakra crackling with suppressed energy. “Let me at them,” he whispered, his voice a low growl. “I’ll put an end to this here and now.”

Hashirama placed a restraining hand on Madara’s shoulder. “No. Not yet. We need to understand who they are and what they want.”

One of the masked figures stepped forward, his voice echoing through the clearing. “We know you’re watching, Hokage. Come out and face us.”

Hashirama felt his heart quicken. They had been expecting him. He glanced at Madara and Tobirama, nodding once before stepping into the clearing, his presence calm and commanding.

The masked man inclined his head in a mocking bow. “So, the great First Hokage comes to meet us in person. How noble.”

“Who are you?” Hashirama asked, his voice steady. “And why are you attacking my village?”

The man chuckled, his voice cold. “We are the remnants of a time you tried to erase, Hokage. A time when power belonged to those strong enough to wield it, not to those who hide behind ideals of peace.”

Hashirama’s jaw tightened. “Those wars destroyed everything in their path. This village was built to end that destruction.”

The masked man laughed, a harsh sound that echoed through the clearing. “Your village is nothing but a cage, forcing shinobi to forget their strength. We are here to remind them of who they are.”

Madara stepped forward, his voice dripping with anger. “You speak of strength, yet you hide behind masks. Show us who you really are.”

The man tilted his head, his expression hidden behind the mask. “Very well. If it’s a show of strength you want, I’ll give it to you.”

With a swift movement, he raised his hand, and the clearing erupted in a blinding light. Hashirama barely had time to react as a wave of chakra surged towards them, crackling with malevolent energy. He threw up a barrier of roots, shielding himself and his team from the attack.

When the light faded, the masked figures were gone, leaving only a faint residue of their chakra behind.

Madara cursed under his breath, his frustration evident. “They’re cowards, hiding in the shadows. We should’ve attacked when we had the chance.”

Hashirama shook his head. “They wanted us to attack, Madara. They wanted us to act on impulse. This was a test, a show of power meant to intimidate us.”

Tobirama stepped forward, his face tense. “They’re organized, and they know our weaknesses. We need to return to the village and strategize. This isn’t an enemy we can fight without careful planning.”

Hashirama nodded, though a sense of dread filled him. Whoever these masked attackers were, they had a clear purpose: to tear down everything he had worked so hard to build. And they were willing to use whatever means necessary to achieve it.

As they made their way back to the village, Hashirama’s thoughts were heavy. The path to peace was turning darker with each step, and he was beginning to realize just how much they would have to sacrifice to keep their dream alive.

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