"How many times do I have to tell you? The first move is always the feint. It's the most basic thing to land a hit with the second move."
Shikamaru Nara
The meeting with the Council lasted all of about five minutes. There was a clear consensus on the topic at hand. Joining Konoha. There were no complaints, gripes, and there wasn't any arguing in circles either.
Tobirama was more than happy with how things went. The Senju that left were crossed out of the registry, and a new one had been made with all of the Senju present within this compound. There were two thousand of them in total give or take, and most of them were battle hardened shinobi. That made things easier as well.
Losing so many women and teenagers was a blow. Women were the lifeline of a clan. They gave birth to sons and daughters. There were still women in their ranks, but a lot of them had left when Satoshi took his leave. He wasn't going to be upset or bitter about it. In the past, he would have been bitter and upset, but now, he wasn't.
Getting all of the women situated in Konoha would have been a problem. They would have a lot of questions that needed answers. That isn't to say the men would be any easier, but where the men were worried about titles and ranks, the women were more focused on their children and independence. One wrong answer would be enough to sway them.
Again, he wasn't going to be upset about that. His mother had fought tooth and nail with his father over just about everything. His father's need to go to war. His need to provoke fights that would have never happened otherwise. Sending children into battle. Sending them, her children, into battle. His mother had even beat the crap out of his father a few times.
Years from now there would be songs being sang about Hashirama. His brother was doing something for every single person alive right now. More importantly, women and children would finally have their chance. Children could live long enough. Women didn't need to send their children off to battle. Wars would end.
The realist in Tobirama whispered there would always be war. That was true. There would always be a lingering threat of war. But, now, there was a system being put into place where discussions and talking could prevent war. No longer did they have to use brute force and have the thought of wiping out their enemies down to the last.
The system was still being put into place, but future generations would have the choice to take advantage of this system, or stick to the old ways—like they do things now. Tobirama hoped that future generations wouldn't squander what everyone was sacrificing so much for now. If a system was in place that stressed talking and civility when he was a child, then…
He shook his head. There was no need to think things would have been any different. Regardless of the reasons and circumstances, his brothers would have been killed on the battlefield, his cousins would have been, his father would have been. War would always linger. People would never be able to let go of their hatred.
But, a new system was needed. Change had to happen. Shinobi villages had to become the norm. If things continued on as they were in the preset, twenty years from now, there may not be any shinobi clans around anymore. They would have all fought and destroyed themselves to extinction.
It was wise to take one last look around the compound. Where he had been born and raised. Everything outside of these walls was dangerous. It could or would kill him. For so long he associated these walls with a sanctuary. Nothing or no one could breach them, and nobody could ever get near them thanks to the genjutsu that remained in place.
It was home. It had always been home. But, now he would be relocating. He would have a new home. He'd have new neighbors and comrades. They wouldn't just be Senju either. They would hail from many different clans. Former enemies now allies. People he had once battled tooth and nail with, would be alongside him in battle.
He had his suspicions about them, just as they would surely have their own about him and the Senju clan. That was fine. More than anything he wanted to focus on Konoha and ensuring it would remain standing long after his death. He hoped these clan leaders that agreed, and those that would come into the fold, could agree with that.
Konoha had to be their focus. They couldn't just think of their clans or themselves anymore. The clan was part of Konoha and Konoha was the coming together of clans to live in peace. Truthfully there couldn't be one without the other, but Tobirama just hoped that everyone could work together, live together, and if need be, fight together.
He didn't want to put the notion of village or clan out there. It would cause many who had joined them to change their minds. It would irritate Hashirama. It would also no doubt cause Shisuke to doubt Konoha would be a success. So, he just held onto the thought that everyone would have to work together.
Tobirama felt a pull deep in his heart. The gardens he passed, he could remember coming this way as a child. Blood and screams had stained him. It hung around him. The scent had been so strong back then, no matter how much he washed himself. But, when he seen these gardens, and just walked through them…
He always felt peace.
Maybe he didn't have to worry so much. They were all living in the same village, so, even if they hated each other...They had to work together. Hashirama would be able to get everyone on that same page at least, Tobirama was certain. It was just if Hashirama started making too many concessions, for clans coming to join, that he was going to worry.
After all, as Hokage, he couldn't be so willing to bend.
Tobirama came upon the office building he spent most of his time in. Lately it was different, but he still had to handle some of Hashirama's paperwork in the capital, so it was no different. He opened the door, and began to ascend the flights of stairs.
He came upon a room, and slid the door open. Red hair caught his eye, followed by a pair of steady green eyes. Tobirama wasn't sure why he didn't care for Mito. He didn't care for anyone in particular, but he just found himself at odds with this woman.
"Tobirama."
"Mito." Tobirama said, curt, shutting the door behind him.
She paused. "Am I to assume everyone is ready?"
"We're leaving overnight."
He took a moment to focus on the scroll laid out before Mito.
"I am writing to my father and Ashina-dono."
The writing was simple and elegant. Every curve and arc was precise. There wasn't a single blemish or smear of ink. Mito's hand moved swiftly, her slender fingers held the ink brush just tight enough. She moved with the grace of a swan. She wore a small smile. She enjoyed calligraphy. The art of it. How to write with such grace.
Tobirama was surprisingly efficient, Mito realized. Disuke must have been doing some leg work, but he was always at Tobirama's side whenever he needed him. Most of the Senju within this compound were grown men. The women had all left, for the most part, and some of the teenagers also left. Only those battle hardened men that would stand behind Hashirama remained. The idea of dying, or their children dying didn't faze them. For the women, it was different.
She was a little thankful that it was this way. It made things simpler in the long run. Still, it was sad to see and even more so to report it to her father. The Senju had always been known as a clan of love, and while emotions ran high, they had never rifted. If they did, it was once every few centuries.
Women would always care about their children more. They suffered the most in this era. To give birth to sons, and daughters, for them to go to war at a young age, to die on this battlefields, and to go through the same thing over and over again. Some women became cynical. Maybe this child will have talent, they'd think.
Others would always be obstinate and never wish for them to go to war. They knew the reality of their choices and decision. The Uzumaki didn't do such things and harming any innocence was the worst anyone could do in the Uzumaki. The killing of young, just not human, and those still in the womb wasn't tolerated within the Uzumaki.
Though, now women had the choice. In Konoha at least. And, Kumogakure by extension. Her father had predicted it accordingly. He had no doubt that Hashirama would found his village. Even down to the exact time span, her father had predicted. It all went as he had said. Mito didn't feel unnerved over the fact at all.
Her father had never liked Butsuma, and she could remember her father battling Butsuma back and forth verbally. It was like an angry toddler yelling at an adult. Butsuma had yelled and screamed. Her father remained calm and spoke in a level tone. He had known Butsuma like the back of his head, and always halted that man's warmongering ways.
Tajima had been different. Mito never thought her father and Tajima had been on good terms. They had spoke a few times. Formal meetings. Tajima always maintained his enemy was Senju, and not Uzumaki. He wasn't belligerent like Butsuma. Tajima as cold as ice, and when he spoke, it was all statements.
Well, it was a new era. It was in the process of happening. Those two men were dead, and a new generation came into the fold. Young, powerful, and ambitious. They were all running ahead in a time of change. Youths in an every changing world.
It truly was a strange time to be alive.
Mito blinked, turning her focus onto Tobirama. He was sitting behind a big, empty desk. Mito could imagine towers of paperwork all in this room. Tobirama was in the middle of the stacks, rifling them away like he would. It was a little off putting he was so silent, but considering he said what he had to say, he wasn't going to speak more.
"May I ask a question?"
Mito arched her brow. "Of course. Why did you ask?"
Tobirama looked at Mito for a long moment. "Will the Uzumaki join Konoha?"
"That is why I am writing this report. To be honest, I am not too sure. Ashina-dono praised the idea, but Hisao reminded him to exercise caution. We also have our own village, Uzushiogakure. Perhaps an alliance would be more beneficial?"
Tobirama rubbed at his chin. He hadn't thought about that.
"There's trade, and things like that." Mito continued, a little uncertain. "I can't give you a definitive answer until I speak to him again."
Tobirama felt a sliver of impatience, but pressed it down. Did that mean Hisao and Ashina were not in agreement. Did Ashina want to relocate some Uzumaki in Konoha with himself? Did Hisao want to? Did Hisao oppose the entire thing? Too many questions began to filter through his mind, and he could barely keep up with the onslaught.
He took a breath, focusing. He wouldn't know until Mito spoke to them, in person. Only so much was going to be said through messages. He wasn't sure what was happening, but if the Uzumaki joined Konoha, or there was an alliance, both were beneficial for each other.
"I understand."
Mito set the ink brush down, looking over the scroll with a sharp eye. Once she was certain everything was perfect, she meticulously rolled it up, and tied it with a blue ribbon. She shuffled it into her wide, kimono sleeve, and kept it there.
She turned and stood up, taking a seat in front of Tobirama. Only the desk separated them.
Tobirama stared at her, expression giving nothing away. "Yes?"
"I'm a little surprised we're not talking about your teleportation jutsu you're trying to hone."
Tobirama looked at Mito more intently. He wanted to work on the jutsu on his own, until she made the seal formulas for him to use. Or, did she want him make the formulas on his own while giving him pointers? He wouldn't mind doing it that way.
He really hadn't thought about that jutsu since he was focused on the relocation of the Senju into Konoha.
It was complex. He could normally create a jutsu in a day, three at the most. But, teleportation was something shinobi hadn't touched on, as far as he knew. There were some that could move so fast it was like they were using teleportation, but it wasn't teleportation. Usagi had mentioned it in passing once, and he had done so once as well.
Before the idea of this was just that, an idea.
Usagi had surmised that teleportation was possible, but it was to time consuming to learn. Shinobi were practical in that respect. If a jutsu took too long to charge, or too long to learn, it was discarded for something more swift. One second was too long in the heat of battle.
He had agreed.
But, his foes were getting stronger. Izuna's Sharingan was problematic to deal with. He needed a jutsu that would always tip the scales in his favor. To allow him to strike within an instant. Teleportation was just that. He had a grasp of the Kaiyton, he didn't know anything advanced, but he'd just have to rely on creativity.
With a teleportation jutsu, nobody would dare confront him.
Mito found herself tilting her head a little. Tobirama was different than Hashirama, a polar opposite she'd dare say. Where Hashirama would talk, Tobirama was quiet. It was different, but that didn't mean it was worse or she couldn't appreciate it. Sometimes she got tired of Hashirama's dense stupidity.
No doubt Tobirama was thinking about the jutsu. She was intrigued by it herself.
"Would you mind if I assist you with it, now?"
Tobirama thought about it. He had time before they'd depart, and advancing this even by a little was of the utmost prudence. He brought out the scroll, and carefully unrolled it.
He was all business. "Where do you want to start?"
"Pocket."
Tobirama arched a brow, waiting for her to continue.
Mito drew a circle in the air. Then another one. "Pockets."
Tobirama frowned, replaying what he had just seen in his mind. Mito was speaking basic, and it wasn't out of arrogance or anything of that sort. There was simplicity to this jutsu he was trying to create, and he wanted to discover that.
Still, he didn't know where to start.
Mito hummed, bringing out a few scrolls. "Maybe if I write some formulas down, you'll have a better understanding."
The nameless Mokuton jutsu spread across the terrain. Branches and boles were like vines winding around one long branch, They quickly grew in size and height. The branches clutched themselves together, contorting, twisting, and jerking. Further away from the tangled walls, houses and buildings began to take shape.
Hashirama allowed himself to exhale, lowering his clasped hands. While he took a break, his clones continued their meticulous work. The boundaries had been set up within the first ten minutes. In time they'd be solid walls, but for now it was an entanglement of branches and boles. He kept it simple.
Everything below them was Konoha. Starting at the end of this cliff, and stretching to the beginning were the walls that made up the boundaries. Shisuke was more than generous with the amount of land he had ceded off to them for this.
Kiyoshi trailed his eyes along the progress, frowning after a second. There were buildings and houses, some stretching above the trees and snow mounds, but they were closer to their location at the moment. The walls went miles beyond these settlements, and quite frankly, seemed so far away from the buildings.
He knew creating that many houses and buildings even with their jutsu wasn't possible. The infrastructure was almost complete, but they'd need to do a lot more to clear out pathways and roads within the village. Snow was their largest obstacle, and for every place they carved, snow tumbled down in tons.
Time had become nonexistent for the two men. They were focused solely on completing this task and nothing else mattered. Shisuke couldn't have doubt or a lack of confidence when it came to this. Danzo could very well be in his ear right now, so things had be advanced further than what Shisuke was expecting.
Once more people arrived the construction would begin at a fever pitch, and much more would be complete in a given timespan. Even if they were powerful, they could only do so much. Hashirama could only do so much before he felt the pricks of exhaustion.
When the land beneath them was filled with small houses and buildings, they decided to take a break from the monumental task. Hashirama found a seat on the edge of the cliff, and resisted the urge to lay down. Even if the snow was cleared, the ground was frozen.
"That was harder than I thought." Hashirama admitted, wiping at his brow.
"At least we got the foundation finished and the borders established. We're already halfway there, we just have to wait for everyone else to come." Kiyoshi replied.
Hashirama could see the man was tired. He'd call this whole thing troublesome when they got some drinks. The task was too much for the two of them to complete, Hashirama could admit that much. In some way, it was unreasonable, but he was up to the task.
Now that Konoha had been founded, he couldn't pick and choose. What had to be done, he would do it.
"True. They will also bring their own funds and resources as well. That will definitely help the construction along. I imagine that Hatake must be master craftsmen when they are building houses and things of that nature."
Kiyoshi tried not to snort at the statement. He wasn't sure why he found it so amusing. He didn't know anyone that would make a comment about that Hatake and their expertise in building houses. Kiyoshi wasn't even sure they had such an expertise in the first place. Shinobi lived an ascetic life, so the Hatake could be living in straw huts.
It wasn't unheard of for shinobi clans to live in such things. Money was spent of weapons and things geared towards war. Some clans had an education. They could do basic math. Other clans didn't have such a luxury. But, all clans had enough resources to provide the basics everyone needs in the world to survive.
What good was a shinobi that couldn't talk?
"I don't know. Koichi doesn't strike me as a man that would be living in an estate."
Hashirama laughed. "Nothing like that, of course."
Kiyoshi shook his head, a little exasperated. "Shall we be on our way?"
Hashirama looked over and everything and was satisfied. Their clones would remain here, guarding it. Nobody should come along to investigate. The snow was still falling, so everyone had to remain where they were. It was the perfect time to do this.
Hashirama nodded, and eventually they made their way back to the capital. One of Shisuke's advisers was waiting for them when they returned. He was standing at the front gates, picture perfect, and the noble's expression gave nothing away.
Danzo was in the room, like always. Hashirama was starting to think Danzo was never far from Shisuke's side. This is one of the more than few times he's seen the boy beside Shisuke at one of these meetings.
"The borders and infrastructure are complete." Kiyoshi said, breaking the silence.
Shisuke sipped on his tea.
Hashirama continued. "We believe it'll be wise to wait until the other clans come here. We have the infrastructure complete, as Kiyoshi said, and buildings constructed, but there is much more work to do."
"I can't expect two men to build a village." Shisuke replied evenly, setting down his cup.
"Is the progress appropriate?" Kiyoshi asked.
Shisuke glanced at Danzo for a second. It was just for a second, but Hashirama seen the subtle action.
"I'd say everything appears to be ahead of schedule. We will have to wait for this other clans to arrive in order to continue building. I don't want you men to exhaust yourselves. There is still a battle on the horizon that we mustn't run from."
Hashirama found relief. The only thing that would be suitable, was Konoha turning into the superpower it would become, but Shisuke didn't expect that to happen now. That is the end result he wanted. But, as long as things were a stage ahead of what he wanted, there should be no cause for concern or panic. The man wouldn't force things upon them.
When the Water damiyo attacked, he wouldn't be so relaxed like he is now. There were the knots of tension and trepidation, but Shisuke didn't have that cold gaze that was ready for war. He didn't have the eyes of a man experiencing war. Not right now. When that happened, Hashirama would have to act, and truthfully, it'd be wise to act before that happens.
He needed to show initiative more than anything. If he waited for Shisuke to give the order to attack the Water damiyo, it'd show he is below the noble. He didn't care about such things, but as Hokage, he had to show that he was on equal footing with Shisuke. That was part of the ceasefire agreement. Village and nation were equal.
He just shuffled the thought away.
"Are you prepared for the Water damiyo?" Danzo threw the question out there.
"Truthfully, nobody is ready for that tyrant. The second he gets to the mainland, he is going to charge right into it. His forces will charge in and go north and south. Kumogakure will be attacked. The southern countries like Monsoon and Hurricane will also be attacked. The clans will follow."
"Exactly."
Kiyoshi chuckled shortly. He turned to Shisuke. "I believe we should be patient and wait until that trap is set off that the Shimura set on the coast. We need to analyze the Water damiyo's movements, and the clans that will be attacking alongside of him."
Shisuke drew his brows together. "They will have made landfall."
"Even if his navy and army disperses north and south, and those clans attack as well, when that trap goes off, there's going to be a lot of collateral damage. It will be a chain reaction of explosions, and that's not including the projectiles that are sealed within all of those traps."
Shisuke set his chin on the back of his hand. The thought of that tyrant and his forces actually making landfall brought a chill down his spine. Sometimes for victory to be ensured, the only thing that had to happen was making landfall. If that tyrant makes landfall…
But, attacking prematurely could be a mistake as well. Getting his own military ready would take time in of itself. He couldn't hasten Konoha's construction along too much, or Hashirama and the other shinobi would let their status get to their head.
"You are right. Patience is the best course of action." Shisuke conceded.
"Thank you for trusting me." Kiyoshi said, bowing ever so slightly.
"You both are dismissed. I will call again for you soon."
Hashirama and Kiyoshi bowed out of the room and departed from the estate. They made their way to a gambling house that was closeby.
A thick haze of smoke, and plum clouds coming from pipes wafted all around them. There was definitely opium being smoked, and something else, judging from the smell and people's behavior.
The smell of alcohol was thick and pungent. And, there was a strong odor, that had to come from someone or people, that hadn't bathed in a long time. It made Hashirama cough once and cover his nose. He took baths daily to stay clean and fresh, same with shaving.
The counter was overflowing with people. They were haggling or just enjoying their drinks. It was the usual. People were crowding around tables, ryo was stacked, moves were being made, and people were irate because they lost. Money was being made and lost within the span of three seconds.
It was just the usual in a place like this, but Hashirama didn't mind the atmosphere. It was something he was used to, since he had a penchant for gambling. He always enjoyed places like this, because regardless of anything, everyone got along.
There was the drunken fight or fight over cheating in gambling, but that was about it.
"What you both going to have?"
"I'll take a whiskey, cold." Kiyoshi said.
Hashirama looked at the man behind the counter, cleaning several cups with precision. He was aged, gruff in appearance, but his maintenance was close to perfection. Hashirama had no fear a bug would be sneaking into his cup, since it was dirty. He didn't have doubts about the sake and other bottles of alcohol having bugs in them.
Hashirama took off his coat, and unwound the head wear protecting his ears and face from the freezing cold. For now, there wouldn't be a ruckus with his appearance in a place like this. Kiyoshi's appearance wouldn't cause much excitement either. But, once everything began to go in effect, and Shisuke made the announcement, and they held the celebration for his coronation of Hokage, there would be a ruckus.
For now they could enjoy being unknown. While the shinobi community knew about them far and wide, the average person didn't know of them. They didn't know how he looked. They only heard rumors and such, and quite frankly didn't care.
They were just trying to get by another day without being caught in the middle of a shinobi's battle.
"Some warm sake." Hashirama seconded once he was done taking off his layers.
Hashirama sat on the stool, leaning his arms on the table. He observed his surroundings, taking in all of the characters present. As far as he could tell, there were some shinobi present. A shinobi could blend in well with a crowd like this, but eventually they'd stand out like a sore thumb and become an eyesore.
Shinobi didn't take to gambling with the same vigor the average person did. For the average person it was a way to make extra money or to strike it rich. Shinobi got paid very well for their services, and that money wasn't wasted on gambling. Weapons, materials for weapons, and the such were always purchased first thing.
They also didn't have false dreams and hopes of striking it rich.
"Thanks." Hashirama cupped the warmth, sighing softly.
He hadn't realized his hands were so cold. The Fire country only got cold in the heart of winter, which they were in. Soon it'd be raining, snowing, sleeting, and raining again.
He took a ginger sip, savoring the sweet taste. Enjoying the warmth that spread to his belly. His shoulders loosened, and he could feel the warmth stretch all the way to his fingers.
"Place is pretty lively."
Kiyoshi took a seat. He went through his pack of joints, taking one out, and lit it with a small scale first jutsu. He inhaled deeply. He exhaled slowly, turning so he could see behind him.
He was tempted to go to one of the tables and play everyone's strings with ease—when people got emotional, they were open books, and he could see their moves to the very end, before they even happened. He also found amusement in their anger.
Did these people really think they'd walk out of here with anything more than a few ryo? Did they think they were going to get Ōban or two? The only way they'd get an Ōban was if a noble came in here and started placing bets, which wasn't very likely. In the off chance one did, they wouldn't be betting an Ōban.
Even shinobi got the basic single ryo, though it was so much of it, it didn't really make a difference. But one Ōban was equivalent to ten ryo and Koban. While the shinobi being paid had that a thousand times over, it was not the Ōban coin itself.
"I know that look." Hashirama said, looking at the table Kiyoshi had his eyes on.
"Look, you say?"
Hashirama grinned a little lopsided. "You want to have a game."
"I was actually thinking about ryo, koban, and Ōban. The chances are less than one percent that someone will bet or win an Ōban in here unless a noble were to come through these doors."
Hashirama wanted to sulk. Kiyoshi's intent stare on all of the tables was getting him pumped up to try his hand. He had a good sum of money with him in a sealing scroll he always kept on hand for times like this. Kiyoshi would take the prize in the end, but Hashirama still found the challenge to be exciting.
Kiyoshi sipped his whiskey, observing Hashirama with a tired gaze.
"I was getting pumped up too."
Kiyoshi sighed, downing the rest of his alcohol. "Hit me again, chief."
The bartender refilled his glass without comment.
"Hold it now!"
Kiyoshi felt a smirk pull on his lips. He had been waiting for this to happen. He could see the fight brewing long before it came to this point. So much energy and emotions being expended. Two men were about to come to blows.
Troublesome.
"You won twelve times in a row, no one is that lucky!"
"Maybe this just isn't your thing. Maybe we should have a spelling contest."
Hashirama snorted to keep his laugh from coming out.
"How about I wring your scrawny little turkey neck!? You son of a bitch!"
Kiyoshi watched the bouncer, for lack of a better term come to the table and pull one of the men back.
"You're drunk, go home."
"Get your damn hands off me."
The bouncer looked at the second man, eyes hard. "You can see yourselves out, or I will throw you out."
Kiyoshi watched the short fight go down like it happened in slow motion. It didn't last longer than a full minute. The noise it caused was deafening, but once the rabble were thrown out on their heads, everything returned back to normal.
Ever the opportunist, Hashirama pointed at a table. "There's spots open there."
Kiyoshi chugged down his whiskey, looking at the same table. "I'm going to need another drink before I go over there."
Hashirama felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. He wanted to gamble now.
"Fill me up, chief." Kiyoshi held up his glass.
Once his glass was full, he stood up slowly. He knew this was going to turn out to be a headache. Kiyoshi wasn't sure why he was going to indulge in such folly, but he was about to. Perhaps he could find a shred of amusement after it all happens, even if it will be troublesome.
Hashirama got to the table first, ready and prime for a game. He wore a cocky grin, and looked to be one of the crowd. Everyone paused in the game, and turned to look at him. He returned their stares with a steady one of his own.
"What's the bet?" Hashirama prodded.
"We're at ten ryo."
"I'll put in twenty."
Kiyoshi scratched the back of his head as he came beside Hashirama. "Double that."
One of the men gestured to two seats. "Have a seat, in that case."
The match went on for a few hours. Some people showed their hand, others went all in, and some played it safe. Some people left after losing, or decided to cut their losses before they lost.
"I'll raise by ten." Kiyoshi said quietly, setting twenty ryo on the table.
"I'll raise by thirty." A man said, setting sixty ryo on the table.
Hashirama pinched his lips between his teeth, concentrating to his utmost.
"I'll raise by ten." Hashirama said, setting eighty ryo on the table. "And I'll raise forty this next time around.
A man cursed. "I'm out."
"You must be bluffing?" Another man poised the question coolly.
"Do you want to take that risk? You have about three more turns to go before you're deadlocked." Hashirama said, keeping his expression somewhat stoic.
"A little smart ass." The older man jeered. "I'll raise ten."
"I'll raise by sixty." Another man said, looking peeved.
"I'll raise by ten." Four more men chimed in.
"Hmph..." Kiyoshi closed his eyes.
Hashirama suckered that last one in, and the man who posed that question to was also roped in. The newcomers were roped in. They'd try over and over and over, three more times, and fail, to win this game.
They had no more moves left in him, other than to fold and concede, but the man had no intention of doing that.
He had seen the tension brewing between three of these men. Each time it ended in an impasse, their anger grew. Kiyoshi was waiting to see if they'd just forget civility and start trying to kill each other.
"I raise again!"
"I'm all in."
"Only a fool would go all in." Kiyoshi commented.
"I know I have the lot of you deadlocked."
"You're all a bit too energetic for my taste..." Kiyoshi said, and with one move-he won the game.
"You son of a bitch!" A few of the men cursed.
Hashirama could only blink in surprise.
He hadn't expected to lose this, but considering he was going against Kiyoshi, he should have assumed. He thought it'd be different than the last time, but the older man played him like a fiddle too.
"It was easy seeing into your next moves. One of you is passive aggressive, the other is too abrasive. You couldn't commit, or overestimated your own talents. Your turns revolved around that, neither of you tried to dictate. Hashirama did, try, but it was too much too late. Like I said, you're all too energetic. You become careless when you expend that kind of energy." Kiyoshi finished, brows furrowing as he raked the ryo towards himself.
"Do you think I don't know you cheated?" One man asked, shooting up out of his chair and slamming his hand onto Kiyoshi's wrist, stopping the man's movement.
"Hey! Just let it go, you lost." A few of the men shouted.
"Like hell I will!" Another man shouted, getting in Kiyoshi's face.
"I don't like noisy or pushy people. All of your yelling is giving me a headache..." Kiyoshi mused, frowning, eyes hovering towards the hand on his wrist.
He paid little to no attention to the man in his face.
"I'm going to give you one second." Kiyoshi started.
"The hell are you-"
Kiyoshi snapped the man down, using his own position against him. Before the man in his face could react, he swung around the other ruck, letting them blow into each other like two animals.
They sprawled on the floor, snarling, gasping. The bouncer came running over, but seeing the fight already over, he just lingered around. Kiyoshi looked at the money on the table. There had to be about three hundred ryo altogether.
One could have rice for three hundred years, depending on how the yield was in the particular years.
"Taking this would be too troublesome."
Hashirama was more than a little bemused. "You won it, though."
Kiyoshi sighed. "Those two men I put down will try to take my life if I take this money."
The bouncer didn't look amused. "You won it. So take it. Better the trouble falls on you than this establishment."
Hashirama felt compelled to say something, but thought better of it. Those two men didn't even pose a threat to Kiyoshi or himself, but just the hassle of having to fight them was nothing short of an annoyance. They must have bet everything they had.
Foolish.
"Guess I can't argue with that kind of logic." Kiyoshi conceded, and took the money.
Hashirama watched the ryo vanish. He had been so close, so very close, and he almost had it. Kiyoshi beat him again. He really wanted to win that ryo so he could put it away for the next time. He was running low on gambling funds.
Tobirama was going to wring his neck if he went into certain funds.
"Easier than I was expecting." Kiyoshi muttered, looking at the empty table.
"They were so focused." Hashirama remarked, trying not to scowl.
They interfered in his own moves. Their brash actions forced him to adjust, and because of that, he lost. He had managed to corner a few of the men at the table, but a lot of them were still prime and ready.
Until Kiyoshi made his move.
Hashirama grunted. "That was cheating."
Kiyoshi snorted in derision. "Cheating how? They're so busy trying to bet more money they didn't keep track of sequences. You must mean how I made them foil your plan."
Hashirama leaned back in his chair. "I underestimated you, Kiyoshi-san."
Kiyoshi chuckled. "Your mistake was gambling in the first place. You can't win most of the time."
Hashirama hid his smirk well. That was true. Gambling was more about losing than winning. But, he had a few aces up his sleeve. The first was his Mokuton, though using it for gambling was a gross insult. He could read into moves and sequences, but didn't do that too much.
The third ace was simply creating clones and putting them in certain places under disguise to tell him who had what. From there, he could win games for hours like he had in that village with Syrus.
"I suppose we better get some rest. When your brother returns with your clan, I guess we'll be back at it."
Hashirama grinned a little bit. "Don't forget that your clan is here as well. All of us can work together."
"Troublesome. I was going to have my kin work on the construction and other tasks like that. We did the legwork, so I think we can let them take over the rest."
"What would you do?" Hashirama asked, looking confused.
He didn't know what Tobirama would say if he decided to lounge around and do nothing at all. It was more likely his younger brother would snap at him and start yelling super loud.
Hashirama didn't want to deal with that.
"What I do best. Sleep." Kiyoshi said bluntly.
Hashirama scratched his head, keeping himself from grumbling.
"You are the Hokage, Hashirama. You won't get a break anytime soon, but I on the other hand will get to lounge around and sleep..."
"Maybe...You could be Hokage then?"
Kiyoshi laughed. "I'll pass. Being Hokage would be troublesome."
Daishiro stared at Izuna as the younger man approached him. He hadn't seen Izuna too much as of late, but things were starting to escalate, and soon it'd be an all hands on deck mentality going through the compound.
Izuna closed the gap between them. His left eye appeared to be red, and the signs of a punch to the mouth were also visible.
Daishiro took his focus off of the younger Uchiha, and turned it onto the group of foreigners. They were before him. Tied to a tree and being drenched to the bone in rain. Daishiro didn't mind the rain, but he was getting impatient with these obstinate men.
"How are the interrogations going?" Izuna asked, moving to stand beside him.
"So far they have not been speaking a word."
Izuna clicked his tongue in annoyance. He was still pissed off about his squabble with Madara before. He had the inclination of grabbing these men by the neck and squeezing until they talked, or until their eyes popped out.
He was expecting Daishiro to have loads of information already. The Shimura were infamous for their methods of torture. Even Uchiha didn't take it as far as the Shimura did when it came to torture. Sure, they had the Sharingan, but shinobi could plant seals and other things within their minds.
If someone tried to prod, the seal would activate, and most of the time that would lead to the person's head exploding.
"Have you tried to torture them?"
Daishiro shook his head.
"Why haven't you?"
Daishiro grunted. "I figure eventually they'll get tired of being soaked in the rain. We do have others to interrogate. The Tea damiyo's generals and commanders, and foreigners that are more than mere grunts."
Izuna could sympathize with that. There wasn't any need to go to extremes when they had more than enough people to get it out of, but at the same time, any information gleamed from their prisoners could lead to something.
They had to compile it together, and every little detail, annoying or not, would be included in those reports. Therefore, they had to get information out of everyone they had taken prisoner.
They couldn't overlook any single prisoner.
Torture could be problematic though, since the person enduring it, would say anything to get it to stop. There were many times in history that shinobi, or soldiers took a person's word to heart who was under torture, and they fell without fail.
He had the Sharingan, so he'd be able to tell if the person was lying or telling the truth.
"How long have they been like this?"
"A few days."
Izuna crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing. "If this was going to work, they would have spoken by now."
"I won't argue that point, but their will and resolve needs to be broken."
Attrition. The whittling away slowly, slowly, and piece by piece. Persistent and grudging. Izuna knew it well. He fought in many such battles. Battles that dragged on and on and on. Instead of finishing it all in one move, it was decided to chip down forces over time.
Quite frankly he couldn't stand it.
He lost one of his brothers in such a battle. If his father had just obliterated the enemy forces provoking them, his brother wouldn't have had to die a senseless death. But, because his father had chosen the path of attrition, his brother, and many other youngsters died.
Many Uchiha fell in that battle.
"We should torture one or two of them." Izuna suggested, keeping his anger in check.
Daishiro met Izuna's stormy gaze with a stony gaze of his own. He could hear the anger filtering into Izuna's voice. Memories were coming back that had been pushed to the farthest reaches of his mind.
The elder Shimura could understand, that's why his patience was starting to run thin as well.
"What do you suggest, then?"
Izuna looked at the foreigners, and his eyes flashed crimson. He watched their reactions. Fear. Shock. Trepidation. Disgust. They looked at him as if he weren't human and some spawn from a demon. He didn't care how they wanted to look at him.
Using his Sharingan would be an easy fix, but he knew he'd be tempted to cause hemorrhaging within their brains. He had done it many times in the past whenever he was in a foul mood like he was now.
"What do the Shimura normally do?"
Daishiro chuckled, a menacing smirk crossing his face. "We will tear off finger nails for starters. Then, if that doesn't work, we will start to scalp our prisoners."
"And, if those things fail?"
Daishiro's smirk grew. "We will need to implement some Domou tactics."
Izuna didn't flinch nor did he blink. He knew the Domou's tactics well. Whenever they began to torture someone, they would be getting answers. He could remember a Domou jabbing senbon through a man's feet, and putting candles on those senbon.
Needless to say the man had howled and screamed in agony. The candle wax held fast to his skin. It didn't take longer than ten minutes for that man to spill his entire life story under such pain.
Interrogation was something more complex, however. Timing was everything. If they went to brutal methods from the outset, false information could be spewed out. These men would say anything to get the pain to stop—they wouldn't try to endure it like shinobi.
With this thought in mind, Izuna made his way over to the foreigners. Rain smacked him over and over, but it didn't faze him. He could feel his hair soaking up the moisture, starting to spread over his shoulders, but that didn't faze him either.
"Who did you work for?"
"Like I'd tell you. Go to hell." One of the foreigners spat.
Izuna drew his sword, and pressed it to the man's neck. His comrades flinched at the sight of glinting steel and held fast, As still as statues, they watched Izuna and their comrade with a staunch silence.
"Who did you work for?" Izuna repeated the question.
This time, the man that had snapped at him didn't respond. He didn't move. He kept his eyes trained on the blade that was resting on his throat. If he made one wrong move, his throat would be cut.
He was as good as dead anyways, but self preservation was kicking in. He simply didn't want to lose his life through frivolous means.
Izuna pressed a bit further. It wasn't enough to cut the man's throat or even break skin, but the intent was clear. The threat was clear. "Answer me, now."
The foreigner bit his lip.
Izuna moved his blade to the right, and a fountain of blood oozed out from the man's neck. His comrades screamed in terror as blood raced onto them and they caught the pitiful gasps of air.
"I will kill you, if you don't talk." Izuna bit out, teeth clenched.
"You're fucking insane!" One of the foreigners spat.
Izuna swiped his blade to the side to clear it of any blood. He'd need to streak a cloth across it for extra measure, but for now, this would do. He pressed it to the man's neck that snapped at him.
"I'm going to die if I tell you. I'm going to die if I don't."
"Possibly." Izuna retorted.
The man remained silent for longer than five minutes, and Izuna dragged his blade across his neck. Blood gushed out, and the last man alive began to holler in anger and fear. He flailed his head from side to side, eyes wild.
"Izuna, this is getting us nowhere." Daishiro said, tone like ice.
"We still have one more. He might be smart and spill."
Daishiro was compelled to punch Izuna in the face, but held back the impulsive need to do so. Izuna wasn't thinking like an interrogator. He was venting whatever anger he was feeling, and these men were paying the price.
Instead of punching Izuna, Daishiro grabbed Izuna by the shoulder and spun him around. He stared deep into his Sharingan without any reservations.
"You need to change your approach."
Izuna scowled. "If they don't talk, what good are they?"
Daishiro didn't offer a response. He wasn't going to entertain such foolishness with an answer. Izuna was acting like a little brat. Was he going to kill all of their prisoners? He wouldn't allow that. It was better if he took this over, and let Izuna make threats.
"Shut up."
"You're all insane!"
Daishiro held the foreigner by his jaws, squeezing with iron fingers. "You are going to answer my questions, do you understand?"
The foreigner was wild eyed. Terror was in his eyes. Fear was in his body. If it was possible, he would have thrashed.
"Izuna will kill you, but I am a little more patient." Daishiro offered.
The foreigner stared, not buying into it at all. Between the two, Daishiro looked like he would kill him faster than Izuna would. Still, he was going to meet his end by one of these men.
Maybe he'd be able to stand on his own two feet and battle one or both of them to the bitter end. At least he'd be able to die fighting unlike his two comrades. They didn't care if they died in combat, but he couldn't stand the thought of being cut down without offering some resistance.
"You're both going to kill me."
Daishiro stared down at the man, eyes hard.
"If I tell you what I know...Will you give me the honor of fighting to my last breath?"
"I will give you that honor." Izuna said without hesitation.
"Sure." Daishiro said.
The foreigner looked between the two of them. This lasted for three minutes before he let his head sink so his chin was touching his chest, and his breathing was labored. It was the end of the line. Death would take him, but he'd go down swinging.
He didn't have much to tell or offer. His superiors knew more, and no doubt they were somewhere in this gnarled jungle. They were being beaten and everything else to get that information, and they would certainly spill that information. If they didn't, the Tea damiyo's soldiers and generals would.
"I am but a mere foot soldier, so I only do as I am told, and nothing more. But, I am privy to some things."
Izuna brought out a cloth from his pocket and dragged it across his blade. He burned it with a low scale fire jutsu, and sheathed his blade swiftly.
The action was enough for the foreigner to ease up. It wasn't much considering his coated in the blood of his dead comrades and their corpses were slammed against him, but it was better than seeing cold steel on his throat.
"What are you privy to?" Izuna asked.
"Not much. I know that the slaves all come from one place. Their own kin sell them into slavery, and some places on this landmass have settlements for us. We pay them for the land they gave us, and in turn, they give us slaves to sell."
"And?" Daishiro's expression was like stone.
"There are settlements in the north, west, and parts of the south. My group was in the north, while others were in the west and south."
"What of the east?"
"The terrain doesn't allow us to venture so far into that area. Jungle and rain are the only things that are there. The swamp has many predators, beasts and monsters that can swallow a human whole or bite them in half."
"So, you have settlements in the north, west, and south?" Daishiro questioned further.
"Yes. And, the people that live around in these parts have allowed us to build settlements there in return for money. They sell their own kin into slavery, and we sell them outside of this land, so it works for both of our parties."
Izuna wasn't going to question how one's kin could sell their own off to slavers to be put into the bondage of slavery. The Uchiha had enslaved their own, though they never sold them out. Women were trained just enough, sub standard at best, and couldn't last on the war zones.
Women in the Uchiha had also been slaves. They were dragged by the roots of their hair and kicked and stomped upon. They had been trampled. This was nothing new to him, so Izuna wasn't compelled to ask stupid questions.
"What do we have to worry about?"
The man chuckled. "The way you cut through my comrades, nothing."
Daishiro's eyes glinted, and his teeth began to clench. "Don't try to run that game. There is always something that is a cause for worry."
The foreigner laughed again, shocked that Daishiro was saying such a thing. The same man that had been zipping around and sending the heads off of everyone that he could, was spouting this nonsense.
It was amusing.
But, this man was cautious by nature, and there was nothing wrong with that. The only thing they had to really worry about were the people selling their own into slavery.
Everyone else was just a pest, including his country and people. They may have boats, firearms, and everything else of that nature, but after witnessing what these people were capable of...None of that would make a difference.
He wouldn't see the end of this, unfortunately, but he was thankful for that. These men, and their comrades were going to spill so much blood and leave so many bodies behind it'd be like an act from demons instead of people.
That ghastly carnage.
"I'd say the only thing you have to worry about are those selling their own into slavery. We've been paying them a lot for the land our settlements are built on in addition to the slaves. They will not listen to reason nor will they wish for it to end. They will fight."
"Then, we will simply cut them down." Izuna said.
"What of the other outside lands and nations?" Daishiro prodded, hands clenching into fists every so often.
"They will be no cause of worry or concern for all of you. After seeing what you are all capable of, you could wipe them all out down to the last child and they would offer little resistance when it comes down to it."
Izuna crouched so he was eye level with the foreigner. "If you are lying, I will kill you right here and now."
"The two men you killed couldn't care less if they died without putting up a fight, but I am not like them. Allow me to at least hold my head high before you kill me if you won't battle me."
"No need." Daishiro responded, untying the man from the tree. "Draw your sword."
The foreigner's body inflated with relief and confidence. Even if he didn't stand a chance, he was thankful that he was no longer bound. He could die fighting instead of gurgling like his comrades.
He drew his sword from his side, long and thin as the blade was, the tip shined, even in the rain.
"Don't use chakra, Izuna." Daishiro said, taking a few steps back.
"I'm fighting him?" Izuna asked.
Daishiro nodded.
"Cool." Izuna said, drawing his sword swiftly. "No chakra it is."
The foreigner swiveled a measured stab from Izuna, shifting his footing and tread forward. Annoyed that he missed the first move, Izuna twisted ramming his blade into the foreigner's and deftly move to the side.
He pressed on, teeth grounding against each other, his wrist absorbed all of the impact driving his feet into the moist ground. He launched a quick punch, not moving with as much vigor as he would wish to, and just grazed his foe's jaw.
They collided once more in a series of spins, stabs, and slashes. Izuna's speed and deterity growing by the second as he skewed just his foe's blade a few inches away from his trachea every time.
The foreigner was limber and graceful in his movements. His long blade allowed him to dictate how fast and far Izuna could go with each exchange, but he could feel the battle shifting.
Izuna shifted, pivoting to his left just as his foe made to slice through his neck. His blade clanged off of his foe's and he managed to force it off at an odd angle. He spun around sharply completing his turn and slashed against the foreigner's back. The familiar resistance was there before the flesh tore open, leaking with blood as he completed his cut.
"Grraaghh..." The foreigner hissed in anger. He staggered forward.
One.
Two.
Three.
Izuna attacked with a powerful flourish of his legs, he swiped upwards gripping his sword with both hands, adding momentum to the swing. The foreigner managed to shift around the stroke lashing out with a quick stab which Izuna deflected promptly.
"Hgggnnhhh." His teeth ground against each other as he shoved forwards ignoring the hot pain of his cord cleaving into his callouses. The foreigner gasped, hastily correcting his footwork by just a degree, but it provided an opening.
Small.
Minuscule.
But, it was still there.
Izuna sprung forward, easily clearing the distance between them and struck low for his foe's stomach.
His spotted the attack, one leg slid forward against the ground supporting his weight. Izuna flicked his wrist sharply, changing his grip once again and swiped to the side watching a gallon of blood tear away from his foe's neck, the rest splattering onto the ground.
The body dropped with a wet thud.
Rain pelted the bloodied corpse. The leaking crimson began to dilute, washing away into the earth, settling into nearby puddles, and being forced down a pathway the rain water had created.
Izuna swiped his sword to the side, and sheathed it swiftly.
"Satisfied now?" Daishiro asked.
Izuna could hear the annoyance in the man's tone. While the elder Shimura always appreciated his help, this time around, Izuna could admit he was a little unreasonable. Daishiro was methodical in his approach. He would have killed those men eventually, after he got information out of them.
It would take a while for them to spill. They didn't have any intention of doing so, and the only reason the last man did was so he could die a death that wasn't shameful. If he hadn't killed the first two, the last wouldn't have talked.
Daishiro clearly had patience.
Izuna wasn't so patient as the elder Shimura. He was thankful Katsumi wasn't present because she wouldn't have allowed him to kill those men. She would have peeled off their finger nails, one at a time, and then cut off their eyelids, and then probably stab them in the eye.
But, she wouldn't have killed them right away.
No wonder Butsuma and his father didn't like confronting the Shimura. They could just play on their foe's need for action, or lack of action, so it went into their favor. The Shimura would never lift a finger, as they wouldn't have to.
"What's with that tone, Daishiro-san? Are you annoyed?"
Daishiro grunted, not offering a response right away. "Your lack of patience is what annoys me more than your overall presence."
Izuna chuckled. "I didn't think I was that bad."
"Those other two could have divulged a little more, if you hadn't killed them."
Izuna waved it off. "Doubt it."
Before either man could continue, Mimori and Chie approached them. Mimori wore a passive expression like always, while Chie's was a good deal harder. They had umbrellas, so they didn't get soaked by the downpour.
"How are things on your end?" Daishiro asked, focusing on the two women.
Chie frowned. "Some interrogations aren't going so well."
Mimori looked at the three corpses. "Am I to assume that this is the same as the others who are making no progress?"
Izuna grunted, folding his arms over his chest. "We got some answers, though I had to kill two of them before the last one would talk."
Chie didn't look pleased to hear that. Her eyes began to glint, and she stared at Izuna with more than a little annoyance. "Izuna."
"Hey, the last one wanted to battle after he spilled. We obliged his request, and I killed him after a short battle."
"And, the other two?"
"I killed them before that."
Chie pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to rein in her anger. She wanted to call Izuna a little brat that couldn't control his emotions, but that would just lead to some back and forth she didn't feel the need to entertain.
Izuna was witty, after all.
"Why did you do that, Izuna-san? They could have offered more information?" Mimori asked, tone soft.
Chie noted it was a stark contrast to how she would have asked Izuna the very same question.
"They didn't feel compelled to spill. Killing two of them made the one I spared compelled to spill."
Mimori frowned at the blunt response, and turned to Daishiro for confirmation. If Izuna was just spouting nonsense, she would call him on it. This wasn't the time for self indulgence.
"They were stubborn. I doubt they would have talked. It would probably have taken another week, and we don't have that kind of time to be dealing with these little grunts."
Mimori nodded.
"What did you get out of that one last one before you killed him?" Chie questioned.
"According to him there is one landmass where the slaves are being taken away from. They are sold by their own kin. The foreigners that we have as prisoners have settlements built in parts of the north, south, and west on this landmass. The east in too dangerous for any settlements to be built."
Chie noted it all mentally, but she would need it on paper. "Daishiro, would you come with Mimori and I? We are compiling all of the information and we need this down on paper."
"I can do that."
"What am I supposed to do?" Izuna questioned, looking annoyed.
Chie fixed him with a stern gaze. "Madara wishes to speak with you. He says it is important and don't waste time."
Izuna clicked his tongue. "Really?"
"You really have no choice since other than compiling information, that is the reason we are here. So, go to him." Mimori added, not looking amused.
Izuna raked a hand through his hair, nodding. "Fine. Fine. I'll be on my way in that case."
The last time he could remember Madara saying not to waste time was when they were in the next region battling through that series of wars that nearly shattered everything.
What could be so important that Madara chose those words, in specific?