A/N: Madara-centric, Tobirama-centric, the author does not favor one over the other. The story is based on the personalities of the characters from the original work (except for Mito, Hikaku, Toka, Sasuke, who don't have enough information in the original work, so they will be reimagined). Since it deviates from the original work, there will be some slight OOC elements. This is not a male x male story.

Ever since accepting the position of Sarutobi's second advisor, Madara had barely had any time to rest. Confined to the Western office of the Hokage Tower, he spent his days poring over ledgers, documents, and petitions, approving, verifying, and signing with his own hand. This relentless onslaught of paperwork triggered a paper-induced anxiety disorder in him, at the mere sight of anything with a substantial amount of text, he would shut his eyes tight and refuse to read it. During Madara's tenure as Uchiha clan head, he had a lot of work to handle, but it was nowhere near the current level. At worst, he had only faced some difficulties handling housing and land matters for his clansmen- the area notoriously bogged down by complicated procedures. However, in this Konoha garbage dump, even simple tasks like pet ownership had become convoluted and were dumped onto his desk for resolution. This room was no different from a prison for a shinobi who once roamed freely on the battlefield like Madara. The longer he sat here, the more he worked, the more he grew weary of life and lost his fighting spirit. The Hokage hadn't even sent anyone to assist him or simply have a few words with him to prevent him from feeling autistic. Sasuke might perceive Madara as someone who prefered working alone, but who could possibly endure being confined to this empty, bare room for over eight hours a day, surrounded by mountains of paperwork? He also needed someone to talk to, like Hikaku for instance.

Madara would never stoop to begging the Sarutobi gibbon to bring Hikaku here. So, he deluded himself into believing he could still endure this isolation.

That was a mistake. He couldn't.

The graveyard was even less silent than the room confining Madara.

His hatred for Konoha had grown so immense that if he didn't remind himself to restrain himself, he would have razed the entire village to the ground. Each time such thoughts arose, the Uchiha clan head would remind himself with the word "But..."

But Hikaku assured him that he was doing well and that his pregnant wife felt happy in the village, believing that their child would be excited to attend the academy.

But Izuna's grave was not convenient to exhume and move to another place, so he could take his brother with him.

But the responsibility to care for the Uchiha clan still existed, even though he knew they were leaving him.

But Hashirama...

Hashirama's death was because of him.

Madara owed him a life debt.

And the Uchihas always paid their debts in full.

Before thinking of ways to repay the debt to that Senju wooden-head, Madara had to try not to destroy the village - the joy, dreams, and lifelong efforts of his friend. In addition, he should be extremely patient so as not to kill his brother yet.

After all, there was one last "but". He enjoyed getting on the nerves of the white-haired murderer. To make that Senju constantly vigilant, on guard, anxious and fearful all day long, unable to eat or sleep, only stopping when he was dead. As long as he remained in Konoha for a single day, Tobirama would never feel at peace.

The clan head pushed Hashirama's blood-stained face out of his mind and tried to think about the benefits of this situation. As a result, after much deliberation, he saw that an office job was of no use to someone like him who was teetering on the edge, but it also had some redeeming qualities that could be reluctantly considered acceptable. Working in isolation like this, he had less of a chance to interact with people he didn't want to see, for example, the murderer in the Eastern office. The maggots only passed by his office to pick up the approved documents. And that was it.

"Mr. and Mrs. Tsubaki from the pastry shop asked the members of the Inuzuka clan to muzzle their dogs when they go out..." Madara was so sleepy that the words were melting before his eyes. Why did he have to do this pointless work? How did he manage to endure this whole week?

All he yearned for was to return home, sink into the comfort of his bed, and reunite with Izuna in his dreams. The world outside had surrendered to the darkness of night. A quick glance at the clock revealed that the hands had reached eight, yet Madara remained tethered to his workplace, bound by the task of approving a few pending applications.

Those damned papers.

He wanted to just drift off to sleep.

"Knock, knock."

Startled awake, Madara lifted his head, his eyes still weighed down by the lingering remnants of sleep. He nearly buried his face in his own thick mane of hair. "Come in."

It was Uchiha Hikaku, the man he had wished was sitting here working with him just a few minutes ago. Hikaku was Izuna's best friend, as close to Madara as his own arms and legs. After Izuna's passing, the only person he could trust to lead the Uchiha clan was Hikaku (assuming he himself produced no heirs). Today, the Uchiha clan deputy tied his hair back in a ponytail with a slightly gaudy red hair tie, revealing a wide, sparkling smile. "Madara-sama! Your patience is truly admirable! It's astonishing!"

"Hikaku, what brings you here?" Madara groaned, his voice laced with exhaustion, as he faced the exuberant Hikaku.

"You won't be angry if I speak, will you?" Hikaku chuckled, but a thin sheen of sweat was already beading on his forehead.

"Get to the point, Hikaku." Madara furrowed his brow, dismissing the deputy clan head's hesitant demeanor.

"Here's the thing," Hikaku gulped, turned the doorknob, and wheeled in a cart piled high with ten stacks of thick documents that reached his chin. Madara glared. "No one else dared to tell you, so I..."

"What the hell is this?" he growled, his spiky hair standing on end.

"Documents. In the eastern office." He wheeled the cart into the middle of the room, cautiously watching Madara as he approached to inspect it.

The Uchiha clan head glared at the deputy clan head, vowing that he would not approve another single page of the wretched paperwork today - enough was enough! Had no one in Konoha left who knew how to do this kind of thing? As he casually picked up a document from the cart to examine it, the dormant rage within him suddenly exploded. This was the pile of documents he had just approved this morning. Madara could feel his chakra surging, the air in the room seemed to compress, his eyes blazed as he looked at Hikaku and saw him backing away a few steps, standing close to the door as if to escape.

"Alright then, Madara-sama..." Hikaku took a breath and spoke, trying to maintain a smile. "The Eastern office has requested that you review all of these documents again because there are many mistakes that you have signed off on without even looking..."

Madara clenched the document tightly, kicking the cart so hard that it slammed into the wall. A few unfortunate scrolls from above fell down. The Uchiha deputy clan head jumped in surprise and stammered, "So...so they think you should review and approve them again...I'll go now...I won't bother you anymore..."

In a panic, he twisted the doorknob and ran off, so scared that he didn't have time to close the door behind him.

"HIKAKU!" he roared, stomping his foot. "HIKAKU!"

From a distance, the deputy clan head's voice echoed back, sounding incredibly forlorn. "I'm sorry, Madara, but I'm just relaying the message... Good luck!"

"NO!" Madara gaped at the cart he had kicked.

The person from the Eastern office...

"That maggot Tobirama!" he cursed angrily, picking up the fallen document and placing it on the table. "This is all your fault!"

A red sheet of paper fell out of the cart. The words on it made Madara want to burn down the entire Konoha.

It was Tobirama's handwriting, he recognized it immediately, as it had appeared far too often in the truce letters exchanged between the Senju and Uchiha clans throughout the years of war and bloodshed.

"Left stack: Spelling error."

Damn it.

"Right stack: The party made a false claim but you still signed."

"Middle stack: Incorrect date (today is the 21st, not the 25th)."

Madara gritted his teeth.

They just needed his signature. Tobirama was trying to find fault--

No.

A cold voice echoed in his mind.

Madara had indeed made a careless mistake, no matter how much he hated Tobirama.

He should... no, he had to admit his mistake. He had to face it.

Madara was not one to avoid correcting his mistakes. He was a perfectionist.

"Let's get this mess over with and go home to see Izuna," he encouraged himself. Play off the debt and quest for the True Dream.

The True Dream will make all the troubles disappear. Reassuring himself like this, he sat down and continued working.

It was past midnight. The Eastern office of the Hokage Tower was still brightly lit.

Not leaving before the Hokage left his desk. Not leaving until the Western office was dark. Tobirama had no idea where these rumors about a second advisor who was cruel and heartless, like a demon, and who forced his assistants to work like slaves, came from - he was simply doing his job. And he did it efficiently and accurately.

Tobirama never backed down.

"Second Advisor, I'm going to call it a day." Nara Torino, the only assistant left standing at this point, had risen and admitted defeat. The young Nara man blinked his weary black eyes at the white-haired man who was intently reading a scroll on the table. Saying nothing, his eyes still glued to the words, Tobirama nodded his assent to Torino.

Nara stuffed the pile of documents into his bag, put on his simple black coat, and walked towards the door. He turned back to look at his second advisor. After working with Senju Tobirama for a month, Torino realized that this was a person he never wanted to face off against, not once in his short Shinobi life. Senju's pale skin made him look like a ghost, his red eyes always cold and emotionless, and he sat at the wooden desk piled high with papers like a statue. Torino wasn't one to pry into people's appearances, but with Tobirama in particular, he could never figure out what was going on in the man's head, so he could only observe from the outside. Tobirama could easily sit motionless like a statue for twenty-four hours straight and seemed to be able to handle all the work of this village.

Torino greeted him: a single expression.

Torino handed over the documents: a single expression.

Torino smiled, spoke, coughed, peeked, glanced sideways, left the room, entered the room, had a snack, smoked: a single expression.

This was Senju Tobirama.

He was a truly strange creature. Not even a single eyebrow raise was ever seen. A social conversation with his assistants was as rare as water in the desert. Torino knew that working with someone like Senju Tobirama in the East Wing was challenging, but it was better than being transferred to the Uchiha side?

The young Nara man couldn't be sure if this was a real person or a sculpture of a man with facial paralysis. For the rest of the assistants, going to the office each day wasn't just about contributing to peace or earning a living; they also wanted to observe the Senju clan head, from the slightest movements of his eyes to his clothes and hair. They wanted to decipher his unparalleled work ethic, or they simply enjoyed observing others and turning the information they gathered into sensational gossip during their breaks.

He showed no signs of fatigue or even squinted his eyes despite working tirelessly from dawn to night. His work pace mirrored his movements on the battlefield (Torino had heard daily rumors about the Senju clan's Flying Thunder God back when his own clan was at war). Tobirama was a hardworking and passionate individual, but his one weakness was his unapproachable nature. He rarely spoke to anyone and didn't pay much attention to others. When his assistants made mistakes that affected his work, Tobirama would simply stare at them with bloodshot eyes, not uttering a single word of reprimand, but enough to make them all so scared that they could cry for their mothers. At that time, Torino guessed that this clan head must be single, because no creature could stand such a formidable person to the core. Despite everything, he still fulfilled his duties as an advisor admirably. Senju was the kind of demanding boss that you both wanted and didn't want.

Torino grabbed his briefcase and placed his hand on the doorknob, when he sensed the chakra of three strangers outside. He raised an eyebrow, wondering who these people could be, when Tobirama spoke up. "They're not enemies, don't worry. Just open the door."

Oh. Senju had just had a conversation with Torino. It was the second one this week. Progress from the silent week before. He nodded, gently opened the door and stood aside for the three guests to enter.

"Oh, Ganya. Welcome back." Tobirama looked up, set the scroll down, and smiled.

For a moment, Torino froze, taken aback by the Senju man's smile. And there was something so...gentle about his expression. Thinking he was seeing things, the young Nara man blinked and looked again. Tobirama was still smiling, his eyes sparkling brightly.

Oh. This was hard to believe. My roommates would squeal for sure.

Nara stood rooted to the spot. He strained his eyes to see who were coming in: a strange child of about five with flaming red hair like an Uzumaki clansman burst through the door and lunged at Tobirama, shouting loudly:

"TOBI-JICHAN!" The child fiercely clambered onto the Senju clan head's lap, its tiny hands wrapping around his neck. "Spar with me!"

Torino remained frozen as the red-haired child wreaked havoc, tugging at his boss's white hair. And Tobirama showed no signs of annoyance or anger. Instead, he smiled at the mischievous child and said, "Now, now, you mustn't disrupt my work, little demon."

Nara couldn't believe his eyes. Could this be... the eldest son of the late First Hokage Hashirama, the young master Senju Shani?

"Ji-chan, I don't know, I want to see your water techniques!" the red-haired boy cried out, pouting. "It's so boring in the Land of Whirlpools. Hahaue doesn't even care about me."

"Tobirama-sama." A gentle voice sounded behind Torino.

A woman around fifty years old, her hair pulled back in a bun, short and stout in stature, dressed in a dark kimono, her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, her smile as gentle as a mountain fairy. In her arms, she was cradling a tiny baby who was sleeping soundly, wrapped in a pink blanket. This woman must be Ganya. As for the child she was holding...

"You're speaking too loudly, Shani-sama. You'll wake up your little sister."

Ah yes, Torino had heard the tragic tale of the First Hokage's wife, Lady Uzumaki, who discovered she was pregnant after his passing. She gave birth to a daughter at the end of last year. When this child was born, there was a commotion throughout Konoha.

"Poor Lady Senju will never meet her father," they lamented, sighing and expressing their sympathy in the marketplace.

"Mito-sama will remain in the Land of Whirlpools for three more days. She instructed me to bring the young lord and the young lady back first," Ganya informed Tobirama.

"My sister rarely gets to come home, so let her stay for a while longer." Tobirama ignored Shani, who was fiddling with his happuri. "She didn't gamble, did she?"

Ganya shook her head. "I'm truly sorry, Tobirama-sama. Mito-sama spent half of her money gambling on her way back to the Land of Whirlpools..."

"What--?" The Senju man raised an eyebrow, looking up.

"Fortunately, she only lost two rounds."

"You didn't stop her."

"I couldn't."

"Liar."

Torino cleared his throat. "Second Advisor, I beg your leave."

Only then did the others notice the young man's presence.

"You should go back," Tobirama nodded again. Torino walked past, and Ganya hugged the young Senju lady tightly, bowing her head slightly in greeting. Startled, the boy bowed back deeply.

As Torino stepped out, the Hokage Tower was soon deserted, with only the faint glow of the village's sole streetlamp casting a glimmer through the darkened window. The young Nara man suddenly heard the white-haired Senju hiss, "You were gambling with her, weren't you?"

It was already two o'clock in the morning. Madara wearily pushed the cart laden with documents across the bridge-corridor connecting the two buildings, thinking to himself that Senju Tobirama must still be in his office. The lights on the eastern side were still on, confirming his guess. This time, he was determined to finish the pile of erroneous paperwork. Tomorrow was Sunday, and no one would be able to drag him away from his hunting trip with his beloved falcons. Rubbing his weary eyes, Madara couldn't help but feel that paperwork was far more draining than even five hours of continuous combat back in his youth. It chipped away at shinobi, gradually eroding their connection to the battlefield's raw energy and primal instincts...

But it wasn't enough to prevent Madara from noticing something clinging under the railing. Full of anger, it was watching his every move.

While he might not be a sensory-type ninja like Tobirama or Hikaku, he could still sense the abnormally large but severely uncontrolled amount of chakra.

On a cool night, perfect for slitting the throats of kids.

Right?

"Come out, kid. I know you're down there."

Madara watched as a figure emerged from the railing, leaping gracefully onto the corridor and standing before him without a hint of fear. Standing barely a meter tall, he had fiery red hair like the blossoms of a cotton tree and large, round black eyes (that reminded him of someone he couldn't quite place for the time being). Dressed in a thin moss green yukata, he pointed directly at his face and shouted:

"EVIL UCHIHA BASTARD!"

Suddenly, it dawned on him who this child was. Red-haired. Uzumaki. Mito was away, everyone in the village knew that the late Hokage's wife was visiting her mother in the Land of Whirlpools. So, the one left must be...

Her son.

Wait, wasn't her son also the son of that Senju wooden-head?

Madara blinked, assessing the child in front of him. "What do you want, huh?" The boy just glared back at him. Those dark, youthful eyes, brimming with courage and vitality, were indeed reminiscent of Hashirama.

"Kick your butt! You're a bad guy!"

"Why do you think so?"

"They say you beat up my Tobirama-jichan!"

Ah, that's right. Madara had completely forgotten. This one-meter-tall kid was Hashirama's son, which means he was the nephew of that white-haired murderer.

Mito's wild hair. Eyes like a beautiful forest, reminiscent of Hashirama. And the insolent, uncouth language of Tobirama.

All reflected perfectly in this cheeky brat.

"Standing before me without wetting your pants, you must have some guts." Madara said calmly, a dark aura evident in his eyes. "Senju brat, do you know how I treat those who are brave?"

"How?"

"I'll give them the most gruesome, agonizing death to match their audacity." He whispered, his voice turning sinister. "First, I'll sever their tendons, then peel off their ears, and..."

"You wouldn't dare!" the red-haired child yelled, but his eyes were slightly trembling with fear. Madara watched with amusement. Children were easy to manipulate, especially when they were scared. "I'm the young master! Ji-chan will..."

Before he could finish his sentence, the brat fell silent as a terrifying scream echoed from behind him. The surge of chakra like a tidal wave crashed into Madara's ears, causing him to tear his gaze away from the child to observe the approaching figure.

"SHANI!"

Never had Madara seen Tobirama wear such an expressive face. The Senju man rushed through the long corridor, against the backdrop of the night sky, his white hair standing out even more, like snow falling into a dark river. For the first time, Madara could read the emotions in those sly red eyes: worry, filled with unease and lacking composure.

"Where did you run off to? Why did you...!" Tobirama grabbed the child's shoulder and asked angrily.

The red-haired brat hissed, but his eyes didn't dare meet Tobirama's. "I was waiting for you, but then that guy showed up. I wanted to kick his butt--"

"Shut up now," the white-haired Senju snapped. His hand swiftly covered the child's mouth, preventing him from uttering another word. The Flying Thunder God man placed his other hand on Shani's back, firmly gripping the moss-green shirt, in a protective gesture.

"I was about to hand you the documents," Madara said with a sardonic smile. "But it seems the Senju young master doesn't approve."

"Madara." Tobirama warned. "It's just a child, what do you care about it?"

Was this maggot trembling? That's right, Madara could have killed Senju Tobirama, he had always wanted to kill Tobirama, and now he wanted it even more since Tobirama had dared to raise Hashirama's son into an arrogant, thoughtless, lacking in vigilance and caution scaramouch. Especially, he was weak and cowardly, showing no signs of inheriting the greatness of the Shinobi God in the future. He knew Tobirama was afraid, both worried about not being able to escape and worried about the child being killed.

"A child?" Madara's eyes flashed with bloodlust. "At that age, we were already on the battlefield, weren't we Tobirama?"