212. Our Dream

“Cough! I was careless. Who would’ve thought that I, Uchiha Tajima, after a lifetime of triumphs, would fall to a mere brat like you?”

Struck through the chest by Senju Tobirama’s Flying Thunder God Slash, the “Uchiha Tajima” collapsed to one knee. His tiger-like eyes, slightly open, carried a trace of disbelief. As he clutched his waist, he covertly forced the wound to reopen, ensuring the blood wouldn’t stop flowing. Feigning weakness, he muttered to himself in a low voice that was loud enough to reach the ears of everyone present.

“What? Impossible!”

Uchiha Madara, in the middle of a sparring match with Senju Hashirama, froze upon hearing the familiar voice. Confused, he turned his head, only to witness a scene that sent his fiery heart plummeting into an icy abyss.

Before him, his father, Uchiha Tajima, was falling to the ground. His fan, mid-swing, stopped in the air as he stood frozen, his entire being paralyzed, staring blankly at his father’s collapsing figure. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Madara, what’s wrong?”

Perched atop the giant wooden figure, Hashirama tilted his head in confusion at Madara’s sudden stillness. But when he followed Madara’s gaze and saw Uchiha Tajima seemingly taken down by his own younger brother, his eyes widened in shock.

“Tobirama!”

Sensing his father’s waning life force, Madara snapped out of his stupor. Abandoning his battle, he dropped his war fan and darted toward his falling father, rage filling his voice as he shouted the name of the perpetrator.

“Ugh, just leave already! Why are you still acting?!”

Lying on the ground, Uchiha Gin (disguised as Tajima) threw wild glances at Tobirama, signaling him to flee before Madara arrived. If they truly fought, it would blow their cover.

Unexpectedly, Tobirama ignored the hint, staring at his hands in disbelief as he muttered to himself, “I actually defeated Uchiha Tajima? Am I truly the Uchiha nemesis?”

Feeling the fading life force of the fallen Uchiha Tajima, Tobirama was overcome with a mix of doubt and elation.

Earlier, while pursuing Uchiha Izuna, Tobirama had stopped abruptly, feeling an unexplainable sense of danger. A voice in his mind warned him not to leave his elder brother alone on the battlefield. If Madara and Tajima joined forces, Hashirama could be in grave danger.

The ominous feeling grew stronger, and visions of his brother’s demise flashed in his mind. Unable to bear the thought, Tobirama abandoned his pursuit and returned to the battlefield to stand by Hashirama’s side. After all, as the saying goes, “In battle, family stands together.”

When he arrived, Tobirama saw Hashirama locked in combat with Madara. He breathed a sigh of relief, but his gaze soon fell on the imposing figure of Uchiha Tajima standing nearby. Gritting his teeth, he acted decisively. Throwing several shuriken to divert attention, he launched his Flying Thunder God attack.

“Ugh, does this clone not understand my signals?”

Frustrated that his hints were ignored, Uchiha Gin entered the mental chat space to contact his wood clone, only to be greeted by a flood of question marks.

“Main body! I’m here; what’s the plan?”
“???”
“Wait, why is Tobirama here too?”
“Director! Director?”
“???”
“Alright, guess I’m not needed after all.”

Gin, now overwhelmed by frustration, expanded his sensory range and quickly discovered the Wood Clone Tobirama sitting on a nearby hill, casually watching the scene unfold while munching on snacks. Rage boiled within him.

So much for calling you a master actor—you brought in the original?! No wonder you were so heavy-handed!

Resigned to the situation, Gin decided to roll with it and finish the performance. Closing his eyes, he feigned weakness and awaited Madara’s arrival.

“Father!”

Madara rushed to Gin’s side, trembling hands gently lifting his father’s weakened body. Seeing the blood streaming from his father’s waist, his heart filled with unspeakable sorrow.

“Cough… Madara, I was careless…”

Struggling to open his eyes, “Uchiha Tajima” coughed a few times, blood frothing at his lips. He spoke weakly to Madara, whose face was etched with grief.

“It’s because of my failing eyes. I can’t even see the trajectory of a simple kunai anymore…”

He gestured to his thick glasses and continued, “Madara, listen to me—”

“Father, save your strength! I’ll take you back for treatment right away!”

“Hmph, leaving? Did you ask for my permission?”

Tobirama’s voice, cold and laced with killing intent, cut through the air. Pulling the bloodstained short sword from “Tajima’s” waist, he let the Flying Thunder God’s aura flare up, readying another strike.

“Tobirama, stop!”

Hashirama descended from above, landing between Tobirama and the injured Tajima. He raised a hand to stop his brother, his tone firm.

“But Brother! This is the perfect opportunity to eradicate the Uchiha clan!”

Frustrated by his brother’s softness, Tobirama argued vehemently.

“I said stop!”

Hashirama turned his stern gaze toward Tobirama. The weight of his authority bore down like a mountain, leaving Tobirama no choice but to reluctantly sheathe his sword. He turned away in frustration, his expression dark.

“Madara…”


Senju Hashirama turned back, a hint of apology in his eyes, and spoke softly to Uchiha Madara, who was carrying the wounded Uchiha Tajima:
“Enough. Your father needs treatment. Let’s call a truce for today.”

Madara ignored Hashirama entirely, not even bothering to reply. Carrying his gravely injured father, he sprinted toward the Uchiha camp without a word.

“Ah…”

Watching Madara’s retreating figure, Hashirama let out a deep sigh. A sense of helplessness washed over him.

“Brother, why didn’t you take this opportunity to wipe out the Uchiha clan?”

Now that the outsiders were gone, it was time for a private family conversation. Senju Tobirama stepped forward, frowning deeply, his crimson Sharingan-like eyes filled with confusion.

“Tobirama, how many enemies do we have left?”

Instead of answering Tobirama’s question, Hashirama turned around and responded with a question of his own, his deep gaze sparkling with complexity.

“None. In the entire Land of Fire, only the Uchiha clan still opposes us. All the other clans, large and small, have already submitted to our strength.”

After a brief moment of thought, Tobirama gave his answer. The Senju clan’s overwhelming strength had swept through the Land of Fire. Clans that resisted, like the Hagoromo clan, had been completely eradicated.

“Exactly. The Uchiha clan is the last and most important piece of my dream.”

Hashirama took a deep breath, recalling the dream he once shared with Madara. Looking at his dissatisfied brother, he spoke earnestly:
“Madara and I once envisioned a village where children would be safe from the pain of war, a place that would transform this chaotic era. If the Uchiha clan isn’t part of that village, then our dream is nothing more than empty talk.”

For years, the dream of building an ideal village with Madara had been Hashirama’s driving force. His battles with the Uchiha clan were merely a waiting game, hoping that one day Madara would willingly agree to join him in realizing their shared dream.

“I just hope things don’t spiral into the worst possible outcome.”

Hashirama’s eyes were filled with worry as he gazed at the distant Uchiha camp, his heart heavy with uncertainty.


---

“Hurry! Elder Haru, save my father!”

Uchiha Madara rushed into the Uchiha camp, carrying the unconscious “Uchiha Tajima” on his back. His anxiety was palpable as he spotted Uchiha Haru, the clan’s top medical expert, who had just arrived to check on him. Seeing Haru gave him a spark of hope—if anyone could save his father, it was him.

“Ah! Quickly, bring the patriarch inside! The rest of you, wait outside!”

Feigning panic, Uchiha Haru immediately waved his hand, ordering everyone to carry the “injured” Tajima into the room. After dismissing the others and closing the door, he began “emergency treatment.”

“Gin?”

As soon as the door shut, Uchiha Haru's frantic demeanor vanished. His expression calm, he looked at the bloodied “Uchiha Tajima” on the bed and whispered.

“Hey, how’s my performance?”

The “gravely injured” Uchiha Tajima, pale-faced, cracked open one eye and raised an eyebrow at the smirking Haru.
“Judging by Madara’s reaction, I’d say you fooled him completely.”

Haru nodded in satisfaction. Although he hadn’t witnessed Gin’s acting firsthand, Madara’s devastated expression was proof enough that this performance was far better than any before.

“Good. Are the eyes for my uncle ready?”

Having completed the most challenging part of the plan, Uchiha Gin still didn’t dare relax. He immediately inquired about another key aspect of the scheme.

“They’re ready. We just need to convince the clan leader to proceed with the transplant.”

Haru turned to his medical kit and carefully retrieved two scarlet Mangekyō Sharingan, preserved in nutrient fluid. Displaying them briefly, he replied confidently to Gin’s question.

“Alright then. Let’s bring in my cousin.”

Gin glanced at the freshly harvested Sharingan, nodded, and signaled that the final act of this elaborate play was about to begin.

“It’s time to show them some real acting.”