203. Hi, Mrs. Senju

“Is it almost done? I’m starving!”

After an entire day of awkward mock battles with the Senju clan, a hungry Uchiha clan member couldn’t help but turn to his leader behind him, his dark eyes full of impatience.

He hadn’t eaten all day and was eagerly waiting for a feast.

“Who isn’t? Lord Tobirama hasn’t given any orders, and when I left, I saw the tables were already set. It’s about time we started eating,” replied a Senju clan member, equally exhausted after half a day of pretending to fight. Like his opponent, he was hungry and eager for the meal.

Similar situations played out across the battlefield. Some clueless participants were still putting on a serious act, while the smarter ones had already found shady spots to cool off, waiting for the call to feast.

“Dinner time! Dinner time!”

Finally, messengers from both sides burst out from their respective camps, loudly announcing the long-awaited command.

“Hell yeah!”

“Finally! This is even more tiring than actual fighting!”

A burly Senju clan member instantly collapsed onto the ground upon hearing the announcement. Standing before him was a drenched, skinny Uchiha clan member.

Who would’ve guessed they had spent the entire time engaged in a “close and balanced” taijutsu battle?

“Hmph! I’m an illusionist. If it weren’t for the orders, you’d have died the moment we met,” retorted the Uchiha member, glaring with threatening eyes despite being drenched in sweat.

While both sides exchanged lighthearted banter after the ceasefire, the aroma of delicious food wafted over the battlefield. It made everyone instinctively swallow as they packed up their gear, eager to return to camp for a hearty meal.

Once the battlefield was cleared, a group of people rushed out from the Senju camp, heading toward the center of the battlefield.

“Hurry up, the banquet is about to start!”

The leader, a Senju member carrying a large basket of utensils, urged his team onward.

Soon, they reached the central location and got to work setting up. Tables and chairs were neatly arranged, fine tableware was laid out, and festive red candles were lit with fire jutsu, casting a warm glow in the peaceful battlefield.

Although it was November, the Land of Fire’s spring-like climate ensured the evening wasn’t cold.

As the Senju finished their preparations, Uchiha Izuna, who had been watching from a distance, turned to his elder brother, Uchiha Madara, who sat cross-legged in meditation.

“Brother, they’re ready.”

“Let’s go. I want to see what kind of woman Hashirama found!” Madara said, opening his eyes. The crimson glow of his Sharingan faded, leaving behind cold black pupils. With a grim expression, he stood up and headed toward the meeting spot with Izuna.


---

“Is everything ready?”

Just as the Senju members finished their setup, a flash of blue light announced the arrival of a white-haired figure beside the table. Tobirama glanced at the burning red candles and asked the group,

“Lord Tobirama, everything is prepared,” the leader replied, bowing his head, used to Tobirama’s sudden appearances.

“Good, then you’re dismissed.”

The tantalizing aroma of the dishes filled the air, but Tobirama, suppressing his mischievous urge to poison the food, crossed his arms and stared toward the Uchiha camp, waiting for the “guests” to arrive.


---

“Where’s Hashirama?”

Before long, two familiar figures descended from the sky. Madara, dressed in a deep blue robe, carried a square package as he coldly addressed Tobirama, whose usual sour expression hadn’t changed.

“What’s the rush? My brother and his bride still have plenty to talk about. If you don’t want to wait, leave the gift and be on your way,” Tobirama replied smugly, waving him off dismissively, much to Madara’s frustration.

“Hmph! It was your brother who invited us. What right do you have to chase us off?”

Izuna, ever the loyal supporter of his elder brother, immediately stepped forward, his neck stiff with indignation as he traded barbs with Tobirama.

“You cowardly turtle! Take off that weird armor and face me in a one-on-one fight!”

“Tch, I won’t. It’ll drive you crazy, you annoying mutt! Or do you want me to test out my new blade on you?”

Izuna, now equipped with gear gifted by an Uchiha merchant, exuded newfound confidence. No longer afraid of Tobirama’s sudden ambushes, he stood tall, ready to face his old rival.


---

“Enough, Izuna. Let’s wait.”

Madara raised his hand, silencing his brother. He glared at the festive red candles lining the tables, his expression dark, before pulling out a chair and sitting down with a brooding air.

“I’ll let this slide for Hashirama’s sake, but I’ll see you on the battlefield,” Izuna said provocatively, giving Tobirama a smug glance before sitting down as well.

“Hmph!”

Feeling compelled not to lose face, Tobirama also pulled out a chair, engaging Izuna in a fierce staring contest.


---

“I won!”

After a while, both men, with dry eyes and clenched teeth, continued their silent battle. Ultimately, Izuna’s Sharingan gave him a slight edge, much to Tobirama’s dismay.

"I really am an idiot. Why did I even engage in such a childish game with you?"

Rubbing his sore eyes, Tobirama Senju muttered to himself, reflecting on his actions.

"Apologies, apologies, I’m late! I’ll punish myself with three drinks later!"

Just as the three were starting to grow impatient, two figures appeared beside the table. Hashirama Senju, looking apologetic, pulled along a woman with a clear yet slightly confused gaze—Momoka Senju. Hashirama addressed everyone with a guilty tone.

"Big brother, why are you being so polite with them?"

Still nursing the sting of his recent loss, Tobirama stood up and interjected, reminding his elder brother of their pride.

"Ah, Tobirama, but Madara is my dear friend!"

Hashirama gently calmed his inexplicably irritable younger brother before turning to the seemingly sleeping Madara Uchiha.

"Madara, stop pretending. Let me introduce you. This is Momoka Senju, my wife."

Sensing that Madara was merely feigning sleep, Hashirama didn’t hesitate to pull Momoka closer, introducing her to his old friend.

"So this is her? Hashirama, your taste isn’t particularly impressive," Madara said slowly, his deep, dark eyes filled with a scrutinizing look that sent chills down Momoka's spine.

Instinctively, she leaned closer to Hashirama, seeking comfort and safety.

"Hmph."

Seeing her reaction, Madara scoffed coldly and pushed a prepared gift box toward the table.

"Ah, Madara, just having you here is enough! No need to bring a gift. But since it’s a token of your kindness, I’ll gladly accept it," Hashirama said cheerfully, clearly pleased with Madara’s gesture. This represented Madara’s acknowledgment of their friendship, giving Hashirama hope for his dream.

"Momoka, quickly, toast to my dear friend Madara!"

Excited by the gesture, Hashirama grabbed a wine glass and, dragging the bewildered Tōka, raised it toward Madara, loudly proclaiming his gratitude.

"Thank you for attending my wedding, Madara!"

Standing before his longtime friend, Hashirama raised his glass earnestly.

"Congratulations, Hashirama."

After staring for a long moment, as if something clicked in his mind, Madara picked up his glass and clinked it against Hashirama’s. He then tilted his head back and drank it in one gulp.

"Haha! I’ll drink too!"

Feeling the sincerity in his friend’s gesture, Hashirama didn’t hesitate and downed his glass as well.

"Thank you all," Momoka stammered nervously, pinching her nose as she reluctantly drank her glass of wine.

Momoka wasn’t used to such grand occasions, let alone being in the presence of Madara Uchiha, the strongest of the Uchiha clan—a warrior who fought toe-to-toe with her husband on the battlefield. She tried her best to minimize her presence before such a formidable figure.

"You’ve gained a new family member, Hashirama," Madara remarked, raising his glass again. His gaze briefly swept Momoka, whose nervousness was evident.

"Yes, Madara. I’ve lost too many family members, and I don’t want to lose any more."

Clinking glasses with Madara, Hashirama’s expression grew serious. He hadn’t forgotten his dream—to create a peaceful village where families and children could be safe from the horrors of war.

"Still clinging to that intangible fantasy?"

Madara sipped his wine, his gaze distant as though lost in thought.


---

"Where’s your curly-haired brother, you slimy turtle?"

On the other side of the table, Tobirama suddenly broke the silence, his eyes fixed on Izuna Uchiha’s stiff, upright hairstyle as if inspired by the sight.

"Huh? Who are you calling slimy, you dead-eyed albino?"

Izuna, who had been enjoying his meal, frowned upon hearing the insult and immediately prepared to teach Tobirama a lesson.

"Has your hearing degraded to a turtle’s level? I asked about your curly-haired brother. Last I saw him, I couldn’t believe he actually survived my father’s iron fist."

Tobirama smirked, his red eyes brimming with disdain, which caused Izuna’s veins to bulge in frustration.

"Please, don’t fight…"

Caught in the middle, Momoka timidly tried to mediate. However, both Hashirama and Madara, well aware of their brothers’ fiery tempers, made no attempt to intervene. Instead, they seemed entertained, as if enjoying a show.

"At worst, they’ll fight it out. Neither will die anyway," thought Madara. In his mind, Tobirama couldn’t even breach Izuna’s defenses.

Meanwhile, Hashirama believed that with Tobirama’s mastery of the Flying Thunder God Technique, not even he could catch him, let alone someone like Izuna.

Poor Momoka, however, was stuck between the two hot-headed young men. She anxiously racked her brain, unsure how to prevent the impending clash.

Just as she felt helpless, an unfamiliar presence suddenly appeared beside her. Before she could react, a sultry, lazy voice whispered into her ear,

"Wow~ Mrs. Senju, let me introduce myself. I’m Uchiha Gin, your future neighbor~"