sbdcsierra Chapter 318 Unresolved Feelings
Chapter 318 Unresolved Feelings
Hiruzen Sarutobi's outstretched hand was broad and steady, carrying the warmth and power of a Hokage.
Madara Uchiha's Rinnegan narrowed slightly as he stared at the hand, and at the younger man before him who was far younger than he had imagined. After a long while, he raised his own hand—the one that had once overturned the world—and slowly grasped it.
The moment their hands clasped together, even the wind on the mountaintop seemed to freeze for a second.
Uchiha Kagami stood not far away, feeling as if his heart was about to leap out of his chest.
This is not a confrontation, nor a reconciliation; it is more like a handover spanning decades.
The creator of an era and the guardian of an era completed their silent legacy on the Hokage Rock, which has witnessed all of Konoha's history.
"The ramen in the village tastes pretty good."
Madara Uchiha released his hand, his voice calm, as if that historic handshake was just a routine courtesy.
Hiruzen Sarutobi smiled gently. "Is that so? It seems that the boss's skills have been recognized."
Madara Uchiha didn't reply. He turned around, his deep gaze piercing the night, looking towards the depths of the village, in an ancient and tranquil direction. That was the old site of the Senju clan, and the foundation of his dear friend's life.
"There's another old friend I should visit."
His words, though devoid of much emotion, stirred the hearts of both Hiruzen Sarutobi and Kagami Uchiha simultaneously.
In this era, there is only one person left whom Madara Uchiha would still refer to as an old friend.
Mito Uzumaki.
As if he had expected this, Hiruzen Sarutobi calmly stated a fact: "She is waiting for you."
Uchiha Kagami stood a little distance away, feeling even his breathing become cautious.
The Third Hokage, Madara Uchiha, and the person he was about to meet, Mito Uzumaki, the wife of the First Hokage.
The three of them standing together is a living history of the founding of Konoha.
"Let's go."
Madara Uchiha didn't say anything more and turned to walk down the path.
His silhouette remained aloof, but the fierce aura that could have crushed mountains had dissipated considerably without him even realizing it.
Hiruzen Sarutobi and Kagami Uchiha exchanged a glance and followed in tacit agreement.
The three walked silently through the night in Konoha.
Unlike the bustling Hokage Avenue, the road leading to the Senju old residential area retains more traces of the past.
The stone path has been worn smooth by time, and the trees along the roadside have become even taller and older. Their branches intertwine in the night sky, casting dappled moonlight.
The air was devoid of the aromas of food from the commercial street; instead, it was filled with the fragrance of damp earth and vegetation.
Everything here seems to be a corner forgotten by time.
Madara Uchiha slowed his pace further along this path. His Rinnegan swept over the familiar outlines of the courtyard walls, and he seemed to be able to see through them the carefree man in red armor from back then.
They drank and gambled while daydreaming about a far-fetched future.
The closer they got, the clearer that familiar yet unfamiliar chakra sensation became.
Vast and serene, like a bottomless lake.
That was the life force of the Uzumaki clan, and also the unique chakra fluctuation that emerged after the Nine-Tails was perfectly suppressed and merged with the Jinchūriki.
Finally, they stopped in front of a very old-fashioned mansion.
There were no guards here, not even a single extra lantern, only a half-open wooden door, as if waiting for a returning traveler.
Hiruzen Sarutobi stopped and nodded slightly to Kagami Uchiha, indicating that he should stay outside the door.
Then, he himself stepped aside, leaving the path to the past entirely to Uchiha Madara.
This was a meeting belonging to that era; they only needed to witness it quietly.
Madara Uchiha pushed open the door alone.
The courtyard was quiet, with only one tea room lit by a warm light. A figure sat upright, elegant and serene, reflected in the paper sliding door.
He walked slowly across the courtyard, onto the wooden corridor, and finally stopped at the entrance of the tea room, where he knelt down.
"Come in, Madara."
A gentle and calm voice came from inside the room, carrying the weight of time, yet without a trace of age.
Madara Uchiha opened the paper door.
The tea room is decorated in an extremely simple way: a calming calligraphy and painting, a set of antique tea utensils, and a small incense burner with burning incense.
A red-haired woman dressed in an elegant kimono was quietly kneeling behind the tea ceremony table.
Her hair was still the signature red of the Whirlpool Clan, held up by a wooden hairpin. Her face was dignified, and although the marks of time were visible, her elegant and noble demeanor remained undiminished.
Mito Uzumaki.
In front of her, the water on the tea stove was making a slight boiling sound.
Decades later, the only two surviving members of the same generation who witnessed Konoha's rise from nothing meet again.
There was no tense standoff, no questioning, and no excessive emotional fluctuation as I had imagined.
Mito Uzumaki slowly opened her eyes; they were clear and gentle eyes that had seen through the vicissitudes of life.
She looked at Madara Uchiha as if he were a neighbor who hadn't returned in a long time.
"You look better than I expected," she said softly.
Madara Uchiha sat down on the cushion opposite her and looked around the tea room.
"You haven't changed much."
People always get old.
Mito Uzumaki picked up a tea scoop and began preparing the tea methodically. Her movements were fluid and graceful, with a soothing rhythm. "Only the heart can remain in the past."
Silence fell over the tea room, broken only by the soft hissing of the tea whisk as it stirred the tea.
As Madara Uchiha watched her skillful movements, his thoughts drifted back to a long time ago.
Back then, Hashirama always complained that Mito's tea ceremony was too complicated and not nearly as enjoyable as drinking alcohol. But each time, under Mito's calm gaze, he would obediently sit down and finish the bowl of bitter tea.
Mito gently pushed the first cup of tea she had brewed towards Madara Uchiha. The emerald green tea swayed slightly in the rustic earthenware bowl, reflecting the lamplight.
"Hashirama would be so happy to know you're back."
"This is his favorite tea."
"Hmph, that naive fool."
Madara Uchiha picked up his teacup, uttering disdainful words, but his actions were unusually solemn.
He held the teacup in his palm, feeling its warmth, and then drank it all in one gulp.
After the intense bitterness comes a lingering sweetness that slowly spreads across the tongue.
"He would like Konoha as it is now."
Ban put down his teacup and looked at the moonlight outside the window. "Noisy, vibrant, full of life. That's what he likes."
"Hashirama hoped that children would no longer have to carry kunai and face a battlefield where they might not even see tomorrow."
A faint smile finally appeared on Mito Uzumaki's face. "This village is far better than his initial dream."
Her gaze seemed to penetrate the wall and land on the young Hokage outside the courtyard gate.
"That kid named Hiruzen Sarutobi did a great job. Better than us, better than Hashirama," Madara Uchiha commented.
"yes."
Mito nodded slightly in agreement, "Hashirama only drew up a blueprint, but that child was the one who actually built the house and made it a place that everyone wanted to live in."
Silence fell in the tea room once again.
They talked about many things from the past, about the Warring States period filled with blood and fire, and about those people who had long since passed away.
Their conversation was like a recollection of the past, and also a complete farewell to the old era.
Madara Uchiha told Mito that he had seen a better world than he had imagined.
Mito laughed and said that if Hashirama knew, he would be very happy and then drag him out for a good drink.
After he finished his cup of tea, Mito Uzumaki refilled it for him.
When the second cup of tea was finished, Madara Uchiha slowly stood up.
"I'm sorry to bother you."
"You're leaving already?" Mito Uzumaki didn't get up, but just looked up at him.
"Um."
"Wait a minute," Mito called out to him.
She took out a scroll from her wide sleeve. The scroll was small, made of ordinary wood, and even showed some signs of wear, making it look quite old.
"This is something Hashirama left behind after the battle at the Valley of the End." She handed over the scroll. "Perhaps you should take a look."
Madara Uchiha's body was completely frozen in place.
His hand hovered in mid-air, his Rinnegan eyes, which had witnessed countless changes in the world, staring intently at the small scroll.
The familiar scent of that man still seemed to linger on it.
After a long while, he finally reached out and took it.
The scroll was light in his hand, yet so heavy that he could barely hold it.
He silently untied the rope and slowly unrolled the scroll.
The scroll contained no sealing techniques, no ninjutsu manuals, only one line of text.
It was Hashirama Senju's handwriting—so familiar, so free and even a little messy.
As Madara Uchiha looked at the words, a few tears welled up in his eyes, which had weathered countless storms and witnessed countless lives and deaths.