Boom—!

  In the early morning haze, Kaya Shihōin was yanked from his dreams by a thunderous explosion.

  “An earthquake?”

  He rushed outside in his pajamas, eyes widening at the trembling earth beneath his feet and the houses swaying on their foundations. But in the very next second, his expression shifted—something clicked in his mind.

  “That direction... the Valley of the End... So it's finally begun.”

  There was no mistaking it. Only one thing could unleash that kind of force.

  The battle between the First Hokage and Madara Uchiha.

  Climbing swiftly to a high vantage point, Kaya silently watched the dust clouds rise far in the distance. A swirl of emotions welled up inside him.

  This fight was inevitable. Hashirama and Madara... neither would walk away unscathed. And with their fall, the true age of chaos was about to descend.

  Unlike Kaya, who already knew the truth, most of the Konoha shinobi below were panicking, scrambling to respond to what they thought was an enemy attack.

  In mere minutes, waves of shinobi surged toward the Hokage’s office—only to retreat just as quickly after receiving a sudden order from the Second Hokage: stand down.

  They didn’t understand what was happening, but once they knew it wasn’t an invasion, the vilge settled... at least on the surface.

  But no one, no one, could truly be at ease. Not with that oppressive chakra flooding from the distance like a looming storm.

  Many shinobi—like Kaya, standing alone on a rooftop—simply stared into the horizon, speechless.

  There were those in Konoha who knew the truth. Veterans from the Warring States Era, comrades-in-arms of Hashirama and Madara, men who had built this vilge with their own hands. For them, the signs were unmistakable.

  In every corner of Konoha, simir sighs echoed like wind through the leaves.

  Just then, as Kaya watched the drifting smoke and wrestled with the weight of what was to come, a small voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “Kaya... I don’t feel good... I can’t find Grandpa, or Great-Grandpa, or Grandma either...”

  Little Tsunade had found him. Her voice trembled with confusion and fear. With no one else to turn to, she’d come to the one person she could still trust—her only real friend.

  Kaya looked down at her anxious face and didn’t say a word.

  He had to admit, Tsunade had a strange kind of perception. She might not know what was really going on, but somehow, she sensed it. Her instincts were sharp—sharper than most adults.

  But what caught Kaya’s attention wasn’t her emotions. It was what she said.

  She couldn’t find Tobirama or Mito Uzumaki anywhere.

  That... was a problem.

  Did that mean the Second Hokage had already prepared to intervene? Maybe even ambush Madara?

  The more Kaya thought about it, the more it made sense.

  Sure, someone like Hashirama would never allow others to interfere in his battle with Madara. That wasn’t his way.

  But if things turned dire—if Hashirama was on the verge of death—could Tobirama just stand by and watch? Could he really let Madara walk away unscathed after killing his brother?

  Impossible. Even the First wouldn’t be able to stop him in that situation.

  No wonder Madara’s tone had been so grim. This battle had only one ending—mutual destruction. At best.

  Even if he managed to defeat Hashirama, could Madara really survive Tobirama and the others?

  No. This was a suicide mission, and deep down, Madara probably knew it. He had no allies, no backup—just himself.

  As Kaya gently held Tsunade and offered her what comfort he could, his mind kept spinning, turning over possibilities, trying to see what the future held.

  Boom—!

  The distant battle raged on. A storm of legendary power that shook the heavens and earth for an entire day. And then, at long st, with one final, earth-shattering explosion...

  Silence.

  The tremors faded. The smoke began to settle.

  It was over.

  At twilight, Kaya followed Tsunade to the Konoha Hospital, where they finally found Hashirama—wrapped in bandages, but smiling as if nothing had happened.

  “Grandpa!”

  Tsunade threw herself into his arms, rubbing her face against his chest with gleeful abandon.

  Hashirama ughed his usual hearty ugh, ruffling her hair as if he hadn’t just fought a battle to the death.

  But Kaya knew better.

  Maybe it was the knowledge of what was coming, but to his eyes, Hashirama’s movements looked strained, forced.

  Still, in between teasing Tsunade and reassuring her, Hashirama took time to quietly speak with Tobirama, whispering instructions... and finally, he looked toward Kaya.

  “This kid’s got potential. Tobirama, make sure to mentor him when you have the chance.”

  Tobirama gave Kaya a ft, unreadable look, and nodded silently.

  “Kaya... about the question you asked me—looks like I won’t be the one to give you the answer. I hope... one day, you’ll find it yourself.”

  So this really was a farewell.

  Kaya could hear the unspoken weight in Hashirama’s voice. His words were a curtain call, a gentle passing of the torch.

  A few weeks ter, on the night he walked Tsunade to her first day of school, the First Hokage passed away—without warning, without fanfare.

  The vilge was thrown into an uproar.

  The official story was that old wounds from his youth had finally caught up with him. But no one really believed that.

  Everyone remembered the battle. Everyone knew about Madara’s disappearance.

  Whispers turned to accusations. Fingers pointed toward the Uchiha.

  The Uchiha cn closed their doors. Isoted themselves. Fortunately, Tobirama—at least for now—honored his brother’s final wishes and forbade any discussion of the incident, giving the Uchiha a sliver of room to breathe.

  As for the political games and dark undercurrents running through the vilge... Kaya paid them no mind. Even if he knew, he wouldn’t have cared. That world still felt distant, unreal.

  At the funeral, Kaya stood in bck. Bck hair, bck eyes, a solemn face among the crowd.

  Tsunade clung to him, sobbing uncontrolbly. He held her close, gently offering words of comfort.

  Honestly, Kaya had liked Hashirama. The man had charisma, warmth, and strength in equal measure. He’d treated Kaya kindly. His death—though expected—left a dull ache in his chest.

  But beneath the grief, something heavier gnawed at him.

  Madara was gone. Hashirama was gone. Konoha had lost its twin pilrs.

  And the ninja world had lost its st, fragile hope for peace.

  The age of chaos... had finally begun.