As soon as Senju Tobirama stepped into the room, his eyes fell upon a young man of striking presence—handsome, with flowing black hair. Tobirama's years of experience with the Uchiha Clan told him immediately: this was no ordinary shinobi. This man—this youth—was undoubtedly an Uchiha.
Tobirama's practiced smile faltered. Damn it! How could a naturally cunning and dangerous Uchiha appear here, in the very heart of the Daimyo of the Land of Fire's territory?
"Hello there," the young Uchiha greeted casually. Makoto was seated on a sofa, one hand lazily waving in acknowledgment toward both Senju Hashirama and Tobirama.
Hashirama responded warmly, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. Tobirama, however, remained expressionless, his vigilance sharpening. He knew instinctively that this Uchiha was not someone to underestimate.
After formal introductions, Makoto revealed his identity.
"I am Uchiha Makoto," he declared with a calm, almost teasing tone.
At once, Tobirama's demeanor shifted from measured caution to barely restrained outrage. A naturally evil Uchiha brat in the Daimyo's hall! If not for the precautions imposed by being in the Daimyo's territory, Tobirama would have likely launched a Flying Thunder God Slash on the spot.
But Makoto remained unflustered. He leaned back on the sofa, sipped his tea with measured calm, and let a faint, mocking smile play across his face.
You naturally evil old Senju! Makoto thought. If I were still bound by the Uchiha Clan under Konoha, I might have to lower myself to you. But now, as the Village Head of Akatsuki Ninja Village, favored by the Daimyo, why should I bow to your aura?
Makoto straightened, projecting authority. "This is the reception room of the Daimyo of the Land of Fire. I am the senior official assigned to handle negotiations with Konoha. Senju Tobirama, you will refrain from disrupting proceedings."
Tobirama's vision darkened. Did he hear that correctly? Makoto had audaciously assumed the role of a senior official of the Land of Fire—assigned specifically to negotiate. His audacity left Tobirama momentarily speechless, his anger threatening to boil over.
Makoto's smile widened at Tobirama's ashen reaction. There was something intoxicating about this moment—the rare satisfaction of directly confronting a legendary Senju with nothing more than calm confidence and verbal mastery.
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Hashirama Steps In
"Alright, alright, Makoto," Hashirama interjected with his usual diplomacy, preventing the situation from escalating. "Don't mind Tobirama. For this negotiation, he practiced smiling for a long time in his room."
Makoto's grin grew even sharper. Practicing a smile, he thought, was futile in the face of reality. Hashirama's attempt to mediate only emphasized Tobirama's tension.
Tobirama's thoughts swirled. His elder brother, ever optimistic and trusting, could not see the threat lurking behind this Uchiha's calm exterior. Meanwhile, Makoto's confidence only deepened—Hashirama's presence served as a lubricant for the negotiation, allowing him to maintain the upper hand.
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The Conversation Begins
Finally, Makoto broke the ice with an official question.
"May I ask why you are here? And where is the Daimyo?"
Tobirama had come prepared to manage the negotiation personally, ensuring that Hashirama's presence would not overshadow their strategy. His plan was to present Konoha's request formally, with Hashirama observing silently. But now, the tables had turned. Makoto, leveraging the Daimyo's authority, had taken command of the proceedings.
Tobirama's jaw tightened. Could he allow himself to be overpowered by this cunning Uchiha? His pride, his duty, and his vision for Konoha demanded resistance, yet he found himself forced into a position of temporary submission.
Makoto, sensing the tension, continued casually. "I am no longer interested in the Konoha you've established. I left the Uchiha Clan voluntarily to start my own venture, creating a Ninja Village of my own. If the Uchiha are unhappy in Konoha, they are welcome to join my village."
"And why am I here, you ask?" Makoto added smoothly. "Because the Daimyo recognizes my talent, my loyalty, and my status. That is why I am entrusted to oversee these negotiations."
Hashirama, ever benevolent, regarded Makoto with mild amusement. He understood the young Uchiha's ambitions but felt no resentment. If Makoto struggled, he could always return to Konoha. The gates of the village would always be open.
"I appreciate your kindness, Lord Hashirama," Makoto said politely. "For now, I manage my own affairs. Should the opportunity arise, Lord Hashirama is welcome to visit Akatsuki Ninja Village as a guest."
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Tobirama's Dilemma
Tobirama, however, remained wary. Every gesture, every word of Makoto's, suggested a mind calculating far beyond the norms of conventional negotiation. The young Uchiha's village, already strong, could become a formidable threat to Konoha if left unchecked.
Hmph! Tobirama thought. A hidden trump card, even before Konoha fully consolidated power! The audacity, the cunning, and the confidence of the Uchiha Clan never ceased to amaze.
Makoto, observing Tobirama's watchful gaze, decided to escalate the psychological pressure.
"Senju Tobirama," he said with a sly smile, "why are you scowling at me? Weren't you practicing smiling in front of the mirror? Something troubling you?"
Tobirama's fists clenched. Makoto's teasing struck at the core of his pride, yet the safety of Konoha and the delicate political balance forced him to temper his reaction. He would endure this humiliation for now, confident that dignity could be restored in due time.
Makoto's smile deepened. The psychological advantage was clear. Tobirama's pride, Hashirama's patience, and Konoha's reputation—all balanced precariously in the palm of a single Uchiha's hand.
In this charged atmosphere, negotiation could begin—but Makoto had already demonstrated who held the cards. Every decision, every concession, would now be subtly influenced by the Akatsuki Ninja Village's ambitious leader. Tobirama realized, with reluctant respect, that the naturally cunning Uchiha sitting across from him was no ordinary opponent.
The meeting had just begun, but the seeds of a new power struggle had already been sown.
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