"I think it should be called the Three-Clan Ninja Village," Hashirama said, voice calm but firm. "After all, it was founded by our three families. Seems fitting."
Madara's dark eyes glittered. "Hashirama, once the village grows, it'll absorb other families. Calling it a 'three-clan village' won't make sense." She shot him a sharp glare.
Raizen rolled his eyes internally. Of course, here comes the Uchiha, looking for a fight over a name.
"So… my Ninja Village is better," Madara added, a triumphant smirk tugging at her lips.
"Your opinion noted," Raizen muttered, watching her like a cat observing a flailing mouse. Then, lifting a hand, he picked a green leaf from the ground, letting the sunlight illuminate its translucent veins. Holding it before his eyes, he spoke with unexpected clarity.
"Konoha."
Hashirama and Madara froze. The word struck something deep inside them, something almost… sacred.
"Konoha Shinobi Village," Raizen clarified, letting the name hang in the air like a promise. "Where leaves fly, fire will burn. The shadow of that fire will shine on the village, letting new leaves sprout."
Hashirama's chest swelled with pride. "Then it's decided! Under this cliff, we'll build a ninja village free from war!" He pointed to the vast forest below, his voice carrying across the treetops.
Madara's smirk softened into a cornered smile, just enough to reveal the spark of anticipation in her eyes. Even she—proud, cunning, and calculating—felt a flicker of excitement at the thought of Konoha.
But as the three plotted their peaceful village, a dark shadow lingered in the forest behind the cliff. Eyes glinting, the figure chuckled low and sinister.
"Interesting… but Ashura and Indra will always find themselves at odds."
Raizen, oblivious to the shadow, felt his guard ease slightly. Victory and planning had a way of making even the most vigilant shinobi forget the long-running conspiracies threading through history.
Meanwhile, elsewhere, the Uchiha clan stirred. Patriarch Uchiha Tajima glared at his younger son, Izuna, voice low and dangerous.
"Where has your brother been all this time?"
Izuna shrank back, cheeks reddening, then looked up, trying to steady himself. "I… I don't know, Father. But when Madara returns, I'll ask him directly!"
Tajima's sleeves shook as he strode away in anger. Izuna knew something serious was brewing and hurried to prepare, fastening his ninja sandals in hopes of finding Madara before trouble could find them.
A similar tension unfolded in the Senju residence. Senju Butsuma opened his eyes suddenly, sharp and unyielding, fixing his gaze on his younger brother Tobirama.
"Who has your brother been meeting all this time?"
Tobirama swallowed hard but spoke truthfully, aware that the stakes were higher than childhood games.
"Really? Don't let him know about this," Butsuma murmured, though Tobirama sensed concern beneath the words. "I do this for the clan… and for your safety."
Back with Raizen, Hashirama, and Madara, the sun began its slow descent. After a day filled with dreams, strategies, and laughter, the trio reluctantly prepared to part ways.
"It's getting late. Everyone, head back safely," Raizen said, gesturing to the mountain trail.
The others nodded, silently agreeing, before departing toward their families' homes, the weight of their shared dream lingering like smoke in the evening air.
Raizen glanced back once, leaf in hand, and let himself imagine the village that would one day rise beneath these cliffs—a Konoha that might just survive the storms to come.