With just a single glance, Tobirama lost control of his composure.

His sharp eyes locked onto Kakashi, and even through the cloth covering, he felt it—the malignant, suffocating aura of a Sharingan. The chakra pulsing beneath it was unmistakable, offensive to every fiber of his being.

"You…"

His voice cut like ice.

Cold. Hostile. Unconcealed.

The oppressive killing intent radiating from him made the air itself feel heavier.

Sensing the danger, Hiruzen immediately stepped forward, his tone rushed with urgency.

"Tobirama-sensei, please—listen. Kakashi is no Uchiha. He is of the Hatake family. That Sharingan was not taken by force; it was entrusted to him under special circumstances."

But his defense did little to soothe the second Hokage.

Tobirama's distrust of the Uchiha was carved into his very soul. For a man of his sensory prowess, the Sharingan's sinister aura was like poison—he could not ignore it simply because Hiruzen spoke words of reassurance.

Kakashi let out a quiet sigh, his visible eye narrowing slightly.

Tobirama's voice was like steel scraping against steel."Boy. You may not carry Uchiha blood, but that eye you wield is far too dangerous. Especially now—when calamity looms over Konoha—Uchiha power is like a contagion, a plague waiting to spread."

His chakra surged, cold and oppressive."Remove that eye. Now. And destroy it."

The declaration struck like thunder.

In the looming shadow of apocalypse, Tobirama's words were not madness—they were cold, brutal logic. The Sharingan was a contagion. Anyone who bore it was a liability, perhaps even a vector for disaster. His judgment was merciless… and correct, in his eyes.

But the moment those words left his lips, Jiraiya's expression hardened. Without hesitation, he moved, stepping directly in front of Kakashi. His silence spoke louder than argument—the look in his eyes was one of fury.

Kakashi blinked, startled by the force of the demand, but quickly regained his calm. Straightening, he met Tobirama's gaze head-on.

"…I apologize, Lord Tobirama. But I cannot agree to that."

"Oh?"

Tobirama's brow arched, his tone dangerous. Killing intent flared anew, filling the clearing with suffocating pressure.

Before the clash could spiral, Hiruzen once again stepped in. His voice carried urgency, but also a pleading edge.

"Tobirama-sensei! That eye was no stolen trophy. During the Third Great War, Kakashi's teammate—Uchiha Obito—entrusted it to him with his dying breath. Obito, like Kagami, was a loyal shinobi of Konoha, a disciple of the Hokage's line. Without his sacrifice at Kannabi Bridge, this village would not have survived."

The words were heavy, loaded with context.

The Fourth Hokage… the war… Obito's name.

Tobirama froze for a moment, registering what he had just heard. His expression darkened with surprise. Konoha… already to a Fourth Hokage?

He forced the thought aside, focusing once more on Kakashi.

This time, Kakashi's voice rang out clearly. Calm, steady, but laced with unyielding conviction.

"This eye is not a curse. It is a memory. It was entrusted to me by my comrade, Obito. To me, it represents not just power, but the bond between comrades—the weight of his trust, his will. I will never destroy it with my own hands."

His words hung in the air like steel. They shook those present, striking something deep in their hearts.

Tsunade, who had thus far watched in silence, suddenly recalled how Kakashi had once come, alone, to persuade her to return to the village—his quiet persistence, his burden of loss, his sincerity.

Something stirred inside her.

She stepped forward without hesitation, planting herself firmly beside Kakashi. Facing her great-uncle, her golden eyes hardened with defiance.

"Great-uncle… aren't you going too far? Kakashi has always been loyal to Konoha. He has shed blood for it, risked his life for it, carried its weight on his shoulders. And now you would force him to gouge out his own eye? That is not Konoha's way. That is not our way."

Her words were not loud, but they rang like a hammer striking iron.

Coming from a Senju, from Tobirama's own bloodline, they struck even deeper.

Tobirama's gaze flicked to Hiruzen, seeking reinforcement, but the man's eyes were filled with something unexpected: a quiet disgust.

At last, Hiruzen spoke, his voice low, weary.

Hiruzen sighed, his shoulders heavy. "Tobirama-sensei… I am but a failure of a student, and perhaps an even greater failure as Hokage. But on this matter…"

He straightened, his voice gaining weight.

"Kakashi stands as one of my chosen guards. In my eyes, his status is equal to Tsunade's."

The words were simple, but Tobirama understood the message.

Kakashi wasn't just a promising shinobi; he was a potential successor. A symbol of stability and trust. Tobirama could exile Danzō without resistance because the man's corruption had long alienated the village. But Kakashi Hatake was beloved—forcing his hand here could destabilize Konoha more than any outside threat.

And Tobirama had not returned from death to fracture Konoha from within.

Tobirama realized it instantly. His eyes narrowed. For a long moment, silence weighed on the clearing.

He re-evaluated the silver-haired shinobi before him.

This boy was young… yet already so highly regarded that even his words could summon the defense of Sannin and Hokage alike. His reputation ran deep. His strength was not in question.

And Tobirama understood: to touch this Sharingan meant drawing a blade against the village itself.

Still, in his chest, unease gnawed at him.

The stronger the bonds… the sharper the tragedy when the Sharingan turned them into fuel.

The more brilliant the youth… the greater the risk of corruption.

And so Tobirama, for the first time since his return, fell into silence—not because he yielded, but because his own instincts warred with cold pragmatism.

For all his calculation, his hostility… Tobirama remained, at his core, a protector of Konoha.

And that, perhaps, was what held his blade at bay.

As for Hiruzen...

Staring at his sharp-eyed teacher, Tobirama Senju, the Third Hokage felt a storm brewing inside him. That cold, unrelenting gaze from his master seemed to pierce through his soul. And yet, even as he sat beneath that oppressive stare, Hiruzen himself was quietly preparing to make a decision—One that would shake the entire shinobi world to its very core.

Land of Rice Fields — Deep Underground Base

The night outside was thick and suffocating, the crescent moon veiled by clouds. Within the depths of Orochimaru's lair, an eerie stillness reigned, broken only by the distant dripping of water echoing through cavernous halls.

Orochimaru entered in silence, his pale features half-hidden in the shadows, his golden slit-pupil eyes glimmering like those of a predator. Every step he took was deliberate, his senses sharp and alert.

Then, he felt it.

That unmistakable sensation—an icy killing intent slithering after him like a phantom.

"Oh?" Orochimaru's smile was faint, his tongue flicking across his lips. "How bold."

A swirling distortion in space formed behind him without warning. From that swirling vortex of Kamui, Uchiha Obito emerged, silent as death. He stood with a predator's composure, his lone Sharingan gleaming ominously behind his mask. In his hand, a kunai gleamed with cold steel, its tip pressed so close to Orochimaru's pale neck that a single twitch could draw blood.

Obito's voice was low, steady, and dripping with menace—like a demon whispering from the void:

"Mr. Orochimaru… while I have no objections to you reviving Senju Tobirama, what exactly are you playing at? An Edo Tensei that moves freely… acting independently… almost like you've created a new enemy."

The blade's edge trembled closer, grazing Orochimaru's skin. Obito's killing intent coiled tighter, saturating the air like a suffocating fog.

Yet Orochimaru's expression never faltered. His serpentine smile curled wider, his tone calm and mocking, as though this situation had been expected all along.

"Such suspicion," Orochimaru hissed softly. "But no… this was not my intent. I only sought to sow chaos within Konoha. The White Zetsu I used as a vessel proved… unusually exceptional. His compatibility with Edo Tensei was beyond my predictions. As a result, Senju Tobirama manifested power nearly equal to his living self… and even managed to break free of my control."

Orochimaru slowly turned his head, his piercing gaze meeting Obito's masked face.

"This is a limitation, you see. My current ability can only perfectly bind those of standard Kage-level strength. But legends such as Hashirama Senju… Madara Uchiha…" He paused, a glimmer of frustration flickering in his golden eyes. "Even for me, their souls remain… elusive prey."

That flash of regret in his gaze, that tinge of longing—it was convincing. Almost too convincing.

Obito's visible eye narrowed as he studied the man before him. For a long, tense moment, the suffocating silence in the cavern thickened. Then, slowly, Obito eased back his kunai, the steel retreating from Orochimaru's neck.

"I'll trust that you understand our arrangement," Obito said in a voice like sharpened steel. "Cooperation exists only because it serves both of us. Betray that balance… and I won't hesitate to erase you."

Orochimaru chuckled softly, a hissing laugh. "Of course. I am… painfully aware of my position."

Obito gave a single nod, and with a flick of his hand, another swirling distortion tore open the air. From it stepped a short, lean figure with raven hair and eyes like burning coals.

"I've brought Uchiha Sasuke," Obito said flatly. "The rest… is your responsibility."

Sasuke emerged from the vortex's spiral, his gaze sharp, his Sharingan glowing faintly. Orochimaru's smile widened, predatory and greedy, as he studied the boy before him.

"Heh… heh… heh… splendid. Don't worry," Orochimaru purred, his voice dripping with hunger, "I'll make certain he reaches his potential."

But Sasuke's glare was icy. The boy stood rigid, his chakra thick with distrust.

"This is the man who'll guide me?" Sasuke's voice was low, each word deliberate. His eyes cut briefly to Obito. "Not you, Madara?"

Obito's expression behind the mask was unreadable.

Orochimaru's grin only grew sharper.