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After Hashirama made up his mind, the truce document was dispatched without any obstacles. Not long afterward, the letter arrived in Uchiha hands.
"Look at this."
Madara sat beside Kagaya with his usual calm demeanor and handed over the scroll.
Kagaya accepted the truce proposal and read through it carefully. There was nothing particularly surprising inside—just Hashirama urging Madara to lead the Uchiha in laying down arms alongside the Senju. The message spoke of the countless lives already lost, insisting that the slaughter could not continue, that enough blood had already soaked the earth, and so on.
Kagaya clicked his tongue in mild disapproval, shook his head instinctively, and passed the document back to Madara.
To his surprise, Madara didn't simply put it away. Instead he asked,
"What do you think?"
Kagaya's face filled with confusion. This truce concerned the survival and future of two of the most powerful clans in the land. The only people with any real say in accepting or rejecting it were Madara and Hashirama. No one else—not the elders, not the warriors, and certainly not an outsider like Kagaya—had the right to voice an opinion that mattered. So why was Madara, of all people, asking him?
Raising an eyebrow, Kagaya straightened his posture. His injuries had fully healed by now. Whatever Madara's intention, there was no reason to hold back.
"It's difficult. Hashirama is still far too idealistic. If a truce were forced through right now, your personal authority combined with his could indeed suppress any dissent within both clans and impose peace on paper. But people's hearts don't bend so easily. True peace cannot arrive through coercion when centuries of hatred lie between you. That kind of enmity doesn't vanish just because two leaders shake hands. Forcing peace would only inflame the resentment rather than dissolve it. As long as the hatred remains alive, genuine peace between Senju and Uchiha is impossible. Even if the surface looks calm today, ten years, a hundred years from now—once you and Hashirama are gone—that buried grudge will erupt into war again, fiercer than before."
Madara regarded him with genuine surprise.
"You see through it with unusual clarity. Is that because of your foreknowledge?"
Kagaya shook his head.
"No."
In the history he remembered, this particular truce offer had been flatly rejected by Madara. There had been no forced peace, no artificial armistice. Everything Kagaya had just said came from his own reasoning, not from any script he had memorized.
Madara's estimation of the young man rose another notch in silence.
"Then tell me—if peace is what we seek, what must be done?"
Kagaya's answer came without hesitation, sharp and decisive.
"Crush them. Break them. Fight until one side is beaten so thoroughly that they beg for peace of their own volition."
Madara fell quiet for a long moment. "That method carries too many fatal flaws."
Kagaya gave a wry smile. "And yet it's still one of the better options available. Hatred that has festered for over a century isn't something you can simply talk away or forgive overnight. At this depth, it may be impossible to truly resolve. The only realistic path is to weaken it, suppress its outbursts, and let time slowly erode what remains. There is no other way."
Madara placed the truce scroll on the low table and stood.
"You're right. Consider this letter your keepsake."
With that, he turned and walked out of Kagaya's room without another word.
Kagaya watched the clan head's departing figure and made no attempt to stop him. He couldn't have, even if he wanted to. Madara might seem relaxed and approachable in casual moments, but when it came to decisions, nothing swayed him—not opinions, not pleas, not even logic that contradicted his own. His word was absolute. Once spoken, it was final.
Kagaya picked up the scroll again. A Senju clan crest was prominently stamped on it.
"Senju and Uchiha… trouble is coming."
By leaving the document behind, Madara had made his stance crystal clear: he had no intention whatsoever of honoring this proposal.
Madara was rejecting the truce. He wasn't even interested in sending a reply.
The next step was obvious. A true, all-out war loomed on the horizon. With Izuna's death fueling an enormous personal vendetta, Madara would surely unleash a grand, merciless campaign. There was no doubt about it.
Kagaya turned the scroll idly in his hands and murmured under his breath,
"So I'm supposed to guard the Uchiha rear for him…"
That had been their agreement from the beginning. Madara had healed Kagaya's body and sheltered him during recovery. In exchange, Kagaya would protect the Uchiha clansmen left behind once the main fighting force marched out.
Clearly, Madara was heading into this confrontation with Hashirama fully prepared to die. He was already making arrangements for the clan in the event of his death.
As long as someone like Kagaya—bearer of the Eternal Mangekyō—remained, the Uchiha could never be completely wiped out.
"Hashirama, you really are a headache…" Kagaya let out a soft sigh.
Even a monster like Madara, who's better than Kagaya in nearly every conceivable way, felt he might not return from a duel with Hashirama. That alone spoke volumes about the sheer terror of the man called Senju Hashirama—the undisputed number one shinobi beneath the Sage of the Six Paths.
Without access to Six Paths power, probably only Might Guy with the Eighth Gate could momentarily surpass Hashirama. Everyone else fell short. And even then, Guy's brilliance lasted mere minutes, while Hashirama's radiance endured for decades—like a sun hanging perpetually in the sky of this era, illuminating the world year after year. A few minutes of explosive glory could never compare.
An enemy like that was truly despair-inducing.
"Fortunately, I don't have to face him myself."
Kagaya chuckled lightly, stood, took a few steps, and flopped back onto his futon.
When troubles arrive—sleep.
After all, in the story he remembered, Madara and Hashirama eventually reconciled. There was no need to worry about confronting that terrifying figure.
Yes. Exactly.
"Lord Clan Head, we suffered another crushing defeat on the main battlefield. Our people have no choice but to begin withdrawing."
The same Uchiha who had once led the group that surrounded Kagaya now knelt on one knee inside Madara's room, delivering the grim report.
Madara listened, then gave a casual nod—as though news that should have shaken the entire clan meant nothing to him.
"I understand. You may leave, Soma."
Uchiha Soma did not rise. He remained kneeling in silence.
Madara, seated formally above him, simply closed his eyes.
The two men stayed like that, motionless, for a very long time.
At last Madara opened his eyes again.
"Do you have something to say?"
Soma bowed his head even deeper.
"Lord Clan Head… forgive my presumption, but I must speak. We are steadily losing ground against the Senju—"
"And?"
"And therefore—"
"You want to suggest a truce?"
"Yes!"
"You're the first person who has dared bring up truce to me before I myself have declared a position. Impressive."
Hearing those words, Soma's face lit up with hope. He raised his head eagerly.
"Then, Lord Clan Head—"
But Madara cut him off harshly before he could finish.
"Courageous, but utterly foolish. Get out."
The rebuke was unmistakable.
Soma froze, stunned, but he dared not argue. He lowered his head again.
"Yes, sir!"
He withdrew from the room in silence.
Madara closed his eyes once more and sat quietly.
Some time later—he didn't know how long—he opened them again and gazed at the fan hanging on the wall.
'So one side must be completely beaten into submission? Kid… it seems the side you spoke of being broken… is probably us Uchiha. We haven't even been fully defeated yet, and already someone is dreaming of peace. This war… we're going to lose. What should I do? What can I do?'
He pondered those two questions in deep silence.
'Never mind. Sooner or later, I will face Hashirama. If I win, the Uchiha win. If he wins, the Senju win.'
That was the only conclusion he reached. Then he closed his eyes again.
Time passed. The sun's light slowly faded. The moon rose, bathing the world in silver.
Kagaya, freshly awake, stretched lazily and stepped outside to look at the moon.
"Well now… so this is the moon of the Warring States era. Doesn't look all that different."
The next day.
At the Senju compound.
Hashirama asked his brother, "No reply from Madara yet?"
Tobirama shook his head. "None. Perhaps the letter arrived too late yesterday for them to respond."
Almost everyone believed Madara would accept. The war's momentum had visibly shifted. The Senju advantage grew with every passing day. If the fighting continued, sooner or later the Senju would annihilate the Uchiha under overwhelming superiority.
Under such desperate circumstances, how could the Uchiha possibly refuse peace?
Moreover, aside from those in the Uchiha homeland, almost no one outside knew of Izuna's death yet.
Even Tobirama thought acceptance was likely—though he saw deeper implications. A truce now would merely bottle up the hatred, not eliminate it. Eventually that resentment would boil over again.
From the perspective of the wider world and the Senju clan, the ideal outcome was to finish the war decisively—crush the Uchiha, force them to plead for mercy, plant fear deep in their hearts so that fear could partially offset hatred. That would minimize the chance of future conflict.
But from the Uchiha perspective, pressing on might satisfy the world's demand for resolution, yet it would risk their very extinction.
It was the classic dilemma: clan survival versus the greater good. Tobirama believed Madara could see it clearly—and would almost certainly choose clan over world.
Selfishness was only human.
Hashirama nodded at his brother's words.
"Yeah… maybe. We'll see tomorrow."
Unlike Tobirama's far-sighted calculations, Hashirama wasn't built for such depth. All he saw was death after death—and the possibility that he could stop it. That was enough.
In his memory, Madara was still the boy who had once dreamed recklessly of peace alongside him. Even after decades of bloodshed driven by clan obligations, now that victory clearly tilted toward the Senju, surely Madara could persuade his people to accept this hard-won chance at peace.
Thus, despite their wildly different reasoning, both brothers concluded that Madara would very likely accept. In fact, to most outsiders it wasn't merely likely—it was practically inevitable.
The shortsighted could see Uchiha territory shrinking day by day.
The average observer could sense victory drawing nearer to the Senju.
And the far-sighted could declare with certainty: the Uchiha's decline was now unstoppable.
BOOM—
Dark clouds gathered. Lightning cracked. Raindrops began to fall—one, two… then hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands.
A torrential downpour.
Tobirama, who had just stepped outside, was instantly drenched. With a helpless expression he retreated back into Hashirama's house.
Hashirama laughed without a care.
"Hahaha! Tobirama, look at you! You're soaked! Hahaha!"
Tobirama's face darkened.
"Big brother! Stop laughing!"
But Hashirama paid no attention and kept chuckling merrily.
In the entire Senju clan, probably only he dared tease Tobirama like that.
*****
At the Uchiha compound.
Madara opened his door, leaned against the frame, and stared out at the pouring rain in silence.
He seemed lost in thought.
Finally his gaze drifted toward the distant plain where so many clansmen lay buried. He whispered softly,
"It's raining, Izuna. You talked so much before you left… wore yourself out completely. You must be feeling cold right now."
Raindrops struck the ground and splashed onto his pants, sending chills up his legs. Even the legendary Uchiha Madara frowned slightly at the small, biting cold.
"Serves you right."
With that, he turned back inside, picked up a garment, stepped out again, and gradually vanished into the rain curtain.
The clothing he had taken was Izuna's favorite for cold days.
Leaning against the window frame, Kagaya watched the storm in quiet contemplation. He saw many Uchiha hurrying home to escape the deluge, birds scattering to find shelter, and the occasional shadowy figure darting through the downpour.
At the sight, he let out a gentle laugh.
"The Uchiha will not be exterminated."
Then he turned away and lay back down.
"But some of those people… might not make it."
According to the original story, the Uchiha as a clan would indeed survive. But in the great battle to come, was it strange if dozens, hundreds—even if only a few dozen remained—were to die?
Survival did not mean the absence of tragedy.
The Uchiha clansmen he saw taking shelter from the rain today—would he see them again in a month?
The birds those people watched fleeing the storm—would the survivors ever look up at them again?
And the figure who had just passed through the rain curtain—would that person be smiling or weeping a month from now?
Tobirama had once said that countless hopes rested on Hashirama's shoulders.
If Kagaya were to speak, he would say the same was true of Madara.
Though fewer people might pin their futures on Madara than on Hashirama, in this chaotic era every life carried equal weight. Hashirama's choices would decide the fate of many. So too would Madara's.
The great rain had arrived.
And the great war would follow soon after.