"My grandfather… was the First Hokage," Tsunade said slowly, every word crystal clear.
"At that time, with his Wood Release and Sage Mode, he was hailed as the 'God of Shinobi.'"
She paused, her gaze seeming to pass through time itself, back to that era when the chaos of war had only just subsided and the world order was beginning to take shape.
"He could have… destroyed any shinobi village with ease."
She spoke calmly—yet beneath that calm lay a chilling truth.
"While he was alive, that era was also… the most 'peaceful' period in the shinobi world. At least, large-scale wars came to a halt."
Jiraiya's body trembled violently. His pupils contracted.
He had never—perhaps never wanted to—understand that kind of "peace" from this angle.
Tsunade didn't look at him as she continued.
"Do you understand now, Jiraiya? Peace has never been achieved through understanding and trust. At least not in the history of the shinobi world. The first—and most effective—'peace' was achieved through absolute, overwhelming power. Power so great that it inspired universal fear."
"My grandfather, Hashirama Senju—"
She enunciated every syllable, delivering the conclusion like a hammer blow.
"—was the ultimate weapon of that era."
"He allowed Konoha to occupy the most fertile land and the richest resources—and no one dared object."
The office fell deathly silent. Only Tsunade's cold voice echoed within it.
"He didn't need to attack anyone. He only needed to exist. His very presence was a rule—a red line. Whoever dared start a war would die."
"That's the rule. That's reality. That's the underlying logic that allowed Great Nations to be established—and small nations to breathe."
She finally turned, her gaze blazing as it pierced into Jiraiya's pale, unsteady form.
"Now tell me," Tsunade said, the corner of her mouth lifting into a razor-edged smile of irony, "what exactly did Nagato do wrong?"
"In the Land of Rain, he wants to use the power of the Rinnegan to create pain—to create a weapon so terrifying that the Great Nations would feel equal threat and therefore never dare invade again."
"He's only… imitating us. Imitating Konoha's First Hokage."
"What he wants to create is a 'Hashirama Senju' for the Land of Rain."
"He wants to become the god of this era."
"The only thing Nagato did wrong… is that he wasn't born in Konoha."
Jiraiya staggered backward, his spine slamming into the cold wall before he managed to steady himself.
He stared at Tsunade. Then at the monumental face of the First Hokage carved into the Hokage Monument outside.
His mind rang.
The ideals and actions he had always labeled "extreme," "wrong," "a betrayal of true peace"—under Tsunade's merciless dissection—now bore a startling, undeniable resemblance to the very foundation upon which Konoha had risen and prospered: the absolute military deterrence of the First Hokage.
The difference was only this—
One was revered as the "God of Shinobi," founder of Konoha's glory.
The other was branded a threat, walking the line between destruction and control.
In that moment, Jiraiya's worldview—his long-held conviction about the divide between peace and violence—was overturned and shattered.
He had tried to use "heart" and "understanding" to redeem Nagato.
Yet he had never realized that Nagato might simply be using the most "effective" method he knew—replicating Konoha's own successful model—to protect his country and his people.
What a bitter irony.
Tsunade watched Jiraiya's shaken, near-collapsing state. A flicker of reluctance passed through her eyes—but stronger still was the clarity that came from confronting reality.
Some festering wounds had to be lanced.
Some truths, no matter how cruel, had to be faced.
"Jiraiya," she said more gently, though her tone remained heavy, "this is the rule of the shinobi world. Cold. Brutal. But real. Konoha has benefited from this system—and at times, helped shape it. And now… we may well be the ones others feel must be deterred by a new 'ultimate weapon.'"
She returned to her desk and sat down, rubbing her aching temples.
"Let go of that naïve thinking. We will continue to monitor the situation in the Land of Rain—but not in the way you suggested."
"As for Nagato and Konan… they chose their path. As their former teacher, you can grieve. You can search for other possibilities. But first, you must face the rules of this world—and Konoha's place within them."
Jiraiya slid slowly down the wall until he sat on the floor, burying his face in his arms.
His tall frame curled inward, looking uncharacteristically fragile.
Outside, the Hokage Monument blurred into the night. One by one, the lights of Konoha flickered on—warm and peaceful.
But beneath that peace, for the first time, Jiraiya saw clearly the cold, unyielding foundation upon which it stood: power and deterrence.
And the warm flame he had always carried in his heart—the belief in mutual understanding—seemed painfully small before that massive stone.
Like a candle flickering in the wind.
Jiraiya himself did not know whether that flame could—or even should—continue to burn.
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