A Fool's Dream

As the meeting commenced and the representatives of the clans settled into their seats, I couldn't help but feel a sense of boredom.

The gathered individuals were undoubtedly skilled in the ways of shinobi, but their transition to managing a village—a task of governance and diplomacy—seemed like a leap into unfamiliar territory.

Hashirama, with his ever-jovial tone, had explained that this gathering was merely one of their regular monthly meetings.

They would discuss various matters concerning the village's well-being and its future, an endeavor that required a different set of skills compared to the art of war.

As the discussions unfolded, my boredom grew.

These individuals had been trained to excel in the art of combat, honing their abilities to become formidable shinobi.

Yet, now they were thrust into roles that required them to be masters of governance, responsible for the lives and well-being of thousands, and perhaps, in the future, hundreds of thousands.

Listening to their deliberations, I couldn't help but find the proceedings rather tedious.

Their discussions revolved around policies, resources, and the management of the village's infrastructure—important matters, no doubt, but far removed from the battlefield.

After enduring around 30 minutes of what I deemed to be tiresome chatter, I decided to introduce a spark of chaos into the meeting.

My boredom had gotten the better of me, and I directed my question at Hashirama, who had taken on the role of leadership with grace.

"Why did you want to build this village?" I inquired, my tone laced with a hint of amusement.

It was a question born out of genuine curiosity—one that I hoped would disrupt the mundane proceedings and bring a bit of intrigue to the gathering.

Hashirama blinked in surprise at the unexpected query, he was bewildered because he thought that the purpose was already clear to me.

The representatives from the various clans turned their attention towards me, their expressions a mix of curiosity and intrigue.

It seemed that my question had succeeded in piquing their interest.

For a moment, the meeting hall was filled with a pregnant pause, as if the very air held its breath in anticipation of Hashirama's response.

Madara, sitting beside Hashirama, raised an eyebrow at my inquiry, his expression a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

Tobirama and Izuna, who had accompanied us to the meeting, observed the exchange with keen interest, their eyes flickering with anticipation.

Finally, Hashirama cleared his throat and offered a reassuring smile, his gaze meeting mine with unwavering sincerity.

"That's a rather direct question, Yujiro-san," he remarked, his tone genial.

"But I suppose it's a fair one.

The reason I wanted to build this village, Konohagakure — was to create a haven where shinobi and their families could live in peace, away from the conflicts and wars that have plagued our world for generations."

His response resonated with the ideals of peace and prosperity, the desire to offer a better life to those who had endured the hardships of war.

It was a noble goal, and I couldn't help but admire the naivety in his words.

Madara, ever the pragmatic one, chimed in with a smirk.

"Hashirama's my dreams are to create a village where people don't have to fight, but the reality is that as long as shinobi exist, there will always be conflict.

Our role is to ensure that Konohagakure is strong enough to protect its inhabitants and maintain peace."

Tobirama, known for his pragmatism and analytical mind, added, "Indeed, Madara is correct.

While we strive for peace, we must also be prepared for the possibility of war.

That's why we have established a strong foundation and a formidable shinobi force."

Izuna, who had been relatively quiet, finally spoke up.

"Our clans, the Senju and the Uchiha, have joined forces to ensure the village's stability.

We may have our differences, but we share the goal of protecting our home."

The clan representatives, who had been observing the exchange, now began to offer their own perspectives.

The Aburame Clan spoke of their commitment to intelligence and espionage, vital for the village's security.

The Hyuga Clan emphasized their Byakugan's potential for surveillance and protection.

As the discussion continued, it became clear that the leaders and representatives of Konohagakure were united by a common purpose—the desire for peace, even if they had different approaches to achieving it.

But as the patriarchs and leaders of Konohagakure's clans concluded their speeches, I couldn't help but ponder the implications of their noble aspirations.

Their words had revolved around peace, stability, and the betterment of their village—an idealistic vision of the future.

But I couldn't resist injecting a dose of realism into the proceedings.

With a sardonic grin, I raised my hand to speak, my voice dripping with a mocking tone.

"But you know," I began, "the reason that this so-called 'peace' is achieved is all due to the prowess of both of you, right?

Hashirama and Madara.

We can safely say that shinobi of your caliber only come once in a hundred years, just in case you didn't realize that fact yet.

Let's entertain a 'what if' scenario here.

What if both of your descendants can't meet the world's expectations?

What do you think will happen then?"

My question hung in the air, a rhetorical challenge to the idealistic visions that had been presented.

I leaned forward, my gaze sweeping across the room, locking eyes with each of the patriarchs in turn.

"Let me break it down for you," I continued, my tone laced with a dark humor.

"It's war! An all-out war!

A war that will dwarf any previous conflicts between clans because now, it's not just a war between clans—it's a war between hidden villages.

You monkeys won't be able to sustain your village on your own, so you'll need to seek the support of the Daimyo.

And what do you think they'll want in exchange?"

I allowed the question to linger, the implications sinking in.

The patriarchs exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of my words sinking in.

"Because if you want to extort them," I continued, "that'll be against your precious peace, won't it?

So tell me, how do you plan to prevent that war, the one that will happen after your deaths, both the front war and the shadowy war of assassination requested by those 'nobles'?

Hahahaha!"

My laughter echoed through the meeting room, a stark contrast to the solemnity that had pervaded the gathering.

It was a reminder that the world of shinobi was not simply about ideals and aspirations.

It was a world where the person with power with low political understanding often gave way to the harsh realities — a world where peace was a fragile illusion, and the threads of alliances could unravel in an instant.

As the patriarchs grappled with my unsettling perspective, I couldn't help but wonder how they would respond.

Would they dismiss my words as the cynicism of an outsider, or would they acknowledge the challenges that lay ahead — the challenges that threatened to shatter their idealistic dreams of peace?

So is this world beyond salvation?" Madara asked me, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency.

"Is it truly impossible to achieve world peace? Tell me, Yujiro!"

Madara's question hung in the air, his eyes harboring a strange glint — a glint that spoke of a burning desire to understand the true nature of this world.

(A/n: We all know what that strange glint means, you're wrong Yuijro hahaha)

Hashirama, ever the optimist, quickly interjected, rebuking Madara with fervor.

"It's not impossible!" he declared, his voice filled with unwavering conviction.

"We need to connect with other people emotionally, understand their fears and hopes, and strive for mutual understanding!"

But as Hashirama spoke, I couldn't contain the laughter that welled up within me.

It burst forth like a torrent, echoing through the meeting room like the madman's cackle.

"Hashirama!"

I exclaimed, my laughter still ringing in the air.

"Wake up from your foolish thoughts.

War will never end!

IT! WILL! NEVER! END!"

My words were punctuated by each exclamation, a stark declaration of the harsh realities I had come to know through my own experiences.

The notion of a world without conflict seemed like an idealistic dream, one that could never find purchase in the brutal landscape of the shinobi world.

"And even if there's peace now," I continued, my voice low and ominous, "in 20 years, in 30 years, in 40 years, the hymn of war will sing again.

There will be bloodshed!

You can't achieve it... unless..."

Both Hashirama and Madara leaned forward, their eyes fixed on me with unwavering intensity.

It was clear that this was a topic of great importance to them, a long-standing ambition that had driven their actions and decisions.

I paused, the weight of my words hanging in the air.

Then, with a simplicity that belied the complexity of the issue, I offered my answer.

"You just need to make sure that your clan, or any clan, produces more phenomenal geniuses, more groundbreaking techniques, and makes the world tremble upon the might of your village!

Because absolute strength, like what we possessed, is the only thing that can make these weak plebs fear you enough to avoid inciting a war!"

My words settled over the room, a sobering reminder that the world of shinobi was not a realm where peace could be achieved through mere words and ideals.

It was a world where strength reigned supreme, and the balance of power was a delicate dance between clans and villages—a dance that often teetered on the precipice of conflict.

"And if all of you can't fathom how in the world you wanted to achieve this, then...that's because you're weak!

I'll show you the way, with my own clan, my own village that we will make the world bow down to us!

Muahahaha!"