Chapter 485: Pure Land's Order
Senju Tobirama's eardrums were suffering merciless assault.
"Tobirama! How many times did I tell you! Don't develop those dangerous forbidden jutsu! You just wouldn't listen!" Senju Hashirama's booming voice carried soul-piercing power, drilling straight into his brother's auditory system.
"And what happened later? You even invented that—that technique desecrating the dead! Look! Now karma's caught up with you!"
Hashirama's finger practically poked the still-bright red [3.8] floating above Tobirama's head, his tone mixing heartbroken disappointment, frustrated anger at his brother's stubbornness, and a trace of regret for his self-inflicted suffering.
Senju Tobirama expressionlessly pressed his palm firmly over one ear. Then the other.
...So noisy.
He muttered internally, a vein of long-suppressed patience appearing between his brows.
He and his elder brother Senju Hashirama were fundamentally different in that "Will of Fire" encompassing the world and pitying all living beings.
What Tobirama practiced had always been colder, more pragmatic logic—if you were going to be Hokage, if you were going to protect the village, you must sometimes abandon pointless sentimentality and make necessary decisions, even if those decisions weren't morally perfect.
Precisely because you're Hokage, you must maintain a ruthless attitude.
Whether Impure World Reincarnation or the dangers of the Multi Shadow Clone Jutsu, or other research classified as forbidden jutsu... he'd never regretted any of it.
These techniques certainly carried risks, could certainly be abused, but they were equally trump cards Konoha could deploy in moments of crisis—insurance he'd left the village under limited conditions, capable of reversing battle situations.
As for how he'd be evaluated after death, how much sin value he'd be assigned—such things didn't matter.
While using powerful mental force to forcibly block out Hashirama's continuous stream of reproach, Tobirama directed his gaze toward the distant grassland.
His observational skills had never declined due to death. Soon he noticed two obviously opposed soul groups whose atmosphere had grown taut as a drawn bowstring.
One side consisted of ninja with mostly dark or bronze skin, expressions resolute to the point of fierce. Their foreheads—some intact, others bearing combat-inflicted cracks even in their soul outlines—uniformly wore scarred headbands bearing symbols Senju Tobirama had committed to memory during life.
Kumogakure. Ninja from the Land of Lightning.
Standing in opposition was another group with more composed, weighty temperaments, skin tinged with earth-tone coloring. Their headbands bore different markings.
Iwagakure. Ninja from the Land of Earth.
The two sides were clearly delineated, as if separated by a wall of burning hatred. They hadn't yet fought, but every word each side's ninja spat carried poison, barbed and sharp enough to tear opposing souls apart again.
Senju Tobirama calmly withdrew his attention completely from Hashirama's sonic assault, listening intently.
"...Despicable and shameless Iwagakure! Using such underhanded human wave tactics! Causing our Third Raikage-sama to—! You cowards hiding in crowds shooting from shadows..."
"Ha! Ridiculous! That lightning-covered oaf was stupid himself! For merely covering his subordinates' retreat, he dared single-handedly face ten thousand of our ninja head-on! His death was purely because his brain muscles grew into his body!"
"What did you say?! Looking to die—!"
"What, want to die again? We Iwagakure aren't afraid of you Kumogakure!"
The verbal battle rapidly escalated, profanity and old grudges intertwining, the air thick with killing intent ready to solidify.
The Third Raikage... I see.
Senju Tobirama lowered his eyelids thoughtfully.
So after his death in battle during the Second Shinobi World War, other ninja villages beyond Konoha had also produced "Kages" worthy of remembrance by later generations, enshrined as legends.
Fighting ten thousand enemies alone, dying from exhaustion... Such a death, while seeming excessively idealistic to him who pursued efficiency and results, admittedly carried the dignity of a "Kage."
That said, a question arose.
Tobirama's gaze shifted between these two groups of souls about to lose control, then raised his eyes, surveying this grassland transformed with an artificial sun hanging overhead—this "new Pure Land."
According to the knowledge previously flooding his consciousness, this world already had an administrator who'd established fundamental order—the Sin Index and Karma Reflection Mirrors.
These opponents ready to fight the moment they met clearly hadn't grasped the situation. Or rather, they understood but hatred burned stronger than reason.
Senju Tobirama analyzed calmly.
If left unmanaged, once these two ninja groups numbering hundreds to thousands each erupted into conflict, not only would this newborn Pure Land instantly become a battlefield, it might trigger chain reactions, drawing other ninja village souls harboring old grudges into the melee.
So what would the "administrator" who'd taken over the Pure Land do?
It finally began.
In the air, Earth Style and Lightning Style chakra began condensing madly.
The Rock ninja formed hand seals, earth-yellow halos rising from the grass beneath their feet. Lightning crackled around the Cloud ninja, blinding blue-white arcs snapping loudly. Neither side's eyes held any hesitation—they'd fight even in death. This was world-enmity spanning decades, carved into their very bones.
Just as these two jutsu capable of blasting craters in the Pure Land were about to collide—
"SCREECH—!!!"
A sharp shriek suddenly exploded at the battlefield's center!
What appeared from nowhere wasn't any jutsu, wasn't any familiar summoning beast, but—
A pack of waist-high creatures covered in mottled scales, powerfully built hind legs, hooked forelimbs sharp as scythes... giant lizards?
No, those streamlined bodies, alert postures, and characteristic sickle-like toe claws were clearly—
"Velociraptors...?!"
Senju Tobirama unconsciously squeezed the word from his throat. As a man of vast knowledge, he naturally recognized these ancient creatures from the distant Cretaceous period. The most troublesome hunters of that era.
And these hunters now cut into the battlefield with incredible agility. One velociraptor leaped lightly, using claws capable of disemboweling to precisely bat away a lightning orb about to be thrown.
Another lowered its head, toppling three Rock ninja mid-seal. The force was perfectly controlled—leaving them dizzy and disoriented without causing any actual harm.
In mere breaths, the Cloud and Rock ninja who'd been at drawn swords were completely suppressed by these prehistoric guards that suddenly appeared.
They were either pinned to the ground or surrounded by velociraptors in impenetrable circles, unable to move, faces written with shock and bewilderment.
"These dinosaurs... are the Pure Land's... guardians?" The confusion in Tobirama's eyes only deepened.
But why dinosaurs?
This question circled in his rapidly working mind yet found no logically sound answer.
What connection could dinosaurs possibly have with the Pure Land, with the dead's order?
Then—
"Huff—"
A heavy breath carrying warm, musky air blasted without warning against his nape.
That airflow was so thick Tobirama could feel the enormous lung capacity it contained, plus—the oppressive presence of an apex predator at close range.
He and Hashirama whirled around almost simultaneously!
A colossal creature had somehow quietly appeared behind them.
It possessed a massive head capable of swallowing grown men whole, a mouthful of dagger-like bone-white fangs, and—forming comical contrast with its enormous body—short yet powerful forelimbs.
Tyrannosaurus Rex.
The true Cretaceous overlord standing at the food chain's peak.
It simply gazed down at them, amber vertical pupils reflecting the Senju brothers' frozen forms. Then that scale-covered massive jaw opened slightly, releasing low, steady human speech.
"Senju Hashirama... and Senju Tobirama... The Pure Land's administrator..."
It can talk.
The Tyrannosaurus Rex can talk.
Senju Tobirama's pupils contracted violently, his brain receiving too much information exceeding comprehension in that second, causing even his prized analytical abilities to experience brief blankness.
"We're extremely sorry—!!!"
But suddenly, Senju Hashirama beside him erupted with a deafening shout carrying desperate resolve, that voice even making the Tyrannosaurus before them retreat half a step.
Hashirama bent deeply at the waist, ninety degrees, posture humble.
"I know! Tobirama developed many forbidden jutsu, bringing immeasurable impact to later generations! Some techniques even desecrated the dead's dignity!"
Hashirama's voice held no hesitation, carrying earnest trembling. "But he did everything for Konoha! To give the village self-defense in moments of crisis! I know such excuses aren't enough to wash away his sins—but please! Please forgive Tobirama!"
"I'll atone alongside him! No matter how many years it takes, no matter what punishment we must endure, I'll bear it together! So—please don't cast my brother into hell!"
"..."
Senju Tobirama stood in place, color draining from his face at visible speed before surging back with red mixing shame and fury.
"...Elder brother." His voice dropped extremely low. "Shut up first."
"What?! Tobirama! I'm pleading for you, can't you see!" Hashirama straightened abruptly, looking wronged and urgent. "Do you want to go to hell! That's hell! I hear it has mountains of blades, seas of fire, tongue-pulling, oil cauldrons—!"
"I didn't ask you to plead!" Veins bulged at Tobirama's temples. "And you haven't grasped the situation at all! It hasn't said anything yet and you just—"
"Waiting until it speaks will be too late! Didn't you see how big its teeth are! One bite could swallow both of us! Once we're in hell it'll be too late!"
"Then let it swallow us! We're already dead, being swallowed again won't make us more dead—!"
"How can you say such things! You're my brother!"
"So you can shape me before outsiders as an incompetent wretch needing his elder brother's kneeling pleas to avoid hell's disaster—!"
The Tyrannosaurus lowered its massive head, amber vertical pupils reflecting these two Senju brothers quarreling endlessly.
It blinked.
...Hell?
It was only following its creator's orders to bring these two to meet the master. What were mountains of blades, seas of fire, tongue-pulling, and oil cauldrons?