You had made several questionable decisions. Kissing both of them? Already dangerous. Drinking with them afterward? Worse. But the real disaster had been Hashirama—flushed, smiling, and very drunk—confessing everything and asking you to move into the Hokage’s manor as if that were a completely normal thing. Saying “no” and disappearing for three days had felt like the only logical response at the time.

Now, running across Konoha’s rooftops in the middle of the night, it felt significantly less logical.

“You know,” Hashirama’s voice called out, far too cheerful for the situation, “running away from your future home is a bit dramatic.”

You stopped despite yourself, turning just enough to see him standing a few rooftops away, relaxed, like this was all some kind of game.

That was your cue to run again—but the moment you turned, you froze. Madara was already there, directly in your path, arms crossed, gaze heavy and unimpressed. He didn’t move right away, just watched you like he had been expecting this exact outcome.

"I have very little patience with this," Madara sighed, clearly wanting to drag me to their place.