Ah, those voices... they still echo sometimes. Minato-sensei's disappointed sigh, Tsunade-sama's weary gaze, Hashirama-sama's quiet disapproval. And Tobirama-sama... well, his distrust of the Uchiha was always a sharp blade.

It's true. I walked a path paved with the best intentions, or so I believed. My Sharingan blazed with a vision of a stronger Konoha, and when Madara painted that future, twisted as it was, I fell for it. My mastery of jutsu, honed through years of relentless training, my skill with the katana and kunai, once tools of protection, became weapons against the very people I swore to defend. The irony still stings.

Facing them... the Hokages, Naruto's unwavering resolve, Sakura's fierce determination, Sasuke's burning gaze, Kakashi-sensei's sorrowful eyes, Shikamaru's strategic brilliance... each clash was a fresh wound. Every parry, every jutsu exchanged, was a betrayal of the bonds we forged. Their disappointment was a heavier blow than any physical strike.

"We expected more from you, Suma..." Minato-sensei's words cut deep. He saw the potential, the fire I had for Konoha, and my choices shattered that image.

Tobirama's cold pronouncement, "I knew she would cause problems typical of an Uchiha," was like a premonition realized. It fueled the self-doubt that gnawed at me. Had I been so blinded by my lineage, by the power of my eyes, that I couldn't see the deception?

It was a brutal awakening, a fall from grace fueled by a misguided belief in a false savior. The weight of those battles, the pain in their eyes... it's a burden I carry still.