THE FIRE TEMPLE

Chiriku sat cross-legged in solemn meditation, his presence the embodiment of stillness; like a cloistered lake, undisturbed yet deep. Profound. His mind was clear, his senses attuned to the ebb and flow of the Gift of the Sages that permeated his still form. Across from him on a short table, the flames of a candle danced, casting flickering shadows on the walls of the darkened meditation chamber. The air was crisp and in the stillness of the night; he felt at peace. Today, however, his usual serenity was touched by a thoughtful furrow on his brow.

"The morality of defence?" the ninja monk whispered, repeating the question posited by the one sitting cross-legged across from him. "You ask if it is righteous to commit evil to prevent it? Hashirama-sama, you are merely redressing the debate of how evil the lesser evil is."

For a moment, the Undead Sage said nothing. Then a soft sigh broke free of his maw. "I've heard of your wisdom, Brother Chiriku," he said, caressing the ball of his left knee. "I believed in building a world where children do not have to fight. To achieve this, my philosophy had always been to use my strength to bring about peace, but never for aggression. To de-escalate rather than intimidate ... An old friend of mine argued otherwise. Lately, I have started to wonder if not, at least, considering his opinion for a moment was just foolishness on my part."

Chiriku listened intently, finding parallels between the Hokage's experiences and his contemplations. A few moments went by as the monk mulled over his response before replying.

"...In Ninshū," Chiriku finally replied, "we train our bodies and minds to be strong, not for aggression, but for protection. Our art is a path to understanding the mysteries of chakra and passing this knowledge on to those who come after. These teachings are meant to give them a better understanding of the Self, as well as Others, hence, leading the world into an era of peace." Chiriku paused to pluck a leaf from a potted bonsai tree to his right within arm's reach of him. The plant's branches arced over him, and in the daytime would have provided shade from sunlight pouring through the large windows to the side of the room.

"Life is this leaf," the monk said, offering the piece to his guest. "Delicate. In the teachings of the Great Sage, we value 'Ahimsa', or non-violence. Yet, we are also taught to cherish all life. This often presents a paradox when one is faced with the threat of violence. In your actions, I see the embodiment of 'Upaya', or skilful means. You seek to prevent conflict, not to perpetuate it. But how do you ensure that your actions, even in defence, do not spiral into the very violence you seek to avoid?"

Hashirama pondered the question, his gaze drifting from the leaf in his hand to the small tree. "It's a challenge," he admitted. "In my life, I've tried to create understanding and alliances with my adversaries. I believed true defence lay not in overpowering the opponent, but in turning them into an ally. In finding common ground. It was not always possible, but I believed it was a goal worth striving for."

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"It is," Chiriku insisted softly.

"Is it?" Hashirama scoffed. "Even with all I did to secure peace and ensure the world never saw another war again, children and innocents were still killed by the hundreds of thousands in the Great Shinobi Wars that followed."

Chiriku stilled. "So what do you think is the better solution?"

"...Perhaps, Madara was correct. I had tried so hard not to have to subdue the others but to find and maintain balance. Not to escalate the conflict by seeking peaceful solutions ... Perhaps the right thing to do, in fact, was to remove the possibility of war entirely."

"Your mind seems made up?" Chiriku asked. The Hokage shook his head.

"It isn't. The resolve of my people has been though. Many want to lash out in fear or merely out of a desire for vengeance; not out of a deeper sense of duty to protect or as a commitment to peace. In fact, the possibility of a peaceful resolution is so far removed from their minds that it is starting to feel like they don't want to consider it at all. Even I cannot dissuade them. This has left me wondering if perhaps I had merely been deluding myself all these years."

A rueful smile touched Chiriku's lips. "...I cannot presume to know the full extent of the burdens you carry, Hashirama-sama. All I can say is that, sometimes, the protection of the many outweighs the inner conflicts of the few. For example, I could sit here and begin to condemn Konoha's decision to exterminate an entire clan rather than seek out a peaceful resolution. Or I could condemn the decision to create and use a Jutsu that profane the Pure Lands, but doing either of these doesn't change the fact that inaction born as a result of bickering would only lead to the suffering of even more innocents."

The monk rose, his gaze settling on the man seated across from him.

"Sometimes, the lesser evil is the only option available to us. Sometimes, we have to accept that, as humans, we will not always make the best decisions. Forgive yourself, Hashirama-sama; for all that may dub you the God of Shinobi, you are still only human ... Now, go. I do not condone the mere possibility of your current existence or what that means for the other unfortunate souls who would be dragged into this mess, but that does not mean I, or the Fire Temple, intend to stand in your way. For so long as your evils continue to be of the lesser kind and you truly fight for the betterment of the common people, I am willing to turn a blind eye."

"...Thank you," the sage nodded before rising to leave.