In the third year of Konoha, the blazing summer sun hung high in the sky. It was noon, and the air shimmered with heat.
Outside the delivery room, Senju Hashirama, head of the Senju clan, paced anxiously in his heavy ninja robes.
His younger brother, Senju Tobirama, sat composedly nearby, a strange look in his eyes as he watched his elder brother.
From beyond the hospital walls, the constant chirping of cicadas in the woods filled the air, only deepening Hashirama's restlessness as he waited outside.
Noticing the unusual anxiety on his typically cheerful brother's face, Tobirama raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
"Brother, I remember even when sister-in-law was giving birth, you weren't this nervous. But now, she's only inside to help deliver our niece's baby. Why are you so worked up?"
Hashirama looked embarrassed, then laughed heartily.
He plopped down beside Tobirama, slinging an arm over his brother's shoulders.
"These past few days, as her due date got closer, I've been having the same dream again and again. And it's getting clearer each time."
He ignored Tobirama's skeptical expression and continued.
"In the dream, there's war, chaos, and bloodshed everywhere. But in the middle of it all, I see a young figure rushing through the battlefield, doing everything he can to save the world."
Hashirama sighed deeply.
"Tobirama, you know how hard it was to build this village. Konoha is the safest refuge we have. I won't let anyone destroy what we've created.
But one day, someone has to take our place. I believe… that child could be the one."
Tobirama remained unimpressed by the vague prophecy. As a man of logic and evidence, he dismissed such dream-induced premonitions.
"You're overthinking things," Tobirama said coolly.
"War is a shinobi's fate. The best end for a shinobi is dying in battle. Peace? It's never that easy. No one has achieved it in a thousand years."
Hashirama sighed again. His brother was always too cold and rational. Hashirama believed people could let go of hatred and prejudice. He believed understanding was possible.
Just as Hashirama opened his mouth to argue further, the sound of the delivery room door creaking open interrupted him.
A beautiful woman with elegant features stepped out slowly, a sleeping newborn cradled gently in her arms.
It was Uzumaki Mito. Seeing her, Hashirama finally relaxed, his face breaking into a smile.
Mito glanced at her joyful husband, memories surfacing of when she'd emerged from the delivery room herself years ago.
Hashirama rushed to her side in a few quick strides and carefully took the baby into his arms, gazing at the tiny face in awe.
"Little one," he whispered, "Konoha will count on you someday. You must protect this family when you grow up."
As if sensing the words, the baby smiled sweetly in his sleep. That image burned itself into Hashirama's heart.
"Thank you, Mito," he said softly to his wife.
Mito gave him a half-amused, half-exasperated look. She pinched his side lightly and scolded, "You're acting like I just gave birth again. Stop being silly."
Realizing he'd misspoken, Hashirama could only chuckle sheepishly, all traces of the First Hokage's imposing presence gone.
Tobirama, on the other hand, felt he'd just been force-fed a banquet of affection. He couldn't help but interject.
"So, sister-in-law, what's the baby's name?"
Mito glanced at Tobirama and said, "Naomi named the boy just before she fell asleep from the pain. His name is…Senju Arima."
Hashirama was very excited when he heard the name and then leaned close to the baby's ear and murmured, "May you become the first savior the world has seen in a thousand years."
And so, the Senju clan welcomed a new member.
As a posthumous child, Arima and his mother, Senju Naomi, moved into the house next door to the clan head's residence for ease, so that Arima could get proper care even in the absence of his father."
Hashirama made time to visit him every day, a habit that puzzled Uchiha Madara, the leader of the Uchiha clan and Hashirama's equal in Konoha's leadership.
He couldn't understand why Hashirama was so invested in a newborn.
One day, as they shared drinks near the Naka River, Madara asked him directly.
Hashirama only smiled mysteriously and said, "He is the future…. He is hope..."
Madara thought Hashirama was being his usual idealistic self again. He sighed and said quietly after a pause.
"Hashirama… Konoha was our dream. But lately, I feel like I don't belong here. Do you ever think…maybe this world is just wrong?"
Hashirama was stunned. He frowned, thinking about the changes he'd noticed in Madara, how he had slowly drifted away from both allies and kin.
"Madara," Hashirama said seriously, "Have you forgotten what we went through to make this dream come true?
This village is your home too. I know you feel it. You'll protect it, just like I do… won't you?"
Madara looked into Hashirama's eyes, so full of sincerity and hope. He wanted to reject it, to argue, but the words caught in his throat. All he could do was nod slightly, then drink in silence.
From that day on, the two never had such a heart-to-heart talk again. A rift had begun to form between them.
Not long after Arima's birth, Madara left the village. He vanished without a trace, as if he'd disappeared from the shinobi world entirely.
Hashirama was devastated by his friend's departure. He couldn't understand what had happened to Madara, and worse, he felt helpless to share the burden.
But in Arima, Hashirama found new meaning.
In the sixth year of Konoha, on Arima's birthday, Hashirama brought the family to celebrate.
Before he even reached the house, he saw Arima waiting excitedly by the gate.
"Grandpa.." the boy called, sprinting toward him.
They say grandparents spoil their grandkids, and this was a perfect example.
Hashirama doted on Arima endlessly, whatever delicious treat or fun toy he came across, he always thought of Arima first.
Hashirama scooped the boy up into a warm embrace, then lifted him high onto his shoulders as the two entered the house together.
Arima's mother, Naomi, warmly welcomed everyone. Watching her cheerful home, she thought of her late husband. Her son was now her whole world.
Hashirama, ever doting, secretly slipped a pouch of candy from the Capital of the Land of Fire into Arima's inner pocket. The two exchanged a silent look full of affection and laughter.
Hashirama couldn't shake the feeling that the dreams he'd had were fragments of the future.
Since Arima's birth, those dreams had stopped. As the boy grew, he displayed remarkable intelligence and learning ability beyond his peers.
Looking at the clever, bright eyed child, Hashirama asked.
"So, Arima, it's your birthday today. What kind of gift do you want? Whatever you ask, Grandpa will make it happen."
Arima beamed. "Grandpa, your necklace is so pretty. Can I have it?"
Without hesitation, Hashirama took off the necklace and fastened it around Arima's neck. The boy giggled and planted a loud kiss on his grandpa's cheek.
Everyone laughed at Arima's innocent charm.
Then, with a curious grin, Hashirama asked, "Arima, what's your birthday wish this year?"
Arima paused, recalling the faint voice that had been echoing in his mind lately. Without thinking, he declared.
"I want to be a good person."
The room went quiet with surprise.
Most children from shinobi families wanted to become powerful shinobi, or perhaps wealthy merchants or skilled teachers.
But a child declaring he wanted to be a "good person"? That was rare indeed.
Someone asked, "Arima, do you even know what a 'good person' is?"
Arima tapped his little head with a finger and answered confidently, "Of course not. But there's a voice here that told me to be one."
The adults were bewildered. Some even wondered if this was the will of the Sage of Six Paths.
Hashirama murmured to himself, 'A good person, huh? A heart for the world... What a great ambition.'
He then looked at Arima with solemn eyes.
"Arima, it's not easy being a good person. It'll be tough, full of hardship. Are you sure about this?"
Arima hesitated. He didn't really know what a "good person" was either, but seeing Hashirama so serious, he couldn't back down.
"I want to be a good person," he said firmly.
Hashirama laughed heartily, proud of the boy's spirit. He handed Arima even more candy.
Arima, sensing he had done something right, felt the word "good person" plant itself deep in his young heart.
That night, after the birthday guests left, Arima, already yawning, crawled into bed and fell into a deep sleep.
In his dreams, the voice returned.
At the same time, the necklace around his neck began to glow and rise into the air, slowly gathering light until it shot into his forehead.
Arima remained unaware of the change.
The next morning, he awoke refreshed. He felt lighter and faster.
Excited, he told his mother. Naomi, thinking it was the necklace's effect, didn't think much of it.
At noon, Hashirama came to visit again.
He hugged Arima, and the two sat under the big tree near the door, enjoying popsicles in the breeze.
Suddenly, Hashirama noticed a stray cat limping in the grass, mewling weakly with an injured leg.
Thinking of Arima's vow, he said, "Arima, look over there. See that cat? Its leg's hurt. If you want to be a good person, you can start with the little creatures."
Arima followed his gaze. The cat was missing half its tail and looked sickly.
It cried softly, as if begging for kindness.
Arima's heart ached. Not knowing what to do, he asked, "Grandpa, what should I do?"
Hashirama stroked his hair gently.
"Let's fix its leg, feed it something healthy every day and once it recovers, it can survive on its own."
Under Hashirama's guidance, he carefully bandaged the cat's wound. At first, the cat lashed out, even scratching Arima's hand once.
Arima felt a little hurt, emotionally and physically, but he kept going and finished the job.
The cat seemed to feel better and licked his palm gratefully.
Arima's sadness vanished instantly.
Hashirama, seeing it all, used chakra to heal the scratch and gently praised Arima. The two walked home proudly, as if they'd accomplished something great.
For the next month, Hashirama and Arima brought food daily for the cat. The cat recovered and grew attached to Arima.
Eventually, it even brought him a mouse it had caught, as a gift of gratitude.
Arima was deeply moved. He was beginning to understand what goodness meant.
Once the cat fully recovered, it and Arima became close companions. They climbed trees, caught bugs, and stole bird eggs together near the woods.
One night, the cat lay napping on Arima's windowsill when a sudden flash of light startled it awake. Peeking in, it saw Arima sleeping soundly and crept away quietly.
In that moment, deep within Arima's soul, a voice rang out.
[Energy infusion complete.
Daily Good Deed System initializing.
First act of kindness detected.
Grade: F
Score: 100
Reward: 10 Virtue Points]
Fast asleep, Arima was oblivious. He had no idea that his single act of kindness had not only earned him a loyal companion, but also unlocked extraordinary potential.