Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mourning.

As they stand over the grave of their brother, Kawarama, the brothers mourn.

Itama cries and weeps and sobs, their father silently scolding him. Hashirama’s bottom lip wobbles ever so slightly and his eyes glisten with unshed tears, still he tries his damndest to keep from joining his now youngest brother in weeping. 

Tobirama stares. No expression is betrays his thoughts, his carefully crafted facade of neutrality only cracking slightly to allow a furrow of eyebrows and muted frown. He knows. Tobirama knows that he must be strong for his brothers. So he must mourn later, when daylight falls to night. Tobirama will mourn when his remaining family have all been lulled to sleep. For now, he must be the rock that keeps his brothers close and secure. His youngest brother weeps and weeps, thrashing in his fathers arms while yelling, scolding their father. Butsuma raises his voice, which usually does the trick to shutting his kids up. 

Itama screams.

He screams at his father, yelling, vengeful profanities that are nothing but accusatory. The normally calm, quiet, sweet boy rips into the man, shouting to the world that it’s his fault Kawarama is dead. Their father, like many Senju who have come to investigate the commotion, is caught off guard by this reaction and in turn releases the young child. Their cousin, Touka, emerges from the crowd to try soothing the boy lest he do something rash and set off their violent father. Hashirama begged his father to not do anything rash. But they were too late. Butsuma had already begun to advance, smacking his now-youngest child across the face. And the forest stills. 

The abrupt silence that follows Butsuma’s slap was one memory that remains in the mind of many, many Senju. But not because of the thickly layered tension that wrapped the graveyard when silence spread, no. It was what happened after.

Itama spat blood at his father’s feet. And when Butsuma raised his hand again, chaos erupted. Tobirama lunged in front of his little brother as Hashirama pulled their father back by the plates of his armor, Touka restraining Itama from lunging. Butsuma, enraged by his sons and their defiance, turned to yell at Hashirama. Wood tied his limbs together, slamming him to the ground. A few moments later, Itama screeched, vines wrapping around Butsuma and Touka’s throats, squeezing hard. 

“Anija!” Tobirama yelled. “Stop! You’re hurting Touka!”

 “That’s not me!” Hashirama defended. “I only did Mokuton… Only wood, I don’t know who…”

Tobirama turned to Itama, who managed to escape Touka’s grasp as she struggled for air. Itama, looking back at Touka, ran blindly into Tobirama. It was at that moment when Tobirama recognized the chakra that flowed through the vines.

“Otouto,” Tobirama said softly. “Please let Touka and Tou-sama go.”

“He doesn’t care! Our little brother just died and he doesn’t care! He—”

Tobirama hugged his small brother to his chest. “Let it all out, ‘Tama.”

Itama wailed. As anger faded to sadness, the vines unwrapped themselves from Touka and Butsuma. Wariness and wonder found it’s way on the crowd of Senju surrounding the Clan Head and his sons. Now two of his children had Mokuton. Touka coughed and gasped for air, a few clan healers taking her back to the Compound. Healers tried to help Butsuma to his feet, but he waved them away with shaky breath. 

Hashirama supported the weight of his father, who began to stumble toward Itama. Tobirama stood in front of his younger… youngest brother, ready to shield him if necessary. Butsuma walked to Tobirama and nudged him aside, pulling Itama in for a hug. The crowd surrounding the Head Family began walking back home, glancing back occasionally in concern.

“I hate this,” Itama cried, his face scrunched up as he shoved his face in his father’s shoulder. “I hate this stupid war. I hate…”

Hashirama sniffed, wrapping his arms around his crying brother and silent father. Butsuma embraced both sons, never speaking a word.

Tobirama stood guard.

—

When day swept into night, Tobirama lay awake. In his room. Alone. Itama had gone to spend the night in Hashirama’s room. Their father had went to check in on them, and had fallen asleep at Hashirama’s rarely-used desk. 

It was a cold night. Abnormally cold for this time of year. The night patrols frequently took breaks to go warm up or change clothes. So when Tobirama ran away in the night, no one noticed.

A few minutes later, he escapes to a large clearing in the forest. It’s in Senju territory, but a few hundred meters away is the Naka that separates them from Uchiha. He silently thanks a higher power for the clearing, as he can’t stand to look at the brown trunks of the trees in the forest. He can’t spare a glance to browned leaves and rock filled dirt. Each shade of brown reminds him of his once-littlest brother, a sunshine to everyone in their family. 

Kawarama was a brightness that only Hashirama could even come close to matching. The two brown haired brothers would often frolic around in their spare time, with Hashirama proudly showing off his Mokuton tricks to a sparkly-eyed Kawarama. They would boost shy little Itama’s confidence and ever so slightly melt Tobirama’s cold dead heart. Tobirama saw Kawarama in the earth below and the dust that settles from above. He saw his littlest brother in the gold of the sun and the yellowed grass. 

He remembers a time where they’d all planned what their armor would look like in the future, when they were older and were able to lead their clan into grand battles against the Uchiha. Kawarama declared he wanted a golden yellow so that he could be like the sun on the battlefield. Kawarama beamed when Itama requested his be a cool green, the color Tobirama’s hands glowed when he healed scrapes and cuts. Hashirama proudly announced that his armor would be bright red like their father’s, and Tobirama quietly added his choice of color— plain blue. 

Kawarama had pouted at the blandness, and, a few months later on Tobirama’s birthday, gifted his albino brother with a multitude of happuri, the majority having the Senju symbol engraved. Tobirama hasn’t worn them. He didn’t want to, not until he was stronger. After a while of not wearing it, even on Kawarama’s birthday, Kawarama whined and said he was planning on getting Tobirama more for his next birthday. He was 7 at the time. Tobirama was 10, Hashirama, 12, and Itama was 8.

But it was a year later, a few weeks after his 8th birthday. That is when Kawarama had taken his final breath. 

His littlest brother’s chakra had cried out, reaching to send signals to any Senju that was near. Tobirama had reached back, trying to comfort his youngest brother with his chakra’s presence. Hashirama, despite being slower, managed to sprint ahead, gaining distance on where Kawarama’s chakra flickered and leaving Tobirama behind. Itama and Butsuma were running alongside the albino, no one being able to catch up to the Mokuton-gifted teen. For better or for worse, Hashirama arrived after Kawarama had already passed.

But Tobirama felt it. Kawarama’s chakra clawed at the blanket of Tobirama’s. The sunshine chakra begged its brother to not leave. Tobirama wrapped his chakra around the other boy tighter, feeling the pulse and breath of youngest brother’s chakra dwindle. But when Kawarama’s heartbeat slowed to an infinite pause, Tobirama felt a piece of him go with it.

Tobirama had taken one quick look at his brother’s corpse. He had paused, hesitated. Tobirama had stopped to mourn for a split second, but forced himself into the familiar mask of stoicism. He focused on his expanding his sensor range, ignoring the wails of his brothers and shaky breaths of his father. And then Tobirama took off into the trees toward the direction of a few nearby Uchiha. 

Their chakras hummed with power and savage delight. Tobirama silently trailed behind them in the branches above, observing the Uchiha below the foliage with a predator’s gaze. None of the people in the party noticed him, too busy laughing and cheering about their latest slaughter. What a shame, they cackled, if only the Senju hadn’t have gotten to the brat so fast… we could have had some fun with it. Then a kunai embedded itself in one of their heads. The Uchiha looked scandalized and horrified as the blade ripped through their comrade’s skull. But they were not prepared for what was to come.

Tobirama’s eyes were wide and unfocused, and the moonlight illuminated his face in a ghostly light. His red irises glistened with murderous intent and his pale frame shook with the urge to kill, only amplified when the terrified Uchiha noticed the boy in the trees. But he remained in place on a branch, perched like a bird of prey. One of the Uchiha inched toward his blade, the others stepping back slowly and cautiously to get away from the blood-seeking preteen. 

“Run.”

And Tobirama lunged. With a simple kunai and a vengeance like no other, he tore through the bodies of one, two, three, five, eight Uchiha. After the albino had spoken that one word, yes, the Uchiha party had desperately tried to escape, but he mutilated. Every. Single. One. He watched them bleed out with numbness creeping into his veins. One Uchiha, who somehow managed to survive, was stumbling away. Tobirama, being a distance away from the crawling man, launched a kunai through his thigh.

His hands and feet, arms and legs were stained with blood. Tobirama didn’t care. He made sure each Uchiha who lay at his feet, each last one of the inhuman scum, had suffered what Kawarama had tenfold.

A singular tear fell down his cheek as he fell to his knees in the carnage. A silent scream tore through his throat as bloodied hands gripped at his head to stain white hair. Water wrenched itself from the plantlife around as blood ripped through the corpses at his knees, the heinous mixture swirling around Tobirama. A maelstrom of emotion burst through the young sensor’s range, spreading hate and pain and love and loss.

Tobirama can’t recall when or how he got back to the compound. He remembers faceless blurs fretting over him when he stepped into the Clan Head’s house, but Tobirama was numb. He let himself be pushed around and cleaned so he could go back into the wilderness and bury his brother. 

And that is where he stood now, in the wilderness. He was countless paces from the graveyard, but his mind was in a different dimension entirely. Tears flowed down Tobirama’s face, small sniffles escaping the boy.

He looked to the moon for guidance as he donned a shiny new happuri.

Chapter Text

Hashirama did not wake alone. He opened bleary eyes to see his father staring out the window from where he sat at the desk. Itama was awake, still sleepy yet hugging his older brother tight.

“Hashi,” Itama mumbled in greeting.

“Morning, ‘Tama.”

Their father glanced at them through his peripheral vision. He abruptly stood up from the desk, Itama and Hashirama tensing at the action.

“Let us eat,” Butsuma said, waiting by the door for his sons.

“Father, we aren’t dressed nice for breakfast,” Hashirama carefully replied. “Shouldn’t we change before—”

“No,” Butsuma interrupted. “It is fine.”

Itama was silent as he left the bed to stand next to his father. Hashirama followed soon after, nervously humming a mindless tune. The two boys stood side by side, only slightly behind their father. Butsuma hesitated for a moment, glancing at his sons once more. He pat their heads and swiftly left the room, leaving Hashirama and Itama to follow, dumbfounded. 

When they all arrived at the kitchen, Tobirama was already there, back to them as he began serving steaming breakfast to a set and ready table. 

“Tobirama,” Butsuma greeted.

Tobirama turned and bowed. “Sir.”

Hashirama cringed at the formality. He knew Tobirama always addressed his father with utmost formality, but surely he could lay off the seriousness once in a while, no? Especially at such a sensitive time!

“Thank you for the food, Aniki,” Itama said, shuffling over toward the table.

“Of course.”

The family sat down at the table, all looking down at their plates. They each made a point to not look at a fifth, empty seat that was still present at the table. 

“Tobirama,” Butsuma spoke, looking at his second son with a raised brow. “Why are you dressed in such attire? It is breakfast.”

Itama and Hashirama both looked up from their plates to analyze their brother’s clothes. He was dressed in not-quite-light shinobi attire, and on his head he donned a happuri with the Senju vajra engraved. Usually, at breakfast, or on simple and duty-less days, everyone wore a simple kimono. 

“My apologies. I was under the impression that I was to continue my duties,” Tobirama spoke, not taking his eyes off of what was once Kawarama’s chair. “Please forgive my ineptitude, sir.”

“I would have dismissed you from all duties today, but since you seem to be so willing,” Butsuma sighed. “You may continue whatever you planned on doing. Hashirama, Itama, and I will be mourning, should you wish to join.”

Tobirama nodded, remaining silent. The boy finished the little serving he’d allowed himself, and moved his dishes to the counter, where he would have to wash them once everyone was done. Doing a quick once over of the room’s occupants, Tobirama turned to leave. He couldn’t keep staring at that empty chair and wish he had been faster.

He retreated to his room, his sole sanctuary in the chaos of the world. His father, unfortunately, had removed the lock from his door after a particularly bad argument between them, but that was one of many reasons why Tobirama had taken an interest in the art of sealing. Activating his refined security seals was as easy as writing his name. They had to be. Tobirama sat at his desk, mulling over some of the experiments and jutsu ideas he came up with. He began writing about Itama’s newfound Mokuton ability. Though Hashirama had a few years experience on his (now) littlest brother, it had taken him quite some time to work out how grass and vines worked. Hashirama didn’t explain how it worked to Tobirama, as the older boy said he was tired of all the research and it just “happened for some reason,” which irritated Tobirama to no end. However… Itama had seemed to master the vines almost immediately. 

Although, Tobirama supposed, perhaps the greener side of Mokuton reacted strongly to the user’s emotions? The albino quickly wrote down his theories and began compiling a list of tests he wished to try out with his brothers. He wrote until his hand ached, and when he took a step back from his work, he was satisfied with the 20 or so experiments he’d managed to explain and theorize about in detail. Sure, when you piled all of the pages up, it looked like a stack of paperwork that a Clan Head or Village Leader might have on their desk… and wow, wasn’t that a thought? So Tobirama carefully moved the stack of experiment ideas aside on his wide desk, making sure not even one paper fell out of place. He then crawled under the desk, in order to reach a little storage scroll which was meticulously hidden in a barely visible hole in his desk.

Opening the tiny scroll, he quickly applied chakra to a few seals on the thick paper. In doing so, the albino unsealed files of paper that were very important to him. His Anija would always talk to their littlest brother (Kawarama will always be their littlest.) about how great peace would be. And, the brothers, behind their father’s back, would talk about what they wanted in a village. Tobirama had actually chimed in frequently, speaking of academies and layouts. Hashirama and Kawarama had bounced ideas off of each other, chirping about how great peace would be, how they could all find love and have big families. Itama suggested that there be a hospital, where everyone could learn how to heal or receive the top medical care in all of the Land of Fire. Tobirama had, of course, taken this idea into fruition. He built plans upon plans of ideas, forcefully pushing aside all prejudices his father had imposed on him and his brothers in order to draft ideas for a full village in which everyone would be able to live in peace.

He reviewed his prewritten policies on paperwork and found them to be lacking, unsuitable for the vision of the village. He began brainstorming what paperwork might look like, sufficient systems that would help file and sort large quantities, and creating roles to help take the load off of the Clan— well, the Village Leader, not Clan Head. It was difficult, Tobirama would admit, to think of ways in which the clans of the Land of Fire could all live in peace. It was hard to imagine a truly paradise-like land, where everyone lived in harmony. He’d felt and seen his family and kin die to the hands of many clans, not just the Uchiha, though it was easier to just blame them. But, Tobirama had to learn that the easiest route is not always the best route, something he was quite familiar with in terms of experiments, but not human interaction.

That was something he had to learn. For Hashirama. For Itama. For Kawarama.

Kawarama, who, should, by all accounts, be barging into his room right now, talking about lunch or dinner or however long Tobirama had spent locked up in his room again. Tobirama would have to redo his wards again, because his littlest brother never knew the right amount of chakra to pour into the seals, he was too eager. He should be dragging Tobirama to eat, or make food if no one else had. Tobirama glanced out of the window, seeing the sun a little past midday, and paused. Why wasn’t…

Kawarama was dead. He would never come back. He wouldn’t be there to give smiles to his family when they were down. He wouldn’t be there to happily trail after his older brothers, helping them whenever he could. He wouldn’t be there to rush to Itama or Tobirama whenever he fell so that “the best med nins ever!” could come and heal his scrapes. Tobirama was starting to think of the unfathomable. He couldn’t stomach looking at Kawarama’s empty space anymore— his seat at the table, his room next to Itama’s, anything and everything that was suddenly more empty as his youngest was stolen from him.

Tobirama skipped dinner that night. 

Chapter Text

Tobirama pretended to be occupied at a fruit stand.

His targets were a few meters away, looking at various stores and such. Tobirama had taken this mission instead of Itama. He had to politely argue with his father that the young healer needed more time to mourn. It had only been two weeks, after all. 

So here Tobirama was, about to assassinate a few men who were of the Uchiha clan. The targets were spies, but additionally, they were part of a child-killer squad. Tobirama was ready to kill. He’d found them easily, memorizing their chakra signatures swiftly. Now it was just a waiting game. He knew that they were due to get some more information for the Uchiha, and while he could stop them before they did, that was not his mission. His job was to kill them, away from any populous of people. So a mugging or tricky poison in the middle of a busy town center would not do. It was okay, Tobirama reasoned, because this was all part of being a shinobi. Sometimes you had to wait for an opportunity to present itself, and sometimes you had to make it. In this case, he would have to lie in wait. It was boring, yes, but better Tobirama do this mission than his sweet little brother Itama.

Tobirama had requested his father to relieve Hashirama and Itama of their duties in favor of training their Mokuton— something Hashirama would dread just as much as a mission— as it was something Itama needed. Butsuma had reluctantly agreed, so long as Tobirama took on more missions to compensate. He was okay with that, it was nothing new. As long as his brothers were safe, nothing would stop him from doing what he needed to do. So Tobirama diligently followed the Uchiha child-killers, despite the dangers he knew might befall him.

It was a strange feeling, really. Seeing the Uchiha who had children’s blood on their hands pass by people with cheerful and human expressions. They’d taken away lives, and there they stood, blending into the bustling crowd, as if they weren’t monsters. Shinobi did a lot of shady things, a lot of things that civilians would without a doubt call inhumane, but to go out of their way to murder a child who is clearly outmatched? That was a low that not many reached. Tobirama, in truth, was not briefed as to why the group of child-killers were in the town. At least, not until he felt the chakra of a small, Hyūga child. 

Tobirama quickly thanked the fruit stand merchant for letting him browse before disappearing down an alley. He didn’t use any chakra to climb the buildings, careful not to alert any shinobi nearby. It took him a bit longer than he liked— Tobirama really couldn’t wait to grow up and not be so small— but he made it to the rooftops, where he’d be able to see the child-killers easily. And from the new height, it was clear to him, a trained shinobi, that they were not blending into the crowd, no. They were trailing the young Hyūga child. The child was dressed in newbie-shinobi gear, subtle but  clearly unworn. The leather in the child’s outfit had little to no creases, the color in the sandals still bright and not dulled with use, and the mesh armor perfectly intact. It was undoubtedly this child’s first mission. The Uchiha child-killers followed until their target got to a more secluded area. Tobirama saw the Uchiha ready themselves to lunge. 

Tobirama was faster.

He used chakra to jump off the rooftop, startling the Uchiha out of their focus. He landed right in front of the Hyūga child, who looked at the albino with terror in their eyes. Tobirama said nothing, picking up the kid— probably six or seven— and took off into the forest. The child-killers regained their bearings and quickly followed.

Tobirama used chakra to jump from tree branch to tree branch. The Hyūga child in his arms trembled but held on tight as Tobirama raced toward Hyūga territory. The other clan wasn’t explicitly allied with the Senju or Uchiha, though they clearly favored the Senju for their lack of rivaling dōjutsu. Their compound, while not a secret, was not usually visited without a notice in advance. The young Senju was banking on a Hyūga patrol coming across the chase, and taking the child to safety while Tobirama and some backup take care of the Uchiha. Sensing to Tobirama came naturally— and he couldn’t turn it off— so spreading his range far was like jamming a scalding hot knife into already-soft butter. Meaning it was very easy to sense that there was no Hyūga patrol near them, and there wouldn’t be for at least an hour. 

Great. Lovely.

Tobirama ran faster and faster, creating a decent distance between him and the child-hunters.

“What’s your name?” Tobirama asked, voice raised so the kid could hear him.

“I’m not allowed to say,” the Hyūga child timidly answered, speaking into Tobirama’s ear.

“That’s alright. I’m Tobirama,” the albino introduced. “It’s nice to meet you.”

They went higher in the trees and the Hyūga child hugged the Senju tighter. 

“I’m gonna try to bring you back home, okay, kiddo?”

“…Okay.”

Tobirama cradled the child tighter as he weaved through leaves and branches, a protective urge spreading through his veins. He had gained distance toward the Hyūga compound, but the irritatingly persistent child-hunters followed. He stopped using chakra to expand his sensing range, instead opting for using that chakra to run faster along the treetops. 

“Hold on tight,” Tobirama reminded the Hyūga child.

He quickly formed a shadow clone, moving slower so he could hand the child to the replica besides him. The clone nodded, taking the child and running off toward Hyūga land while the original Tobirama turned to face his opponents. Now a fraction of his chakra was gone, but it made no difference to Tobirama. The child-killers approached and he burst off in a new direction, leading the pursuers toward the Naka. Without the added weight of the child, he was able to run faster, weaving through foliage elegantly.

The Uchiha squadron forewent the clone and Hyūga child in favor of Tobirama himself, or perhaps they didn’t realize. Whether they did or not, they were still hot on the albino’s heels, which caused Tobirama to start thinking. What would have happened today had Itama actually taken this mission? His little brother wasn’t suited for combat against multiple opponents, he was too young for that type of vigorous training, so why had his name been in the contending for the completion of this mission?

An image of Kawarama’s broken, beaten, bruised, bloody, body on the ground. The terror that this squad would have put his only alive younger brother through, had he gone on this mission in Tobirama’s stead. Suddenly, Tobirama stopped, on the branch, turning as he felt the enemy chakras near. Well, it was time to do a little experimenting, no? His brain quickly unsorted all of his memorized experiments and tests, stopping on one. The most inhumane one. The one where, if anyone ever found out, he would be ostracized from the Senju clan, perhaps even banished. His family would never look at him the same. 

The Edo Tensei.

Surely, surely if he could bring back Kawarama… Surely no one would mind the desecrated bodies that had to be used in order for his littlest brother to see the sun again? One would have to be heartless to deny him that chance, no? He needed to try. He’d done it once before, with a few bugs and small animals, but nothing truly to this scale. If it worked, if he could revive his littlest brother from the clutches of death… 

He had to try.

…

The Uchiha squadron consisted of 5 grown men. 

Uchiha Takane, Uchiha Hisasato, Uchiha Deto, Uchiha Akishi, and Uchiha Otsuro. 

Takane was the squad leader. He was known to be one of the only people in his clan who enjoyed and excelled in child-killings. Uchiha Tajima was starting to disband the squads at the request of his heirs and disdain of the Elders, so this would be one of Takane’s last missions with his squad. Takane had no spouse, no children, for he was a forsaken man who killed children in his spare time. Who would want to fraternize with the likes of him? 

He took a slimy pride in the success of his missions, but right now, he wished he had retired earlier. His last job, the final one, was to eliminate some rookie Hyūga kid who was getting information. It was clearly a newbie at the job, which was a boring way to end his career, but then something interesting happened. When Takane and his team had followed the child to a more secluded are of the small town, a small blur jumped down from the rooftops, picked up the Hyūga, and took off running. Takane and his men were stumped for a quick minute before giving chase to the small pair. The blur had turned around for a split second to throw a kunai with an exploding tag before taking off into the trees with their bounty.

When the white haired kid had turned, even for a split second, Takane’s active Sharingan caught the symbol on the kid’s happuri. Senju.

He barked orders at his men to ignore the Hyūga kid in favor of the Senju, and without question they obeyed. The sensor in their group, Otsuro, took a short bit to expand his senses to the max. He reported that, at one point, the Senju kid had duplicated somehow and was rushing the other child toward the Hyūga compound. Otsuro quickly reassured that the Senju that was headed toward the Naka was the stronger of the two, and they should go for that kill lest they run into any Hyūga patrols.

The five men sprinted toward the lone Senju.

“The Senju kid stopped,” Otsuro muttered. “We’re approaching fast. The little shit ran just out of range, about 50 meters ahead.”

“Got it. Akishi?” Takane asked.

Akishi grunted and held a giant shuriken. 

“Deto? Hisasato?”

“Yes sir.” “Ready, Takane.”

They rushed forward into a relatively small clearing. The white haired kid stood on top of a rock surrounded by plants and the like, back to the group. Akishi raised his giant shuriken as Hisasato unsheathed his sword. Deto plucked a bag from his back, taking out a fistful of black powder. Otsuro activated his Sharingan as Takane stepped forward.

“Senju,” Takane boomed. “You interfered with our mission.”

The kid was silent, plucking off armor, piece by piece. The too-big metal plunked and clinked when it hit the rock the child stood upon, before making a soft thump as it hit the grass below. 

“Surrendering, Senju? That’s no fun,” Takane snarked. “Must be a weak one, then.”

The Senju child slowly turned, red eyes glaring from beneath white hair. The child said nothing, continuing to pluck bits of armor off, but not touching the happuri.

Red eyes. That was a bit startling to the group, but they had a job to do, and the boon of killing a Senju warrior was much greater than that of a Hyūga brat.

“Must be mute,” Akishi snarled. “Sad we can’t hear the little demon scream.”

Takane took another step forward, the Senju’s eyes not leaving his. “Get down from there, kid.”

The Senju blurred by, fast even for the two active Sharingan. Takane whipped around to see the Senju child, kunai in  palm, stabbing through Deto’s chest. The Senju kicked Deto’s corpse into Otsuro and rushed toward Hisasato. Hisasato managed to block the kunai with his sword, but then the little brat kicked him where the sun doesn’t shine. The kenjutsu specialist keeled over, incidentally impaling himself on the Senju’s kunai. The Senju kid twisted the kunai as he ripped it out of Hisasato’s chest, shoving the adult to the side. The Senju spawn placed a seal on corpse and turned around. Akishi froze upon seeing the little kid’s cold, red eyes on him. The small Senju’s face was splattered with blood.

The three remaining adults stood in shock, processing what they just witnessed. The Senju child took off the face-protector.

“You got blood on my happuri,” The child whispered. “It’s dirty now. Because of you.”

“We—” Akishi was cut off by a blade in the neck and a seal on his forehead. 

“Akishi!” Otsuro screamed, pulling out his sword and rushing toward the kid.

The Senju spawn dodged each swing of Otsuro’s sword, terrifying emptiness in young red eyes. The child quickly incapacitated the Uchiha, slapping a seal on his chest. Takane backed up slowly as the Senju child pulled themself off of the paralyzed Otsuro. 

“No… no, stay back!” Takane cried, slipping onto his ass. “We didn’t do anything!”

The Senju child stalked over, power in each step taken. The child placed a paralysis seal on the back of Takane’s neck before starting to prepare some scrolls. The small child dragged the bodies, both dead and conscious, to line them all up.

“Five,” the child muttered, reaching down to feel the corpses. “Twice with one spare. I could—”

A small asphodelus sprouted by the child’s hand. The Senju’s red eyes widened, looking around at blooming rhododendron.

“I’d like…” the child started, yellow jessamines sprouting around Akishi’s corpse.

The Senju child pet the grass, a soft look in his empty eyes. “Ah, gelsemium semperviren. I see. Perfect, thank you.”

“Who… are you,” Takane rasped, struggling against the paralysis seal. 

“I have many names. I’ll list a few should you recognize any,” the Senju boy snarked, twirling a plucked flower. “Your worst nightmare. The White Demon. Aniki. Freak. Otouto. Senju Butsuma’s spare son. Senju Tobirama. The boy who just unlocked Mokuton.” 

Takane’s eyes widened, Sharingan spinning wildly. “Butsuma? Senju Butsuma?”

“That’s what I just said. What, are you hard of hearing?” Tobirama mused. “Even if you were— which I truly doubt— I would think the Sharingan would be able to help you read lips, no?”

Tobirama dragged the terrified Otsuro and the very dead Akishi into some weird seals he’d drawn on the ground prior to the battle…

Takane was screaming in his mind. How did they not notice the seals on the ground before they’d engaged in battle? They were elite shinobi, damn it!

The Senju boy performed some hand seals and smeared the blood of Akishi’s corpse onto some seal paper. Takane was lost as to what was happening. Otsuro screamed as paper-like things started attaching to him, but soon went limp when he was fully covered. Tobirama took a few steps back, chewing on his lip and furrowing his brows.

“What did you do?!” Takane growled. 

Tobirama said nothing as the papers continued to merge into… Akishi?

Akishi looked off, though. There were cracks on his skin and attire, and his scleras were black. He didn’t move, instead looking around with his eyes frantically, activating his Sharingan while he was at it. 

“You’re not moving,” Tobirama muttered, disappointed.

“C… Can’t…” Akishi ground out. “Wh’t…”

Tobirama frowned. Pouted. Was upset. Whatever it was, it scared Takane. The boy— the child he was trying to kill a few minutes ago— started poking and prodding not-quite-Akishi. He sliced bit by bit off of the body, which soon regenerated. Akishi did not move. 

“Failure,” Tobirama muttered. “Kai.”

And not-quite-Akishi was gone. Akishi’s corpse lay there— still in the circle— but Otsuro’s body was gone.

Tobirama crouched down and placed what looked to be a preservation seal on Deto’s body. The boy quickly sealed the body into a storage scroll, dragging Hisasato’s corpse with into the circle next to Akishi’s. He moved Akishi out of the way, then turned to drag Takane. 

“Stop,” Takane pleaded. “Please.”

Tobirama said nothing, dragging him to where Otsuro once was. 

“Why?” Takane cried, frantically stalling for time. “Why would a child be so despicable?”

The Senju boy turned to him, wearing a neutral expression yet tears gathered in dull red eyes. Tobirama started going through the motions of his jutsu.

The last seal formed with shaking hands, Tobirama looked the Uchiha child-killer in the eyes. “For Kawarama.”

And the world went black.

…

His clone had dispelled a while ago, having safely delivered the little Hyūga child. The child had thanked him profusely and declared that one day he would find the “pretty Senju boy” to "become his student." The elation his shadow clone felt pulled the albino out of the dullness he’d pulled himself into. Tobirama found himself in front of his brother’s grave, scroll with an Uchiha’s corpse inside ready to go. Ready to bring back Kawarama. He put the scroll away, reflecting.

The happiness and warmth Tobirama's clone had brought back had merged with the original's dying-down adrenaline, making him feel icky and disgusting. But he had to think rationally. The little Hyūga child— Hyūga Hamito, he’d found out— was safe. And the Uchiha were dead. That was all that mattered. He was not supposed to mourn. He felt emotionless. Numb like the tool he was supposed to be. Designed to be. 

But numbness got exhausting, and “Butsuma’s spare son” was at the end of his rope.

Tobirama put his heads in his hands, slumping against his brother’s grave. His knees dug into nettle and swamp lilies. The corpse in his back pocket felt heavy, an added weight to the burden of the world. His heart cried and ached at the realization that Itama was supposed to go on this mission. The fact that had he not accepted in the stead of the aspiring healer, Tobirama would have lost his only alive little brother. No one would call him Aniki anymore. It would have just been him and Hashirama. Alone. Another death weighing heavy on their hearts and minds. He could revive his youngest brother right here, right now. But Tobirama couldn’t desecrate his littlest brother’s grave. 

He didn’t have the heart to do it. 

Chapter Text

It was the day after the mission. 

Tobirama had gone straight to his room to sit at his desk and reflect, locking himself in his room from dinner to this morning’s breakfast. That means their father had made dinner and Hashirama probably attempted to make breakfast. He rested an elbow on the desk and his cheek in the palm of his hand, and decided to train. Expanding his sensory abilities was child’s play, but reeling them in was extremely. It was like trying to pack a pail of loose sand into a teacup or two. Sure, you probably could do it with some effort and chakra, but it would be very tedious, unless you were a master at… putting sand in teacups. That was something Tobirama could not do. 

However, his struggles in reeling in his natural sensing output paid off. When a natural sensor (such as Tobirama) pulled all of their senses in, focusing on themselves, they were able to focus and feel the chakra move within their body. Which was what Tobirama was doing right now. From some of his missions— usually the ones in Kirigakure— he’d seen shinobi use seals with one hand. The young albino took great interest in this, as the practicality of using one-handed seals was too great to not study. 

The possibilities seemed to be endless. With one hand he could summon a water dragon, while in his other hand he wielded a blade. Perhaps he could reinvent some of his newer and prototype jutsu and seals so that they could be activated with only one hand. It was ingenious. The question was: how did it work? 

Tobirama was the most skilled Suiton user the Senju had ever seen, and he had frequently reeled in his sensory abilities to try and figure out why. Because of his soul-searching, he knew exactly how to control water with minimal effort. Now the key was to figure out how to do jutsu with one hand. Water release came so natural to him that he often had trouble first learning jutsu oriented toward other chakra natures. If Tobirama couldn’t figure the jutsu out, he’d convert it to a Suiton and practice until he better understood the purpose and use of the jutsu. 

Later— when the albino had figured out how to reel his sensing in— Tobirama had figured out that his chakra flowed like the water in the Naka. It was a strong current of chakra that streamed through the boy, rushing quickly and precisely. His chakra, though it flowed like rivers, had a distinct ocean-like feel— rooted deep and lapping at the outer world in waves. Because his chakra was so akin to that of water, Tobirama theorized that this was why Suiton was as easy as breathing. And, by this point, Tobirama was getting off track once more, forgetting about the one-handed seal issue for a moment.

All of his brothers were gifted with Doton or Fuuton, not including the fabled Mokuton that seemed to reside in all of the brothers except Kawarama, because Kawarama… Touka leaned more toward Doton and Katon herself. Tobirama seemed to be the odd one out. Even his mother had not been Suiton-oriented. It had bugged Tobirama to no end, until Butsuma and his sons had met the Uzumaki at the shoreline to negotiate an alliance. They had such comforting wave-like Suiton chakra, save for the special someone who had caught his Anija’s eye, and she, unfortunately, was Fuuton-oriented.

The Uzumaki’s eldest child, Mito, had become smitten with Hashirama’s naïve sunshine-like presence. Hashirama had fallen head over heels for Mito. Literally. He saw her once and tripped, getting the beach’s hot sand in his mouth and hair. Tobirama and Itama and Kawarama had laughed at him, with their father shaking his head. (He was smiling, just a little bit. No one had noticed except for Tobirama. It was his job to notice these things.)

Before negotiations had even started with the Uzumaki, Hashirama had flirted with Mito. Her father— the literal Uzumaki Clan Head, the King of the Uzumaki— looked to be confused, as were his children, save for his eldest. Mito, in turn, asked Butsuma for permission to court his eldest son, which was a culture-shock. The Senju courting rituals said that a male must court a female, and treat her to gifts and dates and such. The Uzumaki courting rituals were not constrained by gender roles nor gender itself, so whomever proposed the Courting must be the one giving gifts. 

Mito’s father had explained this to Butsuma, awaiting the other clan head’s answer, assuring the Senju clan head that the alliance need not be dissolved should he decline. Before Butsuma could even state a decision, Hashirama got on his knees begging his father to say yes, tears in his eyes. Butsuma had no choice. Hashirama cried tears of joy when his father had said yes, and Mito looked to be even more smitten. It was gross. 

Though, as per Uzumaki tradition, an occasional gift would be given to the direct family of the person being courted, as a sign of goodwill and such. Meaning Mito sometimes gave gifts to everyone. So Kawarama Itama, Butsuma, and Tobirama himself. Rarely Touka. Mito preferred to give these gifts in person, but usually sent them with a messenger, who, Tobirama had found out, had delivered Mito’s Future Familial Goodwill presents yesterday. Mito did not know about Kawarama. Mito got Kawarama  a gift. Kawarama would not be able to see the gift. Kawarama was dead. Kawarama was dead. Kawarama was de—

Tobirama idly flipped a storage seal in his hands. He had yet to open it, but it was his gift from Mito. Usually the family would rant and rave about their gifts at the dinner table— Touka as well, she was over for the day as she had also gotten a gift— but Tobirama was not there at dinner. He didn’t think the family would talk about their presents without them, as they didn’t like eating without everyone present. So how could Tobirama even stomach food if Kawarama was not there? When Kawarama was dead. Kawarama was—

Tobirama unsealed the scroll. Inside were books about Suiton jutsu, the history and religion of the Uzumaki clan, weapons, and Uzumaki sealing techniques. Mito never missed in her gifts, despite barely visiting the compound. Hashirama must talk about his brothers a lot in the hundreds of letters he sends every month. Maybe Tobirama should start figuring out his teleportation sealwork so Mito and his idiotic Anija could stop abusing their clan’s poor messenger boys (messenger people in the Uzumaki’s case) from their endless letter-sending. 

On the subject of teleportation…

And thus, Tobirama fell into another research binge, completely forgetting about reminiscing and the one handed seal investigation. And, as Tobirama forgot to release his sensing abilities from their constraints, he didn’t realize Hashirama and Itama were approaching until his elder brother kicked open his door.  

“Otouto! What did you get from Mito?!” Hashirama chirped.

“Shit…!” Tobirama startled, jumping a bit and whipping his head to face the now-broken door. “Anija, I sincerely hope you mean to fix that!”

The albino re-extended his sensing ability, silently cursing himself for forgetting to do that earlier. 

“If he won’t, then I wi—” Itama suddenly cut himself off, looking at the albino with disbelief. “Oh my— Aniki…?”

Tobirama looked at his younger brother, confused. “Is everything alright—”

“Tobi… is there anything you want to tell us?” Hashirama carefully asked, excitement and amusement bubbling up in his chakra.

The albino Senju tilted his head, feigning confusion as he calculated the possibility of his brothers finding out about the Edo Tensei. “What do you mean…?”

“Do you have-- how do I say this… some sort of connection to the plants?”

Tobirama tensed. How did Hashirama know? He hadn’t told anyone about his recently discovered abilities. He wasn’t planning on telling anyone. His hands trembled. First the emotional turmoil of thinking of reviving Kawarama saving the Hyūga boy from child-killers, then he let his guard down while going into his potentially dangerous research, and then he has to deal with a confrontation from his brothers, who would no doubt be very upset at him for hiding his Mokuton! They might not even talk to him for days, like last time when—

“Do you… have Mokuton like us?” Itama’s eyes widened, a smile growing on his lips, which threw Tobirama off. “You do!”

“How could you even tell…?” Tobirama confessed, confused out of his mind. “I only found out yesterday…” 

Hashirama snickered. Itama covered his mouth, shoulders shaking. Tobirama quirked a brow, unamused. Just as he was about to ask what the hell was so funny—

“Mokuton resonance… but… Hah—! You have,” Hashirama wheezed. “A flower on your head.”

Tobirama sighed, tension leaving his body at his Anija’s childishness. “That’s it? Really? You both thought I had developed Mokuton before considering I fell in a garden or something? Perhaps the wind had blown a flower into my hair? You two weren’t wrong, but basing—”

“No, no, I… Well,” Itama snickered. “It looks like it’s… ha, it’s…”

Hashirama swiftly ran to another room, noisily searching for something before running back to Tobirama’s room holding a small mirror.

Tobirama rolled his eyes, quickly accepting the mirror as more apprehension drained from his mind. When his red eyes glanced at his reflection, he was shocked at what he saw. A little flower had bloomed. On his head! From his head?! What the…

This was so embarrassing.

Itama and Hashirama broke out into laughter, holding their sides and pointing at the flower.

“I’m taking it out!” Tobirama yelled, face red as he sprinted over to Hashirama’s room, where a bigger mirror was.

“Nooo!” Hashirama protested, chasing after his brother, Itama on his heels. “We like the flower! It’s so cuuute!”

Tobirama plucked the growing flower out of his hair (head? scalp?) with some difficulty and saw that he held an iris sibirica in his hand. Hashirama burst through the door, throwing himself at Tobirama’s knees and wailing at the loss of the little flower. Itama began reciting ancient Senju funeral rites, a sad, very fake expression on his face.  

“Stop it right now!” Tobirama scolded, face burning with embarrassment. “This’ll never happen again!”

Hashirama looked up at Tobirama from the ground, lip wobbling as he still mourned the loss of the iris. But then the brunette’s eyes widened, and the snickering began once more. Itama burst out laughing.

Tobirama turned to the mirror, growling when he saw that a ulex europaeus had bloomed in the iris sibirica’s stead. 

“You’re done for,” Tobirama snarled, readying a shadow clone.

“Bring it, Flower Boy!” Itama taunted, grinning while falling into a traditional Senju healer’s battle stance. “You’re no match for Tree Man and… and uh… Vine Guy!”

Tobirama felt proud at his younger brother’s stance, realized that maybe with Itama’s newfound powers his father will have no choice but to let him be a medic— but this pride quickly disappeared at irritation from his brother’s taunts.

“You’ll never catch us, Flower Boy!” Hashirama cackled, picking up Itama and racing out of the room.

Butsuma had been standing in the entrance by the main door with Touka and her mother when suddenly, his eldest and youngest rushed by. Tobirama quickly followed the two boys, yelling and screaming and… was that a flower on his head?

Tobirama tried to make a shadow clone, but in his anger and desperation he had mixed up the chakra pattern necessary and created some small replica of him. Tobirama blanched, staing at the mini-him as it stared back at him. It had a tiny, matching ulex europaeus on its head and it looked at him with disappointment. He quickly released the miniature clone and went back to chasing Hashirama and Itama, who were now wheezing at the now gone “Tiny Tobi.”

Itama wheezed when Tobirama tripped on a vine he had grown, but quickly stopped laughing as he saw Tobirama stand up from his face-plant in a field full of angrily blooming tanacetum vulgare. Itama had never known flowers could grow so aggressively, but alas, you learn something new every day. Butsuma, still with Touka and her mother, watched from the front entrance of the house in something akin to horror as all 3 of his sons started spontaneously growing trees and plants and vines from the ground. 

“Alas! Tree Man has defeated Flower Boy!” Hashirama announced, after trapping Tobirama in a tree. “And the day is saved!”

Tobirama winced, a little bit hurt that the day was “saved” from him, implying he was the bad guy. Hashirama was clearly oblivious to that implication, as he continued to do a little victory dance. 

Itama, however, had caught the wince, and spun the leaves of a tree Hashirama grew extremely fast. The leaves were spinning so fast that they were razor sharp like shuriken, and he used them to tear through the branches that Tobirama was trapped in, much to Hashirama’s sadness.

“But alas!” Itama called, helping his Tobirama to his feet. “It seems that Tree Man has become corrupt! Flower Boy, will you help me overthrow him?!”

Tobirama’s eyes widened before he gave a curt nod, smiling. “Yes… Vine Guy, it seems we must put our differences aside and work together.”

Hashirama feigned anger as he dramatically stumbled back. “Vine Guy, how could you? I am the son of the Great Forest Sage!”

“The same Great Forest Sage that killed my father, the Great Moss Sage!” Itama yelled after, summoning vines. “And Flower Boy’s mother, the Great Petal Sage!”

“Can my name be something other than Flower Boy?” Tobirama deadpanned.

“Nope!” “No, sorry, Aniki!”

Tobirama sighed, moving to stand next to Itama and his vines. “Tree Man of the Great Forest Sage. Not only shall you face retribution for your father slaying my mother, but you shall also face retribution for your mother slaying my father. The, um…”

“The Great Ocean Sage!” Itama chimed.

“Yes. Him. Now you must perish!” Tobirama announced, lunging forward with Itama.

Hashirama quickly got tangled in a web of vines, and subsequently got a mouthful of flowers— still tanacetum vulgare— and thus he was defeated.

“Noooo!” Hashirama wailed, flopping to the ground and spitting out flowers. “I have failed you, father, the Great Forest Sage! Now this tree will bloom where I have perished!”

Itama laughed as he untangled his dramatically limp brother from the vines. Tobirama laughed along with them.

“That was… interesting?” Touka spoke, finding the acting a tad humorous.

Butsuma, Touka, and her mother stood outside, marveling at the newly sprouted nature. The Clan Head’s home was seen as a neat and sacred place. The mess of nature was… discerning to the small crowd, to say the least.

“…It was entertaining. But why did… um, Tree Man. He was attacked for something that his father did?” Touka’s mother politely asked, a bit confused.

“That does seem like an… insufficient reason to attack,” Butsuma added. 

“It’s like our war on the Uchiha!” Hashirama blurted.

“That’s what I based it on,” Itama said, nodding sagely as he plucked the flower from Tobirama’s head.

It went too quiet too fast. Butsuma’s eyes narrowed at his sons as they realized what they had said, tensing.

“You both know nothing of—“

“Tou-sama,” Tobirama interrupted his father, standing in front of his brothers. “Shall I prepare lunch for us and our guests?”

Butsuma’s steely eyes moved to Tobirama, looking at him coldly for a long while. “…After dinner we will talk, Tobirama. Go.”

Tobirama nodded and quickly walked inside.

Once his adrenaline died down, the albino remembered the empty feeling in his chest. The blind happiness of acting childish had only made his feeling of failure worse. The Edo Tensei. Kawarama’s absence.

He began cooking, ignoring the feel of his father’s greatly angered chakra.

Chapter Text

Tobirama moved with a practiced grace. His hands moved smoothly as he precisely sliced meat and vegetables for lunch. A bit worried, he channeled chakra to his ears, hearing Butsuma scold his brothers in front of Touka and her mother. Itama’s chakra spiked in anger and he ran inside the house, yelling at his father over his back.

“I wish I could hate you!” Itama screamed, stomping into the kitchen.

Tobirama inwardly cringed at the declaration, a bit astounded at the brief hurt Butsuma’s chakra emitted.

“I wanna hate him so bad,” Itama growled, resting his head on the counter. “I hate that I love him. I hate he’s our father. I hate—”

“Perhaps you should stop focusing on your hate and help me with dinner, hm?” Tobirama interrupted. “Another pair of hands couldn’t hurt.”

Itama looked up through his bangs. “Alright…”

“If you don’t want to, I’m perfectly fine switching our lunch plan to something that does not include desserts,” Tobirama huffed, turning back to chopping vegetables.

“No! I’ll help! I’ll help!” Itama shouted, shooting up. “What do you need me to do Aniki?!”

Tobirama snorted at his little brother’s antics. “Wash the rice for me, please.”

“Got it!” Itama saluted, going to vigilantly wash the rice as instructed. 

“Be cautious with the Suiton jutsu, Itama,” Tobirama warned, glancing at his brother from his peripheral. “We don’t want a repeat of the incident.”

Itama shuddered. “Yes, Aniki.”

Tobirama smiled softly, allowing himself to get lost in the methodical thunk of the knife as he minced some herbs. Itama stuck his tongue out in concentration as he tried to make the rice as clean as possible.

Touka treaded carefully into the kitchen. “Mom’s taking a short rest in the guest room. Can I help? I’m very bored.”

“Of course.” “Ah, the coolest Itoko ever! Can you help me with—”

“Nope, Ita-chan! I believe that Tobi told you to wash the rice, not me!” Touka teased. 

“You’re so mean, Kaka,” Itama sighed. 

“…Doesn’t that mean feces in one of Tetsu no Kuni’s languages?” Tobirama asked, quirking a brow. 

“No! No, that’s caca, with a C! I was saying Kaka, like— like, Touka! Toukaka!” Itama stuttered, waving his hands in front of his face in protest. “I wa—”

“Were you calling me shit, precious little cousin?” Touka asked, eyes closed with a deadly smile on her lips.

“No, no, Touka, Ikoto, it’s funny funny, but I wasn’t, didn’t— you know I wouldn’t—”

“Ten,” Touka counted, still wearing that eerie smile. “Nine. Eight.”

Itama screeched before dropping the rice on the counter. He sprinted out of the kitchen as Touka—

“Sevensixfivefourthreetwoone, run!” Touka laughed, chasing after the screaming Itama.

“What is going on over there?” Hashirama asked, a little tired-looking. “Why is Itama…?”

“Why is Itama…?” Tobirama snarked, putting the herbs aside to rinse rice.

“You know,” Hashirama tried to clarify, waving his hand toward the direction of screeching and maniacal laughing.

“Why is Itama? Well, when two people decide they want to have a third child—”

“Tobi!” Hashirama shouted, blushing. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Hmph. I’m just making sure you know in case you actually marry Mito.”

“I will marry Mito— wait! We have to… do that if…”

“You’re literally thirteen, Anjia. She just turned fourteen. You don’t have to worry about that yet… At least, I hope you don’t…”

“Tobi!” Hashirama screeched, burying his red face in his hands. “Stooooop!”

“Hm, well—”

“Nope! Nope! I’m out!” Hashirama announced, running out of the room.

Tobirama smiled at his brother. Mito was truly a kind woman. The albino Senju finished washing the rice, reminiscing.

~~~

“Now now, my little bookworm,” his mother cooed. “Maybe we should finish cooking dinner? You know your littlest brother will come out soon, no need to fret, baby.”

Tobirama peered upward from his mother’s stomach. “I don’t wanna, mama. His chaka is talking to mine!”

“Chakra, not chaka, my dear,” his mother smiled, brushing a strand of spiky hair from his bangs. “I’m glad you can sense his chakra. You’re very good at that, my little Tobi. But we must get back to cooking, lest we burn our precious food, hm?”

The two worked in silence, with little three-year-old Tobirama clumsily rolling cooling steamed rice into little spheres.

“Remember, we need to make some easy food for little Itama,” the Senju matriarch gently reminded. “Hm. He can have some broth, but he needs something more solid. Can you get some berries for me?”

“Okay, mama!” Tobirama chirped, rushing to go out in the gardens. 

He returned with a small basket that was full with berries. “I got some, mama.”

“You’re very fast, Tobi,” his mother complimented, smiling at her son. 

“Yep,” Tobirama nodded, wobbling over to his mother. “Here you go, mama.”

“Thank you, baby,” the half-Hatake woman smiled. “Here.”

His mother fed little Tobirama a small rice ball. His eyes lit up and he looked at his mother like she had hung the stars and moon for him. 

“Thank you, mama,” Tobirama said, smiling. 

The Senju matriarch smiled back, saying nothing while gently stirring piping-hot broth in a pot. 

“I love you mama. You too little brother,” Tobirama declared, patting his mother’s stomach. 

The baby kicked, and little Tobirama made a happy noise. He hugged his mother at the waist and started talking to her stomach, where his littlest brother was.

“I have a feeling he’ll really like ramen,” Tobirama’s mother softly laughed. “I added it to my recipe book, so we can all make it together when your little brother pops out. Tch. Maybe that will convince your father to… hm. Well, Tobi, imagine that! A big family making ramen together, so fun, no?”

Tobirama giggled at the idea. “No, mama! My little brothers are too small, too small!”

“Then I’ll have to teach you how to cook it, hm?”

“Yep!” Tobirama nodded, munching on another rice ball. 

“Now, little Tobi, can you pass me the...”

~~~

“Lunch is ready,” Tobirama called out to the house. 

The door to his father’s study creaked open as Touka ran to go wake her mother. Itama was in his seat extremely quick, Hashirama not too far behind.

“Food! Food! Food!” Hashirama chanted, Itama nodding vigorously. 

“Patience. In due time, Anija,” Tobirama sighed, going back into the kitchen to split it into portions. 

Touka and her mother sat down at the table as Tobirama placed down the plate of rice balls in the center of the table. His father arrived after he had began placing the main dish— ramen— in front of each person. Tobirama served some beef tempura to the table and sat down after serving extra vegetables to Hashirama, despite his Anija’s squawk of protest.

“The chef portions the food, Hashirama,” Butsuma reminded his eldest. “…If Tobirama serves you more vegetables, you need them.”

Tobirama paused in eating for a brief moment. Did his father just… defend him? What? His mind filed it away for later as he resumed.

“This is lovely, Tobirama,” Touka’s mother smiled kindly. “Did you make the noodles yourself?”

“Yes,” Tobirama answered, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “I’ve been meaning to use them in a dish before they go bad. My mother’s recipe.”

“…I see,” Touka’s mother responded, going quiet at the mention of her sister-in-law. “Is there any particular reason you chose ramen? Touka’s told me the soba you make is stellar.”

Tobirama glared at the broth of his ramen. “It was Kawarama’s favorite.”

“…I see.”

The scrapes of chirirenge against bowls was deafening in the silence that followed. Once everyone had finished their dishes— save Hashirama and his mountain of veggies— they awkwardly looked at each other.

“Would anyone like some small desserts?” Tobirama offered, speaking in a neutral tone.

“Me,” Itama whispered, raising his hand.

“Me too,” Hashirama nodded. 

“Tch. No, Anija,” Tobirama scolded, walking toward the kitchen. “You haven’t finished your vegetables yet.”

“But Toooooobi!” Hashirama whined from the table. 

“Yeah, eat your veggies, Aniki,” Itama huffed. “I had to eat mine, so you have to eat yours.”

“But—! But—!”

Tobirama reemerged from the kitchen holding a plate of fresh mochi. 

“Aniki! You made mochi?!” Itama exclaimed, eyes wide. Itama blushed when he realized that he had shouted that very loudly in his father’s ear. “Um. I mean. You made mochi?”

“You did help a little, so I thought it would be appropriate to make you your favorite for dessert,” Tobirama admitted. “There’s anko and chocolate.”

“Yes!” Itama cheered, grabbing a mochi. “You’re the best, Aniki!”

“Tobirama,” Butsuma said. “Follow me.”

“…Yes, sir,” Tobirama said, pushing away from the table to follow his father.

The two walked to Butsuma’s study, Tobirama shutting the door behind them. “Sir?”

Butsuma looked at Tobirama with an unreadable expression before turning to run a hand over his desk. “…Don’t call me that. I’m your father.”

Tobirama was confused, but complied nonetheless. “Yes… father.”

“Where has Hashirama been disappearing to?”

Tobirama blinked. “What?”

“Itama told me I should respect your brother’s privacy. He said it’s what a good father would do,” Butsuma sighed. “Do you know why he heads toward the forest in the early mornings?”

Tobirama broke into a cold sweat. Of course he knew where his brother was heading. The Naka River. His brother was okay at concealing his chakra, but not from a skilled sensor such as Tobirama. And hiding chakra meant nothing if Hashirama was so obvious as to have somehow alerted their father to his secret hiding place.

“You don’t have to tell me where it is, at least, not now. Is he safe?” Butsuma continued.

“I don’t know where it is,” Tobirana replied, lying through his teeth. “Maybe to my garden by the Naka?”

“By the Naka River?!” Butsuma asked, disbelief written all over his face. “Tobirama, what have I fucking told you about—”

“I was practicing Suiton and accidentally made Mokuton,” Tobirama lied. “It’s not really a garden, it looks like one, but I’ve never tended to it.”

“How long have you been practicing at the Naka?” Butsuma questioned, stepping threateningly toward Tobirama. “How long have you had Mokuton and kept it hidden from me?!”

“I only practiced at the Naka this once,” Tobirama answered, sticking to his lie. “I only found out I got Mokuton yesterday, father. The Naka was closer than the bath, so I cleaned myself and dried off there. That’s when I found out.”

“You said you were practicing by the Naka, not cleaning off,” Butsuma snarled. “If you lied to me, boy…”

“I cleaned off. When drying off, I pulled the moisture from my clothes. I practiced my Suiton. My apologies, sir, that I interchanged the words. I understand that it must have been confusing—”

“Do not,” Butsuma boomed. “Belittle me, you brat. Who brought you into this world?”

“Mother.”

“You little—” Butsuma hoisted Tobirama up by his collar, choking the small boy slightly. “I am your father. You will call me as such. That is an order.”

“Yes, si… Yes, father,” Tobirama wheezed, quickly running out of air.

“Do not even think to disrespect me, demon,” Butsuma growled, shaking his son in rage. “You exist thanks to me. You would do best to not forget that.”

Butsuma released Tobirama, shoving him against the door. “Go! Get the fuck out!”

Tobirama quickly bowed and ran out of the room, wincing at the harsh slam. He avoided the dining room and silently trudged toward his room. Touka’s mother had a few glasses of wine next to where she was passed out on the couch, but none of his brothers or Touka could be found. Until he got to his door.

“Aniki!” Itama cried. “Are you okay? What happened? Is everything alright? Did he—”

“I’m alright,” Tobirama sighed. “Anija. We need to talk.”

“Yes, Otouto?” Hashirama reluctantly spoke.

“What have you been doing at the Naka?” 

Hashirama stilled. “I…”

“Hashirama’s been sneaking out?” Touka asked, disbelief in her voice. “Little cousin? Is that true?”

“I just… need to get away from everything. It… I…” Hashirama trailed off, genuine tears gathering in his eyes. “When I go there, I feel like, I can say anything… do anything, without judgment.”

Itama nodded in understanding. Touka’s eyes softened. Tobirama was conflicted. He felt his brother was lying. But he needed proof. But… if he got proof his brother was doing something else… Tobirama rubbed at his neck.

“I told father I accidentally made a garden there while I was training,” Tobirama muttered. “He’ll think that’s where you go visit. I’ll go create a garden where I normally feel your chakra signature whenever you sneak off. Please don’t go to the Naka until I tell you that the garden is finished.”

Hashirama’s eyes watered and he tackled Tobirama into a hug. “Thank you, otouto. Thank you.”

Itama kneeled on the ground to hug the both of his elder brothers, Touka leaning across everyone to create a dog pile. 

‘Surely,’ Tobirama thinks. ‘Should the Pure Land truly exist, Kawarama would be watching over us.’

Tobirama closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the moment.

Chapter Text

The sun had begun to set, and the kids gathered in the kitchen. Touka’s mother was still passed out on the couch, and Butsuma had not exited his study in a long while. 

“We had something relatively heavy for lunch, so we need something lighter for dinner,” Tobirama muttered, deep in thought. “Touka, can you check the food storage to see if we have sufficient pork for some tonkatsu?”

“On it,” Touka nodded, sprinting off to the storage rooms.

“Oooh, Tobi! Tobi!” Hashirama called. “Can we have some zosui? Please? I know we have leftover rice water! And I—”

“No! I want the rice water!” Itama objected. “I was gonna use it for my hair. Or medicine. Or both.”

“That actually works?” Hashirama asked, eyes sparkling.

“It has a bunch of nutrients, so—”

“Got some!” Touka interrupted, hauling raw porkchops into the kitchen. 

Tobirama shook his head. “Can someone get mother’s cookbook? Me and… Kawarama, well. We made some notes a while back that should help with the zosui issue.”

“Yes!” Hashirama cheered. “I’ll go grab it!”

“Kawa… Itama, start chopping mushrooms,” Tobirama instructed. “Touka, you slice the pork into thin strips while I wash the rice.”

“More rice? Don’t we have any leftovers from lunch?” Itama asked from his station. 

“If we do, it’s a very small amount,” Tobirama shrugged. “Besides, it’s more rice water for you and Hashi.”

“I’m baaaack!” Hashirama announced, doubling over and out of breath. “I… I got… the book…!”

“Thank you,” Tobirama replied as he plucked the book from his brother’s hands. “Hm. I see. We could use a light miso broth for optimal rice water preservation.”

“Really?” Hashirama’s eyes sparkled once more.

“Yes, really. Now, go Hashirama, you’re on panko duty.”

“Awww, can’t I switch with Tou—”

“Sorry little cousin, no way!” Touka cackled. “You’re on breadcrumb duty, not me!”

“Ita—”

“You already know my answer, eldest brother.”

“Waaah! When you call me that it makes me feel old!” Hashirama wailed.

Tobirama bopped the back of Hashirama’s head. “Anija! Shut up and get to work!”

“Sorry otouto,” Hashirama muttered, dropping to the floor in a ball. “I’ve failed you as your Anija.”

“Oh come on Nii-san!” Itama sighed. “Get up and go!”

Hashirama rocked back and forth, his dramatic episode making everyone else sigh.

“If you don’t get up right now I’m gonna throw your brothers out of the window,” Touka threatened.

Hashirama got up and flailed. “Touka! No! How could you do that to my precious little brothers?!”

No one responded, choosing to ignore Hashirama in favor of their duties. The Senju heir sighed dejectedly and went about to his station, pouting and grumbling all the way.

It took a while for all of the food to get done, but once it was finished, all four children were chatting at the dinner table. Touka had tried to corral her mother to the dinner table, but the woman had passed out in a guest bedroom instead. No one wanted to go feed Butsuma, as Tobirama could still feel the man’s rage in his chakra. Sometimes they sat in silence, sometimes one of them (read: Hashirama) would blurt out a rush of words that made no sense, stirring up conversation. 

“I miss him,” Itama wistfully muttered, looking toward the vacancy that Kawarama would have filled. “It still hurts.”

“Just like when we lost mom,” Hashirama sighed.

Tobirama stayed silent.

“I’m sure little Kawa’s is looking over all of us right now,” Touka spoke, forcing a grin on her lips. “The little brat’s probably haunting us as we speak.”

“That sounds like something Kawa would do,” Hashirama laughed. “Knock over some family heirlooms then poof away.”

“And then go run away to cook dinner with Tobi,” Itama smiled. “Always knew how to get out of trouble.”

“Don’t forget that you started catching on,” Touka reminded. “And then you’d go pretend to help in the kitchen.”

“And then dad would get mad at me!” Hashirama whined.

“Or me, for condoning their behavior,” Tobirama deadpanned. “Especially when Itama and Touka managed to burn down our kitchen that one time.”

“Ikoto was chasing me around the room!” Itama protested.

“He started it by getting an egg in my hair!” Touka shot back.

“Then Kawa tripped one of you and it all went downhill form there…” Hashirama sighed.

They laughed a little, cried a little, and, before they knew it, it was time for bed. Butsuma emerged from his study with a stormy and stern look on his face, causing the boys to lead Touka to the guest room she usually slept in. Outside the door, Itama called everyone into a huddle.

“Aniki, when are you gonna… y’know… garden?” Itama whispered, worry creasing his brows.

“I can go tonight, but you know how father checks up on us sometimes,” Tobirama thought out loud. “We’d need some way to guarantee he doesn’t come to my room…”

“We can all sleep in the same room… like a nest!” Hashirama whisper-yelled. “He won’t notice you’re gone if we’re all lumped together!”

“A bright idea for once, eh, little cousin?” Touka laughed. 

“Okay,” Tobirama whispered. “Just leave the window unlocked for me.”

The others nodded, determined expressions in their eyes.

They got ready for bed while Tobirama equipped and packed light shinobi gear, weapons, and a few snacks.

It was gonna be a long night.

…

Tobirama sprinted toward the Naka, enhancing each step with chakra to run faster. When he neared the river, the rushing of water rapids becoming louder, he slowed to a walk, looking around toward the rocky ground. He stood on the river, a bit difficult as the water tended to be more violent with the call of the moon. Tobirama contemplated placing the garden on the Uchiha’s side of the Naka, wondering if his father would be more or less upset. Maybe he could make flowers sprout on both sides? 

Even then, he had to recall how to grow flowers, which brought up another intriguing point. If Itama was best with vines and was most proficient in Fuuton, and Hashirama was best with wood and most proficient in Doton, does that mean that flowers required more proficiency in Suiton? Tobirama stood on the water, facing downstream, thinking and thinking when—

A gasp.

Tobirama whipped his head around and moulded a wave of water to an offensive slash. He saw something dodge, then run forward from the shadows of the trees to directly under the moonlight. It was another kid, probably male, who was a bit taller than Tobirama. The other kid looked at Tobirama with wide, disbelieving eyes that sparkled a little as he opened his mouth to—

“Amaterasu-okami?!”

Tobirama paused, thinking hard once more. This seemed to be an Uchiha, no doubt. He could see it now as he analyzed the other in excruciating depth. A little bit of anger tried to poison his brain, reminding him of which clan killed Kawarama… But the albino Senju pushed these thoughts away as quick as they came. But Tobirama couldn’t read his chakra… it was like it was blocked off, perhaps a seal? Even if he might be able to overpower the stranger, it was a strong might, and he had no way to asses the other’s strength when his chakra was obscured.

“My apologies for attacking you. I thought you were an enemy. I had no idea you were simply a child,” Tobirama said, bowing deep to show sincerity. “I am male, and certainly not Amaterasu.”

“Well— hey! Don’t call me a child!”

“We’re both children,” Tobirama deadpanned, walking over to the Uchiha carefully.

The Uchiha visibly watched of the way he walked on water and narrowed his onyx eyes, a look of suspicion on his face. Tobirama quietly sat down with his back to the other kid, trying to seem not threatening. The Uchiha’s chakra slowly unwound itself from concealment. Huh. He must have been consciously restraining it— which was surprising. And that’s when Tobirama realized his mistake. This young Uchiha was very powerful. As powerful as his Anija. And Tobirama just turned his back to him. The Uchiha’s chakra thrummed with a familiarity that resonated with some of the Uchiha he’d killed after rescuing the Hyūga boy. Tobirama should have run away when he had the chance, because now his life was in the hands of the Uchiha kid— who didn’t even know it.

“…Hello,” the Uchiha said after an awkward silence, shuffling a bit behind Tobirama. 

“Greetings.”

“…”

“…”

The Uchiha kid sat down beside the Senju, turning to look at the other boy. Tobirama, however, continued looking at the water.

“Why are you here? Who even are you?” The Uchiha boy asked, raising a brow and leaning in to observe the albino.

“I’m here to find a good spot to grow herbs that are helpful for cooking and medicine,” Tobirama spoke, trying his hand at doublespeak. “It should be helpful for my brothers.”

“Cooking?” The Uchiha mumbled.

“Yes. I cook quite often for my family,” Tobirama said, tilting his head slightly.

“Cooking is girly,” the Uchiha kid snorted. Ah. “I mean, I thought you were a girl at first, but now…”

“Cooking is an essential skill that every shinobi should know. To refuse learning such a tool for the sole reason that it is seen as a womanly thing…” Tobirama sighed, already getting a bit irritated. “Pardon my manners, but that is one of the most foolish decisions one could ever make.”

The other boy paused, thinking of a response. Tobirama began to calm down. Surely the other boy had realized by now that assigning an action to a gender was a bit idiotic, no? From the quietness of the Uchiha, he thought there would be no further conversation. So Tobirama allowed himself to bask in the soothing sounds of the river, and—

“I would disagree,” The Uchiha boy snarked after the longest time, accompanying his proud statement with the raising of a demeaning eyebrow. “I say learning something that has no use to you is one of the most foolish decisions someone could make. Why even waste your time?”

“…No one else in my family can cook for their lives without my help. So, I don’t really see how helping them is a waste of time.”

“But why help with cooking? Why not something, I dunno, cooler? At that point you’re practically just a little housewife who shouldn’t figh—“

“I cook because it is fun and it reminds me of my dead mother and brother,” Tobirama hissed, offense clouding his judgment. “And I despise when people are so shallow-minded as to think that housewives are anything but hard-workers, or that only women can enjoy cooking. Making food is therapeutic, and I like to think I’m quite good at it.”

The Uchiha boy winced, looking away from Tobirama. So he wasn’t gonna say anything then? Surely this ignorant Uchiha boy couldn’t even process what he’d said fast enough, and his irritation at the boy grew the longer he stayed silent. It was safer to leave anyway. Butsuma had always tried to reinforce on his sons the idea that Uchiha would viciously kill any Senju they came across, and sometimes it was just… easier to revert to that mindset. So, the albino scoffed and stood to leave, but was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist.

“I’m… sorry,” the Uchiha boy sighed. And Tobirama faltered at the sincerity.  “…Um. My mother taught me glassblowing. People expected me to like blacksmithing because it’s more… uh, manly. But… glassblowing is very important to me, so… I… What I’m saying is… I get where you’re coming from. I’m not trying to be an asshole, I swear, but—”

“Hm. It was very rude of you. Misogynistic too. Whatever. It’s alright,” Tobirama sighed, wincing once he realized the harshness of his words. “You’re just… very opinionated, and people like that can be difficult to negotiate with. I’m like that too.”

Tobirama thought for a bit, looking at the remorseful boy. Well, he had to stay to make the garden, so, might as well chat up the locals. “To quote you earlier— why are you here?”

“I like coming here to clear my mind… I’m Madara,” the raven-haired boy offered, looking away. That name sounded awfully familiar, but Tobirama couldn’t remember why... Searching through his brain for answers might cause him to slip up and miss any useful information, so Tobirama filed it away for later. “—‘m thirteen.”

“Tobirama. Eleven, almost twel—”

“Eleven?! You’re the same age as my—! Wait… do you know Hashirama?”

“Figured that out by the rama at the end of our names?” Tobirama laughed, cursing himself and Hashirama in his brain. (His brother was meeting an Uchiha in secret?! Butsuma would have killed him!) He just had to play it off. “So I’m assuming you’re whatever he keeps sneaking off to see? Hm… You’re good at disguising your chakra. Anija, however…”

“Anija…?! There’s no way he’s your older brother! He’s very…! Y’know!”

“…I know what you mean.”

“I guess that means you got all of the smarts? Hashirama only seems smart when we’re talking about peace in the future, and even then…”

“I agree. He can be a bit… much at times.”

“Wow. I never noticed, but you talk like a grown-up.”

“Tch. Adults.”

“Hah, I agree with you there!”

The two boys stared at each other under the moonlight. Tobirama looked away, the prolonged eye contact making him uncomfortable. 

“I can’t believe you thought I was a goddess,” Tobirama muttered, breaking the awkward tension with a roll of his eyes.

“Hey! Well! Shut up!”

“What a retort,” Tobirama scoffed.

“Argh! Shush! You… You look like a woman!”

“Really? In what way?!”

“Um… uh! Well… You just do, okay?!”

“So intelligent and witty, Mada-kun,” Tobirama snorted, swooning sarcastically.

“Are the dramatics a family thing or is it only present in you and Hashirama?!” Madara screeched, putting his face in his hands.

“I think that’s the most dramatic you’ll ever see me. Enjoy speaking to the human equivalent of a sentient rock. At least that’s what Anija says.”

“I’m not even sure which version of you I’d prefer at this point!” 

Tobirama snorted, hiding a smile while looking away from the other boy. “…I can see why Anija spends time with you.”

Tobirama realized what he’d said and stiffened. He didn’t realize his guard was slipping that much. Especially around an Uchiha. He quickly spread his senses out, confirming that he wasn’t in a genjutsu.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” The Uch— Madara hummed, tilting his head toward the moon. “So… you said you’re good at cooking? So are you a housew—”

“I take everything nice I ever said or thought about you back,” Tobirama scowled. “I’m eleven. I’m not even old enough to be married.”

“I guess. But I heard some clans do arranged marriages, so age wouldn’t really matter in that case. Fucking gross. Can you imagine marrying someone not for love?” Madara spat.

Tobirama just sighed as Madara rambled on. 

“—I just… can’t imagine! In my cl… uh, family, we marry for love. And only love. Not for stupid political gain or land or… you get what I’m saying right?!”

“I suppose the Uchiha are ahead of many in that aspect.”

“Yeah! We— wait! How did you know—?!” Madara exclaimed, turning to Tobirama with suspicion and disbelief.

“I’m a great sensor.”

“Well sensors can’t sense lineage!”

“Tch. I can tell you’re strongly Katon-oriented, and that your chakra pools toward your eyes when you’re shocked, which is a trait usually present in those with a dōjutsu,” Tobirama explained, watching the other boy’s eyes widen more and more with each passing second. 

“Okay, well— by those standards… no, stereotypes, I still could have been a Hy—”

“And there’s the fact that you exclaimed ‘Amaterasu-omikami’ when you first saw me. Amaterasu is the Uchiha clan’s matron goddess. You’re wearing a color that is very similar to the indigo or navy colors that the Uchiha tend to don, and your dark hair and eyes are awfully similar to that of an Uchiha, no?”

“Okay then. Damn,” Madara breathed, clear disbelief written in his face. “You gotta be like… Hatake then? Part Uzumaki?”

“What makes you say that?” Tobirama inquired, a brow raised.

“Well, your hair looks like a Hatake. And only Uzumaki are that good at sensing. And Suiton.”

“I’m only a quarter Hatake.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. So is Hashirama.”

“I… wow. Surely you’re at least a little bit Uzumaki then, right?”

“I haven’t a drop of their blood in my body.”

“Shit, what are you then?” Madara laughed. “A Senju?”

Tobirama stayed silent, turning his head toward his side of the river.

“No,” Madara whispered. “A fucking Senju?!”

Madara gaped, his hand shakily moving toward the place where his weapons pouch was no doubt concealed. Tobirama shook his head and stood up. He had a job to do. That did not include fraternizing with the enemy. He pinged his chakra through the ground, pointedly ignoring the anger and shock in Madara’s chakra as he sought out the most fertile soil beneath the rocks.

Madara sat there, still frozen as Tobirama began thinking of which flowers to grow. He knew many of the scientific names of flora, not very familiarized with the layman’s terms. Additionally, Tobirama wasn’t very well-versed in the art of floriography— though it is something that he should consider picking up now because of his newly-awakened Mokuton.

Tobirama pressed his hands into the rocks, releasing chakra gently into the earth. He felt the beginnings of something begin to fester, and he trickled more chakra into soil, pulling away when he felt some small buds of field poppies begin to emerge and push aside rocks in their path. They grew into a beautiful bloom that caused pride to swell in Tobirama’s chest. He did that. He could somewhat understand why Hashirama got so sad when they had to cut down trees he had made for wood. It was his creation, and to take it away…

Madara’s chakra spiked in confusion and, once again, Tobirama was reminded that he had an audience— a very dangerous one in fact. Tobirama was not someone who enjoyed skipping around issues unless he absolutely had to. So the decision to turn and face the Uchiha, even if it mean death, quickly satisfied the small impatience spawned from Tobirama chickening out of assessing the Uchiha’s reaction.

“Think of me as you will,” Tobirama spoke, sternness clear in his young voice. “I’ve known you were an Uchiha since I first detected your presence, yet I have not attacked you in any way.”

“That’s rich! I shouldn’t even be talking to you or Hashirama! And! And! You fucking attacked me when you first saw me!”

“Only because you were concealing your chakra and I was caught off guard! Don’t be stupid!” 

“You’re lucky you’re alive right now! I should kill you where you stand! You’re a damned Senju!”

“Who cares if I’m a Senju?! If Hashirama and you get your inter-clan happy ending rainbows and sunny days brand of peace then it won’t matter anymore!”

Madara’s eyes widened as a retort died in his throat like a failed Katon. Tobirama groaned and scrubbed at his face with his hands. Madara spluterred at the other’s reaction.

“It hurts standing next to you, knowing that you are an Uchiha,” Tobirama admitted. “I’m… It’s difficult. Sitting here with you, talking with you while knowing that people I love have been killed by the people that you love… However, I imagine that the same has happened to you. It’s hard. It hurts. But it’s necessary for peace. So that we don’t have to fight in a pointless war anymore.”

“I… think so too,” Madara nodded after a while. “That’s exactly why it’s important that we try to make peace. No matter how hard it will be. Hashirama and I… we just want a world where we don’t have to bury little brothers anymore…”

“That is admirable. It shows that both you and him can and dream of and see a future that most adults cannot,” Tobirama said, looking Madara in the eye. “The most difficult part is moving forward. Converting people who are for war to supporters of peace. How will you convince the majority that we can all put aside our prejudice and be civilized with each other?”

“Hashirama and I speak quite often. The Senju and Uchiha feud has been well-known for decades. Who better representatives for lasting peace than an Uchiha and a Senju?”

“Two Senju,” Tobirama corrected. “I like to think we’ve been quite civil thus far.”

“You’re quite right,” Madara laughed. “Two Senju. Who are a quarter Hatake.”

The two sat in a comfortable silence, just staring at each other and their reflections in the river.

“Tobirama,” Madara called, a questioning tone to his voice. “Are you good at skipping stones?”

“Skipping stones?” Tobirama asked, looking at Madara with a curious tilt of his head. “What?”

The Uchiha’s eyes widened and he looked away, hiding in his mess of hair. “Yeah! Skipping stones! Don’t act all cute and innocent now, Senju!’

Tobirama’s confusion only evolved further. He leaned toward a red-faced Madara with sparkling and curious eyes. “I genuinely have no idea how you would make stones skip. Is it an expression? A secret code? Do you need chakra to do it? How much? Is it a seal? What’s the purpose of making them skip?”

Tobirama began thinking in his head about all of the advantages of making walking stones while Madara just looked at the albino with disbelief.

“No, I mean… like, just… watch, okay?” Madara said, picking up a stone from the riverbank. 

He threw it like one would a shuriken, and it bounced across the water a few times before sinking. Madara smirked. It went further than last time! But still…

“Ugh. Hashirama does it better. Don’t tell him I said th…at,” Madara didn’t think Tobirama’s expression could grow more… pure? Curious? Whatever it was, Tobirama now had stars in his eyes as he looked at where the rock had sunk beneath the river’s surface. “What are you—”

“I’m thinking that is has to do with gravity… maybe surface tension? Right?” Tobirama muttered. “Surely the smoothness of the rock affects how far it can travel? Hm… will chakra influence it in any way? Will it?”

“Um… I don’t know,” Madara replied, a bit confused at how or why the ice-boy had practically melted at the sight of a rock being skipped.

The Uchiha blanched as he saw the ground start sprouting white roses and gymea lilies where the other boy vigorously paced. The flowers in question slowly spread to the other side of the river.

“Do it again,” Tobirama demanded, the stars and sparkled in his red eyes replaced with a determined spark, making the flustered Madara almost trip over his own feet. “Please.”

“Whatever you say, snowflake,” Madara hastily agreed, turning toward the river after plucking a milkvetch that grew from Tobirama’s mess of white hair.