Chapter 1
Every day was a beautiful day in the Brimhat colony of Uzushio – underwater there wasn’t exactly any weather to mess things up, after all – and that day was no different. Mithos of Gold, respected head healer of the Uzushio “hospital”, had only intended to enjoy a sandwich at her favorite cafe that day, but it seemed fate decided that she also deserved to overhear a rather interesting conversation.
“...so the Senju agreed to most of our terms, but they were insistent on sealing the deal with a marriage,” said a redbearded man who Mithos vaguely recognized as one of the colony’s ambassadors to the “ninja” peoples of the world. Her interest was piqued.
“Well, you know how noble types are…” said a deathly pale woman that Mithos had never seen before, probably because she was unimportant. “It was the same back in our world – all super deeply ingrained in the culture. It would probably also soothe their paranoia if we’d trust the defences we’re putting up for them with the safety of one of our ‘daughters’.”
“I know, I know, but what are we supposed to do now? They really want a wife for their little heir, but we don’t exactly have obedient daughters to give away, right? We aren’t that kind of organization. It’s completely opposed to our culture,” the ambassador replied.
At this point, Mithos rose out of her seat, walked over to the ambassador and his companion, and sat down at their table. The panic on their faces when they noticed her almost made her bubble over with giddiness.
“Ah! Mithos of Gold!” the ambassador said, his voice rising an octave. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
The woman with him squeaked.
“Well, I couldn’t help but overhear a rather fascinating conversation between the two of you,” Mithos began. The terrified glance between the pair brought a subtle smile to her lips. “As it would happen, I’m in desperate need of a vacation, and I rather think a marriage would be a fun way to spend a few decades… It’s been a moment since I last let myself be carried away on wings of romance…”
The pair looked at each other as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing
“Well, ah, that would be great? if you’re sure you want to?” the ambassador asked nervously.
“Yes, I am sure” Mithos replied, smiling sweetly. “I rather think this will be a nice break from the humdrum of life…”
With the promise of a wife, arrangements with the Senju went rather smoothly after that.
—
“It’s underwater!?” Hashirama exclaimed.
No one in the procession traveling to Uzushiogakure had thought to mention that the city was not on dry land until the moment he was supposed to step onto the “submersible vehicle”.
“Well, it is called the ‘Village Hidden in the Whirling Tides’, innit?” said one of the Senju procession’s Uzumaki guides.
“I thought it was, like, on an island or something? Why would anyone assume it’s underwater!?” Hashirama replied defensively.
The smirk on the face of the Uzumaki man, just visible beneath the rim of his strange floppy hat, let him in on the fact that the man was silently laughing at him. Hashirama humphed in annoyance – what a way to treat new allies. He nevertheless gracefully stepped onto the “submarine”, a sleek vessel of painted wood and glass that did not look like it had any business being in the water.
Once everyone was seated on the surprisingly comfortable benches inside, the submarine started to sink. After a brief moment of discomfort – a small, animal part of him convinced that water would rush in and drown him – Hashirama relaxed and enjoyed the beautiful ocean view outside the large windows.
His brother did not seem to be enjoying himself, however.
“You have your thinking face on, Tobi,” Hashirama said, poking Tobirama in the arm.
After a moment of silence Tobirama replied: “There’s chakra in the walls of this vessel, and more chakra in these benches we’re sitting on. None of our hosts are performing any sort of technique, and in fact do not seem to have any chakra at all. So where is it coming from?”
Hashirama didn’t know what to say to that. “Hmm,” he hummed noncommittally. “They might tell us if you ask.”
He didn’t dwell on it for particularly long – he thought the mystery could wait. Now he focused on the breathtaking view of the ocean, and then on the approaching city. The massive shining dome was the first thing he saw, and as they got closer, the sprawling collection of buildings inside, all of mismatched design, some squat, some tall, and some impossibly floating in the air, became visible. Closer to the ocean floor, submarines much like the one they were on darted between a constellation of smaller domes.
Hashirama was about to poke his brother again so he would break out of his thoughts and enjoy the view as well, but he saw that Tobirama was already transfixed.
“How is this possible,” Tobirama breathed. “There’s so much chakra.”
“I don’t know,” Hashirama replied. “But it’s beautiful.”
—
The tour of Uzushio that the Senju received when they disembarked was far too brief, in Hashirama’s opinion. Really, it wasn’t so much a tour as it was a brief explanation of what they were seeing as they moved straight – or as straight as was feasible given the winding roads – toward a town square at the center of the main dome.
Hashirama was mystified. He had never seen a place like this before in his life, and he had honestly not thought a place like this to be possible. There were floating buildings and gravity didn’t always seem to point down. Almost all the people he saw wore strange, foreign clothes, as well as those mysterious brimmed hats. Hashirama’s father’s stern gaze reminded him not to gawk in an undignified manner. Tobirama looked like he was going to have an aneurysm.
It was really no time at all before the Senju procession abruptly emerged from the rather densely built eclectic buildings to the central square – really shaped more like a circle – covered in an intricate mosaic. There were many people gathered in the square, seemingly waiting for him. As they approached, the colorful floppy-hatted crowd parted to allow them access to the center of the space, where the gorgeous mosaic gave way to a circle of bare dirt.
A man – his hat and robe covered in moss for some reason – handed Hashirama a cutting from a tree. Hashirama heard his brother gasp beside him, but paid him no mind. Feeling the eyes of his father boring down on him, and feeling the crowd gathered around seem to hold their breath, Hashirama got down to work. This was why he had been brought here, and what the entire Senju-Uzumaki alliance was based on. He was to grow this little silver sprig into a tree.
Hashirama placed the cutting into the ground, and sat cross-legged before it, trying not to let the scores of eyes on him affect his concentration. He started his jutsu.
To his surprise, he struggled. The little twig seemed to fight against him, if it was possible for a twig to fight. He poured more and more chakra into it, but it wasn’t satisfied; it wanted more. Beads of sweat formed on Hashirama’s brow, and the cutting was still just a cutting. There was enough chakra in the little thing to grow a hundred trees, but it wasn’t reacting. It was only when Hashirama’s chakra reserves were starting to run thin that the little sprig was affected at all. When tiny gossamer roots finally unfurled into the ground, Hashirama almost whooped with joy, but he had to keep focus. He pushed himself to his limit, hoping to at least produce a showy leaf, but was forced to stop when he started feeling faint.
When he opened his eyes, he was hit by a wall of expectant faces – he’d almost forgotten that there were people watching him.
“It took root,” he said, out of breath.
The crowd erupted.
The mossy man who had given him the cutting lifted him to his feet and hugged him. Many Uzumaki crowded toward him and shook his hand or patted him on the back. Hashirama was surprised by the strange gestures and exaggerated friendliness, but took it in stride. These were his new allies, and this must be part of their culture.
Somehow, when Hashirama wasn’t looking, tables appeared in the square, and there was suddenly a feast. Musicians playing strange instruments appeared on floating platforms, and foreign, jumpy dancing continued long into the night. The Senju procession was awed and confused, but went with the flow, for lack of anything better to do.
When the nigh endless stream of Uzumaki looking to speak to Hashirama finally let up, Tobirama appeared at his side like a ghost.
“That tree is the most chakra-dense thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, the grave look on his face clashing with the festive atmosphere.
“I’m not surprised,” Hashirama replied jovially. “I almost didn’t think I could do it.”
“It’s a miracle that you were able to,” Tobirama said.
“Your faith in me is touching, brother,” Hashirama teased.
“There’s something otherworldly about it,” Tobirama insisted. “That tree is not natural.”
Hashirama shrugged and took another bite out of something delicious called “cheese bread”. That gave a hint as to why the silver trees might be so important to the Uzumaki, a mystery that had eluded him since negotiations started. They could probably be used for some very powerful techniques, but ultimately, Hashirama didn’t think the specifics mattered.
“Unnatural or not, we’re sure going to get some amazing defences,” he said, gesturing at a nearby floating building.
Tobirama looked at the building, suspended three stories high, looking for all the world like it ought to crash to the ground.
“I suppose we will,” he admitted.