A Fading Hope
The dream begins as it always does—soft, warm, and surreal. Tobirama lies against the firm yet comforting warmth of a lap, his head cradled by gentle hands that move rhythmically through his hair. The sensation is soothing, each stroke of fingers against his scalp unraveling knots of tension he didn’t realize he carried. He knows whose lap he rests in, whose voice murmurs faint, comforting words just above him. And yet, a part of him tries not to know.
Izuna hums softly, the sound resonating like the low thrum of a distant lullaby. Tobirama closes his eyes and lets the world outside this dream dissolve, savoring the fleeting comfort of this unguarded moment. He has spent so long burying his vulnerabilities beneath armor—literal and otherwise—that this fragile intimacy feels foreign. Dangerous. But also, undeniably tempting.
The Uchiha’s chakra flows steady and smooth, a balm against the frayed edges of Tobirama’s own. It radiates something close to affection, though there’s an undercurrent of unease that Tobirama can’t ignore. He studies it in silence, his mind tracing its shifts and nuances, but for once, he decides not to question it.
For now.
After a while, his voice cuts quietly through the stillness. “Do you know how to help grieving children?”
The hand in his hair pauses for a beat before resuming its motion. Izuna’s chakra ripples, confusion mingling with faint concern. “Why do you ask?”
Tobirama exhales, the words feeling heavier than they should. “My son’s mother died last night.”
The reaction is immediate, though subtle. Izuna freezes, and his chakra wavers, the smooth flow disrupted by a sharp spike of something unspoken—something dark and raw. Tobirama opens his eyes, watching him carefully, and there it is again, barely concealed. Jealousy.
If he didn’t know better, he might have missed it.
Testing the waters, Tobirama shifts, tilting his head slightly to look up. “He isn’t physically mine,” he says, his voice measured but not defensive. “His mother never told anyone who his father was. It’s assumed she had an affair with someone outside the clan. No one wanted to take responsibility for him when she died. Just because he’s illegitimate.”
He lets the weight of the word hang in the air for a moment, his tone laced with quiet disdain—not for Haruto, but for the way the world treats those who don’t fit neatly into its expectations. “So I took him.”
Izuna ‘s breath hitches softly. Relief washes over his chakra like a sudden tide, smoothing out the jagged edges Tobirama had sensed earlier. A small, almost inaudible sigh escapes him as he leans down, wrapping Tobirama in a loose embrace.
“You’re so caring,” the Uchiha murmurs, his voice filled with something like awe. “I love that about you.”
Tobirama stiffens slightly at the words but doesn’t pull away. Love. The word feels like a fragile thing here, in this space, spoken with an earnestness that makes his throat tighten.
“Leave your clan,” Izuna says, his voice dropping to a quiet plea. “Bring your son. Come to me.”
The words hit harder than Tobirama expects. He senses no malice in them, only sincerity. “I’ll care for him like he’s my own,” the man continues, his tone fervent. “We could be a family.”
Tobirama hesitates, his heart pulling in two directions. He wants to go. He has wanted it since the first time he felt this connection. But fear holds him back—the fear of what would happen when this man learns the truth.
“Do you know who I am?” Tobirama asks quietly, his voice steady but cautious.
Izuna pulls back slightly, meeting his gaze with soft, unshaken confidence. “It doesn’t matter. You’re my soulmate. I’ll love you, whoever you turn out to be.”
Tobirama’s chest tightens painfully at the words. For a moment, he wishes that could be true. But he knows better.
He shifts, sitting up fully and meeting his soulmate’s eyes. “I wish that were the case,” he says, his voice quiet but resolute. “But my name will matter to you. It will change everything, Uchiha Izuna.”
The name lands like a stone dropped into still water. Izuna blinks, his expression shifting into surprise, but Tobirama senses the deeper ripple in his chakra. Recognition. Shock.
“You—” he begins, his voice faltering. “You know who I am?”
Tobirama nods, his face carefully blank despite the weight of the moment. “I recognized you.”
Izuna stares at him, his gaze searching. Tobirama wonders if this is the moment the dream will shatter, if everything between them will collapse under the weight of reality. And yet, a part of him still hopes. Against all reason, he hopes.
***
Weeks pass before Tobirama senses Izuna’s chakra outside the confines of the dreams. In those weeks, life shifts in subtle, irrevocable ways. Haruto, so timid and silent at first, has begun to open up to him—hesitant questions turning into quiet conversations, stolen glances softening into tentative trust. Tobirama isn’t sure when the boy’s cautious demeanor started to crack, but he feels a deep satisfaction in the moments when Haruto’s small, fleeting smiles appear.
It’s not easy, of course. There are tears, nights of restless sleep, and quiet moments where Haruto simply sits beside him, clinging to his arm like a lifeline. But slowly, they are learning how to navigate this new dynamic together. For the first time in years, Tobirama feels something akin to pride—this fragile bond he’s building, this life he’s taken responsibility for.
When duty calls him away to the capital, Tobirama hesitates to leave. But Mito steps in, her steady presence a reassurance. “Go,” the female alpha says firmly, cradling Haruto’s hand in her own. “He’ll be safe with me. I’ll look after him until you return.”
It’s only with her promise that Tobirama allows himself to leave.
Now, standing in the bustling streets of the capital, he feels the faint pulse of Izuna’s chakra. It brushes against his senses like a sharp note in an otherwise harmonious melody—distinct, unmistakable. For a moment, he freezes, unsure whether to investigate. Logic dictates that he stay away; there’s no reason to approach Izuna, and every reason to avoid him. But emotion—the treacherous, stubborn part of him that dreams of warmth and shared solace—urges him forward.
He tells himself it’s curiosity, nothing more. Izuna won’t recognize him in a crowd, not here in the neutral ground of the daimyo’s capital. With the ban on clan conflicts within the city, there’s no immediate danger. What harm could there be in watching from a distance?
Following the thread of Izuna’s chakra, Tobirama finds himself outside a small, dimly lit tavern. Izuna sits at a table in the corner, the flickering lamplight casting shifting shadows across his face. His features are as sharp and defined as Tobirama remembers, softened slightly by the casual tilt of his posture.
He’s not alone. Across from him sits a spy Tobirama recognizes from the daimyo’s court. The two are engaged in quiet conversation, their voices low but tinged with an edge of familiarity. Tobirama lingers near the doorway, his senses attuned to their chakras. Izuna’s is calm, focused, but there’s an undercurrent of tension—a subtle, restrained energy that Tobirama can’t quite place.
Curiosity wins out, and Tobirama steps inside, taking a seat at a table near enough to listen without drawing attention. He keeps his head down, his senses tuned to the conversation.
The topic shifts from politics to more personal matters as cups of sake clink softly against the wood of the table.
“Thirty years old, and still no mate,” the spy laments, his voice tinged with exaggerated despair. “At this rate, I’ll take the first omega who so much as glances my way.”
Izuna raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “No matter who they are?”
The spy waves a hand dismissively. “Well, not from an enemy clan, obviously. Or bloodline thieves.” He shudders theatrically. “But you know what I mean.”
Izuna chuckles softly, the sound low and indulgent. “Fair enough. But don’t lower your standards too much. There are plenty of decent omegas out there. You’ll find someone eventually.”
The spy leans forward conspiratorially. “What about you, though? Could you imagine being mated to someone out-clan, or from an enemy clan, like the Senju?”
Tobirama stiffens, his breath catching in his throat. His fingers curl tightly against the table, his nails digging into the wood.
Izuna hums thoughtfully, swirling the sake in his cup. “I don’t know,” he says, his tone contemplative. “I’ve never met any Senju who weren’t fighters. I know the clan has civilians, but I’ve only seen them from a distance. Maybe they’d make decent mates. Maybe not.” He shrugs lightly, the motion almost dismissive. “Not that it matters. It’s not like I can try, with us being at war and all.”
The spy laughs, raising his cup in mock toast. “What about the fighters, though? Especially your rival. You know, him.”
Tobirama’s pulse quickens, his mouth going dry. He waits, his stomach tightening with dread.
Izuna snorts sharply, the sound tinged with derision. “Tobirama? He’s no omega. Why would I be interested in him? Even if he was, can you imagine the fit his brother would throw if one of us actually managed to bridenap him?”
The spy cackles, shaking his head. “I’m sure that bastard doesn’t even have a soulmate. Who’d want to be bound to the white demon?”
Tobirama exhales slowly, forcing his grip to loosen. The sting of their words burns like poison beneath his skin, but he tells himself it doesn’t matter. They don’t know him. Not really.
But then Izuna’s smirk widens, a cold, cutting thing devoid of the warmth Tobirama has seen in their shared dreams. His next words are delivered with casual cruelty, as though they mean nothing. “If I were bound to him, I’d commit suicide.”
The words are a blade, sharp and merciless, plunging deep into Tobirama’s chest. His breath catches, his control slipping for just a moment as his chakra flickers unevenly. The hum of the tavern around him dulls to a faint murmur, drowned out by the deafening echo of Izuna’s voice in his mind.
If I were bound to him, I’d commit suicide.
Tobirama’s fingers dig into the edge of the table, his nails carving shallow grooves into the wood. He tries to steady himself, to summon the unshakable composure he’s so carefully honed, but the pain is overwhelming. A deep, wrenching ache unfurls in his chest, spreading like wildfire through his very being.
This is his soulmate. The man whose warmth and quiet strength have been a solace in the solitude of their dreams. The man who once told him he would love him no matter who he turned out to be. And yet, here and now, that same man speaks of him with disdain so profound it cuts to the marrow of Tobirama’s soul.
The dreams, those fleeting moments of connection he has held onto like a lifeline, now feel like the cruelest of illusions. How could the man who cradled him so gently, who whispered words of love and devotion, harbor such revulsion for him in reality?
Tobirama doesn’t stay to hear the rest of the conversation. The laughter that follows Izuna’s words stings like salt in a fresh wound, and he rises quickly, his movements clipped and mechanical. Keeping his head low, he slips out of the tavern and into the cold embrace of the night.
The chill in the air bites at his skin, sharp and unrelenting, but it does little to numb the ache hollowing out his chest. He feels unmoored, as though the ground beneath him has crumbled away, leaving him suspended over a chasm of despair.
His breaths come short and shallow as he walks aimlessly through the quiet streets, his mind replaying Izuna’s words on an endless loop.
If I were bound to him, I’d commit suicide.
The syllables are like a hammer, striking over and over, each repetition more brutal than the last.
For the first time in his life, Tobirama feels powerless, truly powerless. Not in the face of an enemy’s blade or an impossible political impasse, but against the raw, unrelenting pain of rejection from the one person who was supposed to be his other half.
He comes to a stop beneath the shadow of a large oak tree, its gnarled branches reaching out against the night sky. The wind howls through the leaves, a mournful sound that seems to mirror the emptiness within him.
For the first time, Tobirama wishes the dreams would stop. Wishes that whatever cruel twist of fate bound him to Izuna would simply unravel and fade away. Because now he knows the truth, and it’s a truth that shatters him.
His soulmate doesn’t love him.
His soulmate would rather die than be connected to him.
And Tobirama doesn’t know how to bear it.