Hourglass

Tobirama’s grip on Kagami tightens slightly. He exhales, bracing himself for the inevitable reaction. “It’s the village,” he says, his voice matter-of-fact. “Your village. And his.” He nods toward Madara. “The one the two of you are meant to build.”

The battlefield grows deathly silent, the weight of his words settling over everyone. Hashirama’s chakra flickers with stunned joy, while Izuna’s radiates shock and unease. Madara’s is a volatile mix—disbelief, intrigue, and something guarded, as though he’s weighing the truth of Tobirama’s words.

Hashirama is the first to speak, his tone hopeful. “Madara, stop the war. If we’re going to have a village in the future, let’s end this fighting now.”

Hashirama, for his part, seems utterly delighted. But after a moment, his chakra shifts, taking on a note of mild confusion. “I have to say, Tobirama,” he begins, his tone light, “even if we have this village in the future, I didn’t expect you to take an Uchiha as your student.”

Tobirama snorts, his response dry and immediate. “That’s your fault.”

Hashirama blinks, surprised, and Tobirama continues. “Someone started a ridiculous rumor that I hate all Uchiha and am just waiting for the right moment to attack.” He scoffs, the memory of it still irritating. “It was threatening the stability of the village. Of course, you had the glorious idea to publicly disprove it.”

He pauses, giving Hashirama a pointed look. “Thankfully, the Uchiha turned down your proposal for a political marriage.”

Hashirama has the decency to look sheepish, but Tobirama doesn’t let him off the hook. “Instead, you decided to place an Uchiha child on my genin team. To ‘prove’ our unity.”

Izuna’s eyes widen in disbelief, his chakra spiking with shock. “And you just accepted that?” he demands, his tone incredulous.

Tobirama shrugs. “I didn’t mind. Kagami was a good student—intelligent, motivated. And it gave me the opportunity to study the Sharingan. Fascinating, really, how much it accelerates the learning process.”

Kagami lifts his tear-streaked face from Tobirama’s armor, his small hands wiping at his cheeks with an effort to compose himself. His gaze flits between the gathered shinobi, and there’s a flicker of defiance in his reddened eyes. Despite his earlier sobbing, there’s a mischievous edge to his voice as he announces, “Don’t listen to anything Sensei says.”

Tobirama tenses slightly, wondering what the boy plans to say. Kagami presses on, his words gaining momentum as he glares up at Tobirama. “Sensei is a slave driver! I never should’ve told him the Sharingan remembers everything it sees.”

The shift in atmosphere is palpable. Hashirama looks curious, leaning in as if waiting for a tale of heroics, while Madara and Izuna glance at each other with raised brows. Tobirama crosses his arms, a hint of irritation flickering through his chakra, but he lets Kagami continue.

“All I did was mention—once—that it might be useful for me to learn some medical jutsu. You know, in case someone on the team got hurt,” Kagami says, throwing his hands up for emphasis. “Next thing I know, Sensei shoves a dozen medical texts at me and tells me to read them all. In one night! With the Sharingan!”

Hashirama’s eyes widen in surprise, his chakra bubbling with astonishment. Tobirama can feel Madara’s attention sharpen, his chakra shifting to a skeptical wariness as he studies Tobirama anew. Izuna, meanwhile, is trying—and failing—to hide his growing shock.

“It didn’t stop there,” Kagami continues, now in full rant mode. “One time, I said I thought sealing techniques were interesting. Interesting!” He glares pointedly at Tobirama. “Do you know what Sensei did? He gave me a stack of scrolls and made me memorize as many building blocks of fūinjutsu as I could in one evening!”

Tobirama raises a brow, unimpressed. “And yet,” he cuts in smoothly, “you’re now both a qualified medic and a seal master. The results speak for themselves.”

“That’s not the point!” Kagami snaps, his chakra flaring briefly with exasperation. He turns to the others as if seeking validation. “See what I mean? Slave driver!”

Hashirama, to Tobirama’s irritation, seems utterly delighted by the exchange. His laughter is warm and genuine, his chakra radiating a deep affection for the scene before him. “Tobirama, I had no idea you were such a dedicated teacher,” he teases, his voice brimming with amusement.

Madara snorts, his expression caught somewhere between incredulity and begrudging respect. “I don’t know whether to call it dedication or insanity,” he mutters, though his tone carries a grudging acknowledgment of Kagami’s accomplishments.

Izuna, on the other hand, looks utterly baffled. “You did all that?” he asks Tobirama, his tone disbelieving. His chakra flares with confusion, disbelief, and a touch of what might be reluctant admiration.

Hashirama’s voice cuts through the lingering mirth in the group, his tone calm but filled with intent. “So. Konoha.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, heavy with meaning. Tobirama watches Izuna’s expression twist almost immediately into something mocking. His chakra bristles with disdain, yet there’s a trace of begrudging curiosity beneath the surface.

“Konoha?” Izuna repeats, dragging out the word like it tastes bitter on his tongue. “What kind of ridiculous name is that? Did a child come up with it?”

Tobirama doesn’t bother hiding the gleam of satisfaction that flashes across his face. The opportunity is far too good to pass up. “Actually,” he says, his voice clipped but smug, “Madara named the village.”

For the briefest second, Izuna’s chakra stutters in disbelief. His jaw drops, and his face contorts into a mix of betrayal and horror. “Nii-san?!” he exclaims, turning sharply to his older brother. “You’re the one responsible for this—this Konoha nonsense?!”

Madara doesn’t respond right away, his eyes narrowing as he flicks a glance between Hashirama, Tobirama, and the small boy still clinging to Tobirama. His chakra shifts, turbulent yet undeniably drawn toward the idea. It’s clear that he’s weighing everything: the promise of peace, the future Hashirama envisions, the strange dynamic unfolding before him. Tobirama can feel Madara’s resistance weakening, his desire for stability—for a dream he once buried—beginning to win out.

Izuna groans loudly, breaking the tension. “You’re shit at naming things,” he grumbles at his brother. “If you ever get married and have kids, promise me you’ll let your wife name them.”

The jab earns a faint twitch of irritation from Madara, but he doesn’t take the bait. His focus remains fixed on the larger picture. Tobirama watches the interplay, his own emotions a quiet storm. He’s never particularly liked Madara—respect for his strength aside—but the gleam of hope in Hashirama’s chakra, so bright it’s almost painful, softens Tobirama’s usual cynicism. Perhaps this time Madara won’t desert? With Izuna alive he has no reason, after all.

Izuna, however, is less impressed. His chakra is a churning sea of frustration and resignation as he observes his brother. Then, with a heavy sigh, he slumps, throwing his hands up in defeat. “You’re going to agree to make this village with them, aren’t you?” His voice is flat, but his tone carries the weight of knowing his brother too well. “There’s nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?”

Madara doesn’t respond aloud, but his face is an open book for once. His expression carries a rare clarity—he wants this. He’s fought too long and lost too much, and this idea of a village, of a world where children don’t have to wield blades, is too enticing to ignore.

Before the silence can stretch too long, Kagami pipes up, his small voice cutting through the heavy air with a cheeky tone. “Don’t worry, Izuna-sama,” he says, looking up at the Uchiha warrior with a grin far too mischievous for the situation. “I’m sure Hashirama-sama can find a Senju kid to place on your genin team.”

Izuna freezes, his chakra flaring with indignation and utter horror. His face twists into an expression of such exaggerated dismay that even Madara spares him a fleeting glance of amusement. “Teaching a Senju brat?” Izuna sputters, his voice incredulous. “I—” He pauses, clearly searching for some silver lining. Finally, with a defeated huff, he mutters, “I suppose that’s better than marrying one of them.”

Tobirama nearly snorts at the sheer absurdity of it all. The tension that had loomed over them moments ago feels less suffocating now, replaced by something softer, more tentative. Madara’s chakra hums with resolve, Izuna’s crackles with reluctant acceptance, and Hashirama’s glows with unfiltered joy.

Kagami’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade, light but carrying a mischievous edge that immediately puts Tobirama on alert. “Izuna-sama is a liar,” the boy declares, his chakra humming with barely suppressed glee. “There is one Senju he wouldn’t mind marrying.”

Izuna’s reaction is instantaneous and spectacular. His chakra spikes with embarrassment, his face going scarlet as his mouth falls open in shock. He stammers, “How the—” and then, “What the fuck?!” before glaring at Kagami. “How did you—”

But Kagami is undeterred, practically bouncing on his feet as he barrels ahead with reckless enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, Sensei likes men too,” he says with a grin that can only be described as devilish. “And Izuna-sama, you’re definitely pretty enough, so you stand a chance! Plus, you’re smart—Sensei doesn’t like dumb people.”

Tobirama feels his blood run cold. His jaw tightens, his chakra spiking with a mix of mortification and barely restrained incredulity. He stares down at Kagami, his mind racing as he tries to comprehend what he’s hearing. Did the little brat just… try to set him up with Uchiha Izuna?

Kagami, utterly oblivious to the havoc he’s wreaking, continues cheerfully, “Sensei’s favorite food is fish. He doesn’t like big crowds, noisy places, or being cold. He loves experimenting and relaxing in the onsen.”

Izuna’s blush deepens to a near-impossible shade of red. His chakra flares erratically—shock, embarrassment, and something else Tobirama doesn’t have time to analyze. Izuna’s eyes flick toward him, wide and disbelieving, before snapping back to Kagami. “You little—!” Izuna manages, but his words falter.

Tobirama finally regains control of his voice, though it comes out sharper than he intends. “Kagami.” His tone is low and warning, but the boy doesn’t even flinch. Kagami simply beams up at him, entirely too pleased with himself.

Izuna throws up his hands, his voice rising in exasperation. “Since peace negotiations will probably involve the clan elders, I assume we’ll have to endure all that later.” He glares at Kagami, then looks back to Tobirama, his chakra still a chaotic mess. “For now, I’m going home—and I’m going to drink myself into a stupor.”

With that, Izuna spins on his heel and stalks off, muttering something under his breath that Tobirama doesn’t quite catch but strongly suspects is a string of colorful curses. His chakra remains an erratic storm, but there’s no trace of malice. If anything, it’s more subdued than Tobirama would have expected. He watches Izuna’s retreating figure with a growing sense of unease. The lack of resistance from Izuna is… unsettling. And since when does Izuna have feelings for him?

Beside him, Madara crosses his arms and tracks his brother’s departure with an inscrutable expression. His chakra wavers, as if he’s suppressing amusement. “Well,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

Kagami, meanwhile, turns to Hashirama with a grin. “Who knows?” he quips, his voice light and teasing. “Maybe you’ll get your political marriage after all.”

Tobirama reacts instinctively, swatting the back of Kagami’s head. It’s a light tap, more for emphasis than punishment, but Kagami yelps theatrically anyway, clutching his head like he’s just been grievously wounded. “Ow! Sensei, that hurt!”

“Stop playing matchmaker,” Tobirama snaps, though his tone is laced with exasperation more than true anger. His chakra simmers with a faint edge of embarrassment, and he can feel Hashirama’s silent laughter radiating beside him.

“Not my fault,” Kagami mutters, rubbing his head but grinning shamelessly. “I’m just trying to help.”

Tobirama exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He can already feel the headache forming. If this is what the future of Konoha entails—mischievous students, meddling family, and bafflingly cooperative Uchihas—he might need more than an onsen to relax.