Tobirama
5 Years Prior.
The first time Tobirama met this mysterious girl was not the last. No, in spite of all of his moral grandstanding against his elder brother, he wished to see her again after they met. That day, roughly a fortnight ago, she sat on the riverbank and talked his ear off in what felt to be an unspoken attempt to break his focus away from catching fish. He had taken the kunai he had on hand and stood in shallow water, waiting for the precise moment to pierce the game he promised to himself. In many instances, he found incessant conversation to be annoying. When Hashirama spoke for too long, he would get irritated at so little as his brother’s inhales between words, wishing with all his heart for it to cease so he could continue his tasks. With this girl, though, he couldn’t bring himself to feel the same. Perhaps it was her delicate manner of speaking that contrasted with her sharp opinions, and when he was successful in catching a fish, her delightful squeal lightened his chest.
The scene he found himself in this evening mirrored that of the previous. He sits cross-legged while she rests on her knees parallel to him and a small fire burns before them. They’re parallel to one another, side-by-side with ample space as they gaze off into the clear waters of the lake. Last time they met, she spoke the most between them. Her sister, pointedly unnamed, was to be married soon, and she found herself in a predicament. She felt her sister to be spoiled, favored over her due to age order and it was only worsened due to her lacking any meaningful power. She learned to fight, but only within the compound and her father forbade both her and her sister from ever training with the young boys of her clan out of fear of them getting hurt. Tobirama found his assumptions to be true in that, she was sheltered, but he learned it was not without cause. He couldn’t say that he agreed with it, believing himself that he would ensure his children were skilled shinobi regardless of the circumstances in which they were born.
“I apologize if you’re uninterested in all of my complaining,” she told him that day. “But it is nice to tell someone how I feel. I can’t say much back home, not to anyone in my clan at all unless I wish them to report it to my parents.”
He had reassured her that he didn’t mind, although he did not confess anything of his own life to her. He decided today that he could concede to her.
“I’m the child of my clan’s head, too,” Tobirama confesses. The sounds of the lake’s waves punctuate the pause before he goes on. “So, I am running from a similar responsibility, I suppose.”
“Are you the heir?”
“No. My brother is, but I still have to keep him in check. He’s far too optimistic, even after everything that has happened.”
“How so?”
Tobirama pries his gaze away from the blue expanse. Her pitch-black hair, void and deep like a pool of dark oil, is tucked behind her ear. For a moment, it reminds him of a few familiar shinobi he’s encountered in his lifetime, but he chooses to ignore this to keep the sanctity of the bond. There’s a warmth behind her wide eyes which pierce through him, as though they can see deep into his soul. They’re soft, juxtaposing with the sharpness that existed when she first pinned him in the forest. He has to ponder upon her question for a moment. Before his mouth can run dry, he explains: “He doesn’t seem to realize that peace isn’t as simple as two parties both desiring it. There needs to be order to that peace, written agreements. He seems to think a friendship from years ago is enough, all the while he ignores that our clan has died at the hands of others and vice versa.”
Her lips curl up in a solemn smile. “Do you want peace, though?”
The stars are beginning to consume the sun. A blanket of orange and violet cover the sky and meet with the reflection of the water. Peace is something he wishes for, but it’s difficult to articulate how he desires it after all the blood that has been shed. Perhaps, though, a world with peace could be one where the two of them wouldn’t have to be so guarded with one another. They could properly exchange details of their clans and customs without a distance that promotes fear.
“Yes,” he answers affirmatively. “I have for some time now, but I know it will not happen overnight.”
“I yearn for it, too.”
Minutes pass. The sun no longer exists today, but Tobirama sees a light in her. Is this how Hashirama felt when he met Uchiha Madara all those years ago? In all his pleas to their father, Hashirama always asserted Madara was different, that he understood his desires unlike anyone else in their clan. When his father ordered him to follow his brother into the forest, Tobirama never once witnessed a conflict, only two kids skipping rocks. This girl only ever attacked him once. It was out of fear, a need to defend herself from an unknown entity that could have harmed her. If someone were to follow them, they would see an image similar to what he saw between Hashirama and Madara all those years ago. He shakes that thought off. He’ll enjoy his time with her while he can, but he’s not that naive. The world is still at war with no sign of an end.
“I need to get back. I’m sure they’ve noticed I’ve been gone for some time now,” she suddenly declares, standing up. Her hair shines under the emerging moonlight. Maybe if she had been born into the Senju clan, he would have told his mother about her. “Thank you for the fish.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
His brows furrow, but he relents with an encouraging nod.
“What is your name?”
There’s no expectancy in her voice, no pressure to give an answer or even an honest one. Pure sincerity. An invitation to share just a little more after he’s blossomed only one petal. Against his better judgment, he takes a leap of faith. Perhaps he’ll hold a piece of himself close to his chest, but he trusts her enough to let her in even if it's just a little bit.
“Tobi,” he tells her.
“Shion.”
He whispers her name to himself, holding that piece of her close to his chest as well.