Chapter 5
Hashirama gazed closely at Tobirama's expression and, after a while, he finally felt relieved.
"It's my fault," he said, filled with remorse.
"It's nothing, big brother," Tobirama reassured him, softening his tone. "Just a little knot to untangle."
"True," Hashirama said, rubbing his head, smiling a bit foolishly.
After their little excursion, the sun had climbed to its zenith, warming everything in its path, yet it couldn't pierce the chill that was seeping from Tobirama's heart.
"Let's head home," Hashirama said. "Tobirama, you must be hungry; you haven't had breakfast this morning."
Tobirama agreed obediently.
As they walked home, the gentle breeze brushed away the heat from the sun's rays, and Tobirama watched his brother's retreating figure.
Elder brother hadn't been entirely honest.
-
Upon returning home and having lunch, Tobirama struggled to taste anything; the food seemed as flavorless as wax. Nevertheless, he played his role effortlessly, and Hashirama didn't seem to have any suspicions.
As the dishes were cleared away, Hashirama's phone rang again. He got up and left the dining room, leaving Tobirama alone at the table.
Faint voices came from the direction of his older brother. Tobirama knew that if he focused right now, he could eavesdrop on Hashirama's conversation, and no one would notice. He was just sitting here, after all.
But...
Tobirama turned his head and locked eyes with Hashirama, who was peering back in.
Hashirama blinked, wearing an apologetic smile.
One hand covering the phone, he blinked.
"Tobirama, I might have something to do this afternoon..."
-
His Elder brother returned to his work.
It was strange; when he had just woken up, Hashirama had introduced him to the situation of the Senju family. Hashirama inherited the family business from their father, Butsuma, but as the elder brother, he wasn't good at managing it. Itama and Kawarama were still young and in school, so everything was handled by professionals.
As for Hashirama himself, he had said, "I'm a wood carving artist," with a hint of shyness. He even showed some of his works to Tobirama, like a sculpture of a fox that had a flowing and vibrant form. Tobirama looked at it, and it didn't surprise him. Instead, it gave him a sense of "it is as it should be." He had previously thought this might be a trace of his own memories lingering in his brain... that his past self was dormant in this body.
But that wasn't the case.
Hashirama was too busy. Despite having his own studio at home, there were two days out of three where he couldn't be found. Often, Hashirama would suddenly appear, and that's when Tobirama realized he had come back home.
Plus, the lie from his elder brother...
He lay on the soft sofa in the living room, which felt almost like a small bed. Tobirama gazed at the milky white light on the ceiling, and before he knew it, his thoughts drifted back to that night, to the touch of the somewhat rough yet warm hand on his forehead – his brother's hand.
He closed his eyes. His consciousness sank, descending into darkness, and in a daze, the scene before him changed.
It was still dusk, the melancholic colors of the fading sun casting their hue throughout the traditional room. Wooden windows stood wide open, and a figure with long hair sat gracefully at the table.
The person's shoulders trembled slightly as they attempted to stifle a cough, but it couldn't be concealed. The subdued cough echoed within the room.
It felt like a scene recorded with an old-fashioned camera, with everything around blurred and unclear, but the figure of that person was in perfect focus, exceptionally clear.
Tobirama felt as if a heavy stone had dropped into his stomach. His chest ached, and he saw himself step forward, grabbing the person's shoulder—
The fading sun was blood-red, its crimson hue contrasting with the pale lips.
The person's eyes suddenly filled with panic, and after a moment, a hesitant smile appeared.
A name was stuck between Tobirama's teeth, unable to be spoken.
He heard the person call out, "Tobirama…"
Tobirama opened his eyes as if waking from a dream.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
Tobirama stared at the ceiling, the milky white light no different from a few moments ago, yet he felt like a lifetime had passed.
After a while, Tobirama got up and went downstairs. The doorbell had not rung, but looking through the French doors, he saw Madara, a close friend Hashirama had introduced, standing outside and knocking.
For some reason, every time Tobirama saw this person, he felt extremely cautious... had there been some issue between them in the past?
Madara glanced inside through the window and saw the person waiting within. "Hashirama's brother," his lip movements conveyed, "Open the door for me."
Tobirama furrowed his brow, pondering for a moment, and then opened the door.
"Hashirama's brother," Madara greeted casually, "Is your brother not here?"
"He said he has work," Tobirama replied with a cool tone.
"What did you want to see him for?"
Madara suddenly turned to face Tobirama, his dark eyes scanning his face. Tobirama felt a shiver down his spine but quickly suppressed the feeling and met Madara's gaze.
"You... Hashirama's brother, or should I say, Tobirama," Madara said with a hint of doubt in his tone, "You seem to dislike me."
Tobirama's initial reaction upon seeing this person had been closer to wanting to murder him, and he thought that dislike didn't quite cover it. He stared at Madara, silent for a while before deciding to speak.
"I find you quite dangerous," he said matter-of-factly.
Madara arched an eyebrow. Tobirama didn't elaborate but instead continued, "My brother isn't here... but it's just as well. I have some questions for you."
-
The cuckoo clock on the wall popped out a wooden bird, which snapped Tobirama out of his contemplation. He turned to look at it, and the wooden bird leisurely took a turn, let out two calls, and then confidently returned to the clock.
Just then, Madara finished his tea in one gulp.
"Well, since Hashirama hasn't returned yet, I should be on my way."
He got up, and Tobirama started to rise as well, but Madara stopped him with a hand.
"No need, I know the way quite well."
The soothing warmth of the afternoon sun poured in. Madara casually tied his long hair into a ponytail behind his head, swaying within Tobirama's line of sight. Beyond the vast floor-to-ceiling windows, Tobirama watched Madara stroll to the nearby wall, and with three swift moves, he leaped over it. No wonder the doorbell didn't ring. A bird perched on a branch nearby was startled by his movements, flapping its wings and flying away. Suddenly, Tobirama felt that this scene was somewhat familiar.
Tobirama was about to take another look when his mind clicked.
He spun around abruptly, and there, in the stairwell, stood Kawarama with his short brown hair. His face was hidden in the shadows, obscure and unreadable, making it hard to discern his expression.
The two locked eyes, but Kawarama remained silent, turned, and walked away.