Law of Parsimony
“There has been…talk recently, Tobirama,” Touka brings up quietly.
Tobirama pauses in his review of the intelligence report she just handed over and arches a brow. He knows that Touka is a part of Hashirama’s network that he uses to stay informed about the inner ongoings of the clan. She is his most trusted source among their military factions.
“Some of the soldiers have been getting restless. Discontent.” She looks at him meaningfully. “I think someone has been whispering to them. Probably talking about revenge or superiority and encouraging them to seek out the Uchiha.”
“Ah,” Tobirama says, placing down the report and leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t Kiyoshi-san return from his mother’s family recently?”
Senju Kiyoshi tends to divide his time between both clans since his parents are now separated. The Senju law is fairly flexible with regards to custody and divorce, so it isn’t unordinary that Kiyoshi does this provided his missions and reports are completed to standard. What is noteworthy is that he is the nephew of Senju Kaname.
Realisation crosses Touka’s face. “You think…?”
He shrugs. “Kiyoshi-san is respected among our forces. He’s one of our strongest, after all, and he is fairly charismatic. I imagine he would support his uncle’s ideals.” He pauses before adding, “I don’t really believe this is coincidence.”
Exhaling sharply, Touka lifts a hand to pinch at her nose bridge. “Of all the times to be playing at something so stupid,” she hisses under her breath. “It’s only a matter of time before one of them gets it in their heads to act out of turn.”
“The problem is what will happen when the unrest spills over to the rest of the population,” Tobirama says, frowning. “It will be difficult to quell public sentiment without anija here, and a month is enough time to sow turmoil.”
Touka watches him, worry clear in the lines by her eyes. “What will you do now?” She hesitates. “You know there’s a possibility you might have to give in to their demands and stage an attack.”
He presses his lips into a thin line but doesn’t argue. For all that Touka is right, that is an outcome he absolutely refuses to accept. He will not have his hard work forcing their clans into non-engagement be undone by some harebrained scheme designed to breed pointless conflict. Failure at this stage would be wholly unacceptable.
“Outright restrictions on their movements won’t work,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing in thought.
“Definitely not without proof, which we happen to not have,” Touka points out.
Not to mention, if anyone catches a whiff of their intentions, it will lead to widespread discomfort and the decision would be considered hugely unpopular. They’d only risk more unrest. After all, the Senju wouldn’t stand for a leader so outwardly disposed to exerting his authority over the clan’s own will. It would only create more problems later on.
Ideally, they’d find some clever way to disperse the groups that are looking for a fight, like when Hashirama booted off several of them to the capital to serve under the Daimyo directly. Unfortunately, however, outside of assigning them to away missions, there isn’t much Tobirama can do on that front.
While sending the troublemakers off on long-term missions would work to delay the problem for now, it doesn’t change that they would still need to think of a proper solution to discourage any repetition from taking place.
No, what Tobirama needs to do is make a statement so clear, no one will ever want to even think of suggesting something along the lines of going against the clan head’s wishes to keep warring with the Uchiha. A simple de-escalation will not cut it anymore, not unless he wants to keep coming back to this issue periodically until peace has been established. It’s better to cut this movement off at its knees while it is still controllable.
He hums and flicks his gaze back to his cousin. “Thank you for letting me know, Touka. I’ll figure something out soon. Don’t worry.”
Touka’s eyebrows lift, lending to her looking supremely unimpressed. “You have that crazy scientist look in your eye again, Tobirama,” she informs flatly, sighing when he only blinks impassively. “Well, whatever it you’re planning, try not to blow yourself up or something this time.”
His lips twitch. “No promises.”
Uzushio is a sight to marvel over with its cliff faces, white stone buildings, colourful banners, and marble temples. Gold and sea glass wink at Hashirama under the sunlight, the cheerful sounds of a bustling city enveloping him along with the smell of salt and cypress in the air. Undoubtedly, it is among the most beautiful places he has ever had the privilege to visit.
And yet he registers almost none of it as soon as his gaze finds Mito.
It is not as though Hashirama hasn’t seen good-looking people before, but still, none of them have ever rendered him breathless as easily as Mito does by merely walking into a room. Her features are arresting, yes—deep crimson hair, large eyes a striking violet, strong brows, and rounded cheekbones—but there’s just something about the way she carries herself that makes it impossible for him to look away from her.
It becomes clear to him from their very first meeting that Hashirama’s worries had been for nought.
Mito isn’t just beautiful. She’s also introspective, well-spoken, and very intelligent. She listens to him ramble with patience and interest, and she asks insightful questions and has an unbelievably engaging way of speaking that makes him think he could listen to her talk about anything for hours. The history of Uzushio that he had been forced to learn as a kid never sounded as fascinating as it does coming from her.
When Hashirama presents her with his courting gift—a heliotrope plant he tended to personally without the use of his kekkei genkai—Mito beams at him and brushes her chakra against his fleetingly in a show of sincere gratitude. Her signature registers as dawn-seastorm-marble-birdsong to his senses, brilliant and ardent even in the short time he has to read it.
He thinks he might already be a little in love.
Tobirama will be very smug if he ever finds out. He’d been absolutely certain Hashirama’s anxieties wouldn’t amount to anything, and he and Mito would get along without any trouble, but Hashirama can hardly be blamed for his apprehensions. As it turns out, though, his little brother had been right on the money as usual. It’s almost like some sort of supernatural ability at this point really.
“What are you thinking of?” Mito asks, looking at him over the rim of her glass. When she lowers it, some of the yogurt drink she has been drinking remains caught on her upper lip.
Hashirama can’t help but smile, feeling like his insides are melting in the most pleasant of ways under the warmth that fills his heart. He hands over his handkerchief without a word, smile widening when Mito chuckles at herself. He likes that she still has some clumsiness to her despite the endless poise she exudes. Hashirama thinks he might just like everything about Mito, he’s so thoroughly infatuated.
“I was just thinking of home,” he says in response to her question. “Wondering what Tobirama might be doing while I get to enjoy myself here in your company.”
She rewards him with a smile, inclining her head. “You miss him,” she says.
“Like I would my own heart,” he returns instantly. “I wish he could be here too. He seemed to enjoy his stay here so much.”
“He will always be welcome to visit whenever he wishes to.” Mito brows lift with amusement as she adds, “I’m sure the sealmasters would love to try and figure out what his actual level of skill is by now.”
Hashirama blinks. “Is it truly that strange for him to be so gifted?”
Mito makes a vague noise of consideration, sipping at her drink more mindfully this time. “Even people who are gifted must be taught to some degree for their gifts to shine. Fuuinjutsu must be taught in a very specific way for the basics to make sense. It is nigh impossible to learn from a theoretical resource alone, which is what makes Tobirama such an anomaly.”
Sighing, Hashirama pops a fritter into his mouth. “I wish I could tell you how he came to learn, but he’s always been so secretive. He won’t even tell me. He insists he learned by himself, but I just know he’s hiding something.” Lowering his voice, he continues, “Don’t tell Tobirama I told you, but sometimes when he’s lying, he quirks his left eyebrow. It’s very subtle, but if you know to look for it, you won’t miss it.”
Mito laughs in response, a rich sound from deep in her chest that has him grinning back at her without him even realizing it. “I’ll be sure to keep your secret,” she assures him, winking conspiratorially. “I’m surprised you don’t know either, though. I wonder why he feels like he needs to hide it.”
“Well,” Hashirama says, “Tobirama is exceedingly private.”
“I noticed, though I could never guess why.”
Hashirama pauses, popping another fritter into his mouth to have an excuse for the silence while he contemplates over whether or not to tell Mito. On one hand, it is still fairly early into their courtship and this is to do with Tobirama, who not only would hate being talked about in general but also happens to be Hashirama’s biggest vulnerability. On the other hand, however, Mito is to be Hashirama’s future partner and she will learn this one way or another when she becomes part of their family anyways.
He swallows his doubts and admits, “Our father wasn’t the most encouraging of any of our hobbies growing up. He was a rather...traditional man, I suppose. If we had any time to spare, he believed it ought to have been spent training. Tobirama learned to guard his interests if he wanted to preserve them. I guess the habit just stuck.”
“Oh.” Mito blinks. “I see. Would your father have disapproved of your brother learning sealing?”
“Probably,” Hashirama replies, and it comes out more bitter than he means for it to. He clears his throat and straightens. “Given how time consuming and laborious it is to learn, my father would have wanted Tobirama to invest his efforts into something else.”
Looking thoughtful, Mito hums. “Perhaps that is why your brother feels as though he can’t say where he learned from.”
“Maybe.” Leaning forward, he asks, “I’ve always wondered, but do ofuda have any basis in fuuinjutsu?”
Mito brightens and nods. “They do actually! Although a lot of the principles and complexities have been lost, shrines and temples do use sealing arrays as basis for their talismans. Not many priests really understand the mechanics at play and none of them can be used as paths for chakra, which is what ultimately differs them from true seals, but I’m sure there must be a few who have some idea.”
Hashirama claps his hands together. “Tora must have learned at the shrine then! He spent a lot of time there as a kid, you know, and our father always had mixed feelings about it. He still goes fairly often. It would make perfect sense!”
“That must be it,” Mito says, smiling easily. “At last, a mystery solved.”
Hashirama smiles back. “We make an excellent team.”
Gaze softening, she agrees, “That we do.”
Izuna is on his way back from a visit to one of their branch clan territories when he realises that he is being followed.
Instantly, his guard rises, though he makes an effort to keep it from showing as he exhales slowly and forces himself to maintain his previous pace hopping through the trees. His pursuers are fairly skilled shinobi. He guesses that there are four or five of them from the way the branches shift behind him, but he can’t tell for sure without actually looking. Not for the first time Izuna laments his lack of skill in the sensing department.
Since he doesn’t know their skill level or even how many of them there are for sure, confronting them would be unwise. He’s better off luring them into Uchiha territory where he can get backup from the patrol squads.
As if sensing his intention, however, his pursuers choose this moment to make themselves known, and Izuna swears as he has to abandon the treetops under the volley of shuriken that comes flying towards him. He twists midair, unsheathing his tachi and using it knock away the last of the projectiles, turning with the momentum of his blade so he can land on his feet and dive into a defensive stance, sharingan spinning.
Emerging from among the trees like phantoms is a squad of five shinobi, their own weapons brandished as they surround him in a loose half circle. The Senju clan symbol glares back at Izuna from their armours.
Against all odds, Izuna feels his heart sink and he would curse at himself if he could spare such a distraction for having any sort of stupid expectations just because Senju Tobirama said his name differently and told pretty lies about believing in peace. He should be feeling vindicated for having been proven right—he knew all along that they could never trust the Senju to mean anything they say about discontinuing this war, and yet, here Izuna stands with nothing but the bitter taste of resigned disappointment on his tongue.
No words are exchanged among seasoned shinobi who are long since used to the clinical nature of battle. All at once, they pounce, and Izuna is forced back under their combined onslaught as he desperately holds two of them off by his sword and uses his left hand to weave the signs for a fireball that forces the other three back. He shifts his weight back sharply, leaping away before he can be overpowered.
Clapping his hands together, he sets off a minor flash bang jutsu to momentarily blind his opponents, using the seconds that buys him to weave the signs for a fire bullet jutsu that forces his attackers to scatter as they hurry to dodge while their vision is still compromised. They will recover soon enough, however, and Izuna readies his sword as he prepares to charge.
He has survived through one Senju ambush in the woods even if it cost him his brother. He will not allow them to prevail here.
But before anyone else can make their moves, a kunai comes sailing through the air from the east, letting off a split-second flash of light that prevents Izuna from tracking its origin. The light clears, and Izuna grits his teeth to find his eyes being met by an all too familiar crimson gaze that dodges his before he can fully even register that Senju Tobirama has just fucking teleported to the scene.
Six against one, and one of them happens to be Izuna’s equal in strength. He exhales slowly and forces back the urge to panic. There is nothing he can do about his odds now. He’ll just have to take his chances.
Tobirama’s fingers weave the signs for a familiar jutsu that causes water to condense into a shield just in time to hold off Izuna’s sword. The water starts trying to swallow the blade and Izuna recognises the technique as the beginnings of a water prison, swiftly leaping back to avoid losing his weapon. As soon as he puts some distance between them, Tobirama raises an earth wall there.
The only thing that stops Izuna from immediately trying to leap over the low barrier is the fact that Tobirama raises an identical wall between himself and the Senju squad.
“If you so much as twitch another muscle I will have you all charged for treason,” Tobirama hisses in clear warning to his clansmen.
Izuna blinks, brow furrowing in confusion that he apparently shares with the Senju attackers. What the hell is Tobirama playing at now?
“But, Tobirama-sama, we can take him,” one of the Senju insists. “He will never kill another one of ours ever again, and with him gone, we are sure to win against the Uchiha filth.”
Incensed, Izuna’s eyes narrow. “You watch your fucking mouth, you absolute pile of—”
“Enough,” Tobirama interrupts, voice sharp. He still doesn’t address Izuna, keeping his attention fixed on his own clansmen even as his body remains half-turned towards Izuna just in case he needs to respond quickly. “How dare you go behind my back and try to put this harebrained scheme into action? Do you have any idea what your actions might have resulted in?”
“Victory.”
“Catastrophe,” Tobirama counters swiftly. “What would you have done when his brother showed up at our doorsteps wanting revenge? What could this have cost us? Did you even stop to consider any of this before you chose to derail your actual mission so you could exact revenge to soothe your own ego?”
“The barriers—”
“Your complacence and audacity are utterly astounding and frankly revolting,” he informs succinctly. “Clearly, we have been lacking in our disciplining for you to have gained such impudence.” He jerks his head, tone frigid as he orders, “Get out of my sights. If you go anywhere but straight to the compound, I will know and I will not be pleased. Your punishment will be decided once I have returned.”
Izuna can’t see what expression Tobirama is making as he says this, but he does see the way the other Senju pale and duck their heads obediently, not even daring to look back at Izuna as they disappear back into the trees.
A beat of silence passes. “What the actual fuck was that, Senju?”
Tobirama exhales softly, his shoulders losing some of their tension as he turns back to Izuna with pursed lips. “Not something that should have happened,” he answers quietly, the icy fury gone from his demeanour. “It is my lack of oversight that caused this. You have my apologies, Uchiha. It will not happen again.”
“You expect me to believe that you didn’t have any hand in this?” Izuna demands.
His rival inclines his head. “You are free to believe what you want, Izuna. I have no proof to offer but my word that this was not a sanctioned attack, and rest assured that appropriate punishment will be dealt for taking unauthorised action.”
Staring at Tobirama for longer doesn’t unearth any tells that might point Izuna to the truth. Sighing, he allows his sharingan to fade away. “It’s not like it was a bad idea,” he points out. “Killing me would have tipped the scales in your favour, and your barriers are an effective enough deterrent.”
Something unreadable passes over Tobirama’s face that causes his eyes to darken. “No,” he says after a moment, “that is not a victory I have any interest in.”
Izuna blinks, taken aback. “What is that supposed to mean?” He peers at his rival. “You won’t be happy unless you kill me yourself, is that it?”
At least that’s a sentiment Izuna could relate to. It would be awfully anti-climactic if, after all the battles they have fought and how much of their lives have been consumed by their personal enmity, Tobirama were to fall at the hands of anything but Izuna’s blade.
But Tobirama is rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “I told you I don’t want to kill you.”
“You could be lying.”
“I could be telling the truth.” Tobirama regards him with an unveiled consideration. “There is no version of peace that would last if you weren’t in it.”
And there is nothing that could have prepared Izuna for something like that. Blankly, he says, “What?”
Tobirama shrugs, as though his words are of no real consequence. “I’ve run the numbers,” he says. “The probabilities don’t lie. True peace simply wouldn’t last without you.”
“I don’t understand you,” Izuna confesses.
And Tobirama has the nerve to smile at that, offering the barest upward twitch of his lips as he promises, “You will someday.”
Just the prospect of that makes Izuna want to shudder. Casting to change the subject, he says, “I can’t believe you weren’t lying about the teleportation thing.”
The smile on Tobirama’s face widens. It softens the sharpness of his features in a way that Izuna hasn’t ever seen on him before. “You shouldn’t be so surprised; I’ve rarely ever lied to you.”
Izuna had suspected as much because he is the same, but it is still something different to have it laid out so bare in front of him. He swallows, feeling suddenly caught. “I didn’t know you’re a sensor.” That is the only way for him to have found them so quickly if he was at the Senju compound.
“It was never relevant to our battle,” Tobirama says. “There is plenty neither of us got to learn about the other.”
But if he has always been a sensor with a wide enough range to sense this battle all the way from the Senju compound, then that also means that Tobirama probably knew right off the bat that there had been sick Uchiha in Hinan and he did nothing to take advantage of the opportunity.
Izuna exhales slowly. “How long have you been able to teleport?”
His rival arches a brow. “Since last spring.”
They’ve clashed at least twice since then and still Tobirama never brought this skill out of his arsenal. Izuna eyes him and bites the inside of his cheek. Somehow, Tobirama’s honesty is quickly becoming the most terrifying thing about him.
“Go home, Senju,” he says after a long moment. “I’m going to stab you if I have to keep looking at you any longer.”
Openly rolling his eyes at that, Tobirama scoffs. “Try not to get jumped again, Uchiha.”
Izuna scowls at him. “Mind your own business, asshole!”
With a parting smirk, Tobirama disappears in another flash of golden light.
Izuna sighs and turns to go home, mind already spinning to accommodate his newest revelations. Plenty that he doesn’t know about Tobirama, indeed.
“They are but young men eager to fight for their clan, Tobirama-sama. I am sure they meant well.”
Tobirama sighs. “I am not disagreeing with you, Kaname-san,” he says, “but I cannot allow insubordination to be overlooked. If an example is not set, there could be others looking to follow in their footsteps.”
Kaname watches him with guarded eyes. “And is that truly such a bad thing?”
“Of course,” Tobirama responds, frowning. “We cannot clash with the Uchiha in anija’s absence. Without him keeping Uchiha Madara at bay, there is no telling what kind of losses we would incur. It is an unacceptable outcome.”
“I understand your point,” Kaname concedes, “but there are those among us who grow restless day by day, Tobirama-sama. People have been asking if the war is over, and not all are happy to have it be this way, with no real conclusion. Hashirama-sama’s direction has brought us much wealth, true, but he seems reluctant to further our military might.”
Sipping at his tea, Tobirama allows the statement to sit heavy between them. Slowly, it has become clear to him what the motive truly is behind these meetings. There is only so much power that exists within a clan. As Hashirama empowers their merchants, farmers and temples, he takes that power bit by bit from the other factions in order to strengthen his own supporters. If they want to remain relevant within the politics of their clan, these factions now need to consolidate their power and rally together while Hashirama is not here to hamper their activity. Most importantly, they need a figurehead that can actually stand against Hashirama to represent their demands.
They want a sovereign in the shadows, and they want to play kingmaker.
This is uncharted territory, different from the life he had lived before, but Tobirama shouldn’t be surprised. His brother has made much bolder moves this time around since Tobirama hasn’t contested his decisions and vision. It was bound to cause discomfort to the more traditional members of their clan sooner or later.
Still, it is awfully bold of them to be so open with their intentions. They are all treading a very fine line between tolerable and treasonous. Tobirama would be a subpar clan heir if he allowed such transgressions to continue and pose a danger to his brother’s rule.
“You alone have your brother’s ear, Tobirama-sama,” Kaname says softly. “I worry about the legacy of our name and what might happen should we ever weaken.”
“Indeed,” Tobirama says, allowing a thin smile. “I understand what you are saying, Kaname-san.”
Kaname’s eyebrows rise. “Is that so?”
“Naturally. Nothing comes before our duty to this clan.”
The elder relaxes, nodding with a smile. “I knew we could rely on you, Tobirama-sama.”
“Of course.”
The tea in his mouth tastes metallic. Tobirama swallows it down and shows nothing on his face.
The first rule of politics: The kingmaker must die.