Social Capital
“I haven’t seen you don your fur since the day you arrived,” Izuna observes.
He hasn’t set foot into the guesthouse assigned to the Senju for the duration of their stay, but today, he lingers in the doorway and watches Tobirama make his final sweep over the place to make sure his clansmen aren’t leaving anything behind. His chakra churns with an odd sense of unease, though Izuna doesn’t seem to realise that his emotions are being projected into his chakra output, distracted as he seems.
Tobirama glances at him over his shoulder briefly before turning back to his self-assigned task. “I did not want your clan to think of me as I appear in battle,” he says. “That matters less today.”
“I guess.” Izuna crosses his arms. “Is it a Hatake thing? None of the other Senju wear it.”
“Sort of,” Tobirama answers, tipping his head thoughtfully. “The Hatake have their bonded wolf spirits accompanying them through everything. The bond I share is with the wolf who chose my mother. I did not wish to separate Hinode-san from the rest of her pack to come live with me, so I carry her fur instead on important occasions.”
“Symbolic,” Izuna comments.
“In a way, yes. You’ve met Hinode-san.”
“I remember.”
Tobirama’s mouth twitches with amusement. “I imagine she’s rather hard to forget.”
Izuna rolls his eyes, but the corners of his lips are upturned too. “Something like that,” he agrees dryly. His almost-smile slips. “Are you all set to leave then?”
Blinking, Tobirama turns to face the Uchiha heir and simply watches for a moment, observing the closed off body language and careful neutrality of his features. “Yes,” Tobirama replies eventually. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” comes the immediate reply. Then, with pursed lips, Izuna amends quietly, “Maybe. I don’t—I’m not a fan of change.”
How odd for him to sound so melancholic now. “I assumed you would be glad to have us out of your hair.”
“Yeah, you’d think that, wouldn’t you? It makes sense.” Letting out a wry, insincere laugh, Izuna shrugs. “I don’t know. I never thought we’d be standing here like this. You in the Uchiha compound, and us not fighting to death over it.”
“I’ve been here for several weeks already,” Tobirama points out.
“And now you’re leaving.” Izuna hesitates. “I suppose we have no reason to see each other again after this.”
There is a furrow in the space between Izuna’s brows and, for some reason, it puts Tobirama on his guard. He is not the best at handling people emotionally; he has come to accept his own shortcomings in this regard. He struggles with what to say and do when faced with volatility from someone he is unused to, and he doesn’t always make the right assumptions and decisions. Usually, Izuna is not difficult because he wears the bulk of his emotions on his sleeve and he is unafraid to say most things as they are to Tobirama’s face.
This hesitance, this uncertainty, as though Izuna himself is seeking answers from Tobirama for some question unasked—Tobirama doesn’t know what to do with it. The Uchiha Izuna of his memories had never afforded him enough trust to be anything less than completely assured of where they stand. The few stumbles Tobirama has witnessed since were easy enough to anticipate in Izuna as Tobirama himself had struggled similarly to accept peace.
He doesn’t think Izuna is wearing that hesitation now because of peace. He doesn’t know what to do with this.
“There are final payments to negotiate,” he points out after a moment.
“And then?”
It’s too soon to bring up the village and how Tobirama imagines the Uchiha clan fitting into that picture. That is a conversation for later, once there has been more time to come to terms with the idea of having peace at all. Regardless, Izuna does not know what Tobirama does—that this is not where their paths diverge yet.
In another life, Tobirama had learned how to bend space and time just so his blade could be bathed in Izuna’s lifeblood, and yet it was as if the ghost of his oldest enemy dogged his footsteps no matter how far Tobirama walked and how long he refused to think of everything that resulted from that singular action. Izuna had been his enemy, his purpose, his duty. Not even death had been able to tear out that part of him.
Some things you simply cannot escape from.
He considers the young man standing across from him, reads the tension in his posture, and asks, “Wouldn’t you prefer it this way?”
Because Tobirama has reasons for why he needs Izuna’s presence in his future, but that doesn't mean the sentiment is returned. Sure, they are seemingly no longer at one another’s throats and Izuna does not appear to harbour the same hatred as before, but that doesn’t make them friends or anything close to it. Why would Izuna want them to see each other again?
Izuna’s lips flatten into a thin line, gaze skittering away. “I told you I’m not good with change,” he says after a pause. “Being at war with the Senju meant being at war with you. And not being at war with the Senju is…fine, I guess, but—”
Tobirama arches a brow. “You wish to stay at war with me?”
“That’s now what I’m saying,” Izuna snaps, eyes narrowing into a glare. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“My apologies for presuming.” It doesn’t come out sounding very sincere.
The scowl on Izuna’s face deepens before he’s huffing and spinning around on his heel, muttering to himself about, “I don’t even know why I bother with idiots like this.”
Tobirama rolls his eyes and reaches into the pouch strapped to his thigh, fingers closing around one of the small brushes he keeps there to be able to modify seals on the fly should he need to in case of an emergency. “Catch,” is all the warning he gives Izuna before tossing it to the Uchiha heir who spins around to pluck the projectile out of the air effortlessly, casting Tobirama a suspicious glare even before he’s registered what he’s holding.
Izuna glances at the brush and blinks. “What is this supposed to be?”
“A brush,” Tobirama supplies. When he receives a dry look for his efforts, he elaborates, “One of the brushes I prefer for sealing that is suitable for travel. Its bristles are made of fine deer hair. The Uzumaki princess herself gave me that one.”
Very rarely does Izuna allow himself to look confused in Tobirama’s presence. He tends to default to irritation instead, as he is doing now in the way he frowns. “What does that have to do with me?”
“I’d like it back,” Tobirama says pointedly.
The irritation becomes more pronounced. “Then why on earth would you throw it at—”
“Not yet,” Tobirama clarifies. “Eventually.”
Izuna stills as the meaning behind Tobirama’s actions becomes clear to him, the fight draining out of him in one go as he blinks twice. “Oh,” he says, lowering his arm from where he’d undoubtedly been winding up to toss the brush back straight at Tobirama’s head. He clicks his tongue and avoids Tobirama’s eyes, swiftly changing the subject and reminding, “We should leave if you’re done making sure nothing is left behind. It is almost time for your departure and my brother has something for you to deliver to your clan head before that.”
Tobirama’s lips twitch with amusement unbidden, eyebrows rising ever so slightly. “Indeed. Lead the way then.”
“Make sure you don’t fall behind.”
“I’ll do my best,” Tobirama returns sardonically.
He doesn’t miss the way Izuna slides the brush into his sleeve, the back of his neck a curious shade of red.
Hashirama doesn’t receive them at the compound gates, but his excitement and delight are so potent that Tobirama can sense it in his massive chakra output the second he sets foot in the main office building.
“You’re back!” Hashirama crows at the sight of him, and Tobirama only just about manages to kick the door to the clan head’s private office shut before he’s being engulfed in Hashirama’s octopus-like arms and lifted clean off his feet.
“Anija, put me down!” he means to bark but it comes out more like a wheeze and is mostly lost in the sea of Hashirama’s joyous babbling. Incensed, Tobirama demands, “Are you drunk?!”
At this, Hashirama blinks and only pulls away enough to be able to look at him. “No, of course not. It’s only midday, Tobirama. Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re acting like it,” Tobirama snaps. “Put me down.”
“Oh, whoops,” Hashirama says, laughing, as though he’s just noticed that his heir is dangling in his hold. He sets Tobirama down, but he doesn’t let go just yet. “I’m just so pleased to see you again.”
Tobirama huffs but cannot help but relent in the face of his brother’s earnest joy. “Yes, well, it is good to see you as well, anija.”
Hashirama lights up, and it’s a little bit like the sun has come out just for him. His chakra unfurls like wings around him, an unconscious outlet for the emotions that overwhelm him so easily. No doubt anyone with even a modicum of sensory skill can pick up on how their honourable clan head is feeling at this moment, and Tobirama sighs but cannot find it in him to dampen Hashirama’s easy delight.
“I take it the mission went well then.”
“Of course,” Tobirama replies primly, stepping out of his brother’s hold so he can reach into the fold of his kimono where Madara’s letter is kept. “An overwhelming success on all counts.”
Carefully plucking the letter out of Tobirama’s hands, Hashirama stares at the official Uchiha insignia sealing the letter shut and asks quietly, “What is this?”
“I believe,” Tobirama pronounces smugly, “that is Uchiha Madara officially declaring intention for peace.”
Wide-eyed with disbelief and an aching hope, Hashirama unseals the letter and unfolds it, eyes quickly scanning over the words once and then twice for good measure before he’s looking up with a bright grin and throwing himself at Tobirama again, clearly overwhelmed with the urge to bestow more physical affection.
‘Just this once,’ Tobirama tells himself, going limp and allowing himself to be manhandled. It’s a special occasion after all. He will allow Hashirama to have this for just a moment longer.
“Peace! He says he wants peace, Tobirama!” Hashirama is cheering, laughing breathlessly and rocking them from side to side. “At long last, Madara has come around. I hardly dared to believe I would see the day and yet—” He pulls away, beaming, large hands coming up to hold Tobirama’s face. “It wouldn’t have been possible without you. Thank you, Tora. Truly.”
“You have no need to thank me, anija,” Tobirama says softly, smiling back because Hashirama’s laughter has always been contagious. “Besides, our work has only begun with this.”
“Yes,” Hashirama agrees though he doesn’t appear to be saddened by this in the least. “Madara has admitted that he will need time to bring his clan around to the idea as well. I suppose we should start drawing up a first draft of the peace treaty now.” Pulling away to march back over to his desk, Hashirama starts leafing through the papers there. “We have a council meeting scheduled soon. Perhaps we ought to bring up the possibility then. Oh, where did I put the meeting outline? I know it’s here somewhere. We’ll have to start—”
“Anija,” Tobirama interrupts gently, “may I say something?”
Hashirama pauses, looking up and blinking owlishly. “Of course, Tora. What is it?”
“May I propose that we wait until Madara-sama has confirmed that he has managed to convince his clan of abiding by a treaty with us before we bring it up to our own councils?”
Brows furrowing, Hashirama falters and turns to him fully. “You do not believe he will succeed?” he asks, voice suddenly so small in comparison to only a moment ago.
Tobirama hurries to reassure, “It is not that. I’m just saying it could take a while and that we could invest our time…elsewhere in the meantime.”
The doubt and burgeoning disappointment clear in favour of something knowing. “You have something in mind,” Hashirama observes, and his smile becomes indulgent. “Let’s hear it then.”
“The Uchiha might agree to a peace treaty, but as things stand, a village would be a different and far more difficult agreement,” Tobirama points out.
Hashirama chews on the inside of his lip in thought. “Well,” he starts to say, “perhaps that is good enough. If a village really is asking for too much, then maybe—”
Tobirama interrupts before his brother can talk himself into compromising and derailing his plans. “I didn’t say a village is impossible. Just that it’d be implausible to convince the Uchiha clan of it right now.” When Hashirama only stares at him blankly, he elaborates, “I’m suggesting that while Madara-sama works on wearing down his clan, we can start laying the groundwork down for a village by involving other clans.”
“Oh!” Hashirama exclaims, eyes clearing and mouth rounding in surprise. “Yes, of course. I hadn’t dared to be so ambitious, but—” He pauses. “You’ve given this a lot of thought, Tora. More than I expected since you seem to already have someone in mind too.”
“I don’t do anything by halves, anija, you know that.”
Grinning, Hashirama agrees, “No, I suppose not. Which clans were you thinking of approaching first with the proposal for a village then?”
“The Ino-Shika-Cho alliance,” Tobirama admits promptly.
“Thinking of hitting three birds with one stone? Nothing by halves, indeed.” Hashirama’s eyebrows shoot up. “Why them? The benefit of their numbers aside, they’re rather steadfast on keeping distance from both us and the Uchiha so they’re not even tangentially involved in our conflict. Even arranging a meeting would be difficult.”
At this, Tobirama smiles secretively. “I have an in,” he assures. “With your blessing, I will send a missive to arrange an appointment with the clan heir and hopefully convince him to bring it up with the others.”
It is time to collect his returns on an investment he made long ago. Nara Shikataro owes him a life debt after all.
“It took me some time to figure out it was you,” Shikataro says, absently pouring the deep, herbal tea into Tobirama’s cup. He appears far more preoccupied with studying the Senju heir in his full formal attire as is befitting of both their stations while they’re meeting out in public, gaze lingering on the clan symbol stitched onto the sleeves of Tobirama’s haori. “I’m assuming you knew exactly who you were saving.”
“I had my suspicions,” Tobirama says, neither confirming nor denying, surreptitiously observing the private room they’re occupying in one of the fancier teahouses close to the University where Shikataro is a student of both political science and logic. “What gave away my identity?”
“You mean other than the multitude of clues you left me during our interaction? It was hearing of your clan’s blood replenishing pills that sealed the deal, so to speak.” Shikataro lifts his cup to his mouth. “Of course, I’m more curious about why you wanted to be found.”
There’s no use pretending Tobirama’s intentions haven’t been perceived correctly. He appreciates how straightforward dealings are made as a result of the Nara clan’s discerning nature. “It’d be foolish to give up a possible advantage,” he says honestly.
Shikataro’s lips quirk into a mirthless smile. “Have you come to collect your dues, Senju-dono?”
Shinobi don’t observe the traditions surrounding life debts as seriously as samurai do. They do not tie themselves down to notions of honour when secrets and subterfuge are how they earn their coin. Some clans might if they don’t incur too much of a loss, if only to come off as more appealing to civilian clientele who find such ideas chivalrous and romantic.
If Tobirama shoots too far here, he’ll miss the mark entirely and waste a golden opportunity. “I have a proposal,” he says after a moment. “I only ask that you hear me out in full and consider it seriously. If you find it amenable, then I would request your aid in bringing it up with your Clan Head Regent.”
Arching a brow, Shikataro cocks his head, half-lidded eyes unreadable. “Let’s hear it then.”
“A settlement housing several clans and civilian-born shinobi under a stratocratic government,” Tobirama says promptly. He has learned the hard way that it is important to keep a Nara on their toes and interested if one wishes to hold any sort of productive conversation with them. If Shikataro decides he’s too bored to put up with the trouble, Konohagakure will pre-emptively be done for.
The Nara heir straightens out of his slouch and stares at Tobirama for several beats, dark green eyes nonplussed as though waiting for the punchline to a joke. When none comes, he slumps at the table and decisively pronounces, “You’re insane.”
Tobirama is not bothered or offended. He’s been on the receiving end of this declaration before. Several times in fact. “It will be peace for all of us,” he says calmly. “We can pool resources, take on larger contracts, engage in more profitable trade, protect ourselves and our children better, and also give more options to them for their futures.”
“There’s just…so many problems with that,” Shikataro says, looking a little wild in the face of Tobirama’s unperturbed reaction. “The Daimyo would think we’re banding together to overthrow him and have us eradicated the second he finds out.”
“Not if we approach him with the idea ourselves first and spin the proposal into a dedicated military settlement.”
“A private army?” Shikataro manages to sound even more incredulous. “Why in the spirits’ name would he agree to that? He already has an army.”
“Because he wouldn’t need to funnel as many resources into maintaining us. We’d be engaged in private trading of services in addition to working for him. In fact, he could actually tax us. It’d be a much more profitable investment from his perspective,” Tobirama explains. “If the settlement is well structured enough, it would also be more difficult for outside influences to infiltrate with ulterior motives which would ensure loyalty to the Daimyo’s cause. If he plays his cards right, he wouldn’t have to worry about any of his competitors in the capital consolidating their power against him via military means.”
Shikataro lips press into a thin line. “You’ve given this a lot of thought,” he observes. “I had no idea the Senju were so ambitious.”
Tobirama waves his hand carelessly. “I told you I saw no logic in the continued in-fighting of our community.”
“Community,” Shikataro repeats, snorting. Fair enough. It certainly is a very generous way to describe the shinobi scene of the country. “How will you even get old enemies to agree to living alongside each other? It’d be like if I ask you to make peace with the Uchiha.”
Tobirama’s mouth quirks at the irony and he says, “We’re already on the path to achieving that.”
Eyebrows rising, the Nara heir remarks dryly, “Well, you sure are full of surprises, aren’t you, Senju-dono?”
“Obviously we can’t force anyone to accepting the proposal. I am aware that it sounds…outlandish, I suppose would be the word. That said, it’s not as though the idea is completely unprecedented.” At this, Tobirama looks pointedly at the other man who seems to catch onto the implication.
Sighing, Shikataro tugs irritably at his ponytail, paying no mind to the way he accidentally dislodges the silver hair beads gleaming in between strands of dark hair. “Even so, it’s not like the Nara, Yamanaka and Akimichi live together.”
“The clans could continue to live in privately owned compounds on the shared lands,” Tobirama says. “It’d just be within a closer distance to one another, and there’d be the choice to leave for those who’d like to do so while staying living close enough to family. Uzushio has been operating under a similar system for several centuries already.”
Shikataro looks put out by the quick counter to each of his rebuttals. “Any other arguments you’ve got prepared in your pocket?” he asks sarcastically.
“Alliances between clans would be more easily made with the proximity, allowing for strengthened bloodline limits,” Tobirama responds immediately, just to be annoying.
As expected, it works. Shikataro grunts dispassionately and gives up all pretence of dignity to bury his face in his hands and grumble, “Troublesome. So, so troublesome. I should’ve just stayed dead.” Tobirama rolls his eyes openly at the theatrics of that but lets the man have his mental breakdown in relative peace. Finally, the Nara heir emerges with a vindictive glare made all the more pronounced by the fact that he has managed to smudge the kohl lining his eyes. “Do you have a written proposal?”
Wordlessly, Tobirama retrieves the scroll from his sleeve and hands it over.
“I still think you’re kind of crazy for this,” Shikataro says, “but some of what you’re saying has merit and deserves to at least be considered. I will consult with my mother and our allies and send word with their decision. Is that all you wished to ask of me, Senju-dono?”
“Yes. Thank you for your time, Nara-dono.”
Shikataro makes a motion as if physically swatting the perfunctory gratitude away. “Can I interest you in a game of go? You mentioned a preference if I remember correctly?”
“You do remember correctly. I’d be happy to play a round.”
“Good. I’ve got some new strategies I’ve been meaning to try.”
“Oh?” Tobirama’s mouth curls into a sharp smile. “Do your worst.”
Shikataro smiles back, all teeth. “I intend to.”
Dear Senju Hashirama
Head of the Senju Clan,
I am writing in response to the very fascinating proposal you sent me recently. I must admit that I was surprised by the novelty of the idea you presented and could not imagine how something so unheard of could come to pass. However, the further I got in reading the project outline you provided, the more intrigued I found myself. Certainly, if you manage to pull such a scheme off, it will be a modern-day marvel to behold.
That said, I am sure you will understand that I am still hesitant to accept such an offer outright. If you could kindly let me know when you are available, I would be interested to meet with you personally so as to have my concerns addressed more directly.
I hope this letter finds you and yours well and will be looking forward to hearing back from you.
Best wishes,
Sarutobi Sasuke
Head of the Sarutobi Clan
“The Sarutobi and Yashogoro have both expressed interest in hearing more,” Hashirama reports, sounding disbelieving. “It’s not an outright rejection. They’re really considering this,” he whispers as though in awe.
“The Ino-Shika-Cho alliance have agreed to let us mention their conditional support for when we write to the Daimyo for his permission,” Tobirama reports, smiling slightly at the wonder on his brother’s face. “They would like to meet with you first though to discuss the terms.”
Hashirama nods immediately. “Of course. I will likely see them when I travel to the capital for the Daimyo’s summer festival in a few days, but it might be better to arrange a separate, dedicated meeting where we will not have to worry about being found out prematurely. Send them an invitation for the reception luncheon. We’ll have all of them gather together so everyone can get familiar and see that cooperation isn’t as far away as they believe.”
Tobirama dips his head in acknowledgment but questions, “Will Mito-hime be alright with you busying yourself with your guests during your wedding reception?”
Immediately, a smitten smile overtakes Hashirama’s face, his eyes going out of focus at the mere mention of his fiancée. He looks absolutely foolish. “It was her idea,” he informs giddily, his words practically dripping honey. “She said she’d like to meet the people she could possibly come to live alongside, especially since the Uzumaki have expressed interest in inhabiting the village as well.”
That’s new. The only Uzushio natives who had lived in Konoha in Tobirama’s previous experience had been those of Mito’s personal entourage. They hadn’t wanted to influence the extremely fragile truce between the Uchiha and Senju at first, and later on had faced too much contention from Water and Waves to risk sending out potential migrants who could be attacked while making the trip. Perhaps the timing serves them better now.
“I wasn’t aware you asked them,” he says.
Hashirama hums. “I wrote to them while you were at the capital to meet the Nara heir.” With a sidelong glance, he adds, “I also wrote to your grandmother.”
Tobirama’s eyebrows shoot up before he can stop them. Communication with the Hatake is usually left up to Tobirama given their relationship is…complicated at best with Hashirama in light of everything else. “You certainly are taking initiative.”
Assuming a lopsided smile at that, Hashirama makes a helpless sort of gesture and says, “I can’t help it! We’re receiving far more positive responses than I had ever dared to hope for—you’ll forgive that it excites me to see people actually considering my childhood dream. Even if they decide a village is too farfetched, I am hopeful we may at least ally ourselves with one another. That alone would be more than enough.” Pausing, he sheepishly adds, “I fear I may be getting a bit greedy.”
“Perhaps,” Tobirama smiles back, “but I hardly think that’s a bad thing.”
The happiness streaking through Hashirama’s chakra is so palpable, it’s like basking in the summer sun. Everyone in their vicinity must be able to feel it. He approaches and takes Tobirama’s hands in his own, squeezing as he says intently, “It’s all thanks to you, Tora. Without your help, my dream would be so much further away, when today, it feels so close that I could reach out and touch it.”
Tobirama looks away from the sincerity in the depths of his brother’s onyx-like eyes. “You need not thank me. It would’ve come to pass one way or the other, anija.”
“I couldn’t do it without you,” Hashirama refutes. Softer, almost like a confession, “I wouldn’t want to do it without you. I much prefer things as they are.”
Turning his hands in Hashirama’s, feeling as though his heart is ballooning in his chest, Tobirama squeezes back and admits, “Me too.”
Hashirama’s smiles fades into a curious expression. “I’ve been wondering though—when did you draw up such a thorough proposal? Even Sarutobi Sasuke was impressed by the concept outline you provided. I had no idea you were so prepared for all this.”
Tobirama shrugs noncommittally. “I’ve been drawing up plans in my free time,” he answers vaguely.
“Really?” Hashirama probes, looking even more intrigued. “What kind of plans?” His eyes widen with excitement. “Plans for a village layout? Or are they more for bureaucracy?”
Retracting his hands, Tobirama carefully steps away before his brother’s tentacle-like hugging can make a reappearance. “Both,” he answers shortly. He has been so occupied with everything else that the village plans are elementary at best. They will require far more detail before they’re acceptable by his standards. He hedges, “They’re not very in depth yet.”
It’s like Hashirama can’t even hear him past his delighted gasp. “May I see?” he asks eagerly.
“They’re incomplete,” Tobirama emphasises more pointedly.
Hashirama pushes ahead insistently anyways, “I’d still love to take a look. You always have such clever ideas.” He practically has stars in his eyes; Tobirama dutifully refuses to look at them directly. “I want to see what your vision of the village is like. Won’t you share with your anija?”
How dare he attempt such blatant manipulations? Tobirama glares mutinously only to be met by Hashirama’s wide eyes blinking imploringly.
One heartbeat. Two. Three.
Tobirama makes an exasperated noise and closes his eyes. “Fine,” he relents.
“Wonderful!” Hashirama cheers, clapping his hands together, beaming. “What a kind and talented little brother I have. The most generous of stars must have written my fortune.”
Grunting, Tobirama turns away to hide the blood rushing to his face in mortified response to his brother’s sappy earnestness. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Eh, why not? Tora, are you mad at me?”
“Be quiet, anija.”
“What did I do now?”
As is customary each summer, the Daimyo hosts a large festival to pray for the gods’ protection from any disasters and pests that may affect the approaching harvest season. All the major players of the Daimyo’s court are in attendance. Naturally, Izuna is one of them, attending in his brother’s stead as he always does.
The day’s events have winded down to conclude with a celebratory banquet at the Daimyo’s main residence. Izuna has spent much of his evening milling about the crowds, reconnecting with old contacts and charming new ones. He’s secured three meeting with other nobles, one with an up-and-coming merchant, and politely turned down two offers for a marriage alliance. It has shaped up to be a very fruitful evening indeed.
Deciding that he has more than earned a break, Izuna winds around the room towards the back where he will be able to hide between the wall and one of the large decorative columns lining the room, preferably right by a window that he can open. Izuna’s alcohol tolerance is near legendary, but he has had to participate in so many toasts that even he is starting to feel a little buzzed. Combined with the weight of the heavy silks he is donning, Izuna is desperate for a sliver of fresh air.
He slips into one of the little alcoves half hidden behind a heavy curtain and finally lets his shoulders drop, allowing himself to lean against the window at his back and pulling the hair away from his nape, careful not to mess with the beads and rings that had been braided into the half-up-half-down hairstyle.
It is by chance that he happens to catch glimpse of a very interesting collection of people clustered together by the far-left wall of the room. Izuna frowns as he watches them. What could have brought together the clan heads of the Akimichi, Yamanaka, Sarutobi, and Senju clans? They certainly look to be deeply invested in whatever they’re whispering about, heads bent together. How conspicuous.
He is just about to activate his sharingan so he can read their lips when he is startled by the curtain being pulled back to expose his little hiding place. The young man holding the curtain somehow looks even more caught off guard, mouth falling open as he lets out a surprised, “Oh!”
Izuna recovers first, immediately straightening with a polite smile as he greets, “Good evening, Nara-dono.”
Nara Shikataro’s shoulders fall by a fraction from where they’d been bunched by his ears as he exhales slowly and nods back. “Uchiha-dono,” he greets quietly. “Would you mind if I join you?”
“Uh, sure,” Izuna says, watching wearily as Shikataro crams himself into the space beside him before his full response has even left his mouth. “Looking for some reprieve?” he poses drily.
Shikataro snorts inelegantly and collapses against the window, seemingly uncaring of how he’s creasing his nice, forest green kimono that has obviously been chosen to match his eyes. “I’m surprised to find you here. Usually, you’re of the rather…” he trails off, searching for the right word.
Or, more likely, searching for the polite word.
Izuna lifts an eyebrow and supplies, “Social sort?”
“Exactly,” Shikataro says, nodding along. He has managed to knock his hairpin askew in his attempt to brush his bangs out of his face, but Izuna doesn’t bother to tell him. He probably doesn’t care enough to fix it anyways, and most people at the banquet are already too drunk to notice.
Barely refraining from outright rolling his eyes, Izuna says, “Even I must find time to catch my breath, Nara-dono.”
Waving his hand, Shikataro says flippantly, “You don’t have to be so formal with me. We’re of an age, and it’s not as though we’re strangers.”
They certainly aren’t close either considering they’ve only ever interacted in passing at events like this. Izuna’s smile becomes a bit fixed, but he acquiesces, “Nara-kun, then.” Shikataro squints his eyes at him but doesn’t push any further. Izuna changes the subject. “I see you aren’t with your usual circle either.”
“I take it you aren’t referring to my colleagues from the University,” Shikataro comments wryly. He’s infamously unsociable after all. Naturally, Izuna is mining on information about the other two-thirds of the Ino-Shika-Cho trio. “They’re over there,” he says, nodding to where the group of clan heads still appear to be deep in conversation, all of them watching Senju Hashirama with rapt attention.
“And you’re not with them.”
Regarding him with a sideways glance, Shikataro inclines his head. “They’re talking about things I already know. No point in rehashing knowledge I heard straight from the source.”
“The source?” Izuna repeats curiously.
“Senju Tobirama.”
Well, Izuna is certainly interested now. What scheme is that rival of his cooking up now? “I wasn’t aware you knew each other,” he says instead of asking outright. He doubts a Nara of all people would be absent-minded enough to give away that kind of information for free.
“We only formally met each other recently at his request,” Shikataro reveals in a measured tone.
Interesting word choice. “So, you’ve met before informally.”
“He saved my life,” the Nara admits, “but neither of us was fully aware of the other’s identity at the time.” After a pause, he continues, “He certainly has interesting things to say. And he’s excellent at strategy games.”
There’s something openly fascinated and amused about his countenance that sets Izuna’s teeth on edge and makes his palms itch for something to sink his nails into. Suddenly, he wants for nothing more than to be done with this conversation so he can go home.
Alas, there is clearly something afoot that the Uchiha will probably benefit from knowing, so Izuna bites the inside of his teeth and swallows down the irritation that crops up in response to Shikataro’s seeming familiar tone when referring to Tobirama. For one, it’s inappropriate in polite company. Besides, where does this guy get off to, talking to Izuna about his rival like he and Tobirama haven’t quite literally grown up opposite each other?
Focus, Izuna.
Tobirama met with Shikataro and told him something that is now being discussed by the heads of several big name clans who are all clearly gathered around Hashirama. Nothing bad, but definitely something new and complicated if their faces and body language are anything to go by. Yamanaka Inoue looks amused while Akimichi Chosuke looks to be quietly approving.
“Something collaborative?” Izuna muses aloud, studying the way they all stand relatively closely. He blinks, and asks, “An alliance?”
“Of sorts,” Shikataro answers evasively. “Tobirama-kun said that the Senju and Uchiha are close to making peace.”
They’re on first name basis? And how much did Tobirama go and reveal to this totally unrelated person during their first official meeting? Did he hit his head somewhere and lose all tact or what? Izuna’s mouth presses into a thin line, displeased.
“We are,” he says shortly in response to the not-question.
Shikataro hums and turns a contemplative eye towards him. “I imagine you’ll find out soon enough then.” Shrugging, he adds, “It’s nothing official yet anyways. Just an idea.”
How annoying. Izuna hates being kept in the dark. He turns back to watch the clan heads as they appear to be wrapping up their conversation. Sarutobi Sasuke claps Hashirama on the shoulder with a grin as Akimichi Chosuke shakes the Senju’s hand.
“Must be some idea,” Izuna comments.
The Nara has the audacity to laugh. “You have no clue.”