Fuubutsushi
***
“For, after all, you do grow up, you do outgrow your ideals, which turn to dust and ashes, which are shattered into fragments; and if you have no other life, you just have to build one up out of these fragments. And all the time your soul is craving and longing for something else. And in vain does the dreamer rummage about in his old dreams, raking them over as though they were a heap of cinders, looking in these cinders for some spark, however tiny, to fan it into a flame so as to warm his chilled blood by it and revive in it all that he held so dear before, all that touched his heart, that made his blood course through his veins, that drew tears from his eyes, and that so splendidly deceived him!”
Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights and Other Stories
***
It had taken months, months, to track down the current area the Hatake were occupying. And they were still nowhere near finding the Hatake themselves.
The White Wolves of the mountains didn’t tend to stay in one place for long and they were long practiced at hiding their tracks.
And the Namikaze didn’t specialize in tracking.
No, Mina sighed. They specialized in being idealistic fools.
They nearly turned back when they saw the fire, had actually started back when the eruption had taken place, and as they’d watched the dark cloud settle over the Land of Fire, Namikaze Mina had felt something heavy settle over her heart.
The enemy Madara and Hashirama had spoken of was here.
“Oh god,” Kenzo hadn’t bothered to hide his terror. Her sweet husband was a skilled shinobi, but he was far more valuable as a good man, and his kind, open nature had endeared him to her clansmen quickly.
The rest of the Namikaze, all thirty-two of them, had refused to stay behind when Mina made the impulsive decision to abandon their mission and find the Hatake. Harring off on nothing but instinct and the barest chance that Madara and Hashirama were telling the truth.
That their promise was going to be worth all the sacrifice and pain that was going to come first.
Mina could take a lot if it meant giving her clansmen a chance at a better life.
When they’d watched those dark clouds settle over the Land of Fire, reaching far north enough to put them in darkness for two days here in the Land of Snow, Mina had known without a doubt that something in the world was shifting and Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama were right in the middle of it.
A wise leader probably would have run. Had taken her people to the farthest part of the world she could and waited for it to pass…
Instead, Mina started climbing a mountain, and her people followed her.
Now they had cleared two of the highest peaks in the range and spent two months just looking for the Hatake and they’d found nothing.
Their food was dwindling, their clothes were beginning to give way to the constant cold, and Mina was at her wit’s end.
The Hatake had withdrawn from the shinobi clans of the Land of Fire, from the world really, decades ago, but it hadn’t been the full-on exile of the past ten years until its current head had come to power.
Hatake Gintoki had only been fifteen when his clan leader and mentor had died during a short war with the Land of Iron. Gintoki had made a name for himself, avenging him. The samurai had called him ‘Shiroyasha’ first, but it had quickly been taken up by the shinobi as well.
The young head of the Hatake had then made another name for himself, Yokai Lover, immediately after the war had ended (in a loss for the shinobi side) by taking in a band of half-yokai samurai that had been forced out of their homes by the war.
When he’d refused the Daimyo’s order to kill them all and instead left the Land of Fire, the Hatake had basically been stripped of any status that might have remained. They wouldn’t be able to return to Fire without significant political allies that could speak on their behalf.
Apparently, Madara and Hashirama thought they had enough clout between the two of them to do it.
If the Hatake even wanted to come back, Mina mused.
She stopped and took a deep breath, letting the cold air settle into her lungs.
Lightning struck the tree twenty feet in front of her.
Kenzo was at her side instantly as the rest of the Namikaze shoved the handful of civilians and children in the center of a small defensive circle.
“Looking for anything interesting?” A ninja with hair as white as his robes appeared in a flash of lightning.
“Depends. I’m looking for a friend that might let us come in from the cold.”
The ninja scratched his ear, looking bored. “Why would he do that?”
“Because I have a…proposition to share.”
“The Namikase aren’t really in a position to make propositions to anyone, are they? Did I miss some big news?”
Clearly not, Mina thought. “This proposition is from the Sakura Alliance.”
***
An hour later, seated around a warm fire, Hatake Gintoki was still blinking at her stupidly.
One of his clansmen, a dark-haired young man with a samurai’s katana on his hip and who’d been introduced by a bellowed, “Hijikata!”, seemed slightly quicker on the pickup.
“So this alliance is between the Senju and the Uchiha after kami know how many decades of war to fight the immortal moon goddess from a children’s story, and they want the Namikaze, who are a hair’s breadth from annihilation, and us, who have already been exiled, to join them in a shinobi village that may or may not be independent of the capitol?” Hijikata summarized.
Mina nodded and took another gulp of steaming tea.
The rest of the Hatake close enough to overhear, a split of white haired shinobi and dark haired half-yokai, were staring at her with the same wide eyes as their clan leader.
“There’s no way that’s going to work,” Gin stated, his clansmen nodding in agreement.
“It is unlikely,” Mina agreed.
“But you’re going to do it anyway?” Hijikata clarified.
“Yes. My entire clan will be heading directly there after this.”
“Why the fuck-”
“Because I could not deny them the chance that it would work.” Mina smiled softly, sadly. “It is merely a chance. A miniscule one, but it is, still a chance for a better life for them. Even if the clans fade away, my people will be safe. And a part of something great. Is that not worth the chance?”
***
Tobirama does not like apologizing. He doesn’t often have to do it, as he takes it as seriously as he does everything else and he doesn’t waste apologies on small things, no matter how often Hashirama insists soothing wounded egos is worthwhile.
It galls him to have to apologize to Madara.
Made even worse by Aiko’s own refusal to do so. As well as her refusal to apologize to Tobirama.
He’s still a little confused at how she’s the victim in all of this, but she’d certainly believed so. To the point where she’d been outright rude to Madara as she stormed out, assuring Tobirama she would be awaiting her apology with her family.
She’d even clipped Madara with her shoulder in the doorway. He’d looked as startled as Tobirama, though he’d left without maiming anyone.
He’d actually left silently.
Which was somehow more terrifying.
A strong part of Tobirama wanted to go back to bed and deal with it all in the morning. But Madara, by his own admittance, was not a forgiving man, and letting it fester would only make the fire burn hotter.
He found the Uchiha on the back engawa. The Kyuubi sprawled across his lap as the Great Calamity stared up at the patchy clouds and the stars just beginning to peak through the ash.
It would have assuaged some of Tobirama’s nerves to see a bottle of sake with him.
Or to have the fox somewhere else.
He’s taken to tracking the demon because a feeling of demonic evil has been following him around, and he keeps thinking he sees golden eyes in the shadows when he’s alone.
The damn thing’s going to kill him, he’s sure, but Hashirama keeps brushing off his concerns. Assures him that Kurama won’t harm him at all, too loyal to Madara.
Even now it purrs under Madara’s hand, golden eyes mere slits where they peered out at the Senju.
It's the first time in a long time that he actually needs to screw up his courage. He still does not like dealing with Madara one-on-one, despite having given up much of the animosity he’d held before all this.
“You can sit down,” Madara didn’t look over as he spoke. “Or I can leave…if you would like space to yourself.”
“That would defeat the entire purpose of my presence,” Tobirama admitted, shuffling over as Madara’s head whipped around.
He looked…oddly surprised. Eyes wide in a way Tobirama had only seen rarely when Hashirama had done something truly shocking, which isn’t often anymore since he’s set the bar so high already, or when Hashirama waxed poetic about what he loved about Madara.
Which, thankfully, never went on for long because Madara seemed to have a short fuse for going from embarrassed to angry to physically violent. If he didn’t think Hashirama absolutely deserved it, he’d be worried about his safety.
He folds into seiza as far away as socially acceptable but still within the bounds of polite society.
“So…that was your…partner.”
Tobirama thought he set the record for looking awkward when talking about personal relationships, but Madara, he’s relieved to see, is far worse. “Yes. Likely my wife before long.”
“Oh…why?”
“Why?”
“What do you like about her?”
Is this a marriage interview? “She is responsible, attractive…intelligent. She will make a good mother.”
Madara squeaks. “She’s pregnant?”
“No, not yet. But soon.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve put it off for too long.”
“Marriage? Even Hashirama isn’t married yet.”
“Children. I’ve put children off, Madara. I am old by shinobi standards.”
He turned wry, “Doesn’t that make me ancient?”
Tobirama allowed himself a smirk, “Your words.”
Madara actually laughed at that, but he turned somber again quickly. “I would like children,” he mussed, “And marriage.” He glanced at Tobirama.
Tobirama knew that look. It was the same look Hashirama got when he wanted to say something there was a good chance Tobirama wouldn’t want to hear. God, had they spent so much time together that they’d started to resemble one another unintentionally? “Spit it out.”
It’s painfully obvious Madara is being very careful with his words. “Marriage and children are a wonderful dream…but one is not necessarily good justification for the other.”
And he’s not…wrong…which is still annoying, but Hashirama keeps telling him to give the man a chance. And Hashirama loves Madara so much. So unconditionally.
So. Much. Love.
So he tries to find the words himself. “I would like to have time to raise my children.”
The Kyuubi peers up at them, lips twisted in derision. “Offspring are no small matter, amoeba.”
The demon still makes him shake, even when he’s purring in Madara’s lap.
“Root Brain hasn’t even spread yet.” He hisses from under Madara’s fingers.
He does seem oddly loyal to the Uchiha Clan Leader, which, if this was before all the madness, Tobirama would be far more curious about. Right now, it doesn’t make his top ten.
Madara pulls one of the fox’s tails until he squeaks. “There’s no rush.”
Tobirama snorted, “Until there’s a new threat. Or another war.”
“The horizon will always be there until it isn’t.” Madara looks thoughtful, which is a new look for him that Tobirama isn’t quite sure how to take.
The Uchiha are so emotional, irrational and illogical and impulsive, Madara especially. To see him still is odd enough. To see his mind working behind those obsidian eyes is…
Well, it’s honestly terrifying.
Terrifying and something else Tobirama isn’t ready to face. Can’t even believe is begging to take root. Or be possible.
Ugh, he's starting to respect Madara.
What the fuck is happening to him?
“Do you love her?”
The question startles him, but not nearly as much as it seems to startle Madara. Kurama grumbled something under his breath and bit Madara’s hand hard enough to draw blood.
“I….”
Does he love Aiko? He had assumed so. They had been together so long, longer than he had spent with anyone else, and she was the most fitting for the partner of a clan heir that he’d been with so far.
Even the Senju elders had liked the match.
Maybe that should have been a sign.
“I do love her,” Tobirama says slowly and doesn’t add the idea of her. Which is probably more accurate.
He’s too lost in his thoughts to catch the brief flash of something across Madara’s face.
After a moment of awkward silence, Madara offers, “I would like to be married.”
“To have children?” Love is a fantasy for a shinobi, Tobirama believes, but family is not.
“I have a child,” Madara shrugs. “But I would not mind more.”
Tobirama’s mind goes blank.
Madara has a child?
That’s not possible. Senju intelligence would have known.
Hashirama would have known, but he would not have been able to keep that secret.
“You have…a child?”
Now Madara is looking at Tobirama like he’s the stupid one. “Kagami.”
“Kagami? Kagami is your son?” Tobirama knew Madara had taken him in after his grandfather had died. He hadn’t realized Madara was his biological father. “Wait, why was he staying with his grandfather then?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“But… you are his father? Were you not with his mother?”
“What! I was never with Kagami’s mother! I don’t like women!” There’s a vicious blush tearing across Madara’s face at the admission, but Tobirama is too distracted to take note.
“Then how did you have Kagami?”
“What- I…” Madara looks utterly lost, but then his face clears, “Ah, I think…No, so, in the Uchiha, when a child is taken in, there is no distinction between blood. Kagami is mine as much as he was his parents.”
“So you’re not his…biological father?”
“Not by the Senju definition, but I am his father. He is my son.”
“Huh,” Tobirama files it away, another fact to examine later about the convoluted traditions of the Uchiha, but one he doesn’t have the energy for at the moment.
It’s amusing in a way that Tobirama can’t seem to have a conversation with Madara that doesn’t end up embarrassing one or both of them, and it’s not even on purpose.
“I would like more children,” Madara says, watching Tobirama like he’s waiting for something.
“I would like more than one,” Tobirama agreed. Four. He’d always dreamed of four, but he’d never said it out loud. “And they will call me something other than Snowflake.”
“I would hope they would call you father,” Madara snorted. “Wait, you don’t like Snowflake?”
Tobirama raised an eyebrow, “Seriously? I am the opposite of overly emotional, Uchiha.”
Madara’s face did something complicated.
Actually, it did several complicated things before settling on something that looked kind of like amusement and kind of like resignation. “That is not why they call you that, Tobirama.”
Thrown by Madara’s use of his name, Tobirama flushed. “Then why? Half your damn Uchiha probably think it’s my actual name.”
“Ur, well…” Madara stumbles over his words for a moment before he manages to find himself. “W-we use those names to display deep affection. We call you Snowflake because every snowflake is unique, a thousand different faces for a thousand techniques, and while alone they are mediocre, together they are deadly. You are an avalanche in human form, Tobirama. The Great White Death that nothing escapes. It is meant to celebrate your brilliance.”
“That’s…abstract…”Tobirama muttered, unable to say anything else and blushing terribly.
“Do you want to fall in love?” The question bursts out of Madara, impulsive as always.
Tobirama scoffs, “Romantic love is not realistic. Not for shinobi.”
“Not for shinobi or not for you?”
Tobirama’s gaze snapped to him. It was a surprisingly insightful question.
Maybe he should stop underestimating Madara? He wasn’t sure why he still did; it was some leftover anger, maybe? Tobirama was only human, no matter how hard he tried to be more.
Still, it’s a question he does not want to answer.
Tobirama swiftly stood, the urge to run thrumming in his veins .“I apologize for bothering you. I only wanted to apologize for what happened with Aiko. And with …the fox.”
Madara reached for him, but Tobirama stepped away. “Tobirama, wait-”
“I only meant to be kind. I’m sorry for bothering you. Have a good night.” He fled before Madara could get to his feet.
He didn’t make it far, just around the house and out of sight before he stopped to take a series of deep, calming breaths meant to get himself back under control.
Why had he run? Madara had done nothing but ask a simple question, and Tobirama fled like a child who’d broken something valuable.
Perhaps there was a reason Hashirama called Madara ‘Dear Heart.’ Maybe the Great Calamity had one beating in his chest, after all.
He glanced back around the corner of the house. Madara hadn’t moved; she was still seated in the same place, bent over with his face buried in Kurama’s fur.
***
“Stupid boy,” Kurama murmured, “Why did you ask when you knew the answer?”
***
Tobirama flees.
***
“…Is that…”
“They were speaking the same language, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And they both speak this language fluently, yes?”
“Apparently.”
“Men are morons,” Behito decides. She had her heart broken in her teenage years, and she’s been against the institution ever since.
Nadeshinko snorted into her tea as Mito banged her head gently against the table.
By sheer luck, they’d been having a quiet tea and catching up in the living room on the opposite wall of the engawa when Madara had appeared.
By now, all three of them had grown used to his nighttime sojourns; half the time, he was too distracted or too asleep to notice them, and they let him be.
Tobirama had never joined him on the engawa before, so all three had fallen silent when he’d shown up and plastered themselves to the window to watch.
“I have never seen two people have the same conversation and hear two such different things.” Mito groaned.
“They’re going to die hopeless and alone,” Nadeshinko muttered.
“We should not let them write any of the treaties,” Behito scowled. “Are you certain Madara loves him? Perhaps your romantic streak was confounding you?”
“No,” Mito sighed, “You can see it when you watch him closely, especially if Tobirama is nearby. And all the Uchiha know it. Haven’t you noticed them talking about how great Madara is whenever Tobirama is in earshot?”
“They have seemed rather desperate lately,” Behito admitted. “The night of the dance was particularly pathetic.”
“Maybe someone should just tell him?” Naedshinko mused. “Hikaku did not understand any of my hints until I said it clearly to his face.”
“And he picked Sana instead of you.”
Nadeshinko scowled at her sister. “I am aware, thank you, but that only proves my point.”
“Tobirama will immediately refuse if anyone says anything.” Mito sighed. “He needs to come around by himself.”
“I can’t believe the one you picked is the more intelligent one,” Behito muttered.
“On both counts,” Nadeshinko snorted.
“Hashirama and Izuna are quite brilliant in their own unique ways,” Mito sniffed, “And Madara and Tobirama are the same. Emotions simply have a way of clouding one’s judgment for a time. I am certain they will figure it out eventually.”
“What if Tobirama doesn’t love Madara?” Nadeshinko mussed, still a bit sore about losing Hikaku’s affection for Sana despite her friendship with the other woman.
Mito winced, “Let us deal with that only if it comes.”
***
Madara is a weak, petty, angry man. He knows this. It’s why he’s in this exact situation.
There is no other explanation other than all his failures in that first life and the ones that followed.
He is angry because he still does not know if he’s done enough to keep his people safe.
He is petty because a part of him still wants to burn the world down to spite them all.
He is weak because he could not help himself and entertained the fantasy that Tobirama felt something, anything, for him.
Kurama is right. He should have known better than to think a mere moment of weakness in Tobirama’s relationship with the kunoichi could have meant something for Madara.
But he couldn’t help himself. For one mad moment, he forgot that this life, all these lives, are his punishment.
Madara is not meant to be happy.
Not in that way, at least. Because he has found happiness in other ways. In his soul-deep friendship with Hashirama, with Izuna alive and his clan safe. Even Mito, the wily princess, is on the cusp of becoming a beloved friend. Their closest allies, who have stood beside the Uchiha for so long, the Aburame and Inuzuka, are here and ready for what the future holds.
He has a son. Little Kagami who was so important and so easily forgotten in that first life. Who’s friendship was so strong that it broke the other half entirely when he died and led to such horrible things.
It reminds him to keep an eye out for the Sarutobi in the next few years.
Madara already has so much more than he had in that first life. So much to be thankful for.
He goes back to his room, not eager for someone to stumble upon him crying, and lets Kurama curl up under his chin.
He could fall asleep, haunted by the memory of Tobirama sitting next to him, illuminated by the weak moonlight.
They were all still so young in this life. Madara could remember a handful of lifetimes where Tobirama had lived long enough to develop laugh lines, but he never got to see him grow old.
One of them always died first.
Was it weird that Madara wanted to see him with wrinkles? Wanted to see if his turned a normal grey or stayed silver until the end?
The gentle slide of his door alerts him to Kagami, half-asleep, and Hoshi, gently guiding the boy away from running into things as he makes his way to the bed.
He’s had a hard time sleeping through the night since his grandfather gave his blood to the wards and ends up with Madara more often than not. Hoshi, since Moro prefers to stay in the Hantahoru, resides with Madara and keeps an eye on the boy.
She sprawls out next to the futon as Kagami curls up on Madara’s chest, clutching at one of Kurama’s tails.
Their steady heartbeats are enough to lull Madara into a doze, though he can’t quite push Tobirama completely out of his mind.
Before he can fall into a deeper sleep, however, another figure slips in and this one is far less sneaky.
How Hashirama has survived this long as a shinobi is, well, it actually makes sense given his insane power, but the man doesn’t have a sneaky bone in his body.
Madara ignores him until he’s tucked under the blanket next to him.
“Don’t you have your own bed?” With my brother in it, Madara doesn’t add.
“I saw Tobi. I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“I’m always okay.”
“You’re never okay.”
“Shouldn’t you check on your brother? He’ll be upset you didn’t.”
“He’ll be upset if I do.” Hashirama snorted, managing to tuck his arm around Madara, Kagami, and Kurama all at once. “Tobi likes to process things by himself first. If I interrupt, he’ll be upset, and it’ll take longer, but it bothers him when he can’t figure things out quickly. If I don’t, he’ll be hurt, but he’ll figure it out faster. I’ll check on him in the morning.”
That was fair, Madara figured. Izuna tended to figure things out in the middle of a screaming match with Madara.
Madara much preferred Tobirama’s method.
“I prefer Izuna’s method.”
Madara smiled. “Of course you do.”
“It will be alright, Madara.”
“I know.”
“I know you know. I’m just reminding you.”
“Thank you for the reminder, friend.”
“I can literally feel you rolling your eyes,” Hashirama laughed, shaking the entire futon.
Hoshi growled in warning.
“I will be okay, Hashirama.” Madara’s voice was barely a whisper in the darkness. “I have made my peace with it, even if a shred of foolish hope gets me every once and a while.”
Hashirama’s arm tightened, and Madara felt a warm, wet heat against his shoulder.
“You fool. Are you crying over this again?”
“You’re the one making me cry,” Hashirama sniffed, all wounded indignity despite being the one leaving body fluids all over Madara’s favorite sleeping robe. “I don’t like when you are alone.”
“How could I ever be alone when you’re here? And I have Kagami now. And Izuna is-” Madara takes a deep shuddering breath, “Izuna is still here. Even if he is a bit angrier and sadder than before.”
“I didn’t think he could be angrier than he was before,” Hashirama admits.
The urge to comfort Hashirama rises, as it always does since those first days by the Naka. “Izuna has always been comfortable with his anger, do not worry too much.”
“I want Tobirama to have love, too.”
“He loves that woman.”
“He can do better.”
“You say that about anyone he shows interest in.”
“My brother is not made for some mediocre spouse. He deserves someone great, someone who can ignite his mind as much as his body.”
“He deserves whoever he wants, Petal. And that is not me.” These things are so much easier said in the darkness, where Madara cannot see the sadness in his own eyes or Hashirama’s.
The Rinnegan remains oddly silent. She rarely reaches out in Hsahirama’s presence these days.
Madara does not miss her enough to wonder why.
***
The first patrols find exactly what they expect, and Tobirama busies himself, taking their reports to avoid going back to sleep and the silence of his own mind. The vast expanse of the prairie lands of the Land of Fire is now covered in volcanic rock and ash, but vegetation is already beginning to grow through.
All the civilian villages and inns within range were completely destroyed, including the Senju Compound, whose remains are not even visible through the lava rock.
They’ll still have to ration for a year or two, but it won’t be the rationing of the last few months, and if Madara’s hawks can reach the clans outside the prairie land and arrange the purchase of livestock, they’ll be in an okay place.
Depending on how long it takes Hashirama and Madara to decide how to move forward with their village.
The Aburame and the Inuzuka are strongly invested in the idea of the village.
Pack up everything and move invested.
Tobirama is very, very curious to find out how they knew about it.
And he knows one way to find out.
***
“Spill, how did the Uchiha circulate the idea of the village without anyone hearing?” He demands.
Izuna glowers back, “The fuck? It wasn’t us, it was your moron brother!”
“No, it wasn’t! I read every letter Hashirama’s ever sent, and he never even wrote to those two clans.” Tobirama hissed. He was immensely proud and secretive of the method he used to stay appraised of Hashirama’s personal correspondence, and he knew for a fact that Hashirama hadn’t figured it out.
There had been a brief period before all this kicked off that he’d thought Hashirama had found another way to send letters, one that Tobirama hadn’t been aware of, but after seeing him work here in the Uchiha Compound, he’d realized Hashirama hasn’t learned anything. He’d just stopped caring about anyone finding out.
Izuna apparently kept track of Madara in a similar way, with the advantage of the Sharingan. Now they were hidden in Izuna’s office, trying to figure out who both their older brothers weren’t telling them. “If it wasn’t either of our brothers, then who the fuck was it? There’s no one else.”
Tobirama scowled. For all that Hashirama and Madara were making decisions for entire clans, claiming they loved their people and all the others, they were surprisingly exclusionary when it came to their plans.
Or rather, their relationship, Tobirama realized. They were friendly with others, well, Hashirama was…Madara was less so-
Or was he? Was that Tobirama’s prejudice? He certainly seemed close with the Uchiha captains. Maybe it was more accurate to say that Madara had a different style of friendship than Hashirama?
And the friendship between Madara and Hashirama was another unique friendship. One only the two of them were allowed in.
That thought bothered Tobirama a lot less now. Whether it was because he’d grown up in the last few months or he’d just realized that it was childish to be jealous, he wasn’t sure.
Had Izuna felt the same way?
Tobirama studied his counterpart. Izuna still looked tired, but he might never look fully rested again, according to the Uchiha.
No Uchiha survived the loss of their love for very long, according to Yoruichi and Kisuke. Tobirama had been racking his brain to remember a time when they’d seen anything during their battles with the Uchiha, but he couldn’t remember anything that stuck out.
Interestingly enough, he had remembered that the Uchiha losses always tended to be even numbers. Not something would have ever stuck out otherwise.
He was curious about it, but he wasn’t going to ask Izuna. Tobirama could be cruel when he needed to be, but only when needed, not solely for the purpose of his curiosity.
Izuna ran a hand through his hair in frustration and listed sideways until he fell over and sprawled out, “Maybe it was Tsume.”
Tobirama zeroed in, “Why Tsume?” He had lots of questions about Tsume.
Izuna snorted, “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed? She totally in on whatever they’re planning.”
“Which is what?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“You have the Sharingan!”
“And? You have eyes and brain, and you don’t know.”
“I thought the Sharingan let you see memories? Can’t you see any of Madara and Hashirama?”
“The Sharingan can hide memories too, Senju. If Madara convinced it to hide something, none of us would be able to find it.”
Tobirama scowled, “Of course. Your brother just lives to be a pain in my ass.”
Izuna rolled his eyes, “That is one of his life goals.”
“What?”
“What?”
“What did you just-”
“What about Hashirama? You can’t get anything out of him?”
“You’re the one sleeping with him! What about Mito?”
“If she’s figured anything out, she’s keeping quiet.”
Tobirama turned back to his paperwork. “It would be easier to help if they’d just tell us what they’re planning.”
“Maybe they don’t have a plan.”
For a heartstopping second, their eyes met as they considered the horror of Hashirama and Madara haring off with some vague dream and no plan.
“There’s no way,” Tobirama decided, trying to will away the stress inspired by the thought, “Hashirama is overly emotional, but he’s not that stupid.”
Izuna nodded, “Neither is Dara. He’s weirdly obsessed about planning for everything.”
“Really?” Madara went up a bit on Tobirama’s estimation.
“Yeah, throws them all out the window as soon as things kick off, though.”
Never mind, he went back down.
“Are you really against the village?”
Izuna’s question took him by surprise, and he shuffled the papers in his hands as he thought about his answer. He felt no need to be gentle or kind in answering. Everything he’d seen of Izuna said the man was honest to a fault, outside of missions he had little patience for deceiption or lies. He was more focused on the defense of the clan than on expanding their influence or power and seemed to have an easier time ignoring the Elders when he didn’t agree with them.
And he loved causing trouble.
Typical spoiled baby brother.
But he wasn’t the red-eyed demon Tobirama remembered cutting through Tobirama’s soldiers left and right.
He’d tried to crawl into his wife’s funeral pyre…the memory of which made Tobirama’s chest clench.
And he still didn’t know….
Hashirama was right. There was no point in telling him.
“At least Zetsu is gone now. We don’t have to worry about him.” Izuna muttered, moving on when Tobirama didn’t respond.
Tobirama relaxed a fraction. “That’s true.”
“Now we just have to worry about the vultures. You know they’re already circling.”
Tobirama nodded grimly. He’d been stretching out his reach as a sensor now that the chakra-fueled fire was gone, and in the days since the darkness had begun to recede, those outside the disaster area had begun to make tentative explorations, going further in with each day.
They probably had a week or so before anyone came close enough for concern, but the moment someone did, they would be exposed. News of the Aburame and Inuzuka joining them in the Uchiha Compound was guaranteed to make some very powerful people very, very nervous.
There hadn’t been an alliance like this before in the history of shinobi. Sure, there was the triad alliance of the Akimichi and their vassal clans, the Nara and Yamanaka. And the smaller clans of Sarutobi, Shimira, and ==== that had lasted for generations.
But never before had four clans, two of which, the Uchiha and Aburame, were noble clans of significant wealth and landholdings.
Hell, the Uchiha had been the first noble shinobi clan hundreds of years ago. The Hyuga had only gained the same status nearly five decades after.
Now they were sitting on the largest force of shinobi ever gathered in one place, even with the losses they’d suffered over the last few months, and with the Daimyo in the midst of another succession battle, the gathering was guaranteed to make him nervous.
Nervous enough to employ the Imperial Army against them? Probably not. The last time that had been done, it had been an uprising aimed at unseating the then Daimyo, but despite his victory, he’d lost favor with the people for using the army against his own and never recovered it.
But the current Daimyo could be nervous enough to hire other shinobi clans, or even Samurai from the Land of Iron, to deal with them while leaving him the ability to claim ignorance in anything that happened.
They weren’t in enough of a stable position to withstand any kind of attack.
With dawning resignation, Tobirama realized that Hashirama and Madara were going to get their wish.
Their village.
They would need to be dug in and ready to defend against anyone who decided to come after them. Unless they split now before anyone got a good look at the situation and somehow managed to convince the rest of Fire that the co-location had only been temporary…
“We’d never be able to convince them it was temporary,” Izuna interrupted.
Tobirama scowled, annoyed that his thought process lined up with Tobirama’s. “We need to make them move up whatever they’re planning.” He agreed.
***
Izuna snorted as he stood, “If they even have a plan.”
Tobirama followed him out, looking troubled. Izuna wasn’t sure why he was so sure that Madara and Hashirama had an actual plan.
Faith? Maybe?
Delusion? For sure.
Brain damage? Most realistic candidate. Maybe Izuna had hit him to hard one to many times during their battles.
Tobirama was a genius, Izuna would give him that, no arguement. The man was terrifyingly creative when it came to jutsu and nearly perfect when it came to technique. If their fights hadn’t been part of a large war for survival between their clans, he would have enjoyed fighting him just because it was fun.
Unfortunately for Izuma’s entertainment and Madara’s heart, that was not the way life had gone.
Now, Izuna’s concern on the battlefield has become concern for his brother’s heart because he’s not stupid. None of the Sharingan bearers are. Madara might insist to anyone who will listen that he is over his feelings for the Senju’s precious Snowflake, but Madara also never gave up on his friendship with Hashirama, and it has been through far worse than his love for Tobirama.
Izuna is holding out a desperate spark of hope that he’s not going to end up related by marriage to the Ghost himself. It’s buoyed by the fact that Izuna has already married the one person he was ever going to, no matter how often Hashirama and Mito broached the subject.
The pain that rests in his heart every day now makes him want to do something dangerous, something terrible, kill Tobirama before hope ever takes root in his brother’s heart, maybe die in the attempt and save them both from the pain.
But then he thinks about Yoruichi, still in training and not quite ready to take over the clan should something happen to Madara.
About Kagami, who is still reeling from the loss of his grandfather and how terrible it would be to lose his uncle so soon.
About how devestated Hashirama and Mito would be when they go out of their way to find him every night, no matter where he falls into a fitful sleep.
Hikaku, who just had that moment with Senju Sana, of all people, hasn’t stopped smiling like a besotted fool.
Izuna was never that bad, and he ignores the Sharingan stirring in his mind, pushing forward memories of his behavior in the months following that morning in front of the gate, when he’d looked at Midoriko after a lifetime of growing up together and actually seen her.
He’s torn between protecting his brother from the devastation of the loss and the desire to ensure Madara gets a chance to feel that kind of love.
It was already bad enough that Izuna had to hear about his brother’s sex life in the midst of his own because Hashirama is sooooooooooooooooooo concerned and can’t stop bringing it up at every opportunity.
Peace treaty and newfound shared suffering -because he will never, ever use the word friendship in relation to Senju Tobirama- or not, Izuna was not helping the White Ghost get laid.
That is where he drew his line in the sand.
He kicks open the door to Madara’s room and flings himself onto the bed, knowing fully well Madara and Hashirama won’t track a threat in his chakra.
Madara only wakes in time to yank Kagami out of the way before Izuna lands, and Hashirama wakes up with a yelp at the sudden weight of a full adult on top of him.
“Izuna, what the hell?” Madara’s barely awake; he’s getting back into the concerning habit of sleeping hours more than he normally does, and Hashirama’s taken to counting them.
“You assholes need to tell Snowflake and me the plan,” Izuna’s voice is muffled by Hashirama’s armpit.
And then there’s a sharp yelp, and before any of them can react, Tobirama lands on top of them. Mito standing in the doorway with a vicious smirk.
Tobirama, for his part, looks equally surprised, staring at Kagami, held safely in the air by Madara. He’s grinning, thrilled with the morning’s events, but Kurama clutched in his arms, looks less than thrilled to see Tobirama in his space.
Mito lets out a whoop before leaping onto the pile herself.
Izuna doesn’t quite regret all his life choices, but he comes close.
***
It’s the second set of patrols that make first contact.
Uchiha Hikaku, Uchiha Kasumi, and Senju Renji report being flagged down by a pair of Nara shinobi, something that never would have happened last year. On a good day, they would have stayed a polite distance away as they crossed through the same area.
On a bad day, it would have been survival of the fittest.
There’s no barometer to measure these new days yet, so Hikaku decides they might as well start setting one and sends Kasumi and Renji back a few feet as the Nara scouts approach.
They were interested in talking, Hikaku reports. They barely bothered with pleasantries as they handed him the message for Hashirama and Madara, and they’d left immediately after.
“It was odd,” Hikaku noted, “How few questions they asked.”
“The Nara are generally more inquisitive.” Tomoko, the head of Senju Intelligence under Butsuma and one of the few officers to keep their position under Hashirama agrees.
Hashirama and Madara don’t open the letter until they’ve got the Uchiha captains, Tobirama, and the current Senju senior leadership and their equivalents in the Aburame and Inuzuka all gathered in the Hantahoru.
They’re all squished together in the center because Moro is dozing and taking up the other half of the room, and no one has the guts to wake her up and ask her to move.
Hashirama is the one who opens the letter after sending a quick prayer to the heavens, “Please be good news. Please be good news.”
Madara snatched it with a growl and tore it open, eyes flying over the scroll. “They want to meet. They’re sending a team of envoys, the Nara, the Yamanaka, the Shura, the Hyuga, and the Akimichi.”
“All of them?” Tomoko frowned. “The Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi make sense, but the Shura and the Hyuga are not officially allied with them.”
“Or each other,” Uchiha Itachi added.
“Didn’t the Hyuga bring the Nara before the Daimyo last year?” Inuzuka Mayu recalled.
“Yes. The Nara killed the Hyuga Clan Heir during a mission. They claimed he’d been misidentified,” snorts went around the room at Aburame Shina’s comment, “The Daimyo censored them, and they had to pay nearly ten thousand in gold in fines.”
“The Akimichi even got censored when they tried to defend the Nara at court,” Itachi added. “It was quite the event.”
“The last Daimyo to censor a noble clan was his great-great-great grandfather,” Tomoko added. “It was six months before the Akimichi returned to court.”
“Did they reach out to father around then?” Tobirama recalled, and Hashirama nodded.
“Yes, but he refused to get involved.”
“So did I,” Madara mused. “There was no one stupid enough to think the Nara didn’t know who they killed, but we could never find out why they wanted the Hyuga heir dead. Their lands don’t touch. They don’t overlap in the civilian market. Hell, the Hyuga wouldn’t even take a meeting with a lowly vassal clan.” Madara’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
The Inuzuka present snickered.
“That sticks never going to move,” Yoruichi rolled her eyes as she read over Madara’s shoulder.
Someone muttered something about language, but, per usual, Yoruichi and Madara ignored it.
“They’ll be here in two days.” Madara finished with a scowl. “Nice of them to ask when we’re available. And we still haven’t heard anything from the Namikaze or the Hatake.”
Hashirama nodded along as the rest of the room shared confused looks.
Tobirama rubbed his temples, “When did we reach out to the Namikaze or the Hatake?”
Hashirama paled.
Next to him, Madara froze.
“Uh… that was before we were a we.” Hashirama did that thing where he looked everywhere but at Tobirama as Tobirama’s chakra started to rise. A bead of sweat slid down his forehead.
“What else did you do before we were a we?” Aburame Shima sighed.
Madara and Hashirama shared a thoughtful look.
“Well, there was-”
“And the-”
“Oh, yeah, plus the-”
“I forgot about that one. Remember-”
“Right, right-”
“Who wants to shut them up?” Inuzuka Mayu said as she shook her head in amusement.
Hashirama and Madara looked concerned at the amount of hands that went up.
***
Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.
T. S. Eliot
***
~ tbc