You've Been Going Where?
The moment Senju Hashirama stepped foot in his clan compound something seemed amiss. He wasn't exactly sure what it was, no one could ever claim him to be the most observant, but he could tell from the way Tobirama wasn't waiting for him with a scowl asking where he'd been all day; something was off. He'd had a wonderful day at the Naka river with his best friend Madara, skipping rocks and sparring, and the evidence of his good day was plastered on his face in the form of a ridiculous grin.
No one could convince him that emotions were a bad thing, and he wore his heart on his sleeve for the world to see. As he drew closer to his home, however, his grin slipped from his face. His father was waiting for him with his arms crossed and a stern expression.
"Hello, Father. Is something the matter?" His cheerful voice didn't sway his father in the slightest, it only earned him a raised eyebrow and his father turning to point to the door.
"Office. Now." Hashirama would like to say he'd never heard his father take that tone with him, but that would be a lie. It was the same tone his father used whenever he was sick of listening to Hashirama talk about making peace. He did as he was told, shuffling through the house to his father's office. Once he opened the door he saw his little brother, Tobirama, and the bad mood weighing his shoulders down lifted slightly.
"Tobes!" He cried cheerfully, and tried to catch the younger boy in a hug that was expertly dodged. Their father came into the room before Tobirama could respond.
"Both of you sit. Now." Butsuma's tone had them both obeying without question.
"Hashirama, you've been spending a lot of time outside the compound the past couple weeks. Would you like to explain where you've been disappearing to or what you've been up to?"
Hashirama grinned easily, "I've been going to the Naka river to skip rocks!"
"Mm. So it would seem. Have you met anyone there recently?"
That question gave Hashirama a moment of pause. What had brought this line of questioning on? He glanced to his brother whose expression remained blank, then looked back to his father.
"Yes, Father. I've made friends with a boy my age who goes there sometimes. His name is Madara."
He couldn't have predicted Butsama's reaction to the news, but had he been given a chance he never would have expected the angry growl rumbling out of his father's chest. Tobirama could have rolled his eyes at the obvious display of the source of his sibling's dramatic tendencies. He didn't because he much preferred to live, thank you very much.
"That boy -as you've so inaccurately described him- Is Uchiha Madara. The future Uchiha clan head."
Hashirama blinked a few times as the revelation soaked in, then he let out a cry of shock. "He is?! That's so great! Father, he wants peace too! When he takes the clan we could finally end this war!" He was practically vibrating in his chair, but the next words from his father made his mood do a complete about face. He froze in his chair and looked at his father with wide pleading eyes.
"I'll hear no more of this pointless talk of peace, Senju Hashirama. It's obvious to me that the Uchiha have sent Madara to trick you into spilling clan secrets. Tomorrow when you go back to the river, your brother and I will follow you. We will end the boy and deal a crushing blow to the Uchiha in the process."
Hashirama opened his mouth to argue, but his father cut him off before he could make a sound.
"My decision is final and you will not question it. Now go to your room."
Hashirama's shoulders drooped and there was an almost visible rain cloud over his head, but he left the office without another word. Tobirama shared a look with his father before quietly rising and following his older brother from the room.
That night the Senju brothers lay awake for vastly different reasons. One trying to figure out any way to prevent the death of his friend and coming back empty-handed. The other with his shirt lifted staring at the black words printed across his ribcage in a flowing script, wondering who would possibly feel the need to speak the short phrase. Least of all to him.