Chapter Text
That day, as he left the camp, Tobirama spied his brother wandering by the trees at the very edges of their home.
His broad face was tilted upwards foliage above them, eyes wide, and his expression calm. The branches seemed swollen with an abundance of green leaves, all swaying gently in the wind. Tobirama could not see anything particularly interesting up there.
“Brother.” Hashirama turned at the sound of his voice, startled for once, and then relaxed into a smile. “What are you doing?”
Hashirama looked back up at the leaves. Upon closer inspection, it was hard to tell whether he was staring into them or at the stretches of blue in the gaps between them.
“Merely thinking.” He remained quiet for a moment, before continuing to speak. “I know that Madara is going to change his mind soon: I’m sure of it.”
Tobirama kept his usual neutral expression. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Stepping into the undergrowth, he met his brother’s questioning stare; “I’m going to train. I won’t ask you to join me; I know you disagree with some of my methods.”
Hashirama’s eyes narrowed, and Tobirama held his breath. As much as he acted it, Hashirama was far from an imbecile. His eyes stared blankly for a moment, pitch black and endless.
What does he see, Tobirama wondered, when he looks back at me? What does he know?
Luckily, his brother simply clapped a hand on his shoulder and laughed. “That’s the spirit. Be back before dinner, Touka is joining us.”
Making a face, as though they were still the same children that used to hunker by the fireside and listen to stories, Tobirama slipped free of his brother's grip and journeyed through the trees.
He glanced back over his shoulder, once, to find that Hashirama had resumed his previous activity: Standing stock still, hands loosely by his sides, gazing upward. The only movement Tobirama caught was the breeze ruffling his clothes before he was swallowed up among the undergrowth and lost from sight.
Without thinking, he traveled to what had become the normal place: By the river. He wondered, sometimes, why he still came, and why there. Perhaps there was the memory of that first meeting, when he followed his brother in an effort to test the limits of his abilities.
A lone bird cawed overhead. Tobirama wondered what might happen if Madara did agree to peace. The war was beginning to intensify once more, and both sides were losing soldiers. At some point, something had to give, surely. He considered the possibility of an actual village, of families living together and protecting each other, of sharing ancient clan secrets. It was a ridiculous idea, of course, one only his brother would ever dare to dream of. But then, what if that dream really could become a reality?
Izuna's footsteps were almost silent as he approached, on the same side of the river. The stones only shifted audibly beneath him when he sat down, several feet from Tobirama. A reasonably safe distance.
"You looked like you were thinking hard", he commented. "What were you thinking about?"
Tobirama shook himself. “It doesn’t really matter.”
He stood, turning to face Izuna, and the Uchiha copied his movements. Tobirama saw that he had cut his hair; it rested just below his shoulders now.
Raising his knife, Tobirama reached out to flick at it, and Izuna raised a hand protectively. "Don't. I'm probably going to have to cut it again soon."
"I can help you with that", he smirked back, waving his knife again.
"I’d rather you didn’t."
Tobirama wondered if there was a reason behind the haircuts. The Uchiha took their hair quite seriously, he knew. Hashirama was similar to them in that way, at least: He kept his own long and well-managed, combing it regularly. Tobirama had never had time for such a thing, hacking at his own to keep it out of his eyes and hard to get a hold of on the battlefield. Maybe it was seen by some as being less honorable, but it was more practical.
He was about to ask when Izuna murmured; “Can I tell you something?”
That sounded serious. Tobirama shook his head. “I don’t want to talk, Uchiha. Sparring only. Come on.”
Izuna did not seem satisfied; something in his chakra was unsettled, the fluttering heartbeat picking up speed in a way that made Tobirama's stomach clench. He fought to ignore it.
When he struck, he aimed straight for Izuna's shoulder with his sword, an easy blow to parry. Yet, he was still shocked at how easily Izuna knocked his sword aside. The clanging of metal against metal sent more birds screeching towards the sky.
As they moved, circling each other, Tobirama realized that Izuna seemed slightly unaware of their surroundings, so focused on countering his opponent's movements. Tobirama had not seen him so distracted before.
Using it to his advantage, he waited until Izuna had almost completed a full circle, his own back to the river and Izuna's to the woods behind. Then, he surged forwards, forcing Izuna up against a tree trunk with a sword to his throat.
Tobirama's thoughts immediately turned to a substitution jutsu; to Izuna forcing him away with sheer brute strength. Whatever Izuna threw at him, he would be prepared for it.
Instead, he heard the thump of metal striking earth.
Izuna had dropped his sword.
Tobirama frowned. Was this another trick? Not once in their sparring sessions had either of them admitted defeat: They fought until they were too tired to fight, and then they went home and hid their wounds and continued the fight in the next battle between the Senju and the Uchiha. That was how it had always been.
“Okay”, Izuna said, meeting Tobirama's quizzical gaze. “I’m done.”
Tobirama's hands were hot, and sweating in his gloves. His sword was still clasped in his right one, blade directed at Izuna's throat.
He could end it. Right there and then. It would not be noble, perhaps, to slit an enemy's throat when they were defenseless, but it was an opportunity that was unlikely to present itself again.
He looked into Izuna's eyes.
Dark. No Sharingan.
Izuna stared back at him with an unfathomable expression, hair falling out of his ponytail and framing his face, chin tilted up. His lips were pressed together so hard that they were almost white.
Tobirama dropped his arms and hurriedly stepped away. He kept his sword close to his side.
“Let’s rest for a moment, and then continue.”
“Alright then.” Izuna tilted his head and stooped to gather up his own sword. Tobirama turned away as he did so, stomping across the clearing.
The winds had picked up, and so Tobirama elected to sit on the floor by the edge of the trees, in the hopes that they would provide a shelter for them. While he stared around at the clearing, Izuna removed his hair from its ponytail and began winding it back up to redo it, apparently still oblivious to his surroundings. Tobirama wondered how the Uchiha had survived for so long.
Beside him, despite their sitting a few feet apart, Izuna's warmth was a welcome relief from the wind. He almost wanted to move toward the heat, but he kept rooted to the spot, frowning at a loose thread on his sleeve. He would have to stitch that when he returned home.
Something touched Tobirama's arm and he was on his feet, knife drawn.
Izuna was still sitting with his hand outstretched. He blinked in surprise, locked eyes with Tobirama, and laughed.
Tobirama found himself chuckling a little also, that he was so shocked by Izuna touching him.
“You never let your guard down for long, do you?”, Izuna asked, tilting his head.
Tobirama settled back down beside him, shuddering into his jacket at the fresh gale ripping through the trees and started picking at some grass. "I can’t afford to. Not with you around."
Izuna laughed again.
“You shouldn’t let yours’ down around me, either”, Tobirama warned.
“Oh, believe me”, said Izuna, “I don’t.”
Tobirama looked at him from the corner of his eyes, still plucking at the grass. Izuna had finished fiddling with his hair and was watching Tobirama, smiling a nearly eerie smile.
"I’m done resting now", Tobirama decided. "Come on, let’s fight again." It had grown too cold to keep sitting where they were.
Infuriatingly, Izuna shook his head. "No, let’s just sit a while longer."
"Afraid I’ll beat you again?"
Izuna failed to rise to the bait. He simply continued to stare out, across the clearing, to the river.
His chakra was spiking now, and Tobirama wondered again what it was he had wanted to speak about. He shuffled a little closer to Izuna. He knew he was not very good with complicated emotional things; especially things he did not particularly care for, such as the Uchiha. Yet, gaining an insight into the mind of one of their clan members could provide valuable information which may be of assistance to his brother.
Izuna seemed to understand that this was an invitation to speak. “What I wanted to talk about, earlier… I don’t know how to say this, but… I’ve been thinking about the path my life is on.” He looked at Tobirama. “Are you happy?”
Tobirama frowned. He was not sure what to reply to that. He enjoyed spending time with his brother, protecting his people. The thrill of the fight. Coming up with new battle techniques. Planning and organizing. Attempting to reach out to Clan heads alongside his brother. Was that happiness?
When Tobirama failed to respond, Izuna continued; "I guess I'm saying this to you, Senju, because I thought maybe you would understand. Our brothers are always talking about the future, arguing about the future. My fiancée- she likes to talk about the future, too. But we’ve all lost so many people, on both sides… I can’t help but wonder. If I will live to see the future, whether it turns out like my brother wishes, or yours, or if it simply carries on as it is."
Out of nowhere, Tobirama remembered that Izuna had lost three siblings, to his two.
“We have to believe we will see that future”, he told Izuna, although his words felt like an empty husk, a hollowed-out tree collecting rain after a storm. “For our brothers. For our clans. Mostly because we deserve to see it too, however it turns out.”
Was Izuna beginning to see things Hashirama's way? He wondered why he felt oddly excited about that. Was this perhaps signalling a change of heart within the Uchiha clan? Tobirama did not want to get his hopes up, but he could not help probing further.
He turned to Izuna. "Do you think that there could be a future without war?"
Izuna smiled. Their heads were close together now, and everything behind Izuna seemed to fade and become a distant background, nothing more than a blur of brown and green.
"That’s the thing. They’re always talking about stuff they don’t know the answer to. Your brother… My brother… They have dreams, but no practicalities. Those futures… They feel so far from me."
"Me too", Tobirama told him. He had told his brother, of course, what he thought of his dreams, that they needed stable, practical plans to back them up, but the rest of the clan, so caught up in Hashirama’s idealism, had always been swept along by his brother’s charisma, and things had nearly always turned out right for him. He had never had someone express to him that they thought the same way; that these futures were just straws to clutch at. The reality of it stunned him to silence.
"It’s not that I don’t believe in their futures", Izuna continued, "it’s just that I can’t see their value when we are living in the present. Where there’s war. Where any of us could die any day."
The rain began, then, and Tobirama could see the droplets running down Izuna's face. One worked its way around the crease of his eye socket and rolled down his smooth pale cheek.
“If my brother were here, he would say that’s exactly why we need to work towards a peaceful resolution." Tobirama swallowed. Maybe, if he could just make Izuna understand... "For future generations. But… I do know what you mean. The things we’ve lost… Can’t be brought back.”
They were speaking in whispers now, and the crack of thunder that roared overhead made them both jump.
"We should go home", Tobirama said.
But Izuna shook his head. "Wait. Let the worst of the storm pass, and then we'll go."
Tobirama sighed. He should go. Hashirama may be worried.
Another roar of thunder, so loud the ground seemed to shake with it, had him squeezing back into a small thicket of trees. From there, they could see the river, but would not be seen themselves at first glance. The perfect vantage point, he supposed.
As Izuna slipped in beside him, Tobirama could feel his warmth, even as he shuddered and trembled. After some time, Tobirama removed his cloak and, eventually, Izuna did the same, linking the two together so that they could huddle underneath to keep dry. That was something Tobirama could recall learning from Father from a very early age, perhaps too early to have really needed to know: The basics of survival.
"I feel like I could fall asleep", Izuna remarked, but Tobirama knew neither of them would. Too risky.
Rather than sleeping, they sat side by side as the sun gave way to moonlight, watching the rain fall and hardly daring to breathe.
*
It is much later in the evening that Tobirama and his team walk back to the village together.
Torifu is just in front, broad back blocking the view of most of the path ahead. Not that Tobirama needs to see it. Even though it is a different route than he had taken that morning, he knows every way in and out of the village by heart. Danzou walks beside Torifu, clutching at one side of his ribs. Torifu has an arm around his waist and is taking some of his weight, but Danzou seems determined not to appear weak, struggling on and carrying himself as best as he can. Tobirama can hear him saying something about gathering his own team to train tomorrow. Typical. Always wanting to outdo Hiruzen.
Koharu and Homura are walking somewhere further ahead. Tobirama cannot see them but can hear their gentle chattering. Kagami walks by Tobirama’s side in silence.
The shadows are long around them. The entire world is amber streaked with black, like the pelt of a tiger, and the earlier clouds in the sky had clustered and turned storm grey. A flock of birds stirs in the trees overhead. Tobirama draws his cloak tighter about himself. His leg is screaming from the stress he had caused it throughout the day yet, he thinks, it has done it good to push his limits as he has. It will likely be only a couple of more days before Mito will allow him back in action.
He pauses as they reached the rock overlooking Konoha, where the trail briefly emerges from the forest before dipping back down into the trees behind the rock and winding down to the gates.
Looking out over the miniature houses below, his mind wanders far away from the spot where he stands. To the people he cares about and is fighting to protect. To the people he once cared about and perhaps should have fought harder for.
He closes his eyes, feels the breeze ruffling his hair. It smells like rain is coming.
“Lord Second? Are you okay?”
Tobirama opens his eyes.
Kagami is standing several feet away, eyes wide with concern. They are black, he sees. Pitch black.
Further ahead, he sees that Danzou and Torifu are also paused, waiting for him.
Kagami is shivering; he has his arms wrapped around his chest, still so slender and thin, and Tobirama is again reminded of how young they all were.
“I’m fine. I’m just taking my time. Enjoying the view.” He gives them a rare smile and begins moving forward once more.
*
“I need to go”, Tobirama told Izuna after the storm had passed. It was late; the sun was drawing long shadows out from the trees, and the entire clearing before them had already been enveloped in darkness.
Izuna passed Tobirama his coat and he pulled it on over his head, throwing his cloak over it to hide how rumpled it had gotten. Izuna pulled his own cloak about his shoulders and they emerged from the small copse of trees they had ended up nestling into, out of view of anyone who might pass by, back into the clearing.
It was surprising how silent the world was. Even the river appeared to have stilled. The quiet set Tobirama on edge. If he had been on a mission, he might have thought he’d wandered into a trap. He suddenly felt uneasy in the open air and longed to retreat back into the forest, back to his home. To make sure the world hadn’t changed around him, unnoticed.
“I don’t want anyone to come looking”, he said. He felt like he was trying to explain something to Izuna, although that was ridiculous. It was what it was; there was nothing to explain. Still, he felt different, somehow. They felt different.
“We should probably both go home”, said Izuna, and Tobirama looked at him for the first time since he stood up. Izuna’s face was calm.
He was looking up at the first stars. His eyes were black now, studded with tiny white reflections, but Tobirama knew what lay hidden within them. Just as the stars hadn’t changed tonight, neither had Izuna. He was still an Uchiha.
As he watched, Izuna averted his gaze from the darkening sky and turned to Tobirama, sharp chin pointing at him.
The dark-haired man’s face split in a smile. “See you again soon, though.”
Tobirama didn’t answer. He didn’t think that was a good idea; it had never been a good idea. Saying that out loud to Izuna had always seemed impossible, though.
He took several steps away from where Izuna stood by the bank of the river, walking towards the treeline, then half-turned towards the Uchiha.
Izuna was still watching him. His smile had faded, replaced by the same calm, neutral expression from before.
“I’m still not sure how to feel about you”, Tobirama admitted. He spoke quietly, but his voice rang out through the absence of background noise. “About any of this.”
He wasn’t even sure why he had just said that.
It wasn’t a feeling he was used to; not knowing. It made him uncomfortable. His body itched.
Izuna looked once more like he wanted to say something, opening his mouth, then stopped.
Instead, Izuna, who would die two weeks later, smiled and told him, eyes shining; “That’s okay.” He laughed. “I’m not sure about you, either.”
From the way he laughed, Tobirama felt like he should have laughed too; like there was some joke there he wasn’t getting.
He turned away without another word and walked into the trees.
As he reached the edge of where the forest broke open, he looked back, just once. Izuna had knelt in front of the river, looking out over it as it flowed past, ignorant of their lives. The moonlight had turned the water silver, and the same silver was glinting in Izuna’s hair.
Tobirama stood there for a moment longer. He thought about his brother’s dream. He still didn’t believe it would ever be more than a dream but, he had to admit, it was a good dream to have.
Finally, he made himself turn away and began his journey home.