Chapter Text
For one moment their fight is exactly as equal as always, neither of them giving an inch. Then suddenly Tobirama is gone, not where he’s supposed to be. Pure instinct makes Izuna turn around but he’s too late and off balance besides. For this one moment, Izuna does not stand a chance. That’s all Tobirama has ever needed.
Tobirama stabs him dispassionately. (When asked in the future, Izuna would stand by this claim. Until that moment Tobirama had looked colder than ice, his usual visage). The sword slides through him straight and up, and Izuna realizes that its over. Then something odd happens. Tobirama looks at his sword deep in Izuna's stomach, and his eyes go wide. If Izuna deigned to attribute human feelings to this monster, he would call his expression horrified. His free hand wraps around Izuna's arm and there's a flash of yellow light.
They land roughly on the ground, in a clearing not far from the rest of the forces. Izuna's breath is knocked out by the harsh landing and the pain from his injury exacerbates it. He's a shinobi though, he's Uchiha Izuna, so he tries to get up immediately anyway. Tobirama pushes him back down with a single hand. His other hand is already glowing a faint green, in an unfamiliar jutsu that he's focusing right above Izuna's wound. Izuna would like to struggle, wants to slip a kunai out of his boot and stick it through Tobirama's neck, but he has been immobilized. "Let me go, you bastard!" but he's not strong enough to actually push away. Tobirama gives him a flat look that pins him with his red eyes but doesn’t stop the jutsu. "What are you doing to me?" Izuna snarls. Only then does he realize that his pain is easing.
Was Tobirama healing him?
The Senju turns back to his abdomen, now using both hands. Izuna is too bewildered to move. "I miscalculated," Tobirama finally says, glancing up again. "I mean I didn't want you dead, just. You Know. Incapacitated, maybe permanently." he mutters that last bit, perhaps under the impression Izuna couldn't hear him.
"You didn't want me dead? Izuna asks, aghast, because this makes no sense. He had seen their battle not five minutes before, thank you, and Tobirama was definitely trying to kill him. "You want all the Uchiha dead, you monster! You've killed-" he coughs slightly, as his left lung suddenly tingles. It's too hard to continue talking so Izuna stares up at the crazy Senju. Tobirama looks…different. Slightly manic. His chakra, usually so impersonal and deadly, is looser now, wisps curling away and around him. Tobirama stops and takes a deep breath.
"I've healed you halfway, this won't kill you any longer. It might still take you months to heal," he says. He's holding Izuna down to the ground again though, so Izuna can't move. Red red eyes bore into Izuna's, (so disturbingly different from the Sharingan Izuna is familiar with). "But I can heal you fully if you give me your word that you'll never kill a Senju again."
Izuna can't help it, he laughs, even if it pulls at his admittedly less-painful-than-before injury. "Really, if you think I won't protect my people just because you’ve spared my life Senju, then you're insane. I would never, NEVER betray my clan, and you can slit my throat now and spare yourself the trouble because I will do anything I can to hunt down-" Izuna trails off as he realizes Tobirama is ignoring him.
"What if," says Tobirama and his words are oddly deliberate. "If I swear on my brother's life that I will never fight to kill in any battle with the Uchiha ever again, would you take the same oath?" Izuna freezes. That is…that is too good to be true, really. For all that Hashirama is the most powerful of the Senju, more Uchiha have fallen to Tobirama's blade than any other in this generation.
"No," says Izuna honestly. "I wouldn't, because I do not trust you, Senju, to keep your word." Tobirama stares at him for longer, then nods once, sharp. And then…then he calls up the green healing jutsu again and continues to heal Izuna. "What are you doing?" Izuna hisses.
"I'm healing an ungrateful brat," says Tobirama. He glances up again, "Consider it a leap of faith." Izuna is too bewildered to retaliate. He's feeling strong enough now to activate his Mangekyou, and he watches the other man, to make sure he's not sabotaging him somehow. Surprisingly, he isn't. Izuna has no idea what this means. His greatest enemy had just saved his life, demanded an oath Izuna would not swear, and now continues to heal him without it. And although Izuna is usually excellent at determining human intent, he's drawing a complete blank.
All he can see is that Tobirama is more exhausted than he is letting on, his chakra reserves are running low. The healing jutsu he is using is chakra-intensive; the Senju's hands are glowing so brightly that they make Izuna's eyes water. And that he's not lying. He asks finally, "Why are you doing this?"
Tobirama is quiet for so long that Izuna almost thinks he won't answer. "Too many people have died already, don't you think?" he asks, eyes not meeting Izuna's own. He's breathing harder, his chakra dipping alarmingly low. If Izuna was a better man, he would tell Tobirama to stop. As it is, he's too astonished to spare the thought.
Who would have thought that Senju Tobirama, the orphan maker, the most vicious, ruthless shinobi of their generation had grown tired of their wars?
Izuna sees it a moment before it happens, because of his Mangekyou. He has time to cry out, "Brother, NO!" but Madara, in his rage, does not hear him.
Before Tobirama can do anything but grasp his sword, Madara's gunbai has buried itself into Tobirama's ribs, nearly slicing him in half.
This moment will forever be buried in Izuna's mind with the crystal clarity that the Sharingan offers. A splatter of sharp, tangy blood on Izuna's face, and Tobirama's eyes widen in shock, surprise, then his face crumples in pain. Madara tosses him aside with the gunbai still wedged in him and falls to his knees beside Izuna.
"What did he do to you, are you okay?" Panicked but gentle fingers prod Izuna's stab wound, which has now closed so far that it can barely be called an injury. Izuna's had worse from training with Father. He's had worse training with Madara. Madara's fingers cradle his face, "Are you alright, Izuna? What was he doing to you?"
Izuna is too horrified to answer. Five feet away, Hashirama has his arms around his fallen brother. He's pleading with his brother, Izuna can hear him beg, but Tobirama's voice is too faint to make out. There's so much blood. Izuna stares until the last few wisps of Tobirama's chakra fade away entirely.
"Brother," says Izuna, voice shaken, choking. "What have you done?"
Hashirama is still begging on his knees. Izuna rises to his feet, (noting that his injury has become merely a sluggishly bleeding twinge) and drags Madara with him. More Senju and Uchiha have converged in their location in the meantime, and Izuna makes the sign for 'Retreat immediately!' at his clan. Then he runs, tugging Madara behind him.
Senju Tobirama was dead, killed by Madara's own hand. Izuna does not know what price their clan will pay when the Senju return for their vengeance.
He will not let it be his brother's life.
When the Senju and Uchiha clashed, Hashirama and Madara only fought each other. It worked well, because none of the others could match their skills, and the death count should they turn their attentions to the others would be catastrophic.
He and Madara would never really hurt each other, of this he was certain. For all that Madara turned his back on him so many years ago, on that river bank, his blades have never approached Hashirama with the intent to kill. Their battles are a dance, a delaying. They fight in the hope that one day they won’t have to take up arms against each other at all.
It was familiar now. If their people were not dying around them and this was just the two of them, Hashirama would even call it fun.
Everything goes well until a younger Uchiha stumbles towards them and cries, "Madara! Tobirama stabbed Izuna, then vanished with him!" Both Hashirama and Madara freeze. As one they turn to where their brothers had been fighting only minutes before. A pause and a bit of concentration lets Hashirama find the distinctive threads of his brother's chakra. He's sprinting towards it before he realizes that Madara is doing the same.
They find Tobirama performing a strange jutsu on a downed Izuna, lying flat against the ground. Tobirama's sword lies by his side, bloodied to the hilt. 'No!' Hashirama has time to think, because if Izuna is dead Madara will never see reason. In his shock, he's not fast enough to stop Madara, something that will haunt him until he dies. Because Madara screams, an enraged, wordless sound, and then he's swung his gunbai at Tobirama, tossing him aside like a broken doll. Hashirama stumbles, hands outstretched uselessly, because his brother lies crumpled on the ground.
Hashirama falls beside Tobirama, pulls him into his arms, and Tobirama's eyes are pained. He brings a hand to Hashirama's face, those long, slender fingers cupping his cheek. "Forgive me, brother. Wanted t' keep you safe," he says.
"No no no, please. GET ME A HEALER!" he yells to the others, but he knows there's no use, he can feel Tobirama slipping away already. "Please, brother, please, please don't leave me…" Hashirama doesn't understand the words pouring from his own mouth. His brother is dying in his arms, and this was never supposed to happen. "Hashirama," says Tobirama, and there's something else in his eyes, desperation, love. Fear. "Stop the war," he says. "L'me be the last one. Please." Tobirama's voice is broken, breaths shallow as blood begins to dribble from his mouth. "Tell ‘zuna… owes me."
"No, Tobi, please."
"Love…you," says his baby brother, and says no more. He's still breathing, takes one laborious breath after another, and Hashirama presses his forehead to his brother's. "I love you, Tobi, stay, please. Please. Oh please, god." The blood red eyes flutter closed and do not open again. Hashirama kneels on a battlefield and feels the exact moment that his brother's chakra fades away entirely, and something deep in him dies too.
There is a strange atmosphere in the Uchiha compound, that day.
There's some satisfaction, some joy. The white-haired Senju demon had been slayed at last, which is great reason to celebrate. There's also fear, because now Hashirama's anger would fall upon them like the wrath of the gods. It made the celebrators decidedly half-hearted, as thoughts of imminent death were wont to do.
Hikaku watches the other Uchiha from Izuna's window, trying to make sense of what his cousin has just told them. Madara and Izuna are silent as well.
They were so close, Hikaku realizes, to not having his cousin with them at all. To bringing back Izuna's corpse and a Madara crazed with grief.
It's incomprehensible. For all that Hikaku is hailed as a genius, the third strongest member of the clan at only eighteen years of age, he can make no sense of the day's events.
Senju Tobirama had fatally wounded Izuna. Hikaku had seen this with his own eyes, how the Senju had vanished and reappeared behind Izuna, too quickly for Izuna to regain his footing. Then, apparently he had proceeded to save his life. And then Madara had killed him.
Three unbelievable events, in one day, in a span of time less than twenty minutes long.
"Why would he hurt you and then save you?" asks Madara, and his voice is broken and harsh. Hikaku flinches.
Izuna says, "He said he miscalculated. That he wanted me injured and unable to fight, but not dead."
It's hard for Hikaku to even believe that Tobirama was capable of making a miscalculation. But Izuna is certain, and he's so very rarely wrong about people. "Maybe it was to convince you to make the oath," Hikaku says, but Izuna just shakes his head.
"He was exhausted," he says. He looks up at Hikaku then, instead of Madara who is still staring at his own hands. "He was tired of watching people die. Even if it was me."
There's a long silence, all three of them lost in thought. 'I'm exhausted too, right?' wonders Hikaku. It's an odd feeling, one they usually cannot dare to entertain. To falter was to die and...hadn't Tobirama just proved that, actually?
"I killed Hashirama's baby brother," Madara says quietly. Izuna leans against him and rests his head on Madara's shoulder. Hikaku stares a moment longer out the window at Kagami, who is ordering the gossiping Uchiha back to their stations, then sits down on Madara's other side. They have never talked about this before, the odd friendship between Madara and Hashirama. It was taboo when Tajima was alive, and too uncomfortable after, when Madara had to lead his own family against his friend's.
"Do you think he'll try to kill you?" asks Izuna. Hikaku's fingers grasp Madara's shirt, and tighten. This is the man who took him in when the Senju killed his parents, he's not letting him go, god of shinobi or otherwise. "We won't let him kill you, alright?" Hikaku tells Madara.
Madara doesn’t answer either of them.
Two weeks later, a group of three Senju shinobi appear at the main gates of the outer wall of the clan lands. They hand over two scrolls, addressed to Uchiha Madara and Uchiha Izuna, and then vanish back into the trees.
The air within the clan-grounds is tense as they wait to hear what the Senju had to say to their clan head and his brother. Would they demand compensation? Would this bring their battles back to the bloodiest of all the clan wars as it had been back in Tajima and Butsuma's time?
Hikaku doesn't let Madara or Izuna open the scrolls. Even though they both appear absolutely harmless to his Sharingan, he insists. Eventually Setsuna, who's skilled at seals and traps opens it for them, with two pairs of Mangekyou and one pair of Sharingan watching closely as he does.
The scrolls themselves turn out to be harmless.
Their content is not so benign.
"The Senju are insane!" hisses Izuna, before tossing his letter to Hikaku. Hikaku skims through it quickly once, then again, a second time, in slower disbelief. "Are they joking? This has to be a trap, right?" Although the outside of the scroll had been addressed to Izuna, the letter inside is a formal request for a ceasefire, and an invitation to meet on neutral territory to discuss a permanent peace treaty.
Madara is staring at his own letter. Hikaku follows Izuna's example and looks over his cousin's shoulder.
Madara,
I hoped, for the longest time that one day you would realize that choosing the path of peace with me would be best for your family, and their safety. That together we could protect both our clans, instead of being the biggest reason for their deaths. I called you my closest friend. I called you brother, because when we dreamed together I felt like you and I would really fight for that peace. I trusted you, Madara.
Clearly, I have been deluding myself for years, and you had no intention of helping me build that village for our people.
Before he died, Tobirama made one request, and that's the only reason I am speaking to you now. He asked me to make sure that he was the last person to die, the last one slain by this disgusting war. He wanted peace.
I will keep my word to my brother. You owe me your alliance now Madara. I have lost everything I have, and have nothing left to lose because you and your family have taken everything from me. Surely this is reason enough for your people to put aside your own grievances against my clan? My own clansmen are ready, at long last, for peace. Yours must be too.
And if you still feel you owe me nothing, that we were just children making up day dreams, then you still owe Tobirama. He gave your brother back to you, and if he hadn't, both of us would be mourning today. Izuna owes Tobirama this much. Accept the temporary ceasefire. Bring some of your shinobi to discuss terms for starting a permanent village. My brother is right. Enough is enough.
Hashirama.
The handwriting on the page is stilted, like it was written by a trembling hand. "He's serious, isn't he? He really wants to end this war because his brother asked him to. This isn't going to be a trap," Hikaku says. Madara looks dazed.
"The elders would never agree. They've never agreed before. They'll want us to take advantage of the ceasefire and wipe them out," says Madara. He looks... well honestly, he looks like he's about to cry.
Izuna has been silent for a while. He reaches out to Hikaku. "Hand me that scroll. Your job, Hikaku is to tell everyone about the ceasefire and peace. Convince them it's what we need- take Kagami with you, he's good at that sort of thing. Brother will sit down and draft out a rough version of the terms we'll be expecting the Senju to accept. Obviously, the elders will want a say in that, but get anything really important down before they have a go at it," he says. Izuna rolls up the scroll and looks up, "I'm going to go convince those old windbags that it's time they take you seriously."
“But Izuna you don’t-” Madara takes a steadying breath, “You’ve never wanted this before. You called me a fool whenever I brought it up.”
Hikaku watches as Izuna’s lips thin into a flat line. He knows from experience that Izuna is choosing his next words carefully. “We’re exhausted too, right? Of this war. If there’s a real chance that this could work, if Tobirama Senju thought it was possible...” he trails off. Hikaku gets what he means. Although Madara and Hashirama were brilliant leaders, practicality was not their strong suit. Just before he walks out of the door, Izuna adds, “And, he’s right, I guess I do kind of owe him.”
Hashirama doesn’t move from his spot for hours. The sun had set, and stars had started to appear. The moon is bright enough that Hashirama can still see his brother's face. There are others crying, he thinks, but he cannot be bothered to check. Someone had brought a litter, and tried to take Tobirama away from him. No one tried again. The first voice to penetrate the haze of 'What have I done, why did you go, please come back…' is Toka's. "Hashirama, we need to take him back. Mito has started the funeral preparations."
But Hashirama is not going to move. "We'll bury him here, Toka. We're not taking him home," he says.
"Hashirama be reasonable, we need to bury him in the family plot, with everyone else, you can't just leave him here alone!" she says, and its choked and furious. "I won't let you." He finally turns to look at her, her face is blotchy and her eyes are red. Others love Tobirama too, Hashirama remembers. He had forgotten.
If anyone deserves an explanation, it's Toka, but Hashirama can't make the words yet. Can't tell her that all his life he has buried people in the Senju cemetery, his mother, his brothers, his father. And always, there's someone else, someone next. Space for the next grave already marked out and waiting for the casualty.
Never again.
Tobirama wanted to be the last one. The last death in this horrible, generations long feud, and so Hashirama will bury him here, here where his brother had asked. For the first time, asking for something from Hashirama instead of giving, giving as always. "We will bury him here, Toka," he tells her again helplessly.
He looks down at Tobirama's face. He doesn’t look peaceful at long last, doesn't look like he's sleeping. Tobirama looks dead. Hashirama wants to rage. He takes the swirling chakra that is crushing his chest, choking his throat, that stings behind his eyes that are exhausted from weeping and forces it into the ground.
The Earth rumbles in answer. He hears people stumble away, cries of alarm. Only Toka stands her ground. It is usually the easiest thing in the world for Hashirama to call trees up from the ground. These trees ache in his bones. They erupt from the ground, tall silver-white redwoods, just the shade of Tobirama's hair. There are twelve of them, in a ring around where his brother rests in his arms. Like sentinels that will guard him, just a little too late. He should've done this before. Just one tree, one shunshin- he hears Toka take a shuddering breath.
"Okay," she says. "Here is fine. I'll send for Mito."