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Chapter Text

As Tobirama watched his brother and Madara make peace with each other decades after their deaths, a small frown made itself home on his face.

In front of his eyes, he could see both of their forms, his brother’s captured via his Edo Tensei and Madara’s new flesh one, fade and flicker and fall in favor of their bright spirit forms. Their souls lifted from their mortal and faux-mortal coils by the Shinigami to return – or just to go – to the Pure Land.

His form did not flicker, not freed from the regrets and Regrets he’d carried into death, that had kept him from the Pure Land after his death and made him so easy to summon to a faux-life once more with Edo Tensei.

(He’d had many regrets.

Not freeing his mother from the oath she’d taken for peace against the child-killing Senju for the Hatake in being wed to his father, once he’d become aware of the oath after the birth of Itama.

Not keeping his brothers from the battlefield.

The death of Kawarama.

The death of Itama.

Not noting the other spy on the clandestine meetings of Hashirama and Madara as anything other than a worried brother.

Not keeping that secret.

Not focusing on Tajima instead of Izuna for his attack.

Not seeing to the death of Butsuma earlier in their renewed war between Senju and Uchiha.

Not advocating for peace alongside his brother with anything more than subtle support in his attempt to protect them in his belief for its inevitable failure.)

His greatest Regret rested in the death of Izuna, and all that had happened because of how he’d destroyed Madara’s last stable support with how he’d known Hashirama wouldn’t have been able to be enough.

(He’d had so many regrets that had built up on top of each other, because without Izuna, Madara hadn’t been able to be there, and their strength in the village had been lessened. Without Madara, they’d been weakened, and they’d created their biggest enemy.

So many of the enemies that had come for Konoha had stemmed from Madara and the madness he’d stoked and sowed.

So many problems had come from the source of Madara’s madness, with him no longer shielded with the love of and his love for, Izuna, and thus vulnerable to thus machinations of the enemy of all shinobi. Vulnerable to the minion of the plans of a mad Goddess, targeted for the fact that he’d been not just the descendant, but the reincarnation, of Indra, her original target, and her grandson.)

His Regret tethered him to this mortal realm, unable to fade even as he’d told his brother that they should leave this world and their hopes and dreams to the next generation.

If his brother saw that he’d stayed firmly rooted, he hadn’t had the chance to say anything as his spirit ascended with Madara’s – with Saru – with that young upstart of a Fourth, Namikaze, after his talk with his son and the current reincarnation of Ashura.

With their ascent, the last of those trapped by his Edo Tensei were gone from the battlefield, other than him.

The Sage turned towards him, away from the current reincarnations of his sons, when he noted he was still present, “Child, why do you remain?”

At his shoulder, a familiar spirit appeared, and the Shinigami settled a hand on the Sage’s shoulder as he removed the mask that was his face, “Brother, you may have finally gotten your peace between your children, but at the expense of so many others. He is from the generation of their last reincarnation, the brother of Ashura-reborn, and lived through their near-reconciliation and ultimately the madness again caused by our mother to Indra-reborn. You have, personally by your insistence on having your sons reborn until they reconciled, ruined his life with their fighting.”

Tobirama looked at the face of the Shinigami, Hamura Ōtsutsuki, and watched as his grip tightened on his brother Hagoromo’s shoulder as he frowned, “You have had your reconciliation of the sons you should have pushed for centuries ago while they were alive, but now it is time that another got their chance to fix the mistake they regret most.”

Hagoromo winced under the grip, “But to do that is to undo my sons’ reconciliation-!”

Hamura’s face hardened, “No. It will hasten it. If he fails, then we simply tighten up the timestream back to this moment and we leave it as this, and he’ll reconcile in the Pure Land with his regrets. If he succeeds, I will watch over far less death hastened because of our mother. And my nephews can rest without a third lifetime of strife.”

Tobirama, if the face he was looking at was any but the Sage of Six Paths, would have called his expression a pout.

When that expression lingered, and he tilted his head just a little, overlaying the face in a darker shade, he found it looked exactly like his brother.

His eye twitched at seeing the origin of one of his brother’s defining expressions.

(Hamura’s eye twitched with him, his long-suffering coming from centuries instead of decades with that expression.

Particularly as his brother still didn’t believe him when he said that his son’s puppy-dog pout was because of him, not his wife.)

Hamura turned away from his idiot elder brother, choosing to ignore him in favor of the intelligent descendant of one of his nephews, “Child, do you wish to come to peace with your greatest regret?”

Tobirama met his gaze, unafraid of meeting Death head-on, “If you make peace this way, and choose not to reconcile in the Pure Land, this reality will no longer be available to you. If you fail, I can revert time to this point, but I cannot bring you from your death once more even by your unnatural jutsu – you will go to the Pure Land with no choice when you die again. If it comes to this again, you will not be able to help in this battle in your other reality. Do you still choose to do this?”

He nodded.

Hamura nodded, then stepped forward, cupping the face of the child that suffered so much for his brother’s foolish wish, and knelt until their foreheads touched, “Then go with my blessing, and my hope that you succeed.”

Chapter Text

Between one blink and the next in a manner very familiar to his Hiraishin, Tobirama went from looking at the battlefield of the 4^th Shinobi War to looking at a battlefield he’d only seen in his dreams for the last two decades of his life.

It took but a second for him to realize why the movement felt familiar – and not just because of the similarities of the types of travel along the space-time continuum, which was very interesting – was because he’d appeared mid-Hiraishin.

To the literal moment of his greatest Regret.

He looked at the face of an enemy long-dead to him, blurry from the ash and smoke and steam still heavy in the air.

The grip on his weapon faltered for a moment in the face of a death he’d come to regret when it was no longer just about the survival of him or Izuna, no longer about keeping one of the greatest threats of the Uchiha away from his clan members, his family, and instead about the sanity of the greatest threat the dream of his brother would face.

There was a blink as Izuna saw the falter even as he startled at his sudden closeness, but even faltering, he could only twist his blade so much to the side. It had been pointed center-point fatal, but no matter his efforts in the eleventh hour, the swing would be fatal and Izuna would die without access to superior chakra healing, that just wasn’t capable of healing that sort of wound right now.

So, he met the red eyes of Izuna fully, even as the pinwheels began to spin, with all the regret he could muster to show him, and put forth a piece of information his student and friend had only told him in the last days of his life as one of the ultimate techniques of a fully developed sharingan.

Whispering just loud enough for Izuna to hear, “Use Izanagi.”

Chapter Text

Izuna’s grin had been vicious as he faced his greatest enemy across the battlefield of a war that he’d been fighting his entire life and that he could never see ending.

They’d been evenly matched from their very first crossing of blades across the Nakano nearly a decade ago, and every time since, their skill had grown, striving to best the other for that final edge to ensure not victory for their clan, but for the greater survival of their families.

Some part of him had always known from that very first moment, that if their brothers hadn’t met, that they could have been the one whispering to each of dreams of peace, dreams of seeing a world where the last of their families could live without war.

(He’d seen it in cold red eyes that had flared with passion whenever he’d guarded the backs of retreating Senju, eyes that had flashed with intensity as he stood in front of his clan as the first – and last – line of defense to his family.

He’d seen it in how Tobirama engaged him not out of hate, but to do the same as him; to engage in the greatest threat short of the powerhouse monstrosities known as their brothers, so that their clans wouldn’t die at the other’s hand.)

If perhaps he didn’t owe it to his clan to fight to the very last for their survival, he might have found a way to communicate to the pale-haired bastard a way for them to fight like their brothers; hard enough that no other would engage, but without the deadly edge where one slip-up would end one of them.

(But he did. So, he didn’t try.)

His grin was vicious as his eyes bled vermilion red, glowing as bright as flame, as three pinwheels span faster and faster as he met each blade strike for blade strike and jutsu for jutsu.

In the heavy steam and ash and smoke, he had the advantage to see with the sharingan, with Tobirama blinded by his own jutsu, and he meant to press it as soon as he caught a glimpse of blue armor before the sensor could get a lock on his chakra with how he’d spread it out far beyond his body.

Then, before he could do more than blink, Tobirama was right there, blade drawn and raised for a blow he knew would be fatal.

His eyes span faster as he tried to catch his gaze, trying to pull him into a genjutsu that would throw off his aim.

(He had a moment to know his death was imminent, that their decade-long duel was over, and that he’d lost.

He had a moment to regret that he wouldn’t see the dream his brother stubbornly clung to even when he hardly seemed to believe in it anymore himself, and that he would leave his brother alone.)

Then he blinked.

(He thought it was just a trick of light for a moment, but Tobirama’s face was horrified, his eyes full of guilt.

In that moment, he realized that his enemy had never really been aiming to kill him, had been trying to just incapacitate him without the understanding their brothers shared. But that he’d failed to meet the next step of this unspoken dance to side-step just enough to live.)

Tobirama met his gaze, no fear or hesitation on meeting the red eyes he’d been trained his whole life to avoid, regret clear and heavy in those red eyes, then whispered something he should have known nothing about, “Use Izanagi.”

And he did, because for all he was prepared to die, he wanted to live.

His eyes bled, eyes spinning faster and faster as the design changed to something more advanced, and time froze for a moment.

He side-stepped as an illusion of himself took the deadly blow.

(One eye closed against his will, vision fading on the face of his once-life-long enemy, blood running down his cheek, and his brother’s desperate voice loud in his ears, “IZUNA!!!”.)

He no longer saw this battlefield.

(He saw a thousand battlefields.

He saw a valley with a tall cliffside, both the Senju and Uchiha standing on top fighting.

Saw his brother defeated, in spirit and in body.

Saw Hashirama nearly kill himself at his brother’s request in the only way he’d accept peace without him.

Saw a village born and made.

Saw his brother fade from life.

Saw Tobirama argue with him, trying so hard to keep him amongst them.

Saw his brother pull back into himself.

Saw the clan turn on him, calling him warmonger.

Saw him leave the dream he’d had as long as he’d lived.

Saw him return, angry and alone, challenging Hashirama with a bijuu in his control.

Saw Hashirama kill him.

Saw his brother walk away.

Saw his brother sow the seeds for war.

Saw his brother’s anger that Hashirama had died before he’d had a chance to fight him again.

Saw Tobirama grieving as he pulled on a red-and-white hat, and lead the village into a war.

Saw Tobirama train six almost-teenagers, one of them a Uchiha.

Saw Tobirama give his life for those students.

Saw his brother stoke seeds of anger from that war for another.

Saw him pick a younger Uchiha and drive him mad.

Saw his brother die, old and alone and so very angry and sad.

Saw the madness of that groomed Uchiha send the world into another war.

Saw the destruction of his clan at the hands of Uchiha stoked by the madness caused by his brother.

Saw his brother revived, mad and angry at the world.

Saw his brother killed by a crazy woman.

Saw his brother reconcile with Hashirama before dying once more, finally at peace nearly a century later.)

He opened his eye to see Tobirama drop his blade and catch him.

There was a moment where they simply stared at each other as his brother screamed, “IZUNA!!!”, battlefield freezing with the wash of fear and grief and anger spilling out from his brother, and Tobirama’s eyes were sad and old, “I’m glad you’re alive.”

(His brother swung his gunbai, and where in one universe Izuna could see that being the end of Tobirama, sliced in half in his brother’s grief, Tobirama side-stepped.

Without thinking.

Pulling himself across space in the same move that had nearly ended his life).

Izuna saw him twist and turn, kunai sliding into his hand to hold against his brother’s throat as he brushed the gunbai aside, chain twisted and caught in the other hand, kama skittering across armor to embed in the ground.

Saw him meet red eyes without fear, and say, “Your brother is alive. Stop being a fucking mad man and breathe.”

Then he was gone.

Izuna could only blink as his brother dropped his weapons in the middle of the battlefield in favor of wrapping him up tight in his arms, tucking him tight against his chest, “Izuna!”.

(Madara hadn’t seen what Izuna had seen, but he knew with certainty, that it had been a miracle his brother had survived today.

That his brother would have died for nothing, died for a war he didn’t believe in, they didn’t believe in, and only fought because he could think of no way to end it.)

Hashirama called for a stop amongst his clan, for them to retreat.

He called for his brother.

(His brother didn’t answer, didn’t reappear.)

Chapter Text

Tobirama reached out, trying to pull himself to one of his Hiraishin-tagged kunai he’d dropped.

(Forgetting for a moment that he wouldn’t litter the Fire Country countryside with them for another two years when peace was finalized and the location for Konoha picked.)

When that failed, he sprinted as fast as he could as far as he could beyond this battle.

(The battle was over. His clan would survive without him for the moment.)

He needed a moment to think.

He’d taken this chance that the Shinigami had given him, and he’d saved Izuna’s life from his own hands.

(Some part of him had thought that in turning his blade away during this fight – because he thought he would arrive during the battle, just not moments before the strike – that Izuna would take his life. They’d been evenly matched, and he’d known then and years later that if he’d changed just one action of that battle, he would have died.

He’d come back fully thinking he’d die, if not by Izuna’s hand, then by Madara’s.

Madara would have not – and did not – hesitate to strike if he’d thought he’d killed Izuna.

He had underestimated his own honed battle instinct after decades of war and endless battles.)

He’d had ideas after the Shinigami had offered him this chance, about what he could do to change the fate of his village, his brother and his clan, but they’d been loose. Just basic concepts that he hadn’t more than noted from during the battle against that Uchiha, Obito, Madara, the Jyuubi, and then the Rabbit Goddess and their many-times great-grandmother, Kaguya.

(That Black Zetsu, for one. Gaslighting Uchiha to madness and betrayal. He would not let that happen again. He’d heard the tale of Itachi and of Kagami’s descendent from Madara-reborn about the Massacre of the Uchiha. Never again.

The Jyuubi would have to get much better sealing and made much harder to get to.

Kaguya. Without Black Zetsu or the Jyuubi, it should be impossible to free her. He would think of ways it was possible to kill the old hag though, because she was far too great of a risk. Considering she’d instigated every bit of strife in their world from her grandsons on until nearly a century forward from the present while sealed.)

It would take a bit of planning, but he was sure he could achieve those first two on his own.

Particularly if he entrusted the protection of the clan with Tōka, then left until he could be sure he’d done all he could.

(The question would then be if he could come back – he knew his brother would welcome him back with open arms, but the rest of the clan would think he was a deserter.

He’d lived a full life amongst them, and he wouldn’t regret what he did if that meant they lived longer, happier lives, but he would miss his students.

He’d finally got all six of them competent and mature enough, on enough of an equal level, even as their Hokage, that he could have pursued deeper friendships with them without any accusations thrown about. Then that fucking mission had happened, and he’d known that the only way they were getting out of there alive was if he played bait. He’d died happy knowing they’d outlived him, but he had regretted that missed opportunity.

If he was considered a clan traitor, he would never have that opportunity in this second time around. It would be worth it though, if they were all alive and well and safe.)

Though, while he might not need any help if he planned well, he thought it would be fitting karmic justice if an Uchiha was the one to kill Black Zetsu.

(Izuna, even if he never understood how his brother had been fucked over in his old life, would probably take great glee in slaughtering someone who would have.

If he ever met his original Izuna again, he was sure that Izuna would deeply approve of a version of him killing Black Zetsu.)

Chapter Text

Izuna let his brother lead him around after his bleeding eye was bound.

(He could hear the clan whisper about what he’d done.

That he’d used Izanagi.

No one in the clan had, could have, used Izanagi in generations, but the stories about it had never been forgotten.

Its use could render a death-blow void. In sacrifice, the sight of one of their eyes was lost forever, but they would live to see another day.

That he had used Izanagi cemented his position as the second strongest of the Uchiha, uncontested, and a close rival to his brother.

It had also cemented the fact that Tobirama was his equal, one of the strongest shinobi in the whole of Fire Country, if he’d been forced to use Izanagi to survive.)

He may have been in a bit of shock, mind still processing everything he’d seen in his side-step.

If that was a genjutsu, he hadn’t been able to break it, and there was no genjutsu a Uchiha could not break. He didn’t want to face the idea of that cruel reality.

That his brother would be driven mad in his grief.

(That he could see easily; Uchiha who loved fiercely as his brother, were easily moved to madness with death. There were protocols in place amongst the clan to take care of those that did, because if the madness wasn’t stopped early, the Uchiha would destroy anything and everything they could, to avenge their loved ones.

It distantly made him wonder why those protocols hadn’t been enacted in that reality.)

That in his madness, he would lead the world to war multiple times, would try to rule the world, even if by forced peace.

(He couldn’t look at his brother in his fear that he would see again the horror that his brother would be so moved by his death to kill thousands and try to subjugate millions.)

He didn’t want to accept that reality.

(What did it say about the Uchiha as a whole, that he didn’t find it impossible that one of them would do such a thing, but that they’d succeed, technically. That he almost wanted a peace like that, brought about by their own strength, where never again they would have to lose another loved one.)

He knew he couldn’t ignore it.

(While he was aware that it would never again play out exactly as he’d seen, he knew that it would never be far away as long as the Senju and Uchiha were at war.)

Izuna sagged into his brother’s side, burying his face in his shoulder, uncaring of the armor there as he breathed in the familiar spicy, smoky scent, felt the wild, soft spikes on his face.

His brother stopped immediately, wrapping his arms all the way around him once more with the permission to do so, “Izuna?”

He clutched tight at his brother’s side, “Promise me that this war will end. Try for peace again with the Senju. I don’t want another Uchiha to die senselessly like I nearly did.”

Madara stiffened in surprise.

(Surely at the fact that he’d changed his stance on the peace with the Senju. He’d never believed it possible, and had scoffed at the repeated attempts Madara had wanted to try for, had pushed for him to turn those offers for it, away as traps.

He knew that if he’d been dying as he would have been, his stance wouldn’t have changed, and he would have been vehement on fighting to the death of the last Senju, unable to believe in a peace with a clan that had killed all of their brothers, killed him.)

Then arms tightened around him, “I promise, and I will. No more death for our family at the hands of the Senju.”

Chapter Text

Tobirama was an unprecedented sensor, able to find and recognize a chakra signature many, many kilometers away. It was child’s play for him to evade Senju patrols to slip inside the Senju compound.

(It had been harder than he thought it would be to be amongst the clan again.

The numbers were nothing compared to the amount he’d acclimated to in the village, but these people. These people he’d cared for, and a great many of them, he knew how they’d died. He knew who lived to full adulthood, who married, who had kids.

He knew that in fifty years, there would be only one left of his once great clan, that in sixty the clan would die with her once she passed.

It broke his heart to think on that – that in establishing the village, they’d doomed so many of their family to the front lines, in their defense.)

He was greeted by the woman who would become his brother’s wife in six months, who’d just arrived the month before, and who would outlive them all to but the last Senju.

He relaxed at the sight of Mito dressed in her day yukata, hands in her sleeves, clutching at kunai no enemy would see coming, long crimson hair in buns pinned with seals.

(In the years after she’d become his sister-in-law, they’d become close.

He’d loved her as much as he had his brother, and his cousin Tōka.)

He smiled softly, happy to see her well and safe, the first person he could take the time to see again in this new life, “Ane,”.

Her smile was faint even as she removed her hands from the inside of her sleeves, “Tobirama, you were in a rush. What happened?”

He took a step closer, voice quiet so others didn’t hear, “I changed things. Officially, the battle was a stalemate.”

His fingers were feather-light as he brushed her skin on the way forward.

She turned to walk with him, voice just as quiet, “And unofficially?”

He met her dark blue-purple eyes, letting her see that he was not the same Tobirama that had gone out to battle, “I’m tired of war. I showed mercy where some would argue I should have shown none.”

Her lips curled up dangerously, “War is a terrible thing, and you have been in it longer than most.”

“Longer than you know.”

She looked sideways at him, “I showed mercy because I believe in peace. Peace will come between the Senju and the Uchiha, and more death will only slow the inevitable.” –  but his gaze was focused out on where he could see the bright star of his brother’s chakra approaching – “The death of Izuna would turn Madara away from the idea of peace until backed into a corner, and he would become our greatest enemy in time, hatred and madness festering in his heart, and both are terrible things for a Uchiha to foster.”

Tobirama turned towards her once more, looking tired for a moment with the memories of another two decades of off-and-on battling to secure a home so close, “Ane, do you know how you would kill a goddess?” – then his lips curled into something purely vicious, all of his sharp teeth on display – “Because I’m going to go kill one if it’s the last thing I do.”

His gaze drifted once more to the side, to the bright star of chakra, “However, it is something I cannot bring any Senju in on. It would be their death. I’ve led too many to death already.”

Tobirama looked back at Mito, “I’m offering my congratulations on your nuptials to my brother in the future now as I’m unlikely to be back by then; I’m sure you two will make each other happy. Just make sure that you keep him grounded when his head is in the clouds, and make him remember we are people too, not just broad ideals, and time must be made for them as individuals.”

His gaze was intent, not wanting to see a repeat of the distance that had grown between Hashirama and Mito because his brother spent so much time looking out at the wide world, that he forgot those closest to him, “He loves you even now. Will love you all his life. Would kneel at your feet in adoration, and bring you the moon if you asked.”

He was quiet for a moment as he remembered what resided in the moon, “Never let him bring you the moon though. The moon is home to monsters far worse than any shinobi.”

He gave her one last smile, “Could you tell Tōka I’m entrusting the safety of our clan to her in my absence? I trust that she will take care of them, and lead them well.”

He turned, and left.

Gone just as his brother would have come into view, “Tobirama! Are you here!”

Chapter Text

It had been a mere three hours since the shock had worn off and already Izuna’s patience was fraying.

(Being coddled by his brother, never let more than a step away as he was wrapped in blankets and bundled up safe, he’d slowly accepted that he’d seen a glimpse of the future that could-have-been and might-still-be.

It had stung to accept that because he’d gotten cocky, thinking that his sharingan would always let him see what moves Tobirama would make, even if he wasn’t always fast enough to evade all of them, that he would have died. He knew he wasn’t the only Uchiha to fall prey to that sort of arrogant behavior, but it wasn’t often that they faced an opponent to remind them that the sharingan wasn’t an end-all.

It had been a bitter pill to swallow to realize that he’d known Tobirama was such an opponent, it was more than half the reason why he engaged the man, and that he’d still let his pride get the better of him.)

He understood, better than even Madara did, that he’d nearly – technically – died at Tobirama’s hands, and in patent Uchiha fashion, Madara had gone full-fledged Mother Hen in his worry that he wasn’t as okay as he looked.

(Not that he could blame him from hovering just a step away.

Not after their eldest brother had come back a battle looking just a little battered, their father dismissed him as fine, then he’d died in the night from wounds no one had caught.)

It just was that, he didn’t suffer staying still like this, well.

He could stay still when it was necessary, and was far better than Madara at missions that required stealth as his brother did inactivity worse than he did, but it wasn’t a natural state for him.

No Uchiha did really, but some were better than others, and he was not one of them.

(Madara still wouldn’t let him live down how as a toddler he’d incited a minor revolt amongst the Uchiha children when he’d been ill with a fever – apparently also mildly delirious because he’d wanted to go out hunting Very Large Rabbits hiding in bamboo – and he wouldn’t admit it.)

So, his patience was fraying, and he loved his brother, he really did, but he was one more, “Izuna? Are you sure you’re not hurting anywhere? Are you cold? Hungry? Do you want anything?” away before he turned the tables on Madara and tossed him in the koi pond in his temper.

Of course, that was when, in an attempt to not get taken with his brother into the koi pond, he asked his brother for a bit of food and pulled out wide, watery eyes to plead that Madara get it himself and leave him alone for five fucking minutes, sage-dammit, he was just barely able to register a pale-haired blur in blue enter the courtyard.

Between one blink and the next, he was finally, sage-bless, alone, then a very familiar man was standing in front of him.

A man who had the gall, standing there in his armor, sword on his back and in the middle of a rival clan’s compound, to raise a patronizing eyebrow at him.

Izuna furiously tried to free himself from the cocoon Madara had made him of blankets, managing to get more than his face free after several long seconds, as he reached for a weapon not currently at his side.

The eyebrow just raised higher, and Izuna snarled at the gesture of Really? If I wanted you dead, you already would have been.

Tobirama glanced to the side, “I’ll make this quick because we have two minutes before your brother gets back and off goes my head.” – then back at Izuna, meeting his bleeding-red gaze squarely – “There is someone who would drive your brother mad out in the world, to see him summon a legendary beast from the moon to free a mad old woman that wants to burn the world.”

There was a second of silence.

Another second.

Then, “WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Izuna stared at Tobirama with a flabbergasted expression, losing what little chill he had at such an absurd statement, “EXPLAIN THAT YOU MOTHERFUCKER!! WHAT MONSTER!? MAD OLD WOMAN!?”

Tobirama glanced to the side, absently noting how any birds roosting near them were fleeing at the shrill shriek escaping Izuna, watching as Madara’s chakra blazed with protective intent as it dashed towards them. He didn’t look back at Izuna before he made to sprint back the way he’d come.

“GET BACK HERE YOU RAT!!”

Izuna chased after him without thinking, hands grasping at his discarded weapon and armor in habit as he passed them, needing to know if what the Senju had said was just some cruel joke or if what he said was true.

(He couldn’t just dismiss it.

Not after what he’d seen in his side-step.

He knew bits and pieces through the flashes of not-memories, enough to know that what Tobirama said, aligned with what he now knew with terrifying ease.)

He ran past startled Uchiha who dived out of the way as he raced after Tobirama, who didn’t even pretend to look back to see if he was still following, the bastard, not noticing right away that they had someone on their tail.

It was hard to miss though, when there was a snarl not far behind him, “IZUNA!”

Izuna was too startled by his brother’s sudden appearance to notice right away that Tobirama had doubled back, not until there was a hand on his shoulder, a voice from just behind his ear, “I’ll return him when we’re done.”, and there was a flash of lightning-bright light, then they were gone.

(Leaving Madara to screech to the heavens – and at the poor souls of his clan that had the misfortune of being in his vicinity this exact moment, “WHAT THE FUCKING HELL JUST FUCKING HAPPENED AND WHERE THE FUCK IS IZUNA!?”)

Chapter Text

Tobirama was well aware that for all intents and purposes, he’d basically kidnapped Izuna.

However, he had come to conclusion that to succeed in his goals, he needed a Uchiha with the Mangekyou.

(He also was debating how much to involve Mito in this mess, because her fuuinjutsu would be invaluable in taking care of the Jyuubi problem.

And she would be delightfully vicious in her solutions to the Kaguya problem. Particularly if he explained anything about the fate of her family – her direct descendants and what he knew about the fate of the Uzumaki – then pointed the finger at Kaguya.

It was definitely tempting to just tell her about what he’d lived through, and sit back and watch her unholy mayhem wrecked across their world so it never happened again.

He’d be completely satisfied in watching that.)

The use of Amaterasu would guarantee that Black Zetsu was dead, and frankly, he was the lynchpin for the whole plot to be destroyed. He’d worked out that Kaguya worked her will through Black Zetsu, couldn’t do anything otherwise, and only through another pawn – of an Uchiha, but mayhap a Senju could also work, something about their bloodlines as direct descendants were strong enough so it could be possible – pushed to madness, would the bijuu be gathered and then sealed to release the Jyuubi.

He’d only technically needed a Uchiha – he could have picked a handful of them; he knew Madara and Izuna were not the only Mangekyou users in current times, but they were the most well-practiced of their time – but he’d grabbed Izuna for a reason.

(Izuna was dead in his original timeline.

History could safely repeat without his interference for another eight months before Uchiha would begin to defect from under Madara’s bankrupt rule, and signal the beginning of the end of the Warring States period.

Mito and Tōka could cover his absence with similar actions to keep them moving forward to peace.

Perhaps better than he had.

Secondly, Izuna would just keep them at a stalemate unless he believed in peace as well now that he was still alive.)

That reason though, did not mean he had to sit through Izuna’s screeching.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO!?”

“WHERE ARE WE!?”

“EXPLAIN WHAT THE FUCK YOU MEANT, YOU RAT BASTARD!”

He turned a Look that he’d mastered after twenty years of dealing with Uchiha amongst bureaucracy, mostly because it had taken years for them to accept that he hadn’t taken Kagami on as a student out of pity but a genuine liking, on Izuna.

(It was deeply unimpressed and said You-need-to-relax-there-is-no-need-for-all-the-Extra-that-comes-with-the-Uchiha-sense-of-Drama-the-world-will-not-end-if-you-lower-your-volume-and-pitch-to-speak-like-normal-people-unlike-your-leader-Madara.)

Izuna started to sound like a boiling over tea kettle at the Look.

Tobirama added another layer of deeply unimpressed to the Look.

(It said Heavens-why-am-I-surrounded-by-people-who-believe-the-only-way-to-go-through-life-is-by-being-Extra-but-I-blame-Anija.)

When Izuna opened his mouth, “WHAT THE FUCK-!?!”, Tobirama darted forward, wrapped a hand around Izuna’s arm, and reached for another one of the Hiraishin he’d recently dropped.

Chapter Text

Izuna had no fucking idea what was wrong with Tobirama.

The regret he’d glimpsed at his almost/technical death had been odd enough to see.

Let alone how the fuck he knew about Izanagi.

His world had wobbled on its axis after seeing the almost-future.

It had fallen flat on its face with Tobirama’s brief explanation of ‘mad old woman wants to drive your brother mad to burn the world’ for his fucking kidnapping.

He was floundering blind right now about what he was supposed to do, how to react.

Could he be blamed for not reacting calmly?

He was honestly proud that he hadn’t decided to just attack Tobirama for fucking kidnapping him.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS FUCKING WRONG WITH YOU, SENJU! YOU DON’T FUCKING DROP SOMETHING FUCKING LIKE YOUR BROTHER WILL BE DRIVEN MAD BY AN OLD HAG WITHOUT FUCKING EXPLAINING!”

The look he got though, for saying that, was briefly summed up as unimpressed.

He saw – thank the fuck for the sharingan – Tobirama make the slightest twitch forward as if to fucking teleport them again, and hastily backed up, drawing his weapon to wave it threateningly between them, “NO, THE FUCK YOU DON’T! EXPLAIN!!”

The look Tobirama gave him for that somehow looked more fucking unimpressed.

His lip curled angrily, feeling himself go red and heard the hissing tea-kettle noise escape his teeth at the implied I-don’t-have-to-explain-anything-to-idiots-who-can’t-react-calmly-to-a-field-report-of-utmost-importance.

Tobirama seemed to have a mental fuck-it moment at their stalemate as he sighed and explained, briefly, succinctly, “Yesterday, you died and I lived another nearly thirty years, was revived through my own jutsu some-sixty years later in the middle of the Fourth Shinobi War. A war – amongst others – caused by your brother going mad in his grief, that was taken advantage of by a foul creature at the command of an imprisoned woman thought goddess to free her, after the Jyuubi is freed from the moon. She was sealed again, by two boys the next reincarnation of our brothers, who are the current reincarnation of our ancestors Indra and Ashura, and our brothers made peace finally. The Shinigami then gave me a chance to make sure it didn’t get so bad again, and I took it, starting by making sure you never died at my hand.”

Izuna blinked, just stared at the man in front of him, who was pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyebrows pulled tight together.

“What?”

Chapter Text

Tobirama looked at Izuna, wondering what else the hot-head would need explained to go along with his frankly, ridiculous brother-worthy plan, to see that Izuna seemed stuck.

There was a rather, alarming, blank stare to the lone black eye of his once-foe.

Izuna’s brain seemed to have shut-down at the information he’d gotten, staring blankly and uncomprehendingly.

He didn’t even seem to blink for several long moments.

When he finally did, Izuna was still quiet.

“What.”

Tobirama was quick to take in how Izuna’s eye had flipped to crimson despite his flat tone, and quickly assessed his options.

1. Flee – to escape Izuna’s wrath before he personally experienced Amaterasu
2. Flee with the intent of leading Izuna back to Madara – setting that beast on Madara, the bastard
3. Flee long enough for Izuna to calm enough to, apparently, better explain
4. Stay and explain, and hope said explanation was enough to keep Izuna from exploding all over Fire Country

He didn’t back-step, because that would have been showing Izuna he was afraid, and Izuna was not Mito Uzumaki with pregnancy hormones and the Kyuubi’s chakra at her disposal, but instead readied his chakra to reach for another Hiraishin, when Izuna spoke again.

“You made a jutsu to raise the dead?”

It was Tobirama’s turn to blink, “Yes? It took me a good half decade, but yes, I have.”

Izuna’s gaze was still flat, with a rather bland streak of you-fucking-kidding-me, “You tell me you fucking make a jutsu to raise the dead and you’re fucking surprised the world goes to shit?”

Tobirama narrowed his eyes, “That jutsu was not the reason the world went to shit, as you ever so eloquently put it. Your brother is.”

Izuna scoffed, “It was your brother’s insane ideas of peace to the whole word by fucking giving everyone bijuu that made it possible.”

Tobirama paused in his you’re-focusing-on-the-wrong-detail-you-imbecile, blinking for a moment at Izuna’s comment, before his head tilted contemplatively, realizing what such a comment meant.

Kagami had never explained fully what Izanagi really did other than gave the user the power to take a lethal wound and negate it, for the cost of one blind eye – and he’d later come to the conclusion this was done by side-stepping one reality to another as Madara had been dead, so to continue on as if such a thing hadn’t happened meant fiddling with space-time.

Distantly, if what Izuna was implying was true – that it allowed the user to also glimpse a future where there had been no Izanagi – Tobirama couldn’t help but wonder what world had Madara had seen in his death. And considering how things had gone, Tobirama couldn’t but think it may have actually been worse – Madara had gone insane, but his insanity had ended up only being about wanting to create a world where there would be no more unnecessary deaths and suffering. Another Uchiha may have gone a very different route than Madara. Or if his theory was true, and a Senju could be manipulated for the same ends, it also, may have gone worse and sooner.

(He did not want to think about what might have happened if his brother had gone Madara’s route. His brother had always been about peace-for-all and had a the-ends-justify-the-means streak that was generally overshadowed by his people-pleaser personality.)

Izuna didn’t seem to much appreciate the look he was being given though, scoffing, “Your brother is just as much to blame, with his soft-handed policies, as my brother’s madness for the world going to shit. He thinks too highly of the world, and it brings trouble. Trouble my brother apparently exploits, but anyone could have exploited it.”

Tobirama re-evaluated his plans as Izuna shifted ever so slightly in discomfort under his gaze, “What the fuck is that look for, you bastard? You realize I’m right?”

It changed a fair bit if Izuna knew more about the broad picture of the future, as he knew a lot of minutia between now and his death, and a fair bit of the events around each of his resurrections, then a fair bit of speculation regarding Kaguya and Black Zetsu’s hands in things, but the middle ground was something he only knew the broad strokes of. Izuna could allow him to prevent the same sequence of events happening if it took longer than anticipated to take Black Zetsu out of the picture, or if Kaguya found another puppet, so even if Madara was no longer a problem, they could quickly identify the new one.

Izuna preened when he didn’t answer right away in a negative, “Well, I am an Uchiha, of course I’m right. It’s just fitting that you finally acknowledge that.”

Tobirama chuckled – smirking at the instinctive bristle and wide-eyed look Izuna gave him for it, immediately doubly wary as before – at such behavior as it reminded him of the better times with other Uchiha, “My brother is a secondary problem, simply an enabler of long-standing problems in his compromises for peace. There are bigger fish to fry first though.”

Chapter Text

Izuna narrowed his eyes as Tobirama’s head immediately turned to the side, wincing faintly, “Anyone ever tell your brother that he can be the most Extra, most Dramatic, persistent asshole?”.

He shrugged, “It comes with being an Uchiha.”

Tobirama gave him another Look, this one saying Uchiha-are-Extra-and-Dramatic-but-Madara-exceeds-them-All-can’t-you-see-that.

Izuna smirked at the long-suffering, almost resigned look in Tobirama’s eyes at his brother’s Madara-ness.

Then he winced again, even without looking to the north-east once more.

The wince grew a moment later.

Tobirama stepped forward, hands clearly visible and apart, “We need to go. Your brother is not happy, to put it mildly, and closing in.”

Before Izuna could protest, eyes narrowing as his stomach was still in knots from the previous rapid-fire travel-by-Hiraishin, Tobirama was suddenly in front of him, hand wrapping around his shoulder as they heard in the distance, “IZUNA-!”, then they were gone from this clearing.

Chapter Text

In another time, peace came about for very different reasons.

Madara was alone, his people were starving and deserting in droves to their mortal enemies, and still he fought. He fought until defeat, then demanded death that his once-friend would not give him, nor the head of his brother’s killer – would rather kill himself than give him either of those things.

Peace then came from defeat.

Peace he couldn’t accept because who was he to share it with – all of his close family was dead, the man that still proclaimed himself his friend was too busy making nice with everyone to take two minutes for him, and the one who made an effort to put their differences behind them, he could never accept fully – not with his brother’s blood on his hands.

It was a peace he knew wouldn’t last – and he didn’t bother to hide that fact.

In this time, peace came about for very different reasons – and in a far different manner.

Madara had nearly caught up to the pale bastard that had kidnapped his brother, but then they’d disappeared again.

He’d screamed and raged and had come far closer than he would admit to creating an uncontrollable forest fire, when he’d no longer been alone.

His family had come in droves, circling around him, seeking their missing member and to protect him because losing one like that was bad enough and they wouldn’t risk a second – then Hashirama had arrived.

Hashirama had looked just as wild-eyed as he felt, stress lines around his eyes that didn’t feel natural to him or his face, nor there hours previous.

Trees had twitched and swayed around him, roots rising up and curling around legs of family as he cut through them without a single sharp object in hand, then gripped his shoulders tightly, eyes desperate and ringed in red, “Please tell me you haven’t killed my brother,”.

Madara had nearly sneered – because he would have done it without guilt if he’d found their younger brothers, riding all the fear he had for his brother’s life in the hands of his arch-enemy – but didn’t.

Instead, he pushed Hashirama a step back, and narrowed his red eyes out around them, trying to find his brother’s chakra signature – but sensing wasn’t a natural talent of his, and while he had been good enough to nearly get to them before, Tobirama was far superior and surely would have taken them out of his range by now if he could.

Hashirama’s voice was quiet, “Madara, please,”.

Madara hated that sound, because that wasn’t the fool being over-dramatic, and he hated hearing that desperate last plea from those family members waiting for the return of a loved one he couldn’t give them.

He spun on his heel, getting in the big idiot’s face, “No, I haven’t. I should, but I haven’t.”

Then he shoved a finger in that stupid face, and started in, “What the fuck is up with your brother? First, he doesn’t take the fucking chance to kill Izuna. Second, he fucking drops his weapon after. Third, he doesn’t fucking try to kill me when I attack him, not really. Fourth, he fucking leaves without being the fucking last on the battlefield – don’t think I didn’t notice, the pale bastard is always fucking first and last to the fight. Fifth, he fucking appears at the Uchiha compound, armed. Sixth, proceeds to go straight to Izuna and fucking kidnap him. What in the ever-living fuck is he thinking!?”.

Hashirama was wide-eyed, “I-I don’t know. Tobi never really explains what he’s thinking anymore.”, and his eyes were shimmering slightly with unshed tears, “Not since he told on our meetings at the river.”

He looked two seconds from bursting out into tears despite the fact that the roots had twisted and coiled up to the necks of every other Uchiha there without even thinking about it, “Mito says I stopped listening. That Tobi has been trying to tell me things, but I couldn’t hear him.”

He did burst into tears, clutching at the front of Madara’s shirt, “She told me he came home after the battle, told her he was tired of this fighting, tired of this war. He left because he didn’t want to fight anymore!”.

Despite Madara’s efforts to shove the big lug off him, Hashirama clung tightly, crying on him, “H-he left! Tobi left!”.

When that failed, Madara yelled in Hashirama’s ear, “THEN WHY DID HE FUCKING TAKE IZUNA WITH HIM!? WHY DIDN’T HE JUST FUCKING DIE LIKE EVERYONE ELSE DOES WHEN THEY’RE TIRED OF FIGHTING!!?”

Hashirama went pale, pulling back sharply to look in Madara’s face, searching for something in it, looking ten years older in that moment as his voice went dead-quiet and completely devoid of its usual humor, charm, or theatrics, “You think Tobi would go try and die?”

Madara quickly matched him, bypassing his own drama where he would have screamed that wasn’t what he meant, calling him an idiot while at it, and instead thinking about Izuna. Izuna, who he had just lost after nearly losing him permanently, “Then what about Izuna?”

Hashirama somehow lost even more color, “I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

Tobirama felt inexplicably tired.

Seals as a general rule, weren’t typically taxing. A small amount was necessary to awaken the seal, then a little to charge it. Seals weren’t jutsu, whose strength was determined by how much chakra was pumped into it.

More complex seals could require more chakra to awaken, to activate, to continue to work.

The only exception had always been with one specific type of seal. Those that manipulated space-time.

He’d forgotten what it felt like to have limited chakra.

Despite himself, he’d adapted quickly to the concept of while being resurrected, his chakra had been practically limitless, if unable to go beyond the bounds of what he could once do.

And he’d once been able to do so much with his chakra, even if it never been any sort of comparison to his brother’s depths or any Uzumaki’s.

Then he’d gone on to fight a war against an Uchiha whose depths of chakra had only ever been rivaled by his brother’s, which had later been boosted with the sealing of the ten-tails inside himself.

War had always made him forget what it felt like to be human, pushing his limits beyond so many others.

In his rush to get away before Madara caught up, sling-shot from Hiraishin to Hiraishin to Hiraishin that he’d only laid a few hours before – in a body already tiring from a pitted battle – Tobirama had forgotten something.

Using Hiraishin was unlike most other seals, because the farther the distance traveled, the more chakra was sucked up – in exponentially less amounts than using shunshin – and he’d bounced across dozens of tags nearly hundreds of kilometers.

It felt like a lead weight was hung around his neck and his bones were brittle as he felt like his chakra had been drained from a verifiable ocean to a shallow puddle now that he’d paused and properly accessed the depths of his chakra for his nearly twenty-year-old body.

He didn’t stumble though, didn’t give any sign that he knew he was one use of chakra left from complete chakra exhaustion as he slowly straightened and stepped back a couple of steps from Izuna.

Izuna, who had gone a terrible pasty white, then a truly horrific shade of green before he leaned over and emptied his stomach in the scraggly bushes near them.

His own stomach was tied up in knots from the repeated use of Hiraishin, not as used to the form of travel as he’d become – as he’d only barely tested it out before this battle – but he ignored it to address the Uchiha, who was now gagging and clutching his stomach like it pained him, “We should be far enough from your brother now that we needn’t be worried about him interrupting your explanation. I’d rather not explain to him what you insist on knowing – nor risk him seeking out any of the players himself.”

Izuna slowly straightened with a sour look on his face, “Fuck, we’re not traveling that way ever again. Not while I still breathe and my heart beats. It’s a fucking awful way to travel.” – then leered at him a touch meanly – “You’re not exactly proving that this hasn’t all been some sort of elaborate trap, or disproving the rumors that you’re not human standing there blank-faced.”

Tobirama narrowed his eyes a touch, letting his face fall into the scowl that wanted to form at refusing his rioting stomach relief or sleep for a solid week, knowing Izuna would misinterpret it, “We are far enough away that it should not be necessary to travel by Hiraishin anytime soon anyway. As it would take us running at maximum speed several hours to get back, we should have at least a day before either of our brothers get close enough to sense us if they headed in the right direction immediately.”

He didn’t mention that a day would be being generous – he’d laid a second seal on several of his Hiraishin, one that as he passed from that location, created a clone with a small portion of his chakra and who would set out in all sorts of directions to lay false trails to delay their brothers further.

If it served a secondary purpose by allowing him to widen his sensing net for any sign of Black Zetsu before each clone would disperse once they ran out of chakra, he would only explain when it became relevant for Izuna.

Nor did he mention that the time he’d given them would be needed to recover for any sort of confrontation if Madara caught up.

Because despite not currently being mad, Madara was still too much of a wild card to handle, particularly as he wasn’t actually sure when Madara had been first influenced by Black Zetsu.

He still hadn’t forgotten Madara’s ruthless, merciless attempt to kill his own reincarnation who had Izuna’s face. Madara wasn’t that crazy now, but the potential for him being willing to kill Izuna if he got in his way of killing him, even by accident, was still there. Interacting with Madara was far too risky with Black Zetsu alive.

Izuna scoffed, “You underestimate my brother’s determination. He may not go to war with the Senju over my disappearance, not against my wishes, but that does not mean that he won’t kill you for this. He would spend a lifetime hunting us down to get me back – has spent a lifetime and more at war, doggedly pursuing a goal. He would hunt me down to the ends of the world to know I was safe.”

He was still far too pale as he looked off, a look in his eye that said he wasn’t present, “Madara won’t be alone either. The clan would be united, not divided with thoughts of Madara as a warmonger and a terrible leader whose only fault was to inherit how our father bankrupted the clan in his war. He may be the spearhead driving them, but the Uchiha clan will be on the hunt.”

Tobirama looked off himself, needing to focus for a moment to do what normally came so easy, and to look for his brother’s bright chakra, “It would be within his rights to kill me for taking you. And my brother would not avenge me, not when it would just start up a war again. Nor would I want him to. I have sacrificed my life three times over to bring and keep peace for our clans together – I would give three more if it meant peace could come about again.”

Izuna sharply looked at him, he was aware, but he’d lived easily twice as many years as Izuna, too many of them at war, to truly care what he sounded like.

Izuna couldn’t even dispute the truth in his words, not with his experience with Uchiha always having been so good at routing out lies.

He’d wondered more than once in his life if that was why peace had always failed between their clans – the Uchiha knew it was a lie and refused to leave themselves open to the trust that Senju would and have taken advantage of – until Hashirama.

It still had taken him years to convince the Uchiha that he didn’t hate them, didn’t distrust them with the safety of his beloved village, too wary after centuries and generations of fighting.

It had pained him to hear of how Danzo had abused the trust he had managed to build between them, fostered distrust and hate between them and the village until the Uchiha had felt forced to rebel and had been executed for it.

It wasn’t quite just a passing thought that it would be fitting if an Uchiha ended him – even if they were never aware that it had been his policies, his students, that had in one time, led to their end.

Izuna’s voice was sharp, and he had to blink a few times to hide how he startled at Izuna suddenly in his face, “Do you want to die?”.

He didn’t flinch at the way black tomoe span in a red eye locked on his, nor at the tight grip on his shoulders.

His voice was bland as he responded, “I can’t die yet. Our biggest enemy is still alive, her servant still free and unencumbered.”

Izuna’s eyes narrowed, recognizing a non-answer when he saw one, “What about a reason to live? A reason to fight?”.

Tobirama glanced to the side once more, feeling soothed by a distant presence that he could never take for granted again after ten years without it until they’d been revived from death decades later, “Not really. I lived a full life considering – I died with regrets not about how I lived, but about who died before me.”

Izuna looked less than pleased at the answer, but knew that pressing wouldn’t get an answer out of Tobirama that was any more substantial and thus didn’t.

Chapter Text

Izuna had seen what had become of the world – and while he knew his life had been anything but awful, objectively, he’d had his siblings, Madara, and he’d been content if not happy.

He’d gotten glimpses of Tobirama, of what his life had led to. He’d died for his students, for his village, after the death of his last sibling.

He’d been alone in the end. Been alone so much of his life, standing alone, without anyone to help carry his burdens.

He’d never really thought about the Senju side of their conflict, but he’d periodically wonder.

He’d grown up on the Uchiha’s family before all else, and heard distantly of the Senju’s preached greater good. It had been half the reason why he’d always doubted Hashirama’s offers of peace – because it was for the greater good of them, and he’d never deeply detailed on what that had meant for families.

Looking at Tobirama now, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps Tobirama had went along with this idea of peace for his family.

Because it looked like he’d decided on a plan of action less for what it could do for the greater good – and he knew he could have claimed such a thing, not with the death toll that had been on his brother’s hands – and more so that his family could live in peace.

Particularly with that longing look on his face as he looked out into the distance, likely staring at his brother’s chakra.

Of course, as he was about to make a comment about the irony that it was his clan’s philosophy that Tobirama seemed to subscribe to, the man’s eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped like a stone.

“Fuck!”

Izuna moved before the other man hit the ground, catching him under the arms and putting him down gently so he didn’t hit his head on the way down. Then quickly backed out of reach as he assessed the situation.

He had no fucking idea what had just happened.

One second, Tobirama was staring there, pale as ever and unfazed by his own mode of travel.

The next second, the man had collapsed – fainted – with no warning, looking paler than the dead.

He wanted to come closer and pat at every inch he could get away with, see if the man had a wound that he’d hid, but he wasn’t stupid.

You did not crowd a shinobi who was not expecting it.

It did not fucking matter if they were out, he’d seen cousins nearly take off the heads of their mothers if they came aware with someone next to them after being injured.

He really wanted to check to see if there was a wound he couldn’t see, momentarily hating that it was standard practice for the Senju to wear black under their armor, for the explicit reason to hide any wounds from an enemy of-fucking-course, but he had enough self-preservation to hesitate doing so.

He doubted the man was injured, but, he didn’t know of a reason that would make the other man drop like he had.

He’d fought against Tobirama for years, a decade even, and he’d always been so invincible. He’d always been so proud of the rare occasions he’d scratched the other, left a burn or two, but the other man had always given as good as he got, if not more so with fucking coming up with what felt like a new jutsu every fight.

He couldn’t remember a time where he’d been fine and his rival was decidedly not.

It made him anxious and fidgety, wanting to know why.

Chapter Text

With the implications that had been raised regarding Tobirama – and the questions of why he’d also grabbed Izuna when he’d not killed him on the battlefield after he’d had the chance to but hadn’t – the Uchiha had been thrown into a frenzy.

It hadn’t taken more than a moment for Madara to deliver a single nod, for the Uchiha to split in half, and scatter in pairs in each direction.

Chapter Text

Tobirama came to quickly.

He’d lived a life of war, and even if those years in the village had softened his immediate reaction upon waking not-alone away from lethal, he’d never been able to hold back the sheer viciousness.

It had been his students that had forced him to hold back that immediate reaction for a split-second, just long enough for him to determine if nearby chakra was unfamiliar and a threat.

(Or his brother. His brother had known better, and still thought surprises and sudden wake-ups were okay. He deserved every bit of viciousness he got.)

Otherwise, he would have taken off Hiruzen or Kagami’s head in that first year during trips outside the village – neither had ever really developed the sense that it was unwise to wake up a veteran shinobi for anything but from a good three meters away and by anything other than a quiet whisper of their name.

In that split-second, he recognized the chakra nearby and deemed it not-an-active-threat.

(Which just meant that instead of reaching for the water in blood, he laced his chakra into the air moisture he breathed in sharply, prepared to spit it out if that changed.)

In the couple of seconds it took for his eyes to settle, for him to see past the too-present ambient light he didn’t have the chakra to spare to filter out for his sensitive eyes, to register ruffled dark hair and pale skin with smoky-and-ash-and-flame chakra, he may have mistaken one Uchiha for another.

“Kagami, I’m fine, stop panicking.”

(He would deny to the end of his existence that his voice was fondly exasperated, that he’d become so comfortable with his students that he allowed them a liberty he had not allowed his brother in years – to worry about him.)

Izuna’s eye was sharp as he finally crossed the small distance between them, hands brushing lightly over anywhere a wound may be, “Was Kagami your Uchiha student? The one that presumably told you about Izanagi?”.

It was only because he was so exhausted – and he refused to acknowledge that he’d missed his students so much that he allowed Izuna so close for something he’d barely allowed them after years of working together – that he didn’t huff and shove Izuna away and insist he was fine, “Yes. I believe he is a close cousin of yours, and very young currently.”

There was a frown on Izuna’s face as he realized there was no wound, and it finally clicked that something he’d taken for granted whenever in Tobirama’s presence was absent.

That Tobirama’s chakra wasn’t carefully woven into his surroundings; his chakra not laced into all the water within several meters of him.

That he could barely sense Tobirama’s chakra at all, and being so close, he should be able to sense it even if his own sensing ability was close to non-existent.

Izuna was quiet for a moment – and despite himself, Tobirama remembered the last time he’d run his chakra so low – excluding his death – and how his students had all crowded him.

How Hiruzen had immediately offered himself as a crutch when his legs hadn’t wanted to support his own weight. How Kagami had fretted and fluttered around him, worrying. How Koharu would softly inquire about when the last time he’d slept had been, then quietly admonishing him for going on three-day benders in his experimentation. How Torifu would offer some of his snacks, having taken to carrying some he knew the boy didn’t particularly care for but that he did. How Homura would suggest small alterations to his routine to keep this from happening again. How Danzo would swap himself with Hiruzen to help and gloat about it to the other boy.

Izuna’s voice was quiet as he helped him stand up, “Chakra exhaustion. Why are your chakra levels so low that you fainted?”

Tobirama side-eyed him for a second at the intense tone, having a little difficulty placing it when it went against everything he’d personally known about Izuna towards him, even as it was easy to when he thought of Kagami, “We were fighting. Giving anything less than everything would have been foolish.”

He very carefully didn’t mention how he’d always had far less chakra than Izuna, but he’d always used it carefully, so it had equaled out, and that he’d constantly been stretching it out to more with their fights giving him new depths that he wouldn’t have reached otherwise. That without Izuna pushing him to new heights, he hadn’t really developed more until he’d had to wrangle six teenagers at once. That he’d forgotten how much chakra he’d really had at this time, and not properly acknowledged how low their fight had made his reserves before using Hiraishin so many times.

Izuna returned the side-eye, a feat since it was his blind eye looking at him, “But just as foolish as cutting it so close.”

Tobirama ignored the unsaid unless that was your goal, as he didn’t consider it worth addressing – because he hadn’t been at this time, nor was he, not with his family alive and in danger – as he mentally overlaid his memory of the geography in this area with where they were, “We should set up camp.”

Izuna’s lips thinned, but didn’t argue.

Not right away anyway, “What the fuck is up with your head?”

He didn’t give him time to respond as he started in, hands waving around wildly with gestures, “Ten years we’ve fought each other, and you’ve always been a good little shinobi. Ready to fight and die. Not once have you ever held back in our fights. I’ve seen you kill in a thousand ways on the battlefield – some rather creatively. The Uchiha have horror stories about you. Stories to serve as warnings to the kiddos about never underestimating an enemy, and to never hesitate.”

Red tinted his eyes, voice getting louder, “We’ve heard the stories of some of the battles you’ve fought with other clans when on jobs. Their horror stories about you make ours look tame. And they aren’t new. Some are twelve, fifteen years old. Even my bastard of a father didn’t send us into battle younger than nine.”

Tobirama blinked a couple of times as he realized Izuna had shifted mindsets about him, one that took these same facts and looked at them as less about his proficiency as a killer and a threat, and as something else, “What the fuck? Really, what the fuck?”.

Chapter Text

Izuna ran out of words other than a plethora of curses for the late Senju clan head.

He’d asked what was fucked-up with Tobirama’s head, because now that he was something not quite an enemy and not yet an ally, some of Tobirama’s behavior was ringing alarm bells instead of hints to his rival’s weak-spots.

It was rather alarming to think about how Tobirama brushed off chakra exhaustion like it didn’t kill.

Brushed off unnecessary near-death like it didn’t matter.

It made him think about what he’d seen about Tobirama’s death – about his sacrificial play for his students.

It reminded him of the rumors he’d heard about Tobirama’s thousand and one brushes with death when the kill-stroke had been meant for one brother or another on the battlefield.

It reminded him that Tobirama didn’t really have anyone other than his brother left of his immediate family.

It made him re-evaluate all the rumors he’d ever heard about Tobirama’s exploits.

He didn’t even notice when Tobirama flipped from enemy and almost-killer to something else.

(He could not be blamed for how this said something else resulted in the very distinct urge to bundle Tobirama up and secret him away from the world until the world had been brow-beaten into submission to a place where Tobirama didn’t feel a sacrificial play was necessary.)

Chapter Text

Tobirama, having trained Kagami for years, was intimately familiar with the look currently on Izuna’s face.

(It was a little hard to reconcile that Izuna, his former enemy and who until yesterday would have killed him without hesitation or mercy upon sight, could be the one to give him the Look of Uchiha Concern.

He’d always thought that Kagami had given him the Look because he’d been one of the few he would be actively concerned about. Not that there had been reason for such a Look.)

As such, redirect was the name of the game and the only way not to have an Uchiha unilaterally decide that he needed to be sequestered away and taken care of like a wayward beloved civilian child.

(Of course, he’d only become a master of putting such fretting over him off because after a year, all of his students had gotten on board with the Look of Concern and would work together to make sure it was expressed and not denied.

He still hadn’t decided to be proud or exasperated at their teamwork.)

He moved forward, brushing past Izuna to set up a camp for the evening.

And as he expected, the Uchiha Concern kicked in and made Izuna hustle over, immediately looking agitated that he was doing so.

(Kagami had once ranted during their first out-of-village trip when they spent the night out, about how they all should be ashamed at the state of their ability to create a temporary hearth. Muttering off and on for years about how it was an Uchiha’s pride and joy to create hearths, and an affront to them to have such lackluster results when they were present.

He still wasn’t sure if Kagami had ever figured out that they’d all done so purposely after a while, and only partially because Kagami had settled some after setting up a hearth, always looking so proud of himself.)

If he wasn’t mistaken, there was even hissed grumbling under his breath about how people who’d nearly drained themselves dry of chakra should be doing nothing but resting. That Izuna’s ponytail bristled like a cat’s fur as he did so, made his lips twitch up as he settled down on a convenient log and allowed himself to process the memories of the two clones that had dispersed already.

Chapter Text

Hikaku ran south-southeast away from the Uchiha compound after leaving Madara fuming amongst half of the clan.

It took an hour for him to come across a fuuinjutsu seal left on a tree, and very faint traces of familiar chakra lingering around it. Below it was a set of footprints leading off west-southwest.

He followed the footprints, trying to find a second set with them.

Chapter Text

Izuna was quick – but thorough – as he set up a camp for him and the fool Senju with him.

Everything they could manage and had the supplies for on hand – which because he was an Uchiha luckily meant they had a pair of bedrolls despite how Tobirama looked prepared to doze off right where he was as he was – he put together.

He’d instinctively bristled at how Tobirama had lifted his head and spat a pair of ice senbon into the bushes, and then retrieved a rabbit. Less because of weapon and more of the-fucker-should-be-fucking-RESTING.

He may have huffed as he’d swiped the kill and rapidly began to skin and dress it, muttering about said fuckers who should sit tight after recklessly exhausting themselves.

Of course, that was when he remembered that Tobirama had yet to explain what the fuck was up.

He narrowed his eyes expectantly at the other man, not trusting himself to speak when he felt like breathing fire as his thoughts circled back to why they were out here like this.

Tobirama met the look blandly.

Izuna, correctly, read the expression as Tobirama being aware an explanation was needed, and would give one, but deciding to be a bit of an asshole and making him use words.

His eyes narrowed further, feeling a vein pulse at his temple, “You fucking kidnapped me why??”

Tobirama didn’t even blink as he held his stare, “I don’t want to just kill Black Zetsu – I want him gone entirely from existence. No possibility of coming back. Amaterasu can ensure that.”

There was a long second of silence as Izuna’s face flicked through a range of expressions almost too fast to be seen.

Then he exploded, “AND YOU COULDN’T JUST ASK!?!”

Chapter Text

Tobirama casually blinked, “I did.”

Izuna flailed his arms, utterly speechless for a couple of seconds – clearly flipping through the last day and a half since the use Izanagi and trying to figure when such a thing had happened – before screeching, “USING YOUR WORDS?!”.

Tobirama leaned back, unperturbed by the flailing after living with his brother all of the big goof’s life, “Was not my presence in the Uchiha compound – and not attacking – clear enough of my requiring assistance?”.

The flailing got wilder, and Tobirama had to admire the sheer ability to cover that much area around him when he wasn’t a Hyuuga because three-sixty-degree coverage right there, “NO IT FUCKING WASN’T!”.

It was more than mildly entertaining to watch the younger man flail and make undecipherable tea-kettle noises as he couldn’t use his words.

Though, honestly, Tobirama didn’t see what the problem was. He’d been far more wordy in his description than he would have at this point of time originally, and that was only because it got tiresome to have to explain his concepts a thousand times because his three-word answers weren’t enough. Which he still didn’t see the problem in – if he got all the relevant information across, any extra words were superfluous and a waste of time that could be used more productively.

Already he was missing that fine-tuned mission report system he’d gotten established. He missed how he’d trained the entire village to be able to extrapolate based off bare bones information that he gave to get what he wanted across.

He didn’t want to have to explain every action he did again.

The twelve levels of bureaucratic hell he’d had to go through to get a lab inside the village – and explain in triplicate why there were explosions, various strange odors and noxious looking fumes, and earth-rattling occasionally – was not something he wanted to go through again.

As such, and because it had been a long time since his face had made an expression he hadn’t approved of, he may have pouted slightly at the need to explain.

It had the effect of shutting Izuna up abruptly, one red eye swirling with a tomoe in shock as he gaped slightly.

The silence had him focusing away from the past-future and back to the present, and on Izuna.

Izuna finally found his words, “What the fuck.”

Three of them anyway.

“What the fuck?”

“What the fuck?!”

Tobirama may have been tempted to try and create a genjutsu to keep him in this loop he’d gotten stuck in, but he was not Tōka who could rival Uchiha in crafting genjutsu – and not to mention his skillset was rather lacking in genjutsu when it had been nigh-on useless for most of his career as a shinobi, even after peace between their clans.

He didn’t, because he really didn’t have the chakra to spare for an attempt destined to fail while Izuna’s eye was red and spinning.

It didn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck with Izuna – the Uchiha was making it easy, and really, screwing with an Uchiha’s head was a fun pastime because their sense of Extra always had them rising to the bait.

In this case, the bait being the fact that his chakra levels were far too low and it was too much of a risk to let them build back up naturally at the moment.

As such, he slumped back just enough to make it look involuntary, let his eyes drift to where the rabbit was cooking for just long enough to be considered stifled longing, and let his eyelids slip down a little.

Izuna straightened immediately, subconsciously if not consciously picking up his cues, and slipped into the Uchiha's instinct to mother hen before he’d realized it – dropping both the terrible communicator conversation and whatever had broken him – to try and herd him towards a bed roll as he pulled a cooked rabbit off the fire.

The fact that he didn’t do the opposite out of petty spite, should have clued Izuna in – and probably would when Izuna’s Uchiha instincts were satisfied enough he wouldn’t immediately dash to see he was fed and watered and slept at the slightest hint of otherwise.

That was a worry for another day as another clone dispersed and he was hit with more memories while he slowly ate his rabbit, ignoring for the moment that he would blink several times between bites and how heavy his eyes felt.

Chapter Text

Izuna was not a stupid man.

It really didn’t take long for him to see the heavy-handed maneuver Tobirama had done after the other man had fallen asleep not moments after finishing his rabbit.

He ignored his own silenced flailing at being played, because that was Not Important at the moment.

Instead, he took the moment of seeing his rival sleep far heavier than he thought any war shinobi could to observe him.

What he saw, really didn’t make him happy.

The stress lines around his eyes faded out, and he looked so much younger, and reminding him that he was only about a year younger than Tobirama and not closer to five or ten years younger.

The firelight played across pale skin, which looked several shades sallower than someone of his coloring should be and cast shadows under half-hollow cheeks and thin neck.

Thin lips were cracked and dry, there were prominent bruises under his eyes, and he looked awful.

It was a look he was far more familiar with on his own clansmen, and not on the Senju who had enough funds for plenty of food and a large enough abundance of members to not require people to take double shifts every other night.

There was no reason for a Senju to look half-starved, dehydrated and sleep deprived.

It was perhaps the reason why he bit his thumb and used the summoning jutsu to prepare to contact his brother despite the effort Tobirama had put in to make sure they weren’t followed.

Chapter Text

Madara hadn’t relaxed at all after a Senju woman had dragged Hashirama away – not with the thought that Tobirama might be suicidal and he had Izuna.

He had allowed his clansmen to circle and herd him back towards their compound, each looking two seconds from tearing out throats with their bare hands if anyone went for their leader, because he understood running off on his own again, right now was worse than stupid.

Once they were back though, he was fuming and didn’t hide it.

He wanted very badly to be out there, looking for Izuna himself, but he was useless at the moment. It was not in his skillset to track someone that had gotten such a lead on them, with no known starting point to go from.

There was also the fact that with Izuna missing, the clan had no heir and they could not afford to lose him and risk throwing the clan into in-fighting over right of succession – because the nearest blood relation was a grand-aunt’s grand-daughter and her bastard son, and by strength was Hikaku with his third-stage sharingan.

It did not mean he was not expressing his displeasure over being kept from finding his brother and then proceeding to bundle the eighteen-year-old up and not letting him out of hand’s reach for the next twenty years.

When his elders dared to deny him joining the hunt for his brother, he grinned with all his teeth and demanded what fucking reason was good enough that he couldn’t go. And thus, many of his clan listed off reasons why he couldn’t.

Then he demanded again why he couldn’t.

And again.

And again.

By the seventy-second time, Madara found that a good third of the clan currently with him, looked at him with dead eyes as they repeated the reasons why he could not go after Izuna.

Not seeming to realize it was only half because he thought they would eventually give in – and half because he found it sadistically amusing to see their eyes pinch in despair and exhale a soft long-suffering sigh before beginning again with the reasons why he couldn’t go as if he was a particularly petulant child who hadn’t been listening any of the previous times.

Despite the fact that they all knew if he had even a sliver of an idea of where his brother was – even a direction really – he would be long gone and there would be nothing they could do to stop him.

Not that asking was all he did, stomping around and yelling for updates on the hunt for his wayward brother and the foolish Senju.

After the thirtieth time he’d yelled that Izuna was his brother, that he should be out there searching for him, some of his clan tried to bargain with him.

Fetching blankets, tea, sharp weapons, his gunbai, tea, food, tea.

After the tea, he felt mellowed out though still itching to get his hands on the pale Senju – and once the tea was no longer so hot to burn, it tasted off.

He side-eyed every thing that was brought forward then – aware that he would be screaming at them about the gall to drug him, if he wasn’t fighting the urge to close his eyes and sleep.

So of course, out of sheer spite, he kept himself awake and muttering about how Izuna would never leave his side again once he was back.

While some of his clan were muttering to themselves about how of course, this was just his usual levels of agitation – not a certain special breed of crazy unique to the Uchiha and then some.

He smirked at their backs, then flashed all of his teeth as he responded to that with how if one hair on Izuna’s head was harmed, he would show them a whole new level of mad.

At that point, some of his clan gave blank looks to him, then turned on their heels and walked to the edges of the compound pointedly with their backs to him.

Ignoring him.

If he’d had the energy, he would be yelling at them about how dare they, he was the leader, and they should be listening to him dammit – but he didn’t have the energy.

Others bared their own teeth and declared he would be going fuck-all-of-nowhere if he didn’t calm-the-fuck-down damn-you-Madara.

Sumiko was a wonderful woman and Madara was about two seconds from declaring the woman, as his second cousin and one of the strongest women in the clan, his stand-in, and the next head of the clan if something happened to both himself and Izuna.

He might have done just that when a clan summon appeared in front of him, lazily licking a black paw, “Human kit of my name, I have a message from your litter-mate.”

Chapter Text

Tobirama had intended to meditate, but he’d forgotten what it felt like to be suffering chakra exhaustion.

That food was a good stop-gap measure, and a good first step, but not enough for long.

He may have underestimated the drowsiness he’d be suffering, which was only compounded by warm food and fire-warmth.

He was aware enough to know that he would have been hard-pressed to be just meditating instead of sleeping even if he’d been in the middle of enemy territory with pursuers, but he’d done it before, so he’d made the mistake of assuming he could do so again in less dire circumstances.

It still was an easy step to come out of sleep and fall into meditation once he was no longer exhausted to the point of passing out.

Particularly as meditation right now, while Izuna was still aware enough to be keeping watch but not so much as to be focusing on him, would allow him to sort through a wealth of information from the past-future and from his dispersed clones.

It would also serve a secondary purpose in bolstering his reserves with fresh chakra to begin to replace what he’d lost.

Chapter Text

Hikaku was panting as he matched kunai against Tobirama, knowing his speed wasn’t a match, but determined to get an answer out of the albino bastard about his cousin, “Where is he?!”

His eyes span faster in his irritation at how he could see that Tobirama wasn’t taking opportunities to strike him down, particularly as his exhaustion against an enemy he’d known was superior, even excluding speed, and instead was just acting defensively. As if he was just playing with him.

It was insulting.

Tobirama was quiet as he calmly appeared to just watch his chest, stare at his nose.

It wasn’t until the other man purposely lifted his gaze to meet sharingan red that he spoke, “He’s in minimal danger. I’m no threat to him.” – and before he could pull him into Tsukuyomi, he disappeared in a small poof of smoke.

“You fucking asshole!”

Chapter Text

Izuna would deny it to his dying day, but he was paying more attention to Tobirama than he was to the world around them.

Less on the rest of the world because he’d set himself up with a warning system of a number of traps strung out at varying distances along a perimeter with some nasty genjutsu traps inter-mixed, so even if he fell asleep before Tobirama woke up, they wouldn’t be left defenseless to an opportunistic enemy. More on Tobirama because he was well aware that his chances to observe Tobirama without pointed looks and venomous words to get him to cease-and-desist, were small now that they seemed to have stumbled upon some sort of peace.

Not even just a peace between the two of them personally.

In his message to his brother, he’d given a brief description of the series of events that had led him and Tobirama to go rogue – that Izanagi had given him a glimpse of a terrible future, and due to proximity, Tobirama had seen how that shit had gone down, had even spent a couple of hours picking through that future and seemed to identify key moments that sent it down that path, and thus had determined that he needed him to help.

Of course, eighty percent of that was bullshit, but it was based on fragments of truth.

Then to seal it, he offered a piece of evidence to prove something that only his brother would know – the name he had in mind for that village he had dreamed up with Hashirama.

His brother had responded promptly, and with lots of implied screeching and flailing by the Done™ look on their summon’s face, to inform him that amongst demands to come home – half so that he would be safe, and half under the demand that the more minds put to this, the better – that he’d come to some sort of truce with Hashirama.

Because apparently, after the Senju had had a bit of a terrifying meltdown where his brother apparently stuck his foot in it and ‘may have implied Tobirama was suicidal’ – not that Izuna thought his brother was wrong, but he’d probably done it in the least fucking tactful manner possible – he’d leapt like the opportunistic bastard he was and pushed for a peace ‘until their brothers were brought home and explanations were given for why Tobirama had thought it necessary to kidnap him’.

With a very heavily implied intention that short of Tobirama committing a worse faux-pas than kidnapping the rival clan’s heir before they were brought home, that permanent peace talks would follow.

His attention toward Tobirama, despite his intentions, was vague with his preoccupation with how somehow the situation between his clan and the Senju had evolved from open warfare to tentative peace, with more formal talks in the future. All because Tobirama had appeared to have done an equivalent of fuck-it-all, decided he was done with both clans’ shit, and kidnapped him to take his equal off the battlefield and leave both sides floundering at the about-face.

It made him wonder what would have happened if Tobirama had decided to do this in his original timeline, because damn, it seemed to have been very effective in leaving the war at a stale-mate and give his brother the opportunity he needed to talk his way to peace.

His attention was more focused though when he sensed the minor difference in his rival’s chakra, from sleeping to meditating.

He also grew vaguely alarmed when it quickly doubled, tripled, almost quadrupled from its small size to easily what it would be when his enemy was well-rested and battle-ready.

The alarm grew when subtle prodding revealed it wasn’t normal chakra, but not what he recognized as elementally-charged.

His eye bled red as he watched familiar red marks expand and grow, sliding across skin in an eerie similarity to a tiger’s stripes.

Tobirama spoke before he could decide if it was best to flee if the other man had changed his mind regarding his continued survival, hand on his weapon as he gathered his own chakra and inhaled deep, “It’s natural chakra. It is too risky to wait for my chakra to replenish on its own.”

Chapter Text

Tobirama found himself vaguely amused at Izuna’s face, at how he looked a bit like a startled cat who was deciding if fight or flight was needed and had gotten stuck in between.

Though in general, he’d always been vaguely amused at Izuna’s face.

He’d thought it had been annoyance at first, because despite being a shinobi, the man showed so much emotion on his face – even when he clearly didn’t mean to. It had mostly been degrees of annoyance and anger and something similar to hate, with a streak of protective fury run through, but there had been so much variation.

(His brother on the other hand, had eventually learned how to mask one emotion by over-playing another, taking complete advantage of how he was known to be full-throttle Extra with his show of emotion. And he’d compounded it by flipping only to extremes.

It had made it to where he’d have to look for minor details in his brother’s face that were hard to see with the extreme emotion obscuring the signs, to get a true grasp on what he felt.)

Izuna, being Uchiha, had fluctuated between Stoic Bastard and Extra-Dramatic Asshole, more for the former than the latter as he got older, but he’d spent years fighting him as he built that mask. It was easy to see the cracks.

It had always been easy to strike right at the cracks and break it with a well-placed taunt or ‘casual comment’.

It hadn’t been until much later after Izuna’s death that he’d realized that he’d been amused by Izuna’s faces. If it wouldn’t have back-fired he would have said it to his face – that it looked funny and mockable – but his brother had already proven that was a dangerous route to walk.

His brother had pouted and whined, before getting a sly look and sing-songing that he only showed his affection by how he taunted and mocked people. He’d called him absurd, but Tōka had laughed and called him a prickly bastard.

He had never wanted to think on how sad it was that the person he’d considered the closest thing to a friend had been his rival and life-long enemy.

Izuna stepped closer, after a short spark-filled sputter to clear the fire from his lungs, pulling his attention away from his nostalgia – and he nearly shook his head to clear this new inclination to think on the past so often at the slightest reminder, but resisted.

The other man narrowed his eyes, not seeming to notice how he puffed out his cheeks slightly with his inclination to pout for his unrepentant attitude at such a blasé stance, “Natural chakra is dangerous. We have time for your chakra to recover somewhat on its own – you got us quite the distance away.”

Tobirama raised an eyebrow, disinclined to mention what he knew about the origin of chakra and how it was a taint brought about by Kaguya, “I’ve handled natural chakra before. I just don’t often because it enhances my sensing ability, and as I’m usually around my brother, am therefore blinded because of how bright and massive his chakra is. It tends to end with me losing my control – and yes, that’s dangerous. However, we are far enough away that his chakra is more of a distant bonfire on an open field instead of staring at the sun straight-on.”

He chose not to mention that Izuna’s chakra was bright like flame still in his eyes, but pretty much chakra belonging to anyone other than his brother was tame, and much simpler to tune out safely.

Izuna thinned his lips, eyeing the red marks he’d always assumed to be tattoos, “You never used your Sage Mode in battle unlike your brother.”

He winced, “My brother is always nearby, and there are lots of people around. It’s too dangerous for me to risk losing control of. Do I need to remind you of what the main component of blood is, and what my specialty is with?”

Izuna went very pale as he seemed to realize what he was implying.

The body was made up mostly of water, and for a master of the water-style, it would not be impossible to pull said water out of the body if so inclined, just difficult. It would be easier when charged with natural chakra.

Tobirama very specifically didn’t mention that as his secondary elemental chakra expression was lightning, he’d calculated it wouldn’t be difficult to electrocute one enemy and with natural chakra, guide it from person to person as if they were lightning rods.

It was something he’d come to accept after he’d (mis-)used the ability in the First Shinobi War, that him using natural chakra was not advised, even as a last resort. The slightest lapse of control, of attention, and it was too easy for him to lose control of the chakra and for the scope of his jutsu to expand. He had been lucky in that both affinities had been well-known enough with the combination of his merciless attitude for enemies that the devastation he had wrecked one battle had never been questioned. Otherwise he would have been head-hunted ruthlessly for the danger he posed – and Konoha attacked repeatedly by the other villages because of how many S-rank shinobi were in their ranks with his brother, Mito, Tōka, Madara, and him in one village, in the hopes that removing at least one of them from the equation would even the odds of future conflicts out.

The only reason he was risking those consequences and others by drawing on natural chakra, was because it was one of the few confirmed things capable of harming Kaguya other than Amaterasu.

Chapter Text

A shinobi clan’s worth was dependent on two things.

One being their techniques and man-power, for both the front-line fighters and the behind-the-lines shinobi aiding them in clan-on-clan warfare and in their work.

The second being their information network.

For the clans in the loosely defined Fire Country, any information on the two biggest and most-prone-to-feuding clans was important. Any change in the status of the Uchiha or the Senju, anything learned about their most notorious front-liners, was incredibly important.

Thus, it took less than a day for the other clans to hear from their informants about the rather sudden and abrupt halt to the blood-feud.

Only three pieces of information were consistent regarding why the generations-old war was suddenly halted.

During their last battle, Tobirama had showed mercy to Izuna – and then disappeared from the battlefield.

The Uchiha were on the hunt for the now also missing Izuna.

The Senju had called for a ceasefire until both clan heirs were found – and the Uchiha had agreed to it.

Theories for what this meant were abound.

One was that Tobirama had actually killed Izuna, and had with his famous speed, managed a genjutsu to hide this for a short time, and now was on the run before the Uchiha executed him for it.

Another was that the opposite was true, and the Uchiha were desperate to hide Izuna before the Senju found out their heir was dead.

Others included that both clan heirs had just walked away; that one, or both, had secret families that they didn’t want a part of the blood-feud and now had abandoned their brothers for; that Tobirama had used a newly-created jutsu that had taken them away and they were still fighting who-knows-where.

The most preposterous one, yet the one they kept cycling back to because it appealed to a shinobi’s love of gossip and also unnecessary dramatics, was that they’d eloped together.

That they’d left so suddenly as a dramatic protest to fighting their star-crossed love.

Each clan was pulling strings and making bribes, trying to find out the truth because regardless of the why, both Izuna and Tobirama were incredibly dangerous shinobi and them suddenly disappearing was alarming. To say the least.

Izuna was said to rival his brother in strength – and Madara was legendary for how in one battle shortly after becoming clan head, he’d nearly managed to burn down the western side of the country in a fit of temper after he’d been taunted about how his voice broke and went high-pitched for a bit. Tobirama was a major threat all on his own, the whispered perpetrator of the annihilation of an entire clan in the northern mountain range, with dozens of jutsu he’d made on his lonesome under his belt the likes that had never been seen before.

The fact that neither had been seen in several days put them all on red-alert, and patrols were doubled in fear that one or both of them had abruptly snapped and the two clans were just covering up how they’d gone rogue.

Then of course, a report came in – followed by several others from all over the southern countryside – that the two had been seen. Not fighting. No sign of hostile intent.

The elope theory suddenly seemed less preposterous.

Chapter Text

Izuna tried to not let his fear show at he realized what Tobirama meant.

“What does that mean?”

Ignoring the scenario that had happened in a war in the future, Tobirama would have tested this before then. He would know – he could recognize where he’d been the first person some of his jutsu were tested on.

Case in point would be that time-space jutsu that had come very close to killing him if not for Tobirama’s change of heart.

However, he couldn’t think of a single instance where Tobirama had pulled all the blood out of somebody’s body, because he would have known about – the whole of Fire Country would have known.

Unless there weren’t any survivors; but there should have still been evidence somewhere.

Chapter Text

Tobirama gave Izuna a flat look, because it should have been fairly obvious what he meant when he had said that he could bend the water out of blood, but apparently, he may have overestimated the other man, and now he needed an example.

He pinched his nose and waved in a southern-easterly direction, “Eleven years ago, my last mission before I joined the frontlines. Your brother isn’t the only one who forced maps to be updated.”

Izuna frowned, “But the only thing over there anymore, and has been since then, is the Dry Swamp-” His jaw snapped shut with a click, and he rapidly lost color.

Eleven years ago, Tobirama had been sent on a mission that had been considerably more dangerous than it should have been, and he’d gotten desperate. He’d been out of weapons, there had been too many pursuers, and the jutsu he’d known weren’t good enough, but there had been plenty of water around him.

Only, there’d been something weird about the plant life in that swamp, and they’d resisted giving up their water, and when he’d forced it – forced all the water near him – to come, he’d confirmed a theory about how a proficient enough water user could force the water from blood.

The following hundred or so meters where every drop of water had been torn from plants, the ground, animals, everything, had been accidental. It was also something he’d done his best to bury his involvement in, spreading rumors in henged forms for kilometers in any which direction about the cause so it didn’t track back to him. Or the Senju.

The fact he could do something like that – of which he still remembered being vaguely excited about, because the possibilities had seemed endless – he’d put aside as too dangerous with both Itama and Kawarama dying shortly after. He remembered how he’d been afraid that the Uchiha had found out he’d been the cause of the newly-named Dry Swamp, and had been moving to kill his younger brothers before they could manifest the ability, before dismissing the idea in the weeks that followed. He’d then dismissed the whole thing until the First War, because the ability was dangerous – and he’d been right when the one time he’d intentionally done so had resulted in him accidentally killing fellow Konoha shinobi when they’d been caught in range somewhere they shouldn’t have been.

He really was only mentioning this at all because Izuna should know, as a just-in-case.

Chapter Text

A shinobi did not show emotion was a basic tenet that he’d mastered by twelve. Aside from anger, because his father had always approved of anger as long as it was controlled and not it controlling him.

He’d always been properly wary of Tobirama, even if he’d gotten a bit arrogant and nearly died for it, but he’d always been aware of who he was fighting. Tobirama was in a league all of his own, only outclassed by his own brother, with his wide knowledge of jutsu and his ready ability to come up with new ones.

He’d only come to be battling Tobirama because even as a child at the back and call of his father, Tobirama had taken out adult Uchiha with not ease, but far too easily to be fought by anyone but someone as good as him with a blade, and with Madara fighting Hashirama and his father against Butsuma, he’d been the only one able to step up.

He’d never been fool enough to think that he was better than Tobirama, even as a child, because Tobirama had been very skilled with a blade. A skill bordering on a mastery that only because of his desperate need to stay alive to protect his brother, had managed to unlock the sharingan and allow him to match in skill.

Izuna hadn’t had the experience to question why Tobirama had only used a blade then, and in the years following, it had never been a question to ask when Tobirama had suddenly used water jutsu and seemed to come up with a thousand new and inventive ways to use the element in battle.

Now, the fact that he had a much better reference point for what Tobirama was like at full strength, he forced himself to ignore the sheer Terrifying aspect of the knowledge Tobirama had just imparted as if it didn’t make him at least twelve times more dangerous – because oh my Sage, he just said that not only could he pull blood from a body but he’d been the cause of the Dry Swamp – and focused solely on this new knowledge of where his rival’s limits were.

Tobirama had been his equal and his rival for so long, only able to be bested by either of their brothers, that he had never questioned the fact that most Senju – with the notable exception of Hashirama – typically had less chakra than any adult Uchiha. They were their equals in every way for they learned a thousand skills to cover any blind spots a lack of deep reserves gave them, learned a control with chakra that equaled any genjutsu master, learned how to use their endless stamina to make a fight a physical one that they would just dominate if it dragged on for any length of time.

Tobirama had been small, now that he thought on it, tiny if he acknowledged it, that first fight on the river. He could remember why his smaller reserves had never stood out to him; they’d been kids and Tobirama had always been a crafty fighter, less flashy and showy than most of the front-line fighters on the battlefield then, which probably had been because he’d a behind-the-lines until then, and he’d used to resort to jutsu as a last resort. Until what must have been the start of his puberty, as he’d started to shoot up shortly after – and his reserves had doubled with practice, meditation, and hormones all finally kicking in properly to something noticeable that even he could register.

Chapter Text

These realizations seemed to have caused a revelation in Izuna that short-circuited the filter between his brain and mouth, “Your reserves aren’t nearly what I thought it would be. You would have had time to get to at least half-strength before we should have moved if you didn’t want my brother trying his damnedest to kick your ass.”

Tobirama gave him a rather flat, unamused look.

And because now he’d said it, he tried to salvage what he had meant by that before Tobirama seriously started considering retaliation for indirectly calling him weak, “I forgot you weren’t more like your brother with his endless chakra.”

Tobirama went from unamused to unimpressed at Izuna’s attempt to save himself.

A lesser man would have rolled his eyes at how he just dug himself a deeper grave.

Tobirama just proceeded to ignore Izuna as he stopped gathering natural chakra, letting his body circulate what he already had and ignoring the slight burn along his chakra pathways from the way his natural chakra and the natural chakra were at odds with each other.

His lip didn’t even so much as twitch in amusement as Izuna stared intensely at his back while he broke down their camp and removed any signs they’d been there. Another man might not have been able to see it, but Izuna was on the verge of pouting like a child.

There was all of five minutes of silence as he started them off in a somewhat random direction before Izuna huffed, “Don’t ignore me!”

Tobirama didn’t dignify that with a response – having learned thanks to his brother that responding just dragged it out, and ten minutes of annoyance was worth the hour of silence because his brother was sulking and trying to guilt him with puppy-dog eyes non-verbally.

Izuna whined, “Senjuuuuuuu,” – speeding up to get just far enough ahead that he could look him in the eye without just catching the side of his face – “don’t ignnnnooooore me!”

Chapter Text

Izuna had to hand it to Tobirama.

Madara usually lasted all of ten minutes giving him the cold shoulder before blowing up in his face about annoying him and proceeding to throw him into the nearest pool of water. The dunk into usually cold water was worth it, when the latest annoyance made him forget the previous one that had Madara giving him the cold shoulder instead of just yelling and flailing a bit as was his natural state of being.

Tobirama didn’t seem bothered in the slightest at him repeating his name over and over in various lengths for the last couple of hours.

Which he really should have expected, considering Tobirama certainly seemed the type to give the cold shoulder. And outlast whoever had annoyed him.

He firmly refused to admit that he was pouting though.

And he certainly hadn’t been so distracted trying to get Tobirama to pay attention to him again, that he failed to notice that the trees they’d been running beneath had thinned out to a sparse coverage.

It certainly didn’t mean that he tripped over his own feet as the ground gave away to sand and he lost his footing because running on sand was an entirely different beast than what he was used to.

His landing on his hands and knees were less than graceful, but he didn’t immediately correct himself as he stared at the sand.

He belated realized that they’d crossed into the Wind Country.

“Tobirama, where are we going?”

Chapter Text

Tobirama glanced at where Izuna sat in the sand.

“To retrieve and/or destroy a certain statue capable of removing and sealing away bijuu to recreate the Jyuubi’s chakra.”

Izuna had a rather impressive What-The-Fuck Look on his face, that very clearly articulated that what he’d said had almost nothing in it that made sense to him.

Tobirama gave him a flat look.

“I would prefer to destroy Black Zetsu first, and I am looking for his chakra, have been since I got to this time, but I refuse to wait around to find him. So, I will work down the list of his achievements until I find him, likely near one of my objectives anyway. The biggest obstacle other than Black Zetsu himself, is the Jyuubi. With the statue destroyed, it will make one more hurtle for the return of the Jyuubi, without a way to return its chakra to it.”

Then he pointed up at where the moon had just become visible, taking that extra moment to flip it off in the process.

“The next step to stopping the Jyuubi would be to destroy its body – but the body is sealed in the moon so unless you have an idea on how to do that, it’s a problem for the future.”

Izuna held up a hand, face looking rather pinched as he tried to process that calmly.

A process that he failed a minute later.

“WHAT THE EVER-LIVING HELL IS WRONG WITH THE FUTURE??!”

He started gesturing wildly, voice reaching new pitches.

“OR IS IT THE PAST??? FUCKING SEALING THE FUCKING JYUUBI IN THE FUCKING MOON?! WHY NOT JUST FUCKING DESTROY IT THEN??! AND WHERE THE HELL IS THIS MAD OLD WOMAN HIDING??”

Tobirama just let him rant, periodically flipping off the moon with full vigor and a couple gestures he’d seen the Uchiha make on the battlefield that he realized were more variations of their past-time: cussing; except non-verbally.

Then Izuna whirled on him, one finger extended and pointed agitatedly.

“HOW THE FUCKING HELL DO YOU KNOW WHERE THIS FUCKING STATUE IS??”

Tobirama just met his red gaze calmly, watching as the other man’s shoulders heaved and he panted now that he wasn’t shouting at the top of his lungs.

“I know where the Statue is because I heard whispers of it while I was Hokage, and I took note of it precisely because of how it was rumored to be able to extract bijuu from their jinchuuruki. Partly because Mito had sealed the Kyuubi within herself, and such Statue was a threat to Ane’s life. Partly because it is simply too dangerous to lose track of in case it ends up in the hands of our enemies. Partly because I intended to find then hide it somewhere that only I knew of then take the secret of what I would tell my successor to guard with me to the grave. I just died before I got around to it, busy fighting a war.”

Izuna narrowed his eyes, clearly deciding which of that he was going to pursue because most of that had not made sense, but bijuu, Kyuubi, that he could recognize, and he could logic out jinchuuruki, but the hows would be a mystery as would the title, Hokage.

“Hokage? Where did that witch-woman get the Kyuubi?”

Tobirama had expected these questions. He answered even as he started scanning the desert for any sign of that odd-feeling chakra he’d gotten a sense of after being revived during the Fourth Shinobi War.

“Hokage is just the title for the leader of the village our brothers create, Konoha. Mito gained the Kyuubi when your brother deserted the village and then came back to attack it, and she sealed it away before it could destroy Konoha.”

He started walking forward to the northern edge of the desert before Izuna could ask more questions right there.

“The Statue, it’s this way.”

Chapter Text

Izuna threw up his hands in exasperation at the smallest amount of information possible to answer his question, but followed Tobirama regardless.

With the information though, he was piecing together a timeline for what he’d seen thanks to Izanagi.

He died, the Uchiha-Senju war continued for a while longer, Madara was forced to surrender, Konoha was created, there was the First Shinobi War, ended by Hashirama handing out bijuu to the other four major villages, then Hashirama dying, and the Second Shinobi War, ending shortly after Tobirama’s death.

Considering that Tobirama looked marginally older by his death, there were a few years between now and then, but the Uchiha that had been – was? Will be? – on his team had looked to be in his early twenties. If that Kagami was the same Kagami he thought it was, the pre-teen son of Sumiko, then it would be – had been? – roughly ten years before Tobirama’s death.

He quickly did the math: he was eighteen, Tobirama was about a year, a year and a half, older, and he had died somewhere in his thirties – probably early to mid-thirties. Which while impressive considering shinobi lifespans typically were around thirty if not taken off active duty, Tobirama was a Senju.

And for that matter, Hashirama was one too.

Why did both of them seem to die well before the naginata-wielding woman, their cousin who had lived nearly to the Third Shinobi War; and well before the Uzumaki woman, who died in what looked to be in her nineties with the appointment of a blonde man as the fourth Hokage.

His brain-to-mouth filter failed him because while Tobirama had died in battle, Hashirama had been in-village, supposedly safe and with access to all the best medics available to him if his own freaky healing wasn’t enough.

“Why did Hashirama die young?”

Tobirama went still, foot slowly lowering from where he’d been mid-step, but he didn’t turn around.

“Indirectly, your brother, my clan, the village, every fight he’d been in since we were twelve. Directly, his sage mode. He had been channeling natural chakra for years, decades, in conjunction with his mokouton, and his control is far less than mine. It mutated his cells, turned them wooden. Each time he used the two together, more and more changed faster and faster. We didn’t know anything was going on until he suddenly got sick, his lungs damaged and arteries full of wooden blood cells. By then it was too late, because his own accelerated healing had expedited the problem, keeping him alive but also causing it to spread.”

Then proving he was closely related to Madara, Izuna took the least tactfully way to ask, “You didn’t die in that fight because you were outclassed, did you?”

Tobirama still didn’t turn around.

“Yes and no. The fact I use sage mode so rarely and that my control is so good, meant I didn’t gradually suffer it. But during the war, I was forced to use it to pull water out of my surroundings beyond what was in the air, and I used it often to keep as many Konoha shinobi as possible alive. It turned my blood to water gradually, and I was being seriously weakened without constant, considerable amounts of iron being eaten to replace what I lost – but the loss was irreversible and my efforts mostly in vain, just buying me a small boost. That day, I got my team away, killed as many as I could, then suicided via paper bombs when I realized there was no way I could kill them all and make it back like I once would have been able to even five years before.”

The rest of the night was spent in silence.

Chapter Text

Tōka was restless, stalking back and forth in front of Mito, who was calmly sipping tea.

She was agitated truly, because Tobirama had to entrust her with the safety of their clan in his absence – and it was only now that she could see how much effort the younger man put into cleaning up after Hashirama’s ideas and putting them into actionable plans, managing what missions they needed to take and who should take them, taking on the most dangerous ones himself, then making sure to go into every battle to make sure that as many clansmen made it back as possible. She couldn’t quite bring herself to be happy that Tobirama trusted her so much as to fill in for him, not when his brother had had no idea Tobirama had taken on so much until she’d shoved it in his face and proceeded to be absolutely no help with it other than to call a halt to Uchiha-Senju warfare, and for the simple fact it meant she couldn’t chase the little weasel down.

Not to mention that he’d entrusted his job to her through Mito, because the bastard knew that she would have pinned him to the floor like a bug before she would have let him run off like he had.

She wasn’t touching the fact that he seemed to have taken Izuna with him with a ten-meter pole right now, not when she felt like she was one more small thing away from breathing literal fire like an Uchiha with the force of her agitation.

Mito spoke up then, “I believe Tobirama’s absence is because a future self of him from a future so terrible he is willing to do anything to prevent it, used a time-space jutsu or seal of some sort to send himself back to a moment that he considered a catalyst, and now he is doing just that.”

Tōka turned so fast that she lost her balance, just staring at the other woman for a moment, trying to process that idea.

She wanted to dismiss the idea as lunacy – and she would have, if it had come from Hashirama – but Mito had been the one to voice it. If anyone was to know – other than Tobirama – if such a thing was possible, then it would be her, and if she voicing it, then she thought it was more than possible, but probable.

She couldn’t dismiss it, but she needed reasoning behind what the younger woman was saying if she was to believe it.

“How do you know that?”

Mito’s hands were steady as she put her cup down, but her eyes were dangerous, her painted red lips looking more like blood than she’d ever thought before, “The things he said, how he said them. He directly said I changed things, I’m tired of war – I’ve been fighting for longer than you know. He pointed out the catalyst he came to prevent, directly said that the death of Izuna would drive Madara mad, make him ‘our greatest enemy in time’. Then he asked how to kill a goddess. He said it would be the last thing he would do if necessary, and that he’d led too many to their deaths already. Then he said the moon was home to monsters worse than any shinobi.” – before baring a mouth full of sharp teeth that she hardly ever let anyone see – “My foolish brother-in-law intends to take on monsters alone, and die in the process, without anyone ever knowing or stopping him, only saying as much as he did so I could be on my guard if he failed.”

Then she stood, and shed the outer layer of her kimono to reveal a more battle-worthy outfit, seals sprawling across her skin from collarbone to wrist to beneath her clothes down to her toes.

“He refused to lead anyone else to their deaths, but he forgets that I am not his to order. If he wishes to take out the Goddess that I think he intends to, then he is poorly equipped.”

Tōka showed all of her teeth as she grabbed her naginata, following her to where Hashirama was going to be told that they were going to assist his brother, and there was nothing he could do to stop them.