Chapter Text
He had acted far quicker than he likely should have. Quicker than he would have in any different situation, but Konoha had fallen and Rogu had come to Oto with Mitsuki in tow mere hours before Oto, too, was attacked. They went for Mitsuki so, of course, they both would have reacted, of course, Rogu would have put tact on the back burner of his mind and all but flung himself to his death.
Mitsuki’s cry all but broke the heart Orochimaru had only been reminded he possessed by his two sons. But Rogu was gone now and Mitsuki was hurt, but Orochimaru couldn’t have stopped until they were safe. Couldn’t because if they were caught he wouldn’t be able to help Mitsuki.
Activating an experimental seal likely wasn’t the best idea, but they were cornered and Orochimaru was swaying on his feet because even with Mitsuki being lighter than his age and height would have suggested, the Sannin was hardly capable of carrying him for hours without getting tired. The flare had been both unexpected and blinding, so was the sudden lurch of being lifted off his feet, but he moved with it, clinging to his remaining child desperately as what felt like wind whipped by them. The light soon died out, giving way to the unappreciated feeling of falling, and Mitsuki whimpered faintly as Orochimaru tightened his hold even more despite it being painful even for him.
It’s pitch black, no way to tell where they are or how far away any possible landing – collision – points will be.
“Oro,” Mitsuki croaks, voice trembling and wet before he coughs.
Opening his mouth to say something – he didn’t quite know what – to reassure Mitsuki, all that he manages is a gasp of denial as some force literally pulls Mitsuki from his arms. Orochimaru lunged, fingertips just barely scraping over the end of his son’s sleeve before dark shifts instantly into near blinding afternoon light. A forest. They were over a forest, one that Orochimaru was not familiar with and he hisses out a curse at the rapidly approaching treetops. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of a battle and in the corner of his eye he could see it in the distance, but the thing that had his full attention was Mitsuki’s limp, falling form.
As long as he remembered Mitsuki was in the distance to his left-
It seemed the trees had been closer than he first thought. Orochimaru grunts as he falls through the leaves of an oak, knocking against each branch until he lands amongst the roots with his ears ringing and vision rapidly growing dark.
He’s in the middle of his fight with Madara when the sky is filled with blinding light, and Hashirama blinks in surprise as he looks up, scanning the blue expanse even as he lets a wall of wood block the flurry of shuriken thrown at him. Uncertain if he was imagining things, the Senju clan head glances around at the others on the battlefield and noting that Tōka looks rather confused. She looks over at him, shrugs one shoulder and promptly throws the man who charges at her over her shoulder. Rather than focus on whatever the light had been, Hashirama turns back to Madara and jumps over the leg that sweeps out for his ankles.
It’s moments before he’s about to call his clan back, the breath for the action already in his lungs before movement makes him snap his mouth shut, knocking Madara aside and turning around in the same movement. There’s a person listing heavily against the trees, face hidden by the long veil of black hair and Hashirama drops his hands to his sides, side-stepping the kunai that is thrown at him, turning back to Madara in faint amusement.
The person remains still for a few beats – because yes he knows not to let someone of unknown power go unchecked for long moments of time – before leaping from the tree line, long hair flaring out behind them even as Hashirama skids to a halt, abandoning his attack and keeping his eyes trained on the other shinobi – with moves like those, there’s nothing else the person could be – while Madara splutters in surprise, audibly scrambling to a stop. It’s easy enough to follow the shinobi’s movements to predict where they were going, and Hashirama sucks in a sharp breath as he realizes that said destination was either past or was Tobirama and Izuna. Madara curses – clearly seeing the same thing – and in accidental sync, they both lunge after the kimono-clad shinobi.
It was really, really surprising to watch the shinobi slam full force into Tobirama’s side, hand grabbing for his younger brother’s jaw to yank his head around. The Senju clan head slips chakra to his feet, adding a boost to his jump to clear more space and get close enough in time to see Tobirama get full on nailed. Izuna’s eyes are huge as he’s frozen in place, blinking rapidly as Hashirama approaches and the shinobi snarls at Tobirama. “Two chakra signatures would have appeared suddenly, I know you felt them! Where is the other one, tell me!”
Dazed, Tobirama blinks a few times before grunting out something that must be enough of an answer for the shinobi to leap away, running in a northeastern direction. Though he doesn’t know why, Hashirama only spares enough time to pull his brother to his feet before chasing after the shinobi, dodging around a few stray fights that have gotten in the way and deftly maneuvering through the trees. The shinobi is tired, making it easy for the big man to keep up and it was even easier to slow to a stop when he comes to a small clearing. On the opposite side of said clearing, the shinobi is crouched, cradling a small form to their chest.
“Mitsuki,” the person says urgently, shaking the child lightly. “You’re stronger than this, open your eyes.” Leaves crunching behind him isn’t even enough to get him to second guess his actions and he steps forward, crossing the clearing quickly and kneeling down even as golden eyes snap up to him, promising bloodshed.
He holds up his hands, showing he had no weapon even while studying the boy – Mitsuki – in the corners of his eyes. “I’m a medic, let me help him.” He murmurs, watching the shinobi’s pale face contort in different emotions before hardening with determination.
“Given where we are, there’s no one I think I would trust with Mitsuki’s health aside from you.”
It’s said with such solemn honesty that Hashirama isn’t sure if he’s touched or startled by the statement, either way, he moves closer just enough to rest his hands above Mitsuki’s chest. The boy is wounded both externally and internally, he realizes in faint horror. It’s going to take more than he can provide currently to heal him.
“Hashirama!”
The voice stirs something like hope mixed with relief in his chest, and the Senju clan head looks over his shoulder with a grin.