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The mokuton was a dangerous bloodline to begin with, along with the rarity that it cropped up within the Senju clan. Not much was written about the ability, more passed down verbally on what it could do. And through oral teachings, and working on pure instinct and trial and error, Hashirama rose to be the most powerful mokuton user in the clan's history.
Only...the ability had a side effect just as dangerous as its power.
Through the oral history, as there was no written accounts allowed to be kept for secrecies sake, the best that they could come up with was that with the use of the mokuton, not only could the user grow the plants externally, it would grow internally as well. An over-abundance of usage of the bloodline led to many early deaths with the roots taking over the inside of the user's body, suffocating and ensnaring their lungs, organs, and bones.
Tobirama watched as Hashirama used his ability in almost superfluous ways, especially on the battlefield, where the fight with enemy clans had been stronger and deadlier than ever before. It called for heavy manpower and strong jutsus. And it called for her brother's death in the end.
Their father had been furious when Hashirama had first began to cough up leaves and small sprouts, along with blood. Angry that he was losing the last of his male heirs. Angry he would be left with only a daughter. The bloodline may have a strong regenerative power, but it never was said to be used on its own ability. The second Tobirama had spotted the blood and tiny roots, she went straight to research and experimentation, desperate to keep her last brother alive.
Hashirama was forced to sit out of battles more and more as his sickness continued to worsen. Tobirama did everything she could within her ability to heal him, but every time she thought she managed to purge the growing roots in her brother's body, they came back twice as strong. Twice as deadly. In the end, Tobirama had to stop in her endeavors before she ended up killing him too soon.
And with the last of his sons now unable to fight, Tobirama became the forefront of the Senju's fighting power. She hated it. She hated being on the battlefield without Hashirama to watch her and Touka's back. Hated how Madara would appear and she would have to fight him as he demanded to know where Hashirama was, as if she wasn't a good enough opponent. Hated that she couldn't just scream at him that he taunted and mocked a dying man. Her dying brother.
After battles, she would clean up and head straight to her brother's side, not wishing to waste a single day as the time counted down to his death. After a year of her brother slowly withering away by the ability that he loved so dearly as a child, it ended with Tobirama, Touka, and Mito surrounding his dying body. Hashirama gripped her hand tightly, and made her promise him.
“You must reach peace with the Uchiha, Tobirama. You must. Promise me, Imoto.”
And Tobirama gripped his hand just fiercely, nodding. Her eyes were stinging with tears, and Mito bowed over his head, placing a soft kiss to the dying man's lips. Hashirama stared up at Mito with eyes full of so much love as he murmured, voice beginning to lose its strength, “Take care of our child, Mito. Put their happiness first, please.” Mito was one of the first to give her entire love and loyalty to him. Tobirama never counted because of all of the bad history between the siblings. Tobirama knew she did not count, and could only be happy that someone had loved Hashirama without the bitterness and wariness that had lingered around Tobirama and him.
The red head's lips trembled as she tried to smile at her husband, nodding in understanding, “Of course, Hashirama. They will grow up loved and happy.”
Pale lips smiled as Hashirama spoke up once more, “Touka,” And said cousin jerked in surprise at being mentioned, leaning over Tobirama to meet the man's eyes before they went empty. “You're the strongest of all of us. Take care of the clan, but most importantly, find the happiness you deserve.”
Touka sucked in a harsh breath, and muffled a dry sob behind her hand as she hoarsely choked out, “Hashirama you idiot.” And the man only sent a smile in return.
The hand in her's squeezed once more, though the strength was slipping away, “Tobi-chan,” And her breath hitched at the old nickname from when they were children. He hadn't called her that since she was twelve.
“Tobi-chan. Please. Save this clan, and find peace for yourself. You've always been fighting. You deserve not to for once.”
Tobirama would always continue to fight, it wasn't in her blood to not to. But for him…
“Nii-san...” Tobirama whispered, forgoing her own formalities for the sake of her dying brother, and promised solemnly, “I will do my best to fulfill your requests.”
“Thank you...” He whispered, eyes beginning to fade as his last words left his lips, “I love you all so...much...”
Mito let out a despairing wail and collapsed over his still chest as Touka grabbed at Tobirama's body, pulling her to the elder woman's chest, crying just as hard. Tobirama could not take her eyes off the lifeless face of her brother, who was once so full of joy and exuberance. It wasn't natural and Tobirama couldn't stop herself from joining in with the mourning, breaths heaving and stuttering as she cried into the palms of her hands. She didn't want to stop herself. Hashirama gave so much of himself, bringing as much happiness to those around him. He deserved to be mourned openly and unabashedly.
Hashirama's burial tree flourished over night after his body was placed in the embrace of its roots. It was the tallest of the burial trees, even those that had been planted centuries ago. The clan legends stated that those of the most purest of souls only get trees that grow so large. It's why the children that have died in their clan had trees far reaching towards the sky then those who died old or in battle. Hashirama was always so pure despite being burdened with death and blood like the rest of them.
The day after Hashirama's burial, Butsuma had pulled her into a meeting now that she was deemed his reluctant heir. Tobirama sat in front of him in her mourning robes as he went on about her duties to the clan, and providing heirs. When she pointed out the Mito was pregnant, he gave her a look of disappointment.
“We have all seen that multiple heirs is better than one. They die so easily.”
She held her tongue on the vitriol she wanted to spit out. How it was his own fault that they died too young. It was his fault her younger brothers died before even reaching the double digits. It was the elders’ and ancestors’ fault for continuing this ridiculous and senseless fight with the Uchiha. Hashirama may have been too much of an optimist, but he was right in the fact that the continuation of such extreme fighting would lead to the down fall of their clan.
But she held her tongue. It was better to agree and be seen as an ally and not the traitor she would become.
Tea with the man had been a common occurrence in the past when he called on her to discuss strategies and the general upkeep of the clan. And when she brought tea in for their usual afternoon conversations, Butsuma did not think twice when he sipped his tea, even though he always made her drink first. The man was paranoid, seeing enemies even in his family, and never had he been more right when he took a sip of that tea.
As the numbness spread and his lungs began to convulse, Tobirama only felt a mild cough break from her throat as well as pins and needles in her hands. The cup shattered where it fell to the floor and her father gasped, trying to grab her, to kill her.
Slapping away the weak hand that reached for her, Tobirama shoved the table to the side, the wood banging across the floor loudly as she sunk her hands into his hair. Pulling the heaving and suffocating man up by his long hair, Tobirama dragged his face close to her's as he whispered out a choked, “How?”
“Oh father,” Tobirama crooned, “You know I've been poisoned since birth. There's only so many times one will nearly die before they either build up a tolerance or finally succumb to death.”
Gritting his teeth, wild anger in his eyes, he spat out, “Traitor.”
Wrapping her arms around his limp and unresponsive body, Tobirama cradled it, a parody of comfort. Running soothing fingers through his greying hair, Tobirama murmured in his ear, “I will burn everything that you have ever tried to create to ashes. And I will do so with pleasure.” Her hissed words were the last thing he heard as he slumped against her smaller form, heart stuttering to a halt.
Apathetic, Tobirama continued to brush the corpse's hair, staring at the wall. Then, taking in a heavy breath, she shoved it off her, uncaring of the dead-weight thump that the body made. One life taken. Five more to go.
She walked into the elder's meeting room, dressed in her compliant kimono and demure armour. They were not fooled.
“What have you done, you monster?”
And the spat title had Tobirama's resolve locking into place as she looked up from behind her loose hair. “I've only done what you've created me to be.”
Unsheathing her blade, Tobirama felt Mito's chakra flare up before the seals secured the occupants into place. No one would leave this room alive but her. Taking a step closer, Tobirama casually continued, glancing at the way her blade glinted in the light, “You called me a curse, a demon. You said I would bring the clan to ruin.”
The blade slashed and with a wet thunk, a head rolled. Blood splattered his kimono as she proclaimed softly, deadly, “This is your monster, doing as you've prophesied.”
She stood in front of her clan. Her whole clan. The women from the Sanctum out and ushered into the meeting hall. The women and children and men stared up at her, dried blood turning brown on her kimono as she stared them all down.
“From this point forward,” Tobirama began, voice steely and uncompromising, “We are not at war with the Uchiha. If you see one, you do not attack. Retreat in the opposite direction.”
There was an uproar from the men, the soldiers of the clan. Tobirama glared then into submission, her killing intent falling from her in waves. They coward back at the monster in front of them. “That,” Her voice a cold and menacing thing, “Was not a suggestion. Anyone who does not comply to this new rule, may leave. But understand this,”
She took a surveying glance at all the chakra signatures that were full of fear or anger, “If you leave, you will be denounced from the clan. You will not be a Senju anymore. Your actions will not reflect this clan. And you will gain no aid from the clan either.”
And no one argued with her command, bowing in submission that day, to which had Tobirama settling back with a curl of dark satisfaction. First step was to weed out those that would cause contention within these walls.
The next day, there was a scream within the compound.
"TOBIRAMA-SAMA!" The scream ricocheted across the buildings, calling out for her and Tobirama went bolting to it. The chakra was of pure panic and terror, and Tobirama would not abandon them to whatever fate had been decided for them. She had a sinking feeling of what it was and as she neared the gates of the compound, there was a man dragging a struggling woman. More than likely his wife. The woman continued to protest and cry for help and Tobirama granted it.
The crack of broken bones resounded around the street and onlookers shrunk back as Tobirama glared at the man who now whimpered on the ground. As he cradled his shattered wrist, Tobirama hissed, “Did I not make it clear, that anyone who left was by their own choosing.”
“She's my wife! My property!” The man cried out, pain making his voice crack.
Revulsion curled in her stomach at his words. She hated people who saw others as their property. Taking a step towards the collapsed man, Tobirama hissed, “She is not yours. She is her own person and she is not owned by you.”
“She isn't even a Senju! Not by blood!”
Scoffing, Tobirama sneered at the pathetic man, “She is by marriage though. And since you are leaving the clan, she is the clan's to take care of. She is a Senju. You, are no longer.”
Stepping forward once more, Tobirama flipped a kunai into her hand, yanked his head up and sliced through the man's long hair, tossing the hunk onto his lap. “Get out of my home.”
With stumbling and staggering legs, he did so. His hair left sheared on the dirt. The woman behind her gave a wet sigh of relief and Tobirama gently steered her back, deeper into the compound. The gates behind them closed with a heavy bang.
Meeting the Uchiha in battle was not what she had planned when she asked for a meeting. But they arrived full armour and weaponry nonetheless. And when you compared them to her and Touka, being the only Senju representatives there, they looked pitiful to the mass of Uchiha in front of them.
Madara quirked his brow, glanced around, and asked in mockery, “I'm surprised that Hashirama is not hear preaching about peace. Where is he and why did we get his cold demon of a sister instead?”
The mention of her brother's name had her snarling out, taking a menacing step forward, ignoring how all the Uchiha tensed up, “Hashirama is dead!”
And the man staggered back, shock rearing up in his chakra. Glaring at this man who her brother loved, Tobirama coldly announced, “Hashirama is dead and I'm fulfilling his last request.”
The deathly quiet was over-whelming around the group as Madara gathered himself, voice hoarse he asked, “And what is that?” His chakra had become a wild mess of sparks and ash. It would be suffocating if she could breath it.
Arching a brow at how devastated he was, Tobirama answered, “He wanted peace between our clans.” And she couldn't help the scoff of derision, barely noticing the way Madara bristled. Obviously he wanted that peace too and hated her mocking his and Hashirama's dream. “I don't believe in peace. But I believe in treaties and ceasefires.”
The Uchiha hung on every word with trepidation as she declared, “No one with the name of Senju shall attack you. They have been ordered to run. If anyone that claims the name Senju attacks you, you are free to kill them. They are not part of the clan anymore, nor shall their actions reflect on the clan.”
“And you expect us to just halt any fighting?” Izuna sneered by Madara's side, his chakra a hot crackle of lightning.
Tobirama sent a chilling glance at him, “Yes.” And with that, the new head of the Senju clan turned around, walking away from the group, Touka quick on her heels.
But then Madara called out, “Tobirama!” She paused, not turning back around. “How-how did he die?”
Looking up at the overcast sky, Tobirama breathed out and answered, “The mokuton consumed him. As it inevitably does to any user.” She did not stick around to hear what he had to say to that. She may hate the man, may not trust him. But he was her brother's friend at one point. She owed him the truth at the very least.
When the last the unrest was taken care of, Tobirama had the compound go into a heavy lock down. Most of their fighters, the men, had left the clan, dissatisfied with the new rules she had begun to lay out. Some stayed though, but it was mainly those who had not reached their twentieth year and were willingly to stay and accept the changes. But in doing so, it made the clan vulnerable.
The majority of the clan was now women and children. Women and girls who were not permitted to fight before Tobirama took over, and only a small amount of well-trained young men and boys. They were easing pickings for any outsiders, and Tobirama and Touka may be the strongest fighters of the clan, even before the men had left, but the two of them couldn't hold off a full assault to the compound no matter their skills. And even though Tobirama began to train them as soon as things settled, it would take a year at the most to get the untrained up to par.
Which was where Mito's expertise came in. Barrier seals placed on the inside of the compounds wall, with the foundation matrix painted in the middle of the compound; the clan head's home, the seals were activated. The barrier held strong, fed off of chakra from Tobirama once a week to renew its strength. And through the use of Tobirama's own blood mixed with the ink, it would allow the seals to recognise those who would bring harm to the clan upon approach. It was a tricky thing to do, being able to distinguish between intent of a person through seal alone, no matter how talented Mito was. However, Tobirama's strong sensor ability that flowed through her veins was enough to grant them that security. Combined, it made one of the most detailed and secure barrier seals to exist.
With the barrier up, the clan shifted into a system that was as self-sufficient as possible. They grew their own crops and kept their own farm animals. They did so to begin with before the shift of power, but now they had more cattle, goats, and sheep brought in from markets of nearby village. Chickens were kept in a large coop, reproducing and providing eggs almost every week, and any meat unable to collect within the compound was gathered with Touka leading a group of hunters.
Anything they did not have themselves, they traded with Touka once more leading the group to the nearest villages. She was the clan's source of outside news, brought in with whatever goods she had gained in her outside trips. Touka seemed to enjoy this responsibility of taking her group of young men and women out of the compound, knowing that the clan relied on them heavily.
Tobirama herself rarely left the compound, what with training the women and children, as well as keeping an eye on the clan's finances. With the lack of money spent on more weapons and fixing armour, they had plenty of money to play with. But she would not over-indulge. Any money gained in selling whatever they managed to grow, produce, or make themselves, was budgeted and used sparingly. They could not afford to go broke before they could even take missions from the damiyo.
Which was another ordeal on its own. Taxes were still paid, but Tobirama knew that the missions from the capital kept trying to reach the closed off clan, the damiyo eager for more shinobi to throw at his problems. No, the man would have to wait. She would not leave any of them vulnerable and unprepared.
The entire shift of atmosphere within the compound was a startling one. With the lack of oppressors hovering over the women, Tobirama was watching with the pride only a mother could have, as they all grew more confident in themselves. She would teach for hours and help anyone who needed it for the sake of them growing strong enough to protect themselves and the clan. The children were able to run free without a care for over-formalities, and unmarried women and elder ladies did not have to stay stuck inside the Sanctum, freely moving about the compound and interacting with the clan. Bright chakra signatures surrounded Tobirama everyday and she could only hope that Hashirama would be proud of what she had managed to achieve within the five months after his death.
And with Tobirama interacting so much with the clan, the reputation of her being cold and cruel soon died down after many caught the way she indulged the children that begged her to play. Her abnormal appearance became less scorned without the elders around to continuously hiss her cursed nature to anyone who dared to befriend her.
On top of taking over training, she also was able to train up the midwives and healers on her self created medical jutsus based off of Hashirama's regenerative ability. With her giving advice and allowing them freedom to experiment different techniques, the medical jutsus began to advance with more focus on actually saving lives then taking them away. Tobirama thought Hashirama would've also been proud of how she had turned to revolutionizing the healing art based on his own ability.
Life in the compound became easy and simple. The clan grew happier, grew stronger in their bonds with one another, and the constant lording of power over those weaker soon faded when there wasn't anyone to perpetuate the cycle.
After nearly a year of them waiting, Mito gave birth to her children. Twins. A boy and girl, with the girl born first. She was declared heir based on age and no one disagreed. The boy was named Akahiko, after the bright red hair he inherited, and the daughter was Toshiko, who had Hashirama's darker skin tone and brown hair. It was a long birthing process, and more than once Tobirama had heard whispered pleas from Mito, begging for Hashirama to be there.
Tobirama had wept though, holding her niece and nephew in her arms after they were cleaned and swaddled. Pressing kisses to their brows, and promising safety for them, Tobirama watched over their sleeping forms as Mito dozed. The mother worked hard to bring them into this safer clan, and Tobirama would do everything she could to make sure Mito would not regret staying with the Senju clan than going back to her home.
After Mito had healed up, she, Tobirama, and Touka took the twins to Hashirama's tree, presenting the newborns. The creaks and groans of the branches as they swayed in a non-existent wind was enough for the women to know that Hashirama was ecstatic at the birth of his children. Pressing a hand up against the bark, the warmth the spread to her skin had Tobirama beaming. Even though he could not longer be with them in the way they were familiar with, Hashirama was there. His soul continued to live around them in the nature they were surrounded by.
It was some months after Hashirama's death before Tobirama felt a distinctive chakra signature by the Naka river. It began to visit the river consistently every week. And it continued on until it had been a year since her brother had died. A year since her take over of the clan. A year since the ceasefire. Touka reported no attacks by the Uchiha clan, though there have been minor fights between some of the clan's members and the ex-Senju. But it wasn't her problem as she clearly stated before, and Madara had not come knocking at their door to demand repayment for any injuries or deaths that may have happened.
The Uchiha had done as she demanded, and Tobirama was grateful for that.
Even still, Tobirama felt that chakra in the exact place the two men would have talked and played as boys. And something within in her told her to go. Or maybe it was the way Hashirama's tree seemed to sway in the direction of the river, as if urging her forward.
Well, she did promise to bring peace. And a ceasefire would not be enough for Hashirama. He would have pushed and pushed for more. But now, Tobirama would be his agent of peace it seemed. And so, a year and a dat since Hashirama had died, she went.
It was a quick journey, hopping over the wall and past the barrier, not made to keep people in but people out. She had not donned armour, as this would not be a battle she had decided firmly to her self. Though she wasn't stupid enough to leave behind her sword.
And that was how Tobirama met Madara for the first time in a year and a day. Dressed in a casual grey yukata, hair undone, and sword at her hip. He himself was not in armour, and looked up at her arrival, tensing. His chakra was the usual bonfire of heat and brightness, and in some ways, it was comforting that he had not changed much even after the ceasefire and Hashirama's death. Though there was a consistent melancholy every time he visited the river.
Tobirama, when she stepped into view, ignored his wariness and walked towards him calmly.
“You two used to skip rocks, correct?” It was something she already knew, but it was the best opening line she could come up with. Small talk was not in her set of skills.
Madara nodded, keeping silent. For a moment, she waited to see if he would say anything, and when he didn't, Tobirama took a seat on one of the larger rocks in the middle of the river. Settling down, Tobirama relaxed in the sound of the moving water, enjoying the nature around them.
And it seemed her silence paid off, as Madara said quietly, “He was terrible at it.”
A smile quirked on her lips, at the lie and decided to indulge the man. “I'm not surprised. His aim was his worst skill. It's why he preferred the mokuton in battle.”
“How-” And he stopped himself, chakra unsure. But Tobirama only felt a dull ache at the pain of her brother's death. They were shinobi, and Tobirama was good at rationalising her emotions. People died all the time for them. However it hurt, the loss of her brother. More than the loss of her mother and younger brothers. She loved him so much, and as she tried to do what was right for her clan, Tobirama kept the constant thought process that Hashirama would have done better if he was in her place. He was a true leader, not her.
Taking a glance at Madara's blurry form, Tobirama replied, “The mokuton, if used too much, can cause roots and trees to begin growing inside its user. A drawback to the powerful ability.”
“Did he suffer?” He whispered, and Tobirama nearly gave the answer right away, but stilled.
“...Do you want me to lie?”
A shaky exhale, “Yes please.”
After eyeing him for another second, Tobirama gave him a sad smile, “It wasn't a bad death. It was drawn out, but there wasn't much pain. He left peacefully. Touka, Mito, and I were there with him.” His actual death was peaceful, she did not lie on that. Tobirama numbed his pain receptors so her brother wouldn't suffer in his last moments. But the rest of the time, it was pure torment. The creaking, scratching ache of roots digging into your muscles and organs. The horrific beauty of nature making its home in your lungs was not a kind thing to experience. Tobirama may not have felt it first hand, but Hashirama could not hide it from her. He may have smiled, but Tobirama and Mito had been there through every blood coated cough. Through every stumble and collapse when a stem or branch destroyed or damaged a nerve ending.
Madara's chakra became a fire that was smothered from its air. And Tobirama heard the soft hitch of breath.
She watched this man. Who was an enemy. Who wasn't anymore. Who grieved Hashirama's death so openly in front of her. Who seemed to have loved her brother dearly. Whether it was platonic or not, Tobirama did not know. But she was grateful that another person loved her brother. Hashirama deserved it after a loveless childhood.
Holding out her hand, Tobirama offered the comfort for what it was. And after a moment's hesitation, he grasped it like a life line.
Ironic, that it was now her meeting Madara by the river now. Touka and Mito knew of course. The three of them promised to not lie or hide secrets from each other for the sake of their own sanity and for keeping things running smoothly. Touka was wary and suspicious. Mito was hesitant but trusted her judgment. Tobirama wanted to get to know the man her brother proclaimed to be his best friend.
Once a week, the two clan leaders met by the river, and Tobirama sat on her rock as Madara skipped rocks. If she recalled Hashirama’s words years ago correctly, then Madara had improved on his skills. Sometimes, thought, she would subtly shift the water with her chakra and laugh as Madara scowled when the rock was tugged into the water instead of skipping.
And then he would send a flick of water in her direction and it devolved into a water fight. Tobirama always won.
It was better than the bloody fights they used to have before the ceasefire.
Getting to know the man, Tobirama learnt his hobbies and favourite things. In return, she offered up her own. He had a dry humour, and seemed to flail when caught of guard. The image of a dangerous and deadly clan leader shifted to a man who was lonely and missing his friend. And as time went on, and Tobirama continued to talk with him, the grief faded to gentle nostalgia whenever he discussed Hashirama. For Tobirama, the hole in her slowly filled with new memories and emotions.
They also discussed the coming and goings of their clans. Little anecdotes of everyday things. And on one such meeting, perhaps five months since their first chat, Madara remarked, “So apparently you are a Demon Matriarch.” It seemed that the rumours had reached him too.
Tobirama snorted, “I'm not surprised that my title changed to that.”
“You're aware of the rumors then?”
She shrugged, tracing patterns in the river with her toes, “Of course.”
“I thought that you only left the compound to visit me. I'm hurt, Tobirama. I thought I meant something to you.”
The wounded hand over his heart had Tobirama chuckling as she replied, “And you're correct, I only leave to talk to you. It's Touka who brings the rumours and news back. It's good to keep aware of the outside world.”
Madara hummed, before asking, “And what do you think of the rumours?”
“That it's a good reputation to have in order to keep my people safe.” She replied nonchalantly.
After a pause, Madara then wondered out loud, “So you really killed all the men who rejected your claim as the clan head?”
Tobirama scoffed, and thought about the day she took over the clan. After around two years, it was barely a thought on her mind unless someone brought it up. “When I took over, I only killed six men.”
Madara barked out a sharp laugh, “Only six? You’re getting soft.” He teased, and Tobirama gave a wry smile which had his humour faltering, sensing a soft shift in the mood.
Glancing up at the sky, Tobirama quietly said, “My father was against the peace. He wanted to push on with the fighting. The elders were the same. I knew they would not step back for the sake of the clans future. So I got rid of them.”
A sound of understanding. “Was it true you declared your power whilst holding up their heads?”
Tobirama grimaced and flicked water at his face. Over his squawking, she replied, “That's disgusting. I just wore their splattered blood.”
“Oh, well I guess that's not too bad then.” Madara replied airily.
The way he casually took in her words and turned it into something funny was endearing. Tobirama could tell by his chakra that he was a bit caught off-guard by the lengths she had went to gain power, but was making an effort not to judge her so quickly. There was a still in the conversation, before Tobirama decided to explain, “There is a clan tradition. One that I kept even when I took over. If someone is seen as a possible danger to the clan, there is meant to be a trial held to see if it's true or not. Though, with my father, it just came down to declaring someone a traitor and killing them.”
“Like you?”
It wasn't judgmental, but Tobirama still said a bit sharply, “I don't regret what I did. I poisoned my father as he declared me a traitor and died in my arms. I slaughtered the elders as they cursed my existence. I did what I had to for not only my own survival, but for the clan as well.”
And Madara nodded in approval. Tobirama relaxed as he asked another question, “Did they hate you that much?”
Looking back, Tobirama really wondered why they hated her to such a degree. Everything she was born with was out of her own control. But everything she did, was as they commanded of her. Butsuma had even said many times that she should have been his eldest son, seeing as she took after his ruthlessness and not Hashirama. Her father hated and respected her in equal turn. The elders though...
“I was a woman and born deformed. With the red eyes to mimic their biggest enemy, I was a curse. A monster. I was to bring this clan to a ruin with my existence.”
Madara picked up a rock from the shore line and skipped it, casually replying, “I can maybe see all that, but being a woman? Why is that a bad thing?”
Her smile was mirthless as she looked at him, “We are weak and emotional individuals. We are only good for bearing children and continuing the succession of a lineage.” It was something that was recited and drilled into her head since she was born.
And Madara scoffed derisively, “That's a load of bullshit.”
Tobirama couldn't stop herself when she snorted in response to his blasé insult to her clan's traditions, “Yes, it is.”
After a thoughtful silence, Madara said, “In my clan, women are some of our strongest fighters. They don't go out on the battlefield unless they want to because most of them want to be the last defense for the clan. It's an honour.”
A wistful sigh escaped her lips, and Tobirama closed her eyes to the afternoon sun, “I wish I was born in your clan.”
It was continuous months of back and forth discussions between the two leaders. They kept on with their wide range of topics, such as the cultural differences they were raised with, to Tobirama poking holes into his and Hashirama's plans of building a village. But the more she poked, the more she understood why they wanted it. That hopeful peace. And looking at Madara, feeling how bright his chakra was, Tobirama knew what was coming. And she welcomed it with open arms.
They were going to build a village. And it started with Madara asking her by that river, where it all began in the first place, “Would you be willing to join our clans together, Tobirama?”
A soft smile appeared on her face, and that aching where Hashirama's promise finally eased as she commented, “That sounds like a marriage proposal.”
“And if it was?”
“Then I would say yes, Madara.”