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Hashirama strides to the compound gates, puzzled by the commotion.
The Senju get visitors all the time, clients of every caste, from merchants to nobles, and his shinobi are accustomed to it. Why such a fuss would be raised over just one single person, enough that a runner was sent to beg his presence...
There's only one man who ever created that kind of response... and that man is dead.
It doesn't stop his steps from quickening as he gets closer though, his heart beating faster as he looks for long black hair, but he finds nothing.
Only a pale man, surrounded by a ring of gaping faces.
Hashirama slows, approaching cautiously, but there's nothing to inspire the surprise and wariness that he sees in his clan. The stranger might stand straight and tall, but he wears a simple yukata instead of armour, and he appears to be completely unarmed.
But, when he raises his eyes, Hashirama takes an unconscious step back.
Red as blood, even without the spinning tomoe of the Sharingan, they look uncomfortably other.
Uchiha.
All that goes out of his head though, when the man bows.
It's not the formal submission of the civilian to a clan head, not even the the obeisance from a shinobi under his command. No, that's the kind of bow Hashirama hasn't seen since he was a little boy.
That kind of bow comes from family.
And he doesn't have any of those.
Not anymore.
"I bring word from your affianced bride and the Uzumaki," the stranger straightens, holding out a scroll in two hands as if in offering. "She says that my education among them is finally complete, and so I am returned to you and our clan."
Our clan?
Hashirama reaches out, taking the scroll with fingers that he doesn't allow to tremble, but he can feel the world reshaping itself around him.
"As a seal master, the knowledge I carry is a gift to the Senju, and I look forward to the creation of your dream." Red eyes stare at him, unafraid and calm despite being in the heart of his power. "May I take my place at your side... Anija?"
"You may," Hashirama takes a leap of faith, feeling the winds of change lift him up like a leaf on the breeze. "Otouto."