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It was an unspoken rule that the eldest child became the one who took over the clan.
No matter whose clan it was, it was practically a law. The first born were the ones trained to become the leaders who bring about the new era. To either hold up the values and traditions of the old leadership or to forgo them to create new ones.
More than anything, Hashirama wanted to change things. He wanted to change their minds, to try to make peace with clans who are tired of the fight as he was. The war has gone on so long he couldn’t imagine what could have started this feud between the Senju and the Uchiha.
No matter how much he digs into their ancestors recounts from the beginnings of the shinobi world. It felt like he was going insane with every scroll he tried to read to try and find something that he could use to try and dissuade his clan from continuing these pointless wars, even outside of working under the feudal lords it felt like they were just constantly looking for reasons to kill each other.
Being the next in line for leadership, he hoped to be able to finally put an end to this feud. That he and the Uchiha heir to leadership could put an end to it.
Even after years of fighting on the battlefields, of seeking each other out to show off their abilities. Every time he steps into their fights he finds himself always scanning the grounds for that familiar wild black hair, onyx eyes and the familiar sharp grin on the other’s face.
Every time they saw each other, it felt like his heart was trying to burst from his chest. Just like that first time they met by the river; when they were two young boys looking for comfort and friendship in a world where trust was only for those within the clan and family.
How many times have I wanted to just hug him? To go and skip stones with him again without the stress of expectations? I want to just hold his hand and run off, to put as much distance between us and the conflict as I can.. He looked down quietly at the saucer of sake in his hand.
Father was on his death bed right now; not yet crossed over but clearly on his way. It was a bittersweet feeling for Hashirama; despite how they disagreed with each other, that was still his father. Still the man who raised him, taught him how to use a kunai, instilled the morals and values that made the clan what it was today..
He took no pleasure in his father’s imminent passing.
“Elder brother…you’re deep in thought again.”
Hashirama looked at his remaining younger brother; the last one who managed to survive and get through these horrid wars and was here now; waiting for the inevitable.
“I am,” He confirmed, as he stared out at the clear night sky. The air was humid, but not uncomfortably so; the stars were twinkling softly behind the dark shapes of the trees as he took another sip of his sake.
Even from here he can feel the roots of every tree that resides deep down beneath the ground. His eyes grow half lidded as he focuses on them while Tobirama remains quiet beside him. His younger brother seemed to understand he was not in a very talkative mood at the moment.
Instead he focuses on finding that one chakra signature as he closes his eyes. Deep down he knows that he is misusing the mokuton to do this, but he found he could careless. All he wanted was to ensure he could sense that one person, to make sure he was alive and healthy.
I wonder how he is doing…is he eating well? Is he resting? He looked tired the last time we fought…I wish I could give him something to help him rest…I just want him to be all right… Those treacherous thoughts are swishing through his head, and for once he just lets them roam as he closes his eyes. Perhaps the sake was making it harder to keep the thoughts at bay.
No matter what he was always thinking of Madara, even when he tried not to. How can he not? He was the only one, the only person who saw him; the real him who wanted peace and to make friends with others. Who wants to stop sending the children of shinobi out into the world where they aren’t ready to be hunted like animals, mutilated, murdered in cold blood. He wanted to give a new, peaceful era for the children of the future.
The only one who ever got to hear these dreams from him was none other than his beautiful, strong, skilled gift from the divine Madara.
Every time I see him, I want to kiss him. I want to hold his hands, I want to feel how his fingers feel intertwined with mine, I want to press against his side and watch the river as the sun rises and falls. I want to tell him how beautiful and strong he is, I want to put more smiles on his face, I want to love him even if he gets sick of me for it… He stared down into the cup with eyes half lidded while gently tracing his fingers along the rim of the saucer.
“...Elder brother…are you going to be all right?”
Hashirama took a slow breath not facing him, “...Maybe. Honestly I don’t know,” he looked down, “...am I even ready to be a clan head?”
“I think you are…and if you aren’t well no one else needs to know,” Tobirama hummed beside him, “...I did hear that the Uchiha’s clan head, Tajima is passing away soon as well,” he swirled his drinks with eyes half lidded and looking tired, “...Madara is next in line to take over, as you know.”
I know. I know he is. And I pray…I pray that I can convince him to end this ages long feud. Convince him to be by my side as we build the village we always dreamed of, I want to be with him, I want to build something meaningful with our clans coming together. It’s all I have ever wanted…it’s all I ever needed, His cheeks are flushed as he thinks of it.
Perhaps there was hope for the future. Hope to create that future together where they didn’t have to fear for the young bloods.
Where they could be together. Where he can hold his hand without judgement, where he can kiss and be close without being suspicious.
Even if it was just another silly dream, it was better than the reality they were dealing with.