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It's a fantasy, until it isn't. One day, the idea of individual clans living together, building together, is nothing more than a dream. The lines blur between that day and the one they live in now, where it has become a reality. A flimsy reality, easily breakable. It could shatter like snapping out of a drunken daze.
Just as plausibly, it could stay.
Izuna isn't sure what to believe. His skepticism is rooted beside buried brothers, deep and unerring like the scars he still holds from battle. Dangerously recent battle.
"Izuna, you must allow yourself to feel the peace of a lawful land," Madara says, but he hasn't felt quite as deeply the wrath—or the blade—of the enemy. His rival has never been a deadly force.
On the bitter side, Izuna remains recovering from the wound which should have killed him—would have killed him. He sits in a drafty building in a drafty town where nothing is quite built yet, and he cannot help. He can hardly sit up.
Madara visits each day. Sometimes with that awful man, grinning like he's never spilt Uchiha blood. At the very least, Izuna holds no pretenses for the things that he has done. With his visits, Madara brings medicine as well as news. The village grows stronger, he boasts, as if a village is what they have. Izuna keeps such thoughts to himself, but he knows that what they have is a collection of scared and bitter enemies who are a mild disagreement away from rehashing the same war that has been waged for generations. Politically, they don't even exist. Not yet, at least.
Izuna is grateful that he never has to see the Senju's demon. Madara is understanding in that regard. Or perhaps he simply knows that allowing that man anywhere near Izuna would be a surefire way of foregoing all pretenses of peace.
Still, Izuna allows himself to recover in peace, even if the turmoil in his mind is unending.
By the time Izuna is mobile again, the sorry excuse for a village is appearing more like its name. He will give his brother credit where it is due; nobody has killed another yet.
The moon is high when Izuna steps outside unchaperoned for the first time. The silence of the night is unnatural to anything he has known before, even as his keen ears listen for something to prove him right. Of course, there is nothing.
He travels deep into the forest, waiting. The skin around his healing wound tugs, sometimes, and he wants to scratch at it. It feels like a void in his chest, hollow where there should be vital organs. Perhaps he is hollow, now. Has been for some time.
Izuna stares at the ground where his feet move across the dirt and wonders when he began to feel so empty.
He's been a soldier longer than a person. He will never unlearn war.
Somewhere inside, Izuna knows that he should be buried beside his brothers. He is alive, proved by shallow breathing and the goosebumps on his skin from the night air's bite. He is alive, but why him? If it were his choice, no Uchiha would have died in war to begin with. He does not deserve to be alive any more than his brothers.
The hypocritical voice that grows louder in the quiet hours once again laughs at him, because it knows that an organized village will prevent bloodshed, and that is all he has ever wanted, yet he opposes it.
He can't grow beyond the part of himself that craves Senju blood. Uchiha peace at the expense of the Senju, not collaboration of the two. It's selfish, and Izuna knows that, but it's all he's ever known.
At some point in his suffocating musings, Izuna has stopped walking. He knows this only because his senses have detected something, and he has gone deathly still out of sheer instinct. His hands twitch, eager to channel the fire in his veins.
The presence is right behind him, and he's ready to whirl around. Adrenaline is beginning to course through him, his breathing rapid.
"There's no need for all of that."
It's a low voice that Izuna hoped to never hear again. It only fuels the fire that must be present in his expression as he spins to face his opponent. Vaguely, he understands that his vision is tinted crimson. His sharingan must have opened. That must be why the Senju refused to meet his eyes.
"You," Izuna says, with all the vitriol of someone speaking to their near-murderer.
"Me," Senju Tobirama replies dryly, and his voice is dark but there's no killing intent. No hint of violence at all. Izuna isn't fooled.
"Did you follow me here?" Izuna asks. "Are you here to finish what you started?"
Tobirama is unfazed. He stands firmly, hands clasped behind his back like this is some meeting. "No. Your brother was in a frenzy, unable to find you. Naturally, my brother was informed of this."
That didn't make sense. "Why are you here, then?"
"Hashirama sent me." Tobirama's gaze remains at the ground. It would look almost pathetic if it weren't so instinctual, and Izuna was fully aware of that. "It must have been an oversight on his part. I obviously did not volunteer."
"Why were they trying to find me, anyway?" Izuna glares vaguely, unsure of who to be angry at. "I can take care of myself."
"You are wounded."
The words barely leave Tobirama's tongue before Izuna snaps back. "Who's fault is that?"
"I will not divert blame," Tobirama says. The edge of his mouth quirks upward in the visage of a smirk. Sadistic, Izuna thinks. Dangerous.
"You need to stay away from me."
Tobirama only nods.
Izuna takes a step backwards. Then another, and another, until he is at a safe distance to turn and leave. He is not fleeing; he is being cautious. Tobirama wants his blood just as much as Izuna would were the roles reversed. Even the way things are, Izuna wants to see that Senju dead. It is best for everyone if they stay far away from one another—as far as an enclosed village can allow.
Madara is talking about forming a government for their village. Voting on leadership. Izuna sits against the wall in his barren office and scoffs, because his brother is speaking as though the democratic process would do anything to save the Uchiha.
"The Senju outnumber us," Izuna points out, watching his brother carefully.
"This isn't some battle, Izuna. We are at peace." That has been Madara's mantra, as of late. Like he's trying to convince himself just as much as he tries to convince Izuna. "It isn't about who has the numbers. We are one now."
"No," Izuna argues. "It means that the bigheaded Senju is going to win the election, because his clan will vote for him. Has nothing to do with my hatred of them."
Madara sighs. "That's another thing you need to get over, but not the point. Most of the people here are more than willing to look to the future rather than dwell on the past."
Izuna doesn't reply.
"My point is," Madara continues. "Hashirama believes that his people will vote as fairly as ours."
"So, what, your 'Hashirama' will just concede the vote and allow you to win, then?" Izuna emphasizes the name, dramatizing the way Madara said it.
"That's not what I said." He looks almost nervous. "Hashirama wants us to lead together."
Izuna scoffs again. "You just update me on how that goes over with the village." He frowns, wondering how long he's been subconsciously referring to it as 'the village' to be able to say it in conversation so casually.
"I know you have faith in me, somewhere in there." Madara looks away from Izuna and pulls out a stack of parchment, which always means that he's pretending he's won the argument and won't speak more on it.
"Alright," Izuna concedes. He looks down at the cobblestones. He wonders if some of the bolder Senju will ever allow a dual-leadership, no matter how badly Madara and Hashirama want it. The peace, up until now, has been sheer luck. This could unbalance it. Izuna is almost afraid to watch it unfold. Perhaps he really is a hypocrite, but he'd rather have strenuous peace than all-out warfare again. There hadn't been an Uchiha death in months, nor Senju. It was fragile, but it was something.
Izuna isn't sure when it happened—or how. He's standing in a room beside his brother, the new Hokage—well, one of them—when the door slides open and Senju Tobirama steps in, and Izuna doesn't flinch.
Their interactions weren't avoidable, especially as such high-ranking members of their respective clans. Izuna has been trying his best, but it isn't as easy as simply wishing. So they've sat in rooms together, both trying very hard not to rip the other apart. They've even exchanged non-hostile words for the sake of their brothers and the village, and Izuna is loathe to admit that he can numb himself to anything. Evidently, that extends to the presence of his once-enemy near-murderer now-colleague.
Now he doesn't even flinch at the sight of him. Such progress.
Madara is speaking to Hashirama, something about farming reports from the daimyo, as they're a properly established village, now, and that comes with a lot of boring executive decisions that Izuna must be witness to as heir to the Uchiha. Tobirama must also be privy to them, as heir to the Senju. Needless to say, meetings like this were the worst part of Izuna's day.
Tobirama crosses the room and stands beside Izuna, filling the spot where Madara, the traitor, stood just moments ago.
Izuna takes a deep breath and fantasizes about a reality where Tobirama's attack had simply killed him. Perhaps he could have done something noble, like given his eyes to Madara. He could have been a martyr. Now he's suffocating beside the worst Senju like their clans have no history whatsoever. Izuna could laugh. He might laugh.
Tobirama's droning voice cuts through Izuna's self-pitying. "This is exceedingly boring."
At that, Izuna frowns. This is dangerous territory, entirely unknown to him. Tobirama does not make small talk. Much less does he attempt to find common ground with Izuna. He's at a loss for how to respond. What his flailing tongue comes out with is not what he would have wanted. "Are you not riveted by the politics of proper irrigation?"
Somehow, that takes Tobirama aback. Izuna finds such an idea interesting, considering he started it. Unless he was merely speaking aloud by accident, not attempting to actually communicate, and Izuna is the fool.
Tobirama regains his composure in almost the same moment that he lost it. "There are a great many things I would rather attend to."
"It's a shame we have to be here." Izuna feels like every word is an explosive jutsu counting down. He's just waiting for something to go wrong. He holds his breath.
Tobirama looks around the room, then back at Izuna. His gaze is fixed just beneath Izuna's eyes, ever cautious. There's an unfamiliar glint in his scarlet eyes. "They're quite busy. I imagine if we were to… slip away, it would escape their notice."
Izuna's eyebrows shoot up. It's a great effort to keep his voice from raising. "Madara is going to think you killed me. Or vice versa."
"An interesting theory." Tobirama tilts his head. "Perhaps we should test it, in the name of science."
"How could I possibly refuse scientific discovery?"
Tobirama's face contorts into a grin, sharklike and dangerous. Something stirs in Izuna's chest that is like fear, yet so different.
It's warm outside. Izuna lifts his face where the sun can warm it more directly, and he feels Tobirama looking at him. Strange. Neither of them speak, but they start to walk.
Izuna almost laughs at some of the expressions of passersby, Senju and Uchiha alike. The entire situation is surreal, and when he turns to Tobirama the smile is still present. It's weird. Izuna feels weird. His wound itches.
They get a few minutes of the odd, peaceful limbo before twin voices call out their names with increasing levels of concern. Izuna can't help it. He starts to laugh. Tobirama is looking at him and their respective brothers are probably expecting to see bloodstained cobblestones and his chest aches like someone has cast stones into the hollow cavern there.
Perhaps that is what compels him to take Tobirama by the sleeve and pull them both into an alley out of sight of the main road. Izuna is trying to contain his laughter until he looks up to see Tobirama frozen in place. He's still holding onto Tobirama's arm. He lets go quickly, but the Senju still does not move.
Izuna's laughter is replaced by a frown. "Hey, Senju, what's the matter?"
Tobirama stares at the ground. "Do not touch me like that. It—startled me."
"Oh." Guilt floods Izuna's system. He feels suddenly sober, which is odd because he hadn't registered feeling so relaxed until it was over. "I wasn't thinking."
"Clearly."
Izuna scowls. He wonders how it had been so easy to forget who he was with. Tobirama's demeaner had changed so rapidly, and it wasn't unfounded, but Izuna is annoyed nonetheless. Nothing has changed, really.
It's quiet until Madara and Hashirama turn the corner, and suddenly Izuna is hit with a barrage of worry and chastisement. He doesn't listen to the details. Izuna has become a professional at tuning out his brother's fussing. His wound itches, and he feels so hollow inside.
The village has been in good spirits since the addition of the newer clans. Something about a higher populous and less hostile faces tends to allow people to relax, to feel truly safer. Like there's real peace. Clans like the Akimichi and the Nara have less soldiers, more citizens. The shift has been interesting. Not only socially, but politically. Izuna learns this the hard way.
Suddenly, it is not a meeting room of only four people. Suddenly, there are new clan heads who sit around a table, making up a sort of council. Izuna does not need to contribute as much, but he still shows up, as brother of the Hokage.
Tobirama hasn't snapped at him since the alley, but that is likely due to their lack of communication of any kind as of late. Izuna has no qualms, as he rather likes that he's allowed to simply glare.
Interestingly, Tobirama glares back. Not directly, but Izuna notices nonetheless, as they sit across from one another during meetings as a result of where their brothers sit.
Izuna has noticed how quickly Tobirama can swap a focused glare for a calm, respectful expression as he responds to a clan head, before once again returning his attention to Izuna. It might be more fun if it weren't for the terrifying, unfamiliar weight in Izuna's chest.
The Hyuuga head is saying something about an organized military, and Izuna starts paying attention. He notices Tobirama do the same.
"Our clans—and the village at large—already contain more shinobi than not," the Akimichi clan head responds with a frown. He looks to the others, perhaps for support. "I don't think it's wise to try and force our society to be more military-heavy."
The Nara head makes a hm sound before she speaks up. "Our village has become something of a trend. Clans are gathering in other regions, doing the same thing. They have shinobi in the same numbers as we do. A proper military, or perhaps something more… discrete, may be wise.”
Izuna, curious, prepares to speak for the first time in the meeting, but another voice approaches first.
“What are you proposing?”
Of course, Izuna thinks dully.
"Ah, Tobirama. I'm sure you, of all shinobi, will agree that our defense should be more centralized. Organized."
Tobirama nods, eyes narrow.
"Well," the Nara clean head continues. "I am proposing an elite force, designed specifically to protect the village and what it stands for."
"Is that not what shinobi do already?" Madara asks. His voice always has the effect of sucking all of the air out of a room, as if every person is hanging onto each word.
The Nara is not fazed. If anything, she sounds almost annoyed. "As I mentioned before, the other villages have shinobi."
The Hyuuga clan head speaks up again. "I would have to agree. To be truly strong, we must train those who are already strong to become more so. To become protectors."
Soldiers, he doesn't say, but Izuna knows it.
He wonders if Madara knew this would happen—peace does not last forever. Izuna has known. Clans, villages, it's all the same. People will fight and kill and train their youth to fight and kill because it is in their nature. Izuna feels cheated, in a way. He lost his childhood to war, and he was lulled into the false belief that his adulthood could be different.
"Who would lead the organization?" The Akimichi asks. "If shinobi are already trained to be elite, there must be someone surpassing elite to train such a group."
Izuna slides his gaze to Tobirama, to gauge his reaction, because if anyone were to train shinobi to be the best of the best, it would be him. Tobirama is already looking at him. Intentionally or not, their eyes meet for the first time in their lives. It feels like lightning is alive beneath his skin, setting alight every nerve. Tobirama's eyes widen marginally.
They call the private military the ANBU, and much like their respective brothers as Hokage, Izuna and Tobirama are given dual leadership over the organization. They get an office similar to that of the Hokage, but smaller and with less sunlight. More secluded.
It's dawn and Izuna's eyes are glazing over as he scans yet another identical shinobi profile. The clans are good, but he and Tobirama have scarcely found any who are good enough.
Izuna feels Tobirama looking at him from across the room. He meets his gaze. That's something they do now. The electrifying feeling does not dissipate, present each time.
"You need to take a break," Tobirama says, and Izuna is quick to jump to his own defense. Tobirama stops him before he can say anything. "I can feel your chakra levels depleting. Uchiha, you need to rest."
Izuna narrows his eyes. "And you don't?" He can't feel the chakra of other shinobi, but he doesn't need that ability to see the clear signs of exhaustion on a person's face.
Tobirama sighs. Sets down his papers. "The paperwork will still be here after we rest," he concedes. "These things cannot be built overnight."
"It's been weeks," Izuna argues, but there's no bite to it. He's just tired.
"Even so." Tobirama stands, then walks over to the fireplace to extinguish its dim rays. The pink beginnings of sunrise are creeping through the windowsill, anyway. Izuna stands to join him.
Tobirama looks at him with a complicated expression. It's too quiet.
Then,
"Nara wasn't the first to think of this sort of organization." Tobirama rubs at his eyes like he's got a headache. "I toyed with the concept—ran the diagnostics in my mind for ages. It always seemed to risky. Maybe I shouldn't have jumped into this so soon, at the first glimpse of someone with the same idea…"
"Hm." Izuna looks down. "It's risky, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth it. When has risk ever stopped you?"
Tobirama is quiet for a moment before responding. "It stopped me from delivering what should have been a killing blow, once."
Izuna's eyes snap up to meet Tobirama's. He searches those scarlet eyes for something he knows he won't find.
"That was one that would never have been worth it." Tobirama sounds tired as he speaks. Izuna wonders if he's meaning to say any of it at all. "If I had…"
Izuna feels like his nerves are on fire. He can't stand how near Tobirama is, nor the nonsense he's spewing. "That can't be right. Why would you sabotage the chance to get rid of your enemy?"
It's not a good conversation to have. Izuna doesn't want to think about how it would be if he were dead. What Tobirama would be like. What Madara would be like.
"I didn't…" The words sound like they're fighting to escape. "Want. To kill you."
"That's ridiculous." The refutation is out before Izuna can rethink the wording, but he means it.
"I'm serious."
"Senju. You need to go rest. You're not thinking straight."
"I'm not tired. I just—I need to say this. I need you to know that I never—"
"Tobirama. Stop."
Tobirama stops. His mouth is slightly parted, and his face is more expressive than Izuna has seen before. It's terrifying. There's a weight in his chest too heavy to bear.
Izuna needs to say something. Something more. All that comes out is, "Goodnight."
Then, he steps away, where the air isn't charged with something so dangerous. He turns.
"Izuna."
He shivers. His name sounds so unfamiliar from Tobirama's tongue. But he stops in his tracks.
"Goodnight."
Izuna inhales sharply and does not respond. Something has changed.
"Madara."
"Hm."
"I need your help."
"Hm."
"Have you ever… Ugh, I really don't know. Have you ever felt something so strongly that it hurt? That you couldn't breathe? But—uh, no, not like grief. Or anything bad. It's… suffocating. Like drowning, but in emotion. It's not hollow anymore."
"Izuna."
"Yes?"
"Do you know what, aside from the sharingan, the Uchiha are known for?"
"I—I don't think so."
"No, I would imagine you were too young to remember such stories. They weren't… as relevant."
"What do you mean?"
"The Uchiha of the past were strong soldiers, but they were more than that. Their emotions were heightened beyond that of a normal shinobi."
"That much I knew…"
"But it isn't only anger, or grief. No clan loves quite as strongly as the Uchiha, is what I'm trying to say."
"…Love?"
"Based on… your descriptions. That is my guess."
"…"
"Izuna. Love isn't a bad thing."
"It's not love."
"It's alright, I promise. You are allowed to feel."
"No, it just—it can't be. It's something else."
"Izuna."
"I'm not in love."
"Who is it that's making you feel like this?"
"I… I don't know. It's not love."
"Okay."
"It isn't."
"Okay."
"But… if it were. That is—what should I do?"
"That depends on you, and whoever it is you're in love with."
"I'm not in love."
"Okay."
The wintertime is difficult. The sun sets early, resources halt in their travels, and it becomes altogether too cold to do anything other than stay inside. It's less than ideal for a developing village. It's been far worse, though. War and winter do not mix well. At the very least, winter and peace have more in common. Stillness. Community.
The cold keeps clans confined to their own areas, mostly out of convenience. They could continue to intermingle, but Izuna shares the sentiment of remaining in one's comfort zone. The winter has never been safe, and that is an idea so integral to life, shinobi or otherwise, that the flimsy beginnings of a village can't undo it so easily.
Izuna has been staying indoors more than he would like. While Madara is out helping those who need it—and there are many who need it—all Izuna can do is pace around the drafty floors of their home, sliding doors open and closed out of boredom. The ache is so deep where his healed wound sits, almost certainly heightened by the cold.
One night, when Madara comes home, he brings with him new ideas.
"The last thing that we want is for all of our efforts to reverse themselves in the span of one season. Already the clans are isolating themselves out of necessity. Hashirama and I have been toying with the idea of shared spaces, or activities to build community. Just… anything to keep us all from drifting apart."
Izuna sits and listens. Logically, it makes sense to want the village to remain united. But he isn't sure how attainable that goal is. He's always been more pessimistic than his brother.
"Something for all of the clans?" Izuna asks.
"Preferably," Madara says. He exhales. "I just want this peace to last."
"Me too," Izuna agrees, and realizes in that moment that he really means it. "What can I do to help make it possible?"
By nightfall, there is an area cleared out where members of each clan can gather, if they wish. Izuna should probably start calling them members of the village, if this whole 'united' concept is going to stick. There are two bonfires, courtesy of the Uchiha, so that no one freezes to death. Also, Madara was raving about how fires can promote friendly community and relaxation, though Izuna isn't sure.
He's still hesitant about being in such close quarters with so many who were once enemies. It's one thing to pass someone in the street as both parties mind their business. It's another thing entirely to be expected to sit and laugh with someone who has so much shared history of bloodshed. Izuna figures he'll probably stick close to Madara or some other Uchiha as the night goes on.
Izuna's fingers are numb, even though he's standing by the fire. There's a thin sheet of frost on the ground, melting slowly. It's cold, but he's sweating.
Madara is somewhere with Hashirama, and Izuna knows better than to tag along, so he's standing in a more isolated area, scanning the crowd. From here, it's hard to tell who is part of which clan. They're all just people. So maybe it's working.
The sensation of Tobirama's overwhelming presence hits him like a headache, but it isn't a surprise. He simply turns to face him, hoping the aforementioned headache shows on his face.
"Senju," he greets.
"I must be honest, I didn't expect to see you here." Tobirama has always been the type to skip pleasantries, something Izuna is glad for.
"It makes me nervous," Izuna admits. He's subconsciously fidgeting with the edges of his sleeves. "But Madara needed the support."
Tobirama nods. "It is the same for me. Hashirama mentioned that if even the most skeptical members of the clans show up, it means we're achieving something. I suppose that was referring to us."
"Good to know that they think we could ruin their dream." Izuna grimaces at his own tone. The last thing he wants is to seem bitter, especially since his life has overall improved since the creation of the village.
Tobirama steps closer to Izuna, as if he wants to share a secret. As if they aren't already far from listening ears. He doesn't say anything, though, just focuses that intense gaze on Izuna's face, as if searching for something. Izuna doesn't feel so cold anymore.
"You should probably back up a bit," Izuna mutters. "What will the village think?"
Tobirama's expression is subtly amused. "Likely that we're threatening one another. They believe us incapable of peaceful conversation, despite months of evidence."
Izuna raises an eyebrow and speaks flatly. "I can't blame them. That look in your eye is deadly. I'm afraid for my life right now."
They both smile at that. Distantly, Izuna wonders how any of this was possible. The village, peace, this tentative something. Maybe it's just the weather making something out of nothing.
Izuna thinks he might be in love with Tobirama, and it makes him both parts angry and terrified. Even being near him is a bad idea, but all he's proven to himself is that he can't stay away.
He takes a deep breath, trying to fight the suffocating feeling, and steps back. "I'm going to go find Madara."
Then he leaves without another word, and when he glances back, a contemplative frown marrs Tobirama's perfect face.
A week later, Izuna can't sleep. It's as cold in his room as it is in the forest, but only one has the space for him to walk and think. He's using a jutsu to keep his fingertips from freezing off, but there isn't much he can do. The pale light of the moon reflects the snow, making the forest so bright that Izuna doesn't need to strain his eyes.
There's a frozen river in front of him. It isn't the one from his childhood, much thinner and shrouded in shrubbery, but it's nostalgic nonetheless.
He's a little lightheaded, and the edges of his vision swirl frostbitten patterns. He's cold to the very bone. It makes him feel empty as he stares unblinkingly at the ice. He wonders when he will stop being so hollow. The warming jutsu is taking up a bit too much energy, so his fingertips are cold again.
The skin of his wound is pulling uncomfortably. He wishes it would stop. His eyes hurt, so he closes them.
At some point between leaving his bed and swaying before a river, he stops being Uchiha Izuna, trading it for something much more primal. He allows himself to simply be. To feel, even if the emotions threaten to drown him as quickly as the water below him might.
There was once a time when he wasn't a shinobi. When he felt much larger than himself, running with his brother through trees and bushes. Laughter was never unfamiliar. His heart could soar, carefree. He doesn't think about that time often. It was so long ago.
He wonders when a child becomes a soldier. When grief and anger become normal, overtaking everything else. When it feels wrong to live without them, because it's all a soldier has ever known.
The children of the future will not know war from such a young age, even those destined to become shinobi. They're building a world that will never be so dire as to decorate children with armor and weapons and pretend that they're martyrs when their skin rots alongside worms.
Izuna mourns the childhood he was never given the opportunity to have. The childhood his brothers were robbed of. They're in the ground, cold, never to hold a sword or a flower again.
Uchiha aren't built for the cold.
Izuna watches the cloud that follows his dry exhalation, and realizes that he has opened his eyes again. It's still bright for a winter's night, and the river is still frozen. He is Uchiha Izuna, alive to see a world that hasn't cannibalized itself through war.
He takes a moment, then he turns and begins to walk back. He thinks he could probably sleep. The ache has diminished, if only marginally.
Halfway back, halfway asleep, he nearly walks into something. Someone. Ice shocks his system, nerves alight with adrenaline, and he very nearly jumps backward. He's stopped by hands gently gripping his arms, but not forcefully. He's only kept in place by surprise.
Izuna's eyes must be wide as he stares at Tobirama, heart hammering.
"Are you alright?" Tobirama asks, worry just beneath the surface of his typical monotone.
It's so jarring that Izuna wonders if he's dreaming.
When Izuna says nothing, Tobirama continues, "What are you doing out here? I thought… rather, Madara thought…" He trails off.
Izuna brings himself to speak after a quiet moment hangs in the air. "I needed to think." Tobirama's hands are warm through the fabric of Izuna's sleeves.
"It's cold, and you're still injured."
Izuna frowns. Why does Tobirama care about that? His senses feel so numb, it's a strain to try and think about it deeper.
"But why are you here?" He asks. "And not. In the village."
There's something complicated in Tobirama's expression. "You were missing."
Tobirama is still so close to him, refusing to move his hands.
"Did Madara send you?" Izuna asks, trying to laugh but coughing cold, dry air instead. "He can be such a mother hen."
Tobirama makes a hm sound in lieu of an answer.
Izuna can't think properly. He's still standing in front of the river, but Tobirama stands right in front of him, a tangibility that's adding something to the ache. Izuna doesn't know if it hurts less or more.
"Tobirama," he mutters, and leans into the warmth, because Tobirama is real and warm and tangible. Inhibition hibernates.
The man before him does not falter, allowing Izuna to draw closer. He moves his hands, but only to wrap them firmly around Izuna's shoulders. It's like being touched directly by the lapping of flames, almost addictive.
"You'll be sick if you stay in the cold any longer." Tobirama's voice is quiet, and very close to Izuna's ear.
"I'm warm," Izuna responds, muffled by Tobirama's chest, and he thinks he may already be sick. In some ways.
"You need to warm up properly."
Izuna doesn't feel like arguing. "Okay."
Neither of them move.
It takes time, but Izuna lifts his head to look at Tobirama. There's a lot that he feels like he should say, but all he can do is stare. He steps back, missing the warmth almost instantly, but he knows they should return.
The walk to the village is silent. Something hangs in the air between them and Izuna wants to address it, but every time he opens his mouth, a heavy fear overtakes him unlike any traditional fear he's held before.
As expected, Madara fusses over him when he's indoors. He's too tired to argue that he's old enough to take care of himself, and too cold to muster up the energy. He spends the whole night in his room shivering and missing the warmth that being so near Tobirama brought. It's terrifying.
There's a sort of tentative unspoken something between Izuna and his brother as of late. It's as though Madara is walking around a topic, wanting to speak but needing Izuna to bring it up first. It comes to a head one evening after the sun sets early and firelight keeps Madara's office from being shrouded in darkness.
Izuna sits on the edge of his desk and pretends not to notice the way that his brother keeps glancing at him, until he can no longer pretend.
"Do you need something?" He asks flatly.
Madara's offended expression suggests that he hadn't assumed that Izuna would notice. Izuna is fairly certain his perception of the obvious is more keen than Madara thinks it is.
"I was wondering," Madara says, and Izuna silently accepts the win. "About you and Tobirama."
Suddenly, Izuna doesn't want to know anymore.
"My colleague, with whom I am able to stand in a room without bloodshed." Izuna's tone is collected but he's aware of just how thoroughly Madara has seen through him, to be able to bring it up at all.
"A lot has changed between the two of you." Madara has entirely given up on the act of doing paperwork, and now leans forward in his chair, head propped on his hands as he interrogates Izuna. "I'm glad that's something you're willing to admit out loud."
"It isn't exactly revolutionary," Izuna says, the words coming out too quickly. He sounds like he's trying to defend himself against something.
"Would you have believed it possible, even one year ago?" Madara asks. "Would you have believed any of this possible?"
This was nothing more than a way to trick him into admitting that the village was a good idea from the start, Izuna thinks.
"You know I wouldn't have," Izuna replies. "But not because I didn't want peace. I just… didn't think it was possible to achieve with the Senju. I know that you had doubts about what we believed their nature to be since you were a child, but I never had that luxury until recently."
Madara listens quietly, watching Izuna attentively. "So you think differently about them now."
"I used to think that all Senju were evil." Izuna sighs. "Especially Tobirama. But I realized that they, much like us, are complex. They're people. I judged them because it was war, and I don't regret believing the way that I did. They killed our children, but we also killed theirs. So… it's more complicated than I assumed."
His brother nods. There's a glimmer of pride in his expression.
"You mentioned Tobirama," Madara says. "Especially him, you said. Your hatred toward him has changed?"
"I hated him. I wanted him dead. It was more than just rivals in battle; I couldn't stand the way he gloated or how he seemed to relish in causing harm. Even now, I still wonder just how much enjoyment he derived from battle. But no, I don't hate him anymore. Sometimes I feel like, as a person, I… need him, if that makes any sense. When I think about it, it feels like I've always needed him. As an enemy, as a friend, as…" Izuna trails off. "It doesn't matter. He and I have always been a balance for one another. Only with the creation of the village has that been a good thing."
Madara's expression is complicated. After that confession, the conversation between them becomes lighter. More natural. Izuna feels as though saying aloud what has been building in his chest for months has released a burden off his shoulders. That was likely Madara's intent.
Izuna never clarified what his feelings truly are for Tobirama, and Madara doesn't ask. But Izuna is certain that he knows.
On a chilly midnight between seasons, Izuna hears gentle knocking at the door. It's evenly spaced, like the visitor has practice in perfection.
Izuna knows who it is before he slides the door open, but the sight of Tobirama just outside his home is a surprise nonetheless.
Izuna blinks up at Tobirama.
Inside, he pours tea while Tobirama settles into a seated position, because it may be late but he is anything but a rude host.
The cups warm their fingers. The room is lit by the firelight of a signature Uchiha jutsu.
"What brings you here?" Tobirama has never been so deep within the Uchiha residence, much less in the middle of the night.
Tobirama sips his tea. If it's too hot, there's no indication of it on his face. "I… needed to be elsewhere. Hashirama was in one of his moods, and I didn't want to be present for the unfortunately quite literal uprooting of our home. He can build a new one, of course, but it's generally unpleasant to see him like this."
Izuna frowns. He wasn't aware that their dear Lord Hokage shared the same proclivity for mood swings as his co-leader.
"My brother can be like that as well," Izuna says. "With a bit less… uprooting, and more turning things to ash."
Tobirama smiles at that. It's a comfortable gesture, not like the polite smiles he gives to other clan heads or ANBU trainees who are learning more slowly than others. Izuna knows that this smile, the one he receives, is genuine.
"I hope you don't mind my intrusion."
"Of course not," Izuna responds. "If I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have opened the door. Your knocking was very telling."
"My… knocking?" Tobirama asks, amused.
Izuna snorts at that. "It's very calculated. I don't know anyone else with such a compulsion to be orderly."
"It must be subconscious."
"Must be."
Izuna continues to laugh quietly until it is cut off abruptly by a particularly painful—but not unfamiliar—pulling sensation at his side. He groans out loud.
"Izuna?" Tobirama's voice has taken a complete tonal shift. He sounds worried. Izuna would laugh at the irony if it weren't laughing which caused the pain in the first place.
"I'm alright." He knows his voice is strained. "Just pulled at my wound. It happens more often when the seasons are changing."
Izuna stands, only swaying a little. "Your brother gave me some sort of cream… thing, to help soothe it. I'll just go get that."
Tobirama is at his side in an instant, which is odd because Izuna didn't register him standing up. "You sit. Tell me where the ointment is and I'll fetch it."
"It's in my room. I'll just come with you." Izuna isn't so pained that he can't walk a few paces to his own room. "My bed is more comfortable to sit on than these wooden floors, anyway."
It doesn't look like he wants to, but Tobirama relents.
"You're being dramatic," Izuna says when they get to his room. He sits at the edge of his bed. "Really, I've endured much worse than this. For starters, getting the wound in the first place was a great deal more painful than its phantom pains."
"Did I ever apologize for that?" Tobirama asks, quickly finding the ointment.
"No," Izuna responds, and cuts off Tobirama before he can say anything. "And don't you dare do it now. I know you aren't sorry, and that you did it with no remorse. If you apologize for anything that happened in that war, I'll just feel so terrible and so guilty because I haven't even started to come to terms with all that I did to you and your clan and so many other clans. So. Don't apologize."
It's quiet. Tobirama is standing not too far away, holding the jar of ointment with a complicated expression on his face.
Izuna looks at the ground. "I ramble too much nonsense, I know. Just—give me the healing thing."
Tobirama sits beside him. "It isn't—" He doesn't seem to know quite what to say. "It isn't nonsense. In fact, I share that sentiment. There's so much that I've done that I never want to think about again. Some things I'll never be able to compensate for; it's in the past now, and almost none of it is reversible. But if I can… atone for any part of it, especially for those actions I deeply regret, I will do so without hesitation. Apologizing to you doesn't make it invalid, nor does it eliminate my guilt, or yours, but I want to."
Izuna doesn't know what to say. "Can I have the ointment, now?"
"Allow me to do this for you." Tobirama opens the lid of the jar. "It really is the least that I can do."
It's usually quite warm in Izuna's room due to his nature, but it somehow feels warmer in the moment. It isn't suffocating. It feels like basking in the sun's rays.
Something about partially disrobing to reveal a vulnerable, scarring part of himself should feel embarrassing. It doesn't. The world is so quiet and it feels like peace—the real kind, not some fantasy.
"When did you stop hating me?" Izuna asks quietly. Tobirama's hand is warm as it touches the skin around his wound, then pauses.
"I'm not certain," Tobirama says, and it sounds like an admission. "It melted away into distrust, at some point after the village's creation. From there, I can't parse through what exactly changed."
"Distrust," Izuna repeats. "But you trust me, now."
Tobirama nods. One moment, he's focusing intently on the healing wound, and the next he's glancing up to meet Izuna's eyes. "I wouldn't be here right now if I did not."
Conversation once again fizzles into quiet comfort. The room is lit a dim orange from the fire. The branch of a tree brushes against the shutters. Tobirama's fingers are gentle, soothing the irritated skin. Izuna feels warm.
"And you?" Tobirama asks. "When did your hatred for me end?"
Izuna thinks for a moment. "Do you remember that time, ages ago, when we escaped a meeting about something—I don't even remember what. We hid in an alley until our brothers found us."
"I do remember." Tobirama smiles. "The looks on their faces."
"The looks on everyone's faces. It was like the clan members were seeing the Sage of Six Paths himself descend upon the village."
"They may as well have. I'm sure they expected us to be at one another's throats after the first week."
"I'm glad we weren't."
"I am, as well." A beat. "So that's the moment…?"
Izuna nods. "Something like that. You became a lot more of an annoyance than anything."
Tobirama furrows his brow. "If anything, you were the irritating one."
"Good to know that the feeling was mutual."
His side feels much better. He figures that the process is over, and that Tobirama knows that too, but his hand stays where it is.
Izuna looks down, watches the subtle twitch of Tobirama's thumb, then glances up to meet his intense scarlet gaze. The ache in his chest is far different from the pain derived from his wound. His heart is racing, and he feels it pound like the deep drums of a festival.
They're so close. Something compels him to sway forward, but then he hesitates. His mind wanders as he tries to rationalize his actions. He wonders what allowed Tobirama to look him in the eye, all those months ago.
"Izuna." Tobirama's voice is softer than Izuna has ever heard it.
"Hm," he acknowledges. It's a learned response that lacks effort.
"Tell me what's going on inside your head."
Izuna smiles. "You're… so scientific. Perhaps I'm merely looking."
"Looking."
"At you."
"Izuna."
"Tobirama."
They've always been able to match one another, blow for blow, word for scathing word. Their balance is remarkable, Izuna has always thought. He thinks that in some twisted way, they must have been born to exist for one another. As an enemy, a colleague, a friend, or…
Izuna realizes that his hesitation was for naught. It was trite. He's never been more certain of anything.
The distance is easy to close as Izuna projects himself forward to press his lips to Tobirama's. It's quick, but lasts a lifetime in his head. For a terrifying moment, Tobirama goes still. Then, his free hand reaches up to cradle the side of Izuna's face, pulling him close enough to kiss again. His other hand remains at Izuna's side, cautious of the scarring wound.
Izuna can feel the lines of Tobirama's perfect lips; he studies them like memorizing a new jutsu, or perhaps something with more care. It's warm and his chest doesn't feel hollow and Tobirama is all around him, and once that might have been terrifying but now it's all he wants. All he needs.
Perhaps he'll talk himself out of these feelings tomorrow. Tonight, they are tangible. Allowed. Alive.
Eventually they do part, to Izuna's—and Tobirama's, evidently—dismay. But he thinks they need to talk. He knows this is no conventional romance. It may feel right, but there's so much weight and history that ensures it will never be as simple as he wants. Even with how deeply he wants.
"How do we build on something that defies fate?" Izuna asks. He tries not to sound hopeless.
"You are alive, and I am alive, and our clans are at peace," Tobirama says. "Is that not already the greatest defiance of fate?"
Izuna looks down. "I want to believe. I've always been…"
Skeptical, pessimistic, the list goes on, he doesn't say.
"Cautious." Tobirama finishes his sentence. "Traumatized enough to keep yourself from having hope."
"Something like that," Izuna mumbles.
"That's natural. I'm the same way."
"Then how are you so hopeful?"
Tobirama lets the moment sit in silence before responding. "I'm allowing myself this one thing. I've never allowed myself to hope before."
"Hm."
"The world isn't going to implode," Tobirama says. Izuna wonders what he means. "In the village, nothing has changed. The peacetime becomes more stable by the day. Izuna, hope has never been more possible."
"I want to believe that," Izuna says again. He means it a bit more.
Tobirama nods.
It will probably take some time before he truly means it. Maybe it isn't possible to love Tobirama without the weight of everything behind them, but maybe that isn't what he needs. He can love Tobirama in a way that builds on all that they are; all that they have been, rather than in spite of it. They don't need to erase the past to look to the future—it will always be integral to who they are. That does not mean they cannot love.
Izuna will allow himself to hope, even if it is no more than a fantasy. At the end of it all, the only barrier between fantasy and reality is effort.