Chapter Text
He had to blink awake from his daze. How long had he been staring? And at what?
After easily dodging a kunai, he understood he was still on a mission. Though it didn’t make sense, he swore he died or was that just a dream. Or, maybe worse, his time-space jutsu worked but he was still not out of danger.
He wanted to make his first priority returning to the village or finding his students to make sure they all got away safely. But…
He didn’t plan on surviving the Gold and Silver brothers, he planned on going to the Pure Lands. And if he saw the opportunity to see his brothers again while also sure that the village was in good hands and took it without hesitation, well, that was his business.
And yet, he is here. Very much alive and in danger, although from an enemy nin he didn’t recognise. Who the hell was he fighting?
And then something hit him. A smell. A strong smell. It was sort of fragrant, yet musky. It almost resembled what chakra sensory could provide, but less muted and he could feel the scent when he inhaled as it had a sort of thickness in the air. This was … new.
Tobirama molded his chakra and then flared it, and he snapped his eyes open in shock. There was a battlefield as well as a battle raging on. But the worst part wasn’t even that, there was the fact that he had recognised every single signature. As most of them should have been dead. Especially the one that he could feel was entirely focused on him. He would know, he had killed them himself.
“Senju! Get down here and fight me you bastard!” Izuna howled from the ground to where Tobirama was perched in a tree.
…No. This was not real.
Tobirama, still stiff in shock, had starred in both bafflement, horror, and awe. This had to be … well something. A very convincing genjutsu, or a lucid dream, or even a very strong hallucination. Anything at all but real. Because if this was real, and he really traveled back in time, then might have just broken the jutsu system. Again.
He could also feel his brother’s signature, and it felt surreal. His Anija’s clashed with Madara’s on the battlefield east from where he and Izuna were supposedly battling. Their chakra was blindly and overwhelming, but rather manageable from this distance. And…
His hands were now clutching his head for an entirely different reason. This all brought back too many memories, so many memories. Everything felt like it was in pieces and in shambles or was going to be after Izuna died. All the nights, he had laid awake in his futon unable to drop the lingering fantasies of his brother's dream. All the times he had contemplated what his brother and his friend schemed at the river meetings. And he admitted, albeit only to himself and to his younger brother’s graves, but that peace they dreamed was also something he dreamed of. That he had fantasized about what would be in the village, how the system would be, how to protect it, what it would look like, and so many other things that he had made reality when he had the chance later in life when they were founding Konoha.
Tobirama was loyal and steadfast, but he wasn’t blind, and he was far from ever letting any lies deceive him. He had lived long enough to see, to watch, and to feel what it is like to not constantly fighting, and just be a kid with other kids. The little tiny things that could crack a smile or make his eyes light up with mirth. He may understand what his brother and his friend wanted the village for, even if it was semi-selfish to only want it to protect their brothers, but when he thought about it, he wanted the village because people living, loving, and protecting was just too hard to resist. It reminded him of family, and how Konoha became home and its people his clan. He could relate to them, the leaf nins, and know that they were just as vulnerable to tenderness and endearment as he was. As he was never supposed to be, because he was born, bred, and raised a shinobi, a warring shinobi.
Kawarama always told him that he was never good with showing his feelings like Itama and Hashirama were, but he knew that he did feel and those feelings were channeled and controlled inside of him. That his emotions never betrayed him but helped him, Kawarama always theorized that his emotions being on his side rather than clouding his logic and thoughts made him such a brilliant genius. Although, after Kawarama died, Tobirama never found the strength within himself to ever test that funny theory his brother had always been so adamant about, it hurt too much as it is. But he did honor Kawarama’s last wish from him, even if Kawarama didn’t actually know he was never coming back, he’d never lose himself. Never lose his dignity, his righteousness, or his empathy. He knew what Kawarama meant when he said that, to never lose himself, to never lose sight of what was precious. Because he knew that corruption was where people lost value in the things they should value. As ironic as it was, it meant that Tobirama can’t lose his ideals, even though compared to his anija, he was the realist. A realist with ideals, then.
And he never did. He could have hated the Uchiha, and their child-killing squads, but he didn’t. He knew, logically, that the adults were idiots. Wrapped up in feud they inherited, too consumed with the conflict to actually realize that their enemies were just the phantoms of faceless prejudice. And Tobirama knew, logically, that to hate Izuna or Madara was the same as hating himself and his anija. They were both doing what they could for the situation that had been laid at their feet. Although he was wary and cautious of the Uchiha because of the power they behold, if anyone with that much power got corrupted and unfeeling it would only spell bad news. He could not forget what Izuna and Madara had done to their clan and clanmates, but he would not blame them for a war they did not start. But he will blame them for enabling it, and he will not forgive them if they continue it. That much he was certain of.
He then thought about Madara and his madness. It hadn’t made sense, why he had been so paranoid about an attack from the Senju, when he had been so onboard with his childhood dream of peace he drew up. Although, Izuna had been adamant about the same things Madara had been, and after Izuna’s death, like a disease, Madara caught it. On a deeper level, Tobirama knew that the whole point of the village was for himself and Izuna and to be able to keep them safe. And for Madara, now that Izuna was gone, what was the point of the village?
Tobirama had come to this conclusion, years ago when Madara had died. Thinking to himself in the dead of night, what would happen if he and Izuna had lived, or had come to an understanding? Or even if he and Izuna had switched places? Surely, his brother would have handled his death better as his brother seemed to care deeply for Madara as if he was another brother. And maybe that would have been best, had he paid the price of peace knowing that Anija, Madara, and Izuna would have taken care of the village, the chance that things wouldn’t have felt so broken, he would have. The dream he had adopted as his own.
Although convincing Izuna will take some doing, but knowing why his long-time rival was so against the Senju and how it came to be that way would satisfy his resolve in the end. He had already lived his life surviving, and he was mental and emotionally exhausted, so maybe it was time to experiment alternative fates.
He then raised his chin, eyes not meeting Izuna’s, still looking at his face, Tobirama steadied himself. Something bubbled in him like anticipation, and a surge of adrenaline came to his aid. This will not end like last time, that much he was sure of. And with that, he leapt from the tree and clashed swords with Izuna.
(Although, he may have disregarded that scent from before a little too quickly.)
As Izuna skidded back from the impact of the sword clash, wind had tingled the back of Tobirama’s neck and sent a flow of wind around them. Izuna was getting ready for an attack before he stilled, and Tobirama froze. Izuna’s chakra signature spasmed, yet his body slowly disengaged from the on guard stance. Tobriama stiffened at the change, but remained where he was. Izuna didn’t bring his sword entirely down, but it came down some and that alone is a lot, especially in Tobirama’s presence. But that didn’t explain–
“Are you ... an Owari?” Izuna’s voice was shaky, low, and a bare whisper, as if he didn’t want it to be true.
While every thought process that was running through the inside of Tobirama’s head simultaneously and effectively crashed. Right then and there.