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Chapter Text

Senju Tobirama feels it like a kunai to the gut when Uchiha Izuna’s chakra screams with pain. 

The fight he has been observing with his sensory abilities for the past quarter of an hour has taken an unexpected turn due to Hagoromo reinforcements. Six more have arrived in Uchiha Territory to replace the three that are dead, leaving Izuna now facing eight opponents while protecting three tiny sparks of chakra that can only be young children, given how they are clumped together.

Four separate Uchiha patrols, and Lord Uchiha Madara himself, continue to close in on Izuna’s position. Though, where he once believed the Uchiha would arrive in time to rescue Izuna and the children, Tobirama is no longer certain that is the expected outcome. Not when—

Agony flares through Izuna’s chakra, bright and vicious.

“I—”

Tobirama takes a step closer to the partially frozen river that his honorable elder brother Senju Hashirama and Lord Uchiha Madara met at years ago. If he crosses it, they will be at war again, months earlier than usual. Not even his honorable father, Senju Butsuma, or Lord Uchiha Tajima, both now in the Pure Lands, ever broke the ceasefire that always renews annually between their clans, lasting solely through the winter months. It is a time when their focus turns to ensuring enough warmth and food to provide health and safety for their clans during the season that claims the lives of countless civilians each year.

“Unless…”

Tobirama traces a hand over the seal behind his right ear, guardian of a truth that Tobirama has concealed since he was a child, a mere pebble in a river. It activates a genjutsu within his own body, one that not even the Sharingan can pierce, for it is blood-and-chakra-based and locked internally. It is not a traditional externally cast genjutsu.

A twig cracks behind Tobirama. He does not turn to look.

Tobirama is the fiercest weapon ever honed by Senju hands. He will never allow himself to become so distracted by one event within his sensory range that he fails to account for all others. 

“Itama,” he says, his breath escaping in a cloud, gaze still focused on the trees across the river, trees that do not possess the comfort of Hashirama’s chakra within their trunks or leaves.

“Tobirama,” Itama greets as he moves forward to stand one step behind and to the side of Tobirama, as a loving and dutiful younger brother should. “I gather something interesting is occurring in Uchiha Territory.”

“Yes.”

Izuna’s chakra wavers, fluctuates with pain, even as it burns with enough hatred to scorch someone’s flesh from the bones.

“Lord Izuna?” Itama queries, something knowing, yet careful in his voice.

Tobirama is not one to succumb to his emotions; reason has always been at the forefront of his decision-making, excepting two outlying instances that cut portions off of his heart with a dull kunai. There would have been three if Madara—a child from a clan at war who dared to dream of peace for the sake of his younger siblings—had not chosen to lead the Uchiha hunting party away from Itama after catching sight of him during the mission that almost led to his death.

“Yes.”

Tobirama is a consummate shinobi. He wields himself, his intellect, and his skills on behalf of the Senju Clan. His loyalty and dedication are without fault.

It is unthinkable that he should aid an enemy.

It is unthinkable that he should cross the river and enter Uchiha Territory uninvited.

It is unthinkable that he should relinquish a long-kept secret to do so when secrets, even more than gold, are the currency of their world.

“What will you do, Honorable Brother?” Itama asks.

Tobirama is the Senju Clan Heir; he has the authority to assign missions. Yet, the Senju are a clan of shinobi. Their services command a premium price throughout all of Fire Country and in the neighboring countries as well. To risk himself—the greatest weapon of the Senju, he who accepts and completes more missions than a third of the rest of his clan do combined—on an unpaid, unrequested mission in hostile territory is foolhardy.

They are a clan of shinobi. They are not samurai. They have not sworn an oath of honor.

Tobirama has not sworn an oath of honor.

And yet … and yet.

Itama lives due to Madara’s generosity. Tobirama was not forced to bury Itama not long after he lost his beloved younger brother Kawarama because Madara chose to save him, even though they were from enemy clans. Any other Uchiha would have slaughtered Itama without delay, relished it, gloated about slaying a son of the Senju Clan Head, even though Itama was a tiny child at the time.

Not even children are spared the horrors of war and death in their world.

The sparks behind Izuna press closer together, the terror in their chakra nauseating in its intensity.

Tobirama has battled Izuna hundreds of times since that first time at the river. He has never felt such fierce, unrelenting determination in Izuna’s chakra as he feels in it right now. If those Hagormo escape with the Uchiha children it will occur after Izuna is lifeless on the forest floor, his lifeblood staining the snow redder than the Sharingan shines.

Tobirama is not a samurai.

There is no debt of honor.

All the same, Tobirama cannot idly witness the brutal slaying of Madara’s only surviving brother after Madara treasonously spared the life of his own.

“I will return to you, Itama,” Tobirama vows as he deactivates the seal with a precise application of chakra.

Sorrow flickers through Itama’s eyes as Tobirama stares into their comforting depths with eyes that are now a vibrant, piercing ruby in place of the gray he has presented to the world since he was a mere child himself. He has hidden their true color since he was still toddling with milk teeth and practicing throwing with unsharpened kunai to prevent injuries as he trained his flexibility and coordination beneath his honorable father’s watchful gaze.

“An Uchiha,” Itama states.

“That is not certain, brother,” Tobirama replies, though he is inestimably aware that such will be the likely outcome of this foray into the Uchiha lands.

As the greatest rivals and foes of the Uchiha Clan, it is only natural that the Senju should possess a wealth of information on them. The Uchiha worship Amaterasu-Ōmikami. As such, they revere anyone born with red eyes, considering the person Blessed by the Goddess.

There is no greater honor among the Uchiha than to have one of the Blessed as a spouse.

If Tobirama crosses the river, even to save Izuna and the children, with the genjutsu seal active, it will be an act of war. His clan—who spend the winter recovering from wounds, training new jutsu and their bodies, partaking in desperately needed rest that more active seasons do not allow—will suffer the consequences of a broken ceasefire. Not even his honorable elder brother’s delight and assurance that Tobirama acted correctly will excuse the fallout others will pay for his decision.

Tobirama is a weapon aimed at his enemies, at his clan’s enemies, and never a weapon aimed at his clan. To the Senju, he is a shield. This time, it is his duty as Clan Heir to protect them from himself.

So he will undertake this foolish, self-assigned mission with his red eyes bared, disallowing the Uchiha any right to retaliate against his clan for trespassing on their lands. For only Amaterasu-Ōmikami would be more welcome in Uchiha Territory than one of her Blessed Children.

Itama smiles, small and tired, the wind ruffling his hair and tangling the light strands with the dark. He brushes his fingers against the back of Tobirama’s wrist and says, “Safe travels and swift hunting, Tobirama. I will await your return.”

The Hagoromo, now down to five, press Izuna closer and closer to where the tiny sparks of fire chakra huddle together radiating horror and dwindling hope.

Madara’s chakra rages as he sprints through the forest, a wildfire that threatens to swallow the entire country. It is unsurprising, for all it scorches Tobirama’s senses. There are few things in the shinobi world more dangerous than an Uchiha who is about to lose forever the person that dwells in the hearthfire of their heart.

Anyone with sense would agree that the Uchiha’s curse is not hatred. It is love.

“Do not allow Hashirama to follow me,” Tobirama orders before leaping across the river.

Tobirama, in his current state, is not trespassing. The same will not be true of his eldest brother if Hashirama foolishly chooses to follow him and spout words of peace. Tobirama can tell by Madara’s chakra alone that such overtures at this time will result in a vicious attempt to maim the one responsible.

He Shunshins to the highest branch of the nearest tree right as Izuna calls down lightning from a cloudless winter sky. Before the flash of light fades, Tobirama throws his special kunai—the one he perfected yesterday—and forfeits a battlefield advantage in exchange for a rescue operation.

Uchiha Hikaku and his squad of three are, perhaps, still five minutes away from the confrontation. Madara is the closest, but one of the Hagoromo has fallen back and is molding his chakra in a pattern that Tobirama will never forget. It seems the Hagoromo have, in the face of Madara’s violent incoming, decided that eliminating Izuna and the children is a wiser course of action than killing Izuna and abducting the children.

“That will not save them,” Tobirama states.

He activates the Hiraishin—the jutsu he laboriously created for the purpose of gaining an edge on Izuna in battle, which, ironically, he now uses to save Izuna instead—and reappears mid-air at tree-top height above what is now a forest clearing. He catches and pockets his special kunai.

Tobirama latches onto the blood of the remaining Hagoromo with his chakra and wrenches it from their bodies in a gruesome display that sends viscera spilling everywhere as they stain the snow, already filthy from the battle, into a gory mess. The corpses collapse to the earth as Tobirama falls, braces his legs with chakra, and lands on his feet.

He stares right into Izuna’s eyes, which are bright with the Sharingan, and states, “A brother’s life for a brother’s life.”

“A Blessed,” one child, female, gasps.

“Amaterasu-Ōmikami sent a Blessed to save us!” whispers the boy with curly dark hair and an infant Sharingan with a single tomoe.

The Mangekyō Sharingan blossoms in Izuna’s eyes as wondrous awe burns as brightly in his chakra as the pain does. There are several lacerations on his body, a kunai sticking out of his right forearm, several senbon in his shoulders, and, judging by how he holds his weight, there is a fracture or break in his left leg or ankle.

Izuna, whose chakra reserves are massive—who is his brother’s equal in strength, regardless of how differently they battle—who usually feels like an imminent volcanic eruption, has winnowed his reserves to a bonfire.

Tobirama would not even have to try to kill Izuna in his current condition.

It would be simple.

It is unnerving how simple it would be.

Tobirama gathers chakra in his feet so that he might leap back to the tree-tops and then Hiraishin himself back to the river. He accomplished his self-appointed mission; lingering after the fact serves no purpose.

“Wait!” Izuna says, hand outstretched, dropping to his knees in the snow without a physical indication of the agony that flares through his chakra at the motion. “This Uchiha Izuna has a selfish request, Blessed Child of Amaterasu-Ōmikami. Please guard the children until reinforcements arrive.”

“There are no more Hagoromo on your lands,” Tobirama informs him, aware that Izuna is not a sensor. A moment to reassure Izuna of the children’s safety will not—

Three young children with moon-pale faces kneel behind Izuna in the snow and bow to him with an innocent reverence in their chakra that shakes Tobirama to his core.

He needs to leave. Hikaku’s squad will arrive in less than two minutes. Madara is almost upon them. It is a blatant delaying tactic, for all that it is honest and painfully sincere. He must—

“Please.”

Izuna bows in the snow, his forehead placed atop his hands, willingly leaving himself so vulnerable that Tobirama’s chakra recoils at the sight. Izuna is a proud man, a skilled shinobi, worthy of acknowledgement and respect despite them being on opposite sides of a generations-long conflict. To see him—

Tobirama thought he understood, intellectually, what it meant for the Uchiha to revere those born with red eyes. It is now abundantly apparent that his grasp on the topic is meager at best.

Madara bursts out of the forest, his chakra an inferno of emotions that shift swiftly in a raucous tumult. When his eyes meet Tobirama’s, he halts abruptly, sending dirty snow flurrying into the air. For an instant, Madara’s chakra stills. Then it flares more brightly than Tobirama has ever sensed in all the years he has considered it his solemn duty to always track Madara’s whereabouts, that neither he nor his clansmen may ever be caught unaware by one of the four greatest shinobi in Fire Country.

“Lord Madara, Amaterasu-Ōmikami sent a Blessed to assist Lord Izuna in battle!” the curly-haired boy declares with a grin that reveals three missing milk teeth.

“A brother’s life for a brother’s life,” Tobirama states, repeating the words he spoke earlier to Izuna. It is the rational explanation for his presence in their territory. Surely, his actions were his own. There is no evidence to suggest that Amaterasu-Ōmikami guided him here.

If the Uchiha choose to believe otherwise, that is no concern of his.

“Your selfish request is fulfilled, Uchiha Izuna,” Tobirama says.

“This Uchiha Izuna thanks you, Blessed Child of Amaterasu-Ōmikami, for fulfilling such a selfish request,” Izuna replies, glancing up at Tobirama with his Mangekyō still active, despite the agony Tobirama can feel in his chakra, as if he wants to burn Tobirama’s image into his mind and keep it forever.

Madara bows more deeply than he did to the Daimyo of Fire Country the last time Tobirama witnessed them meeting at the palace and says, “This Uchiha Madara—”

Hikaku and his squad enter the clearing, interrupting whatever eloquent phrase Madara seems determined to utter. Their stunned silence is all the distraction Tobirama needs to launch himself into the boughs of the nearest tree.

“Wait!”

“Please wait!”

The agitation and longing and despair rising in their chakra is overwhelming. Yet, none of them have taken a single step to follow him despite their obvious desire to do so. It is … another area in which he has miscalculated, it seems. 

“I vowed to Itama that I would return. He waits for me, even now, at the river,” Tobirama explains, though he owes them no explanation. Perhaps it is a test, subconsciously offered, to see if they will seek to keep him from his clan and—

Another patrol squad of Uchiha shinobi enters the clearing that smells of smoke, ash, blood, viscera, and ozone. Every single set of Sharingan eyes stares at him instead of the damaged surroundings or corpses, more than half of which are Izuna’s handiwork.

“This Uchiha Izuna has another selfish request, Blessed Child of Amaterasu-Ōmikami. Please allow my honorable cousin, Uchiha Hikaku, to escort you safely back to the river and your brother that we might not bear the shame of causing you to break a vow,” Izuna says with a radiant sincerity in his chakra that Tobirama has never felt before this moment. 

Izuna has been his opponent in all ways for longer than many shinobi children live. It would not be incorrect to state that Izuna knows him more intimately and thoroughly in certain areas than Tobirama’s own brothers do. For there are some things you only learn about a person while ardently engaging in battle.

Uchiha Hikaku is a skilled shinobi, to be sure. He is not skilled enough to overpower Tobirama.

“This Senju Tobirama will grant your selfish request, Uchiha Izuna,” Tobirama says, unwilling to refuse a politely offered escort under these circumstances.

The amount of awed reverence in the chakra of the present Uchiha is disconcerting. He leaps to the next tree to put some distance between it and himself, though it will have minimal effect given the strength of his sensory abilities.

Tobirama races back to the border, to the river, to his younger brother, to a world that makes sense.

Beneath his feet, running across the top of the snow, the volcanic ash of Uchiha Hikaku shadows him to safety.

Chapter Text

There are scarce few things in the world that Tobirama despises more than his efforts being wasted.

He stands, once again, at the river, glaring in the direction of the Uchiha Clan Compound. Izuna’s chakra has taken on a twisted tinge alongside the agony that is common in those who are gravely ill, near the precipice of death.

Madara’s chakra radiates grief and fear so potently it is unmistakable.

It has been three days since Tobirama entered Uchiha lands and saved Izuna and the children from the Hagoromo. Each day since, Izuna’s condition has declined further. If it were anyone else, any other Uchiha, Tobirama would believe it to be a trap. Yet, Tobirama knows for a fact that Lord Uchiha Madara would never risk the life of his only remaining brother—not even to lure one of the Blessed of Amaterasu-Ōmikami into the heart of their clan.

“If I wait…”

Tomorrow is the fourth day post-battle. It is truly unlucky, a cursed day when Izuna is already so close to death. 

Tobirama exhales his frustration in a fog of frigid air as snow continues to fall. The ember of fire chakra he circulates through his body keeps him warm; there is no danger of frostbite or similar illnesses. 

“Their healers are treasonously unskilled,” Tobirama bites out.

If Izuna succumbs to his wounds and dies, then Tobirama has not successfully completed his self-assigned mission. It is not a life for a life if the person passes from wounds sustained during the battle. Uchiha Madara returned—for a given definition of the word—Itama to the Senju frightened, yet hale. Tobirama returned Izuna in agony, impaled with weapons, blood spilling heedlessly down his pale skin. 

Tobirama possesses a spotless mission record, something not even his esteemed elder brother can boast. Tobirama demands perfection of himself and that reflects in his mission record. He has never failed a single mission.

“I will not allow Uchiha Izuna to blemish my record,” Tobirama states.

With an irritated flick of his chakra, he once again deactivates the seal matrix behind his ear, allowing the genjutsu to fade and reveal his ruby eyes. 

He glances up in the nearest tree, where an adolescent leopard lounges. It is somewhat amusing that Itama occasionally utilizes their shared summoning contract with the large cats to assign one of them to stalk him. “Shun, inform Itama that the Uchiha healers are more incompetent than expected and assure him that I will return once Izuna is healed. Under no circumstances is Hashirama to invade Uchiha lands in an attempt to offer his healing services,” Tobirama instructs.

His honorable elder brother is kind, but often thoughtless. Hashirama does not think as Tobirama does, he does not consider the ramifications of his actions. He acts on his emotions freely. It can, on rare occasions, be an asset. In this instance, it will be nothing more than a hindrance.

If the Senju Clan Head barges into the Uchiha Clan Compound while the Clan Heir is on his death-bed and the Clan Head is slowly drowning in grief, it will be taken as an act of outright war. The violence will escalate so markedly that peace will never be possible within their lifetimes, regardless of Hashirama’s foolish but sincere efforts.

“As you say, Lord Tobirama,” Shun replies before slinking off through the trees.

Tobirama, for the second time in his life, crosses the river and enters Uchiha Territory uninvited. He leaps into the trees and races across the branches. They are bare of leaves, leaving him exposed in a manner that has his instincts primed for an ambush. He is not attempting to hide his presence, but that does not mean—

A squad of two Uchiha appears on the ground beneath him and follows him. It is a pair of twin kunoichi who often take turns battling his cousin, Senju Tōka. They, like Uchiha Hikaku, are skilled but not enough to be a danger to him. His escorts wave off an increasing number of patrols the closer they get to the Uchiha Clan Compound. 

It does little to ease the tension building between his shoulders.

Tobirama is a shinobi. He has never been fond of attracting attention outside of flashy missions which require such theatrics. To have so many gazes intensely focused on him simultaneously, and to feel the emotions that accompany those gazes, is highly disconcerting.

The Uchiha act as if they are witnessing divinity in mortal form and—

Tobirama jumps out of the tree closest to the gates that lead into the compound, sending snow flying in his wake, and lands soundlessly between four guards. 

The head guard, who has a burn scar across one cheek, bows and says, chakra a mixture of grief and hope, “The Uchiha are honored by your presence, Blessed Child of Amaterasu-Ōmikami. How might we—?”

“Lord Blessed!” the same curly-haired boy from the other day says, his chakra sparking with joy and love. “I knew you would come! I prayed and here you are!”

“Kagami!” the head guard scolds, sounding horrified.

The child, Kagami, bows at the waist, the wintry breeze tousling his curls, and says, “This Uchiha Kagami thanks you, Blessed Child of Amaterasu-Ōmikami, for answering this unworthy one’s prayer to heal Lord Izuna.”

There is a collective stillness in the chakra of everyone within hearing distance that lasts for several moments before hope scorches the grief from all of them in a flashfire.

“Is this true? Have you come to heal Lord Izuna?” the guard inquires, taking a small step closer.

Tobirama inclines his head. “I have,” he answers before walking past the guards and into the compound. He does not require a guide. Tobirama could locate Izuna anywhere in the Elemental Nations. His chakra is as well-known to Tobirama as Hashirama’s and Itama’s.

Tiny footsteps follow him.

Every Uchiha that Tobirama passes stops to stare at him. Fogged breath fills the winter air as they gasp in surprise and awe and any other number of emotions that creates a sense of security and safety in the heart of the power of his clan’s ancestral enemy. 

He cannot trust it, surely.

The Uchiha are his enemies. They spit Tobirama’s name with disgust and the majority of them flee at the sight of him. It is not rational for them to react thusly to his presence solely on the basis of his natural eye color. It does not—

“May this Uchiha Kagami be of assistance?”

“Perhaps,” Tobirama replies.

He is well aware that Madara will insist on remaining at his convalescing brother’s side during the entire healing process. It is understandable. Tobirama would not allow an unknown to attend Itama unsupervised if Tobirama were ever in the unfortunate position of relying on another to heal his precious younger brother. As such, Tobirama will require someone to assist with minor tasks. Given how treasonously unskilled the Uchiha healers have proven themselves to be, a literal child cannot perform worse than them.

Kagami’s chakra flutters with delight and determination. 

Hikaku stands guard at the door to what can only be the abode of the main family. It is a large, traditional home that suits Izuna. Hikaku stands at attention as soon as Tobirama enters his line of sight and bows deeply.

“Lord Blessed came to heal Lord Izuna!” Kagami declares.

A shudder wracks through Hikaku’s chakra. He slides open the door he guards and says, “On behalf of the Uchiha Clan, this Uchiha Hikaku thanks you, Blessed Child of Amaterasu-Ōmikami, for choosing to save our beloved Clan Heir.”

Tobirama is well-respected in the Senju Clan. The children adore him and regularly plead with him to train them. The Clan Elders respect his efficiency and present ideas to him to discuss with Hashirama. The civilians feel calm and safe whenever he is within the compound. The shinobi obey him with diligence, a respect earned, not out of fear. 

Itama insists on shadowing him whenever possible and learning all of Tobirama’s skills that are within his abilities to learn, his chakra silently voicing his undying brotherly love and admiration. Even Hashirama, his honorable elder brother, who bears the weight of maintaining their alliances and trade agreements, as well as the protection of the Senju Clan as a whole, treats Tobirama as a beloved and valued brother and clan member—even when they are diametrically opposed on a topic.

It is mildly alarming that being inside the Uchiha Clan Compound feels so similar to his own treasured home.

“Please forgive the intrusion,” Tobirama says habitually as he steps inside the house and removes his shinobi sandals. He lines them up neatly in the genkan, Kagami’s tiny sandals appearing right beside them, before following the miasma of grief and agony through the home.

Kagami passes him silently, kneels on the floor, and slides open the shoji doors that lead to Izuna’s sickroom. “Lord Madara, this lowly Uchiha Kagami offers a sincere apology for intruding upon your grief.”

Tobirama’s breath catches in his throat at the sight that greets him. Izuna lies supine on a futon, his face sickly pale, large purple circles beneath his eyes. His breathing is wet and labored; his long black hair, usually pristine and shiny, is sweat-soaked from fever. He has been brought low by illness and injury.

Izuna looks weak. Tobirama cannot—

“Hikaku can deal with it,” Madara rasps, his voice sounding as tortured as his chakra feels. “I cannot—”

Tobirama enters the room, ensuring his footsteps are audible to warn Madara of his entry, and sinks into seiza on the zabuton opposite of Madara’s as the man’s eyes flare with the Mangekyō Sharingan at the intrusion. Tobirama lifts Izuna’s left hand from where it lies limply on the kakebuton and unwinds the blood-stained bandage. His fingers spark with green chakra as he heals the minor laceration.

“You—” Madara’s voice wavers and fails.

Tobirama stares right into his Mangekyō Sharingan and states, “It is not a brother’s life for a brother’s life if Izuna dies when Itama lived.”

“Thank you.”

Tears of blood drip from Madara’s eyes; Tobirama looks away to grant him privacy.

“Kagami, open the window the length of a kunai. Despite the cold, the fresh air will benefit Lord Izuna,” Tobirama instructs.

“At once, Lord Blessed,” Kagami replies before scrambling to obey.

The winter breeze dilutes the stench of blood and wounds turned sour. Tobirama slides the sleeve of Izuna’s yukata higher and unwinds the next bandage. This wound is deeper; it shows signs of infection—red and inflamed along the edges with a tinge of yellow puss. 

Kagami sits in seiza at his side and asks, “How may this Uchiha Kagami offer assistance?”

“Burn the used bandages,” Tobirama instructs. They are contaminated; they need to be disposed of properly.

The child burns them to ashes in moments as Tobirama draws moisture from the air without a single hand sign. He gathers a ball of water and then says, “Heat this to the temperature appropriate for drinking tea.”

A lick of flame spills from Kagami’s mouth.

Tobirama gently debrides the wound, cleaning it of infection and a few splinters. All foreign matter must be removed from a wound before it is bandaged. Surely, even amongst the Uchiha, this is common sense. He frowns and cannot stop himself from sneering, “Your healers are treasonously negligent.” 

Madara’s chakra flinches at the rebuke.

Once all the foreign matter is removed, he directs the ball of contaminated water out the window and allows it to splash harmlessly against the snow. Then, hand once again visibly glowing green, Tobirama heals the injury so that not even a scar remains.

By using the healing jutsu in front of the Uchiha Clan Head, Tobirama walks the edge of treason. For with his Mangekyō Sharingan activated, it is almost certain that Madara is copying the jutsu for future use. However, Tobirama cannot bring himself to object. He abhors incompetence and the Uchiha healers are, without a doubt, incompetent. Knowing such healers would be called upon to attend any injured Uchiha children stays his tongue.

In this manner, Tobirama continues from one wound to the next, healing each thoroughly along the way. The less wounds a body’s defenses need to fight, the easier it is for a body’s defenses to wage war against infection.

Tobirama is leaning over Izuna, holding a globe of heated water aloft which contains particulates from the freshly debrided stab wound on his lower torso, when Izuna’s eyes snap open, bright with the Mangekyō Sharingan.

“Lord Tobirama,” he breathes reverently, lifting a shaking hand as if to touch Tobirama’s hair, but halting himself before making contact. “You—”

“I have never failed a mission in my life, Uchiha Izuna,” Tobirama states as he presses green-glowing fingers to Izuna’s chiseled abdomen. “I will not allow you to ruin my record.”

Izuna chuckles. The sound is healthy and smooth, unburdened by the wetness of blood. Tobirama has already healed the knick in his lung and drawn the pooling fluid out so that he may breathe unimpeded. It is a simpler application of the jutsu Tobirama used to wrench the blood from the bodies of the Hagoromo.

He absently sends the polluted water outside and draws a fresh globe of water from the air, holding it steady so that Kagami can warm it with a lick of flame before moving to the next wound. Tobirama adamantly refuses to think about the fact that Izuna’s entire torso is bare beneath him, every inch of diligently honed and sculpted muscle on display for his perusal, should he so choose to partake of it.

He will not. 

Tobirama’s determination to remain strictly professional is tested by Izuna’s rising desire. It is a conflagration in his chakra, burning out every other emotion, even the lingering pain of his remaining injuries.

“We are enemies,” Tobirama barks in reprimand.

He knows himself far too well. He is aware of how he bypasses everyone else on the battlefield to face Izuna; he is the only one who knows that only part of that—to his shame—is due to a deep-seated need to protect his clansmen from such a strong shinobi. Though, Tobirama is beginning to suspect that Itama might be marginally aware of such.

Hashirama and Tobirama are the only Senju who could battle either Madara or Izuna and emerge relatively unscathed. Itama is close to their level, but Tobirama will never allow his beloved younger brother to face the Uchiha Clan Head or Clan Heir while it is within his power to prevent it.

The other reason is one he cannot allow himself to dwell upon, let alone feel. Izuna, despite his fair face and silken tail of hair, loyalty to his clan and fierce skill, is an Uchiha. The Uchiha are enemies to the Senju. That is all Tobirama allows himself to think.

“No, Lord Tobirama, we are not,” Izuna states as if his words are an immutable fact. “You are the Blessed Child of Amaterasu-Ōmikami. There will be no more war. Our honorable brothers will have their peace.”

“Is that truly all it will take?” Tobirama inquires, feeling as though he has been run through with a chokutō.

It cannot be true. If the mere knowledge of his existence, of his red eyes, can guarantee peace so easily, then … then if Tobirama had never applied the seal so that he could leave the Senju Clan Compound without fear of discovery, if he had ventured into the world with ruby eyes bared … would Kawarama still be alive?

“Yes,” Izuna and Madara answer in unison.

He closes his eyes and ruthlessly wrangles his thoughts into order. Now is not the appropriate time to consider all of the ramifications of that single word. Now is not—

“Of course, Lord Blessed!” Kagami says, his chakra bubbling with happiness.

Tobirama shunts his emotions to the side and continues his self-appointed mission, healing Izuna, well aware that the next time he feels chakra so deep with grief that it could swallow the Elemental Nations whole, it will be his own.

Chapter Text

Tobirama is half-way through a cup of matcha tea on the engawa when Itama appears at his side and says, “Hashirama has expressed an urgent desire to bestow physical affection upon you within my hearing.”

“Ah. Thank you for warning me,” Tobirama says. 

His honorable elder brother has been … effusive since Tobirama reported his successful self-appointed mission to save—and then heal—Izuna. That effusiveness heightened upon Tobirama relaying Madara’s and Izuna’s assurance that their clans are no longer at war.

“You orchestrated peace, Tobirama. I will never be able to adequately express the depth of my gratitude,” Hashirama said upon his return five days past, eyes wet with tears and chakra jubilant.

“It is my duty as a younger brother to support my honorable elder brother’s endeavors,” Tobirama replied.

Tobirama does not abhor physical affection from those he trusts. However, it is also not something he is especially accustomed to receiving. Even amongst his kin, Tobirama is not a particularly demonstrative person. A brush of a hand against a wrist, a light pat on the shoulder, a gentle ruffle of a student’s hair, sitting in seiza within stabbing distance—these are examples of how he shows his love and care.

Hashirama, however, prefers to show his love with fierce embraces. Hashirama prefers to surround those he loves, hold them tightly, and speak his affection freely and verbally without regard for who might overhear and learn exactly how to strike at his heart.

It has ever been a difficult task for Tobirama to both acknowledge and meet his honorable elder brother’s needs and simultaneously guard his emotions from all who would seek to use them against Hashirama.

Hashirama has certainly been allowed to express enough physical affection to ensure his mental and emotional health for a week at minimum. Tobirama has, in essence, spoiled his honorable elder brother over the past several days. It is, therefore, perfectly acceptable to withdraw himself at this time.

Tobirama drinks the rest of his tea. He has always been mindful not to waste their supplies, especially in winter. Supplies, regardless of how many are stored, are finite.

“Itama, I will be out of the compound for the next several hours performing an unscheduled patrol to confuse any enemies who might be learning our patrol schedule,” Tobirama states, though he changed all of the patrol routes less than a month ago.

“I await your safe return,” Itama says as he sits in seiza and pours himself a cup of matcha tea from the still-steaming teapot.

Tobirama brushes his fingers lightly across Itama’s shoulder, puts on his sandals, and departs the compound without donning his armor. There are no hostiles with an intent to intrude upon the Senju lands within his sensory range. His shinobi blacks and Senju haori are sufficient protection.

A minuscule smile curls his lips when a ping of familiar chakra appears several paces behind him. Itama is, as ever, predictable.

With a burst of speed, Tobirama shoots forward, the snow accumulated on the tree branches spraying into the air behind him. He races faster and faster, not at all surprised that Shun, the adolescent leopard Itama holds such great fondness for, manages to keep pace with him.

A spark of fire chakra, nearly obscured by the volcanic magma of Izuna’s chakra, approaches the river boundary and slowly paces back and forth with excitement and impatience.

It is Tobirama’s duty as a shinobi of the Senju Clan to guard their borders. While Tobirama has the right to enter Uchiha Territory without permission, Izuna and Kagami do not have that same leeway in regards to Senju Territory. If they cross the river, he will be forced to take decisive action.

“If Izuna believes I will not wound him because I chose to heal him, I will take great pains to correct his erroneous assumption,” Tobirama bites out on a breath of fog as he abruptly changes directions.

A thread of chakra is all that is required to unlock the genjutsu seal and reveal his ruby eyes once more. If it allows him an edge in battle, he will take it. 

Tobirama jumps down from the bough of the tree that carries Hashirama’s touch—warm and comforting—and lands atop the snow on the bank of the river. Shun drops down beside him moments later and yawns widely, flashing fangs that can crush a grown man’s skull.

“Lord Blessed, you have large ninneko!” Kagami gasps, staring at Shun. “Ours are small.”

It is a source of minor amusement to Tobirama to know that he and Itama can summon large cats while the Uchiha Clan have an ancestral summoning contract for cats the size of noble lap pets.

“You have never summoned them in battle against me,” Izuna says, his black eyes briefly turning Sharingan red and sweeping over Tobirama’s body before turning black again. The desire that flares in his chakra is potent.

“I have not,” Tobirama agrees, refusing to answer the unspoken question inherent in Izuna’s comment. It is no concern of Izuna’s how Tobirama interacts with his own summons. If he has raised several since they were cubs, teaching them tracking, how to carry messages for courier missions and emergencies, and so forth, and never called them to battle, that is not for Izuna to know.

It is not fear of their loss and the resulting emotional response that keeps Tobirama from using them on the battlefield. It is, merely, correct management of resources. It is applying the right tool to the right problem to achieve the desired result.

Tobirama has not invested more than half of his life into their training so that the Uchiha—or anyone else—might slaughter them in an attempt to end Tobirama’s life.

Kagami bows and says, “Noble Summon of the Blessed Child of Amaterasu-Ōmikami, this Uchiha Kagami has a selfish request. Might this unworthy one feel the softness of your fur?”

Shun is fond of children. He often participates in training the speed of Senju children by allowing them to chase him. So, it does not surprise Tobirama when Shun walks across the partially frozen river and states, “You may, cub.”

“Blessed Child of—”

“Tobirama,” Tobirama interrupts, even though it is rude, before Izuna can finish speaking the title. The reverent worshipfulness that fills Izuna’s chakra when he speaks it becomes harder to ignore each time.

By verbal agreement, their clans might no longer be at war, but until that agreement is sealed with blood-and-chakra-laced ink, Tobirama cannot allow himself to dwell on it or any of the sundry thoughts and feelings that pertain to Izuna which he has shunted to the depths of his mind over the years.

He does not expect the vicious spike of victory in Izuna’s chakra, nor the ecstatic delight in Kagami’s as the child glances away from Shun with eyes that sparkle like freshly forged shuriken in the sunlight.

“Lord Izuna, you have been gifted Lord Blessed’s favor. The clan will be impressed and jealous of your swift success!”

“Lord Tobirama,” Izuna purrs with a wealth of self-satisfaction, “this Uchiha Izuna is blessed indeed to be favored.” The extra emphasis accompanies a single thread of Izuna’s chakra reaching across the river to gently caress the bare skin of Tobirama’s hand.

It would appear that Tobirama has miscalculated.

In his effort to escape the elaborate title that the Uchiha have bestowed upon him, he has apparently marked Izuna as worthy of his favor—perhaps in regards to the Uchiha viewing no honor greater than to have a spouse with red eyes?—by telling Izuna to address him by name.

It is a rare occasion when Tobirama miscalculates, so it is especially galling to have done so yet again in such a short span of time.

It is entirely possible—truthfully, it seems more so with each passing second—that Tobirama has just accidentally started a courtship or betrothal per Uchiha custom. Which is— No. He cannot think of it. Not when peace is not officially assured as of yet.

Tobirama is many things. He has never been and never will be a traitor to his clan.

“Why have you come to the border?” Tobirama queries, determined to move past his error. 

It is apparent they have not come for battle, though such was extremely unlikely given Kagami’s presence. Taking Izuna’s attire into account, it is most probable that his presence is due to a diplomatic endeavor of some sort, perhaps in regards to Tobirama’s recent unveiling of his sacred eyes.

Izuna stands on the snow in formal hakama and haori, the Uchiha clan mon skillfully embroidered upon his garb, his hair once again fastened in a high, silky tail of ebony. His smile is sly and charming as he withdraws a scroll sealed with Madara’s chakra and says, “This Uchiha Izuna requests permission to enter Senju lands with the intent to deliver this missive from Lord Uchiha Madara directly into the hands of Lord Senju Hashirama.”

Tobirama’s breath hitches. Under the current circumstances, it can be nothing other than a proposed peace treaty.

Kagami rushes to Izuna’s side, straightens his navy blue kimono with uchiwa embroidered along the hem, and says, “This Uchiha Kagami is Lord Izuna’s bodyguard.”

Uchiha Izuna has been Tobirama’s opponent in battle for more than half their lives. He is a consummate shinobi. Skilled, loyal to his clan, wily, cunning—Tobirama has always known this and respected his abilities.

They have learned one another in a manner and depth that is unavoidable given their constant clashes.

It does not surprise Tobirama that Izuna is cutthroat enough to exploit Tobirama’s known affinity for ensuring the safety of children to choose not only a child, but a child that Tobirama has met and interacted with, as his bodyguard for a diplomatic mission.

“This Senju Tobirama grants you and your bodyguard leave to enter the Senju lands for the stated purpose, conditional upon your acceptance of an escort during your endeavor, Lord Uchiha Izuna,” Tobirama states.

He has been outside of the compound for less than an hour and it is now his duty to guide two Uchiha into the heart of their lands so that his honorable elder brother might finally have the peace he has sought since he was a child skipping stones at the river with their enemy.

Hashirama’s reaction to their arrival will be … exuberant and demonstrative in nature.

He might be required to heal minor fractures in his ribs if Hashirama loses control of himself. His honorable elder brother often forgets his own strength when he is overcome by emotions, which is one reason Tobirama refuses to let his own emotions rule him. He is a weapon that has been forged so finely by the fires of his deceased honorable father’s will that he cannot allow lapses of strength.

Tobirama will never harm his clan—not even if his life must be forfeit to ensure it.

Izuna bows and says, “We are honored to accept your escort, Lord Tobirama.”

He and Kagami cross the river, Shun padding behind them. It feels momentous, for all that it is a single step from two pairs of feet, when they reach the Senju side of the river.

“Shun?” Tobirama inquires. Kagami does not possess the chakra reserves necessary at this stage of his development to keep pace with Tobirama and Izuna for the length of the trek to the Senju Clan Compound. 

And with how that thread of Izuna’s chakra continues to gently tease across his skin, Tobirama is unsure if he could survive the return at a slower pace without losing his composure and saying something impolitic that will endanger his honorable brother’s peace. He gently pushes the thread of Izuna’s chakra away, instead of violently batting it aside, and dutifully ignores the edge of disappointment to Izuna’s chakra even as a teasing smile appears on the man’s face.

“I will carry the cub, Lord Tobirama,” Shun replies.

Kagami’s eyes and chakra sparkle with delight as he says, “This Uchiha Kagami is unworthy of your generosity, Noble Summon, and thanks you for this honor,” before perching himself on Shun’s lowered back, using minimal chakra to keep himself stuck in place.

Neither Izuna nor Kagami are sensors. Unlike Tobirama, they cannot guide themselves to the clan compound hidden within their ancestral enemy’s lands as he did days ago. This means that Tobirama will need to show them the way. Which, in turn, necessitates Tobirama willingly turning his back to Uchiha Izuna—his equal in might.

It is … not something that Tobirama is certain he can do. 

Despite the recent revelations, Tobirama has spent his entire life never leaving his back unguarded in an Uchiha’s presence. It is not a simple thing to intentionally contradict a lifetime of instincts and—

Izuna’s teasing smile softens to something warm, sharp, and knowing. “This Uchiha Izuna vows before Amaterasu-Ōmikami to not harm anyone of Senju blood while a guest in the Senju Territory this day, except as a matter of self-defense.”

With his sensory abilities, Tobirama witnesses the glowing white sun mark—the symbol of the sacred vow—burn itself into Izuna’s chakra directly between his eyes. Tobirama forcefully shunts a mess of thoughts and emotions to the depths of his mind as he realizes that Izuna, unprompted, has sworn a vow that, if broken, will result in Amaterasu-Ōmikami burning his Sharingan in their sockets with black fire, rendering him to ash and killing him in the process, all to ease Tobirama’s discomfort.

It is—

He cannot—

A cloud of air spills from Tobirama’s lips in the chill of winter after he forcefully pulls his gaze away from Izuna’s face and says, “This way.”

Tobirama darts across the snow-covered ground, his heartbeat unusually quick for being outside of battle, and leads the way to the Senju Clan Compound, trusting an Uchiha with his back for the first time in his life.

Chapter Text

Tobirama slows his pace as they approach the clan compound. The sentries upon the towering wood wall, created with Hashirama’s Mokuton, are focused so wholly upon he, Izuna, and Kagami that he will have to reprimand them later. Focusing solely on one potential threat leaves many other paths of attack for an opponent to exploit. He has informed them of this several times. There is no excuse for such a lapse in attention and security.

“Lord Tobirama, what…?” Senju Hidema’s voice trails off without finishing the question. 

It irks Tobirama. All of his clanmates know he prefers succinctness and clarity in communication. The presence of two Uchiha this deep in clan territory is unexpected, yes, but Tobirama’s presence should elucidate without words that they are not trespassing.

Tobirama raises an eyebrow, more irritated at his very distant relative for being unobservant than for the impertinence of Hidema questioning the Clan Heir on matters of diplomatic relations. Izuna’s formal garments could not more clearly signify the purpose of his visit. His hakama and haori are fine enough to not be out of place in the Daimyo’s palace.

“Welcome home, Tobirama. You have returned from your patrol sooner than I expected,” Itama states as he appears at the gates. His gaze sweeps over Kagami riding on Shun’s back with a small quirk of his lips, before narrowing intensely upon Izuna. “Hashirama will be pleased.”

“Lord Itama—”

Itama does not remove his sharp gaze from Izuna when he states, “Return to your post, Hidema,” with a cutting edge of reprimand.

Izuna’s chakra, for an instant, there and then gone, flickers with nervousness. He inclines his head the exact amount necessary for a Clan Heir to acknowledge a member of another clan’s main family and says, “Lord Itama.”

“Lord Uchiha Izuna, the Senju welcome you,” Itama says as he bows in greeting before pointedly reaching out and brushing his fingers across the back of Tobirama’s hand.

Jealousy writhes in Izuna’s chakra.

“I am most grateful to be welcome here,” Izuna replies diplomatically, his voice perfectly pleasant and charming.

“Accompany us, Itama,” Tobirama commands as he leads the way into the Senju Clan Compound. It is important for the main family to show a united front to the clan, especially in regards to their ancestral enemies being inside the compound. They must, without question, show unfaltering support for the peace that their honorable elder brother has eagerly sought since childhood.

Itama settles one step behind and to the side of Tobirama, a position so ingrained in their lives that it brings comfort by default after all of these years.

Quiet murmurs spread through the watching Senju.

It is nigh impossible to believe that Hashirama’s dream of peace is on the precipice of becoming a reality. Tobirama struggles to imagine what the world will be like without constant battles between the Uchiha and Senju. If they do not meet on the battlefield and slay each other’s kin in protection of their own kin and valuable resources, then how are they to interact? It will be a change wholly unlike any other in generations and … adapting to such a change will be difficult for many.

Tobirama knows every aspect of himself.

He is a shinobi, a weapon, renowned throughout the Elemental Nations for his prowess and skill. He possesses instinctual reactions learned through a lifetime of war. It will not be the work of an afternoon to unlearn the reflexive preparation of a jutsu or drawing of a weapon at any perceived aggression from any of the Uchiha.

Not that it appears I will ever be subject to such hostility from any Uchiha ever again, now that I am considered a Blessed Child of Amaterasu-Ōmikami, Tobirama thinks as he guides Izuna past the Clan Elders, who watch with hawk-like gazes and caution-filled chakra.

Kagami’s chakra bubbles with curiosity so thickly that it impresses Tobirama that the child keeps silent, maintaining a solemn mien as a proper bodyguard of a beloved Clan Heir should. There are few of the Senju children his age who would be able to comport themselves in such a proper manner in similar circumstances.

It does not take long to arrive at the building they use for administration and meeting purposes. 

Hashirama stands in the doorway, the sunlight shining on his long hair, turning it the color of freshly pressed ink, his chakra vibrating with unmitigated glee. The smile on his face is small, which is such an impressive show of self-restraint for his honorable elder brother that Tobirama can only approve.

“Honorable Brother, I have escorted Lord Uchiha Izuna to you through our lands for the express purpose of diplomatic relations,” Tobirama states, bowing to his Clan Head. “Uchiha Kagami serves as his bodyguard.”

A flower sprouts from the wood flooring; it is a six-petaled yellow flower that spontaneously grows whenever Hashirama is overcome with joy. Tobirama is grateful Hashirama managed to wrangle his Mokuton into producing a single flower instead of turning their administration office into a meadow.

Izuna removes the scroll sealed with Madara’s chakra and offers it with outstretched hands, bowing and saying, “Lord Senju Hashirama, this Uchiha Izuna relinquishes this scroll to you, as per the command of Lord Uchiha Madara.”

Hashirama’s hands remain steady—unlike his chakra, which is ebullient—as he accepts the scroll with a sincere, “I am honored to receive the words of Lord Uchiha Madara.”

He breaks the seal on the scroll, unrolls it, and the nearby trees blossom months out of season.

When he turns on his heel and walks toward his large desk—scrolls haphazardly piled atop it, in danger of falling to the floor—with a gentle tug on Tobirama’s chakra, Tobirama obediently complies with the unspoken command and follows his brother into the building.

Itama, Izuna, and Kagami on Shun enter behind them.

Hashirama sits, splays the scroll open on his desk, and impatiently waits for Tobirama to read it over his shoulder, where Tobirama has come to stand. Since childhood, he has been one step behind and to the side of Hashirama, dutifully supporting his honorable elder brother in all his endeavors and guarding him diligently. Once, for a precious few years, Kawarama stood behind Tobirama. Now, it is Itama who guards him viciously with a fervor that Tobirama knows is deeply rooted in what Itama considers his failure to keep Kawarama safe, even though Itama was not yet old enough to fight on the battlefields when Kawarama died.

The missive is brief, without elaboration or guile. It is, in a word, flawless.

Let it be known before the divine that Lord Uchiha Madara and Lord Senju Hashirama do vow, on behalf of themselves and every person who does now or ever will issue forth from the Uchiha and Senju bloodlines, declare an immediate and permanent cessation of all hostilities between the Uchiha and Senju Clans in perpetuity.

Madara’s signature is already on the scroll, the kanji blood-red and laced with chakra. The Uchiha Clan mon rests beneath it in an identical blood-red color.

Hashirama stares over his shoulder at Tobirama with a desperate plea in his black eyes, his chakra still in a manner it rarely is. “Tobirama?” he whispers, an aching hope in his voice that twists something in Tobirama’s chest.

Hashirama is a dedicated Clan Head. As such, since his ascension to the position upon Lord Senju Butsuma’s passing, he has always insisted upon receiving Tobirama’s counsel before approving any treaties. His honorable elder brother values Tobirama’s intelligence to such a degree that it is humbling. Tobirama must never lead him astray.

“The terms are acceptable,” Tobirama states, voicing his approval.

The relief and triumph in Izuna’s chakra are an inferno.

Tears spill from Hashirama’s eyes. Tobirama immediately shifts his weight to prevent Izuna and Kagami from being able to see them and rests a hand on Hashirama’s shoulder even as he politely averts his gaze.

“I … I hoped, but … it has been so long that I—” Hashirama whispers so softly that Tobirama can barely hear him. “I will never be able to repay you for this gift, Tobirama.”

“You owe me nothing,” Tobirama refutes. “You are my elder brother and it is my honor to assist you in achieving your aims in life, whatsoever they may be.”

“I love you, too, brother,” Hashirama states with such sincerity that Tobirama would believe his words even if he could not feel the corresponding emotion in Hashirama’s chakra, which is lovingly wrapping around him in a mimicry of an embrace that Hashirama knows he would feel uncomfortable receiving in the presence of anyone except their immediate family.

Tobirama draws the tears from his brother’s face without a single hand seal—he has mastered suiton so completely that not even the native clans of Water Country can compete with his skill-level—and flicks the lightest of fuuton jutsu to dry Hashirama’s face so that he will be presentable.

“Thank you, brother,” Hashirama says before turning to face his desk once again.

It is almost surreal to witness what happens next. Peace has been such a deeply coveted event for such a great length of time that to have it upon them now is … nearly incomprehensible. 

Tobirama observes as Hashirama cuts his own thumb with the tip of a kunai, drips blood onto his inkstone, swirls it into the ink with threads of his chakra, and then signs his name in kanji with brushstrokes that are so neat and careful that Tobirama would not have believed it to be Hashirama’s hand if he had not seen it with his own eyes.

Hashirama sets the brush aside and then seals the agreement before the gods with the Senju Clan mon. “Peace,” he whispers.

Tobirama’s senses flare with power as a mark burns itself into the chakra of every Senju and Uchiha within his sensory range. It forms over the heart, the Senju and Uchiha Clan mons overlaid with the kanji for peace.

“It is done,” he states.

It is done.  

They have achieved peace with their greatest enemies, a peace that is inviolable and bound by the divine. No more Senju children will be buried beneath the roots of the trees, slain by Uchiha swords. No more mothers will wail into the night, weeping for vengeance upon the Uchiha shinobi who stole away their beloved children too early. 

All is not perfect. Other clans attack them, kill their kin. Yet, never in such numbers as the Uchiha have achieved throughout the course of history. For every one Senju slain by a member of another clan, the Uchiha have slaughtered ten.

To Tobirama, who has dedicated himself tirelessly and unquestionably to his clan since he first picked up a dull kunai, even one lost clan member is too great a number. However, something that has always been knotted and tangled inside of his chest finally eases at the knowledge that the amount of Senju funerals will immensely decrease now that they are not at war with the Uchiha Clan.

“Lord Tobirama, now that my assigned task is complete, might I prevail upon you with a selfish request to share tea with you?” Izuna queries, aching hope and longing and desire rampant in his chakra.

The ink on the peace accord is not yet dry. However, it is sealed and altogether official. So when Tobirama turns his gaze to Izuna, for the first time in his life he allows himself to observe Izuna’s fine features without a hint of guilt or shame.

Izuna’s dark eyes gleam like freshly polished kunai and are just as sharp and lethal. His smile is a taunt, a tease, an invitation meant to draw Tobirama’s attention and leave him wondering how such soft-looking lips would feel against his own. His ebony hair, free of kanzashi despite his formal attire, appears silky; if Tobirama buries his hands in it, will it be as soft as Tobirama’s signature white fur ruff?

This time, when fascination and desire rise within him, Tobirama does not shunt the emotions aside. He allows them to stay. It is no longer treasonous to consider the possibilities that might unfold between them. The potential for a bountiful harvest now exists where he once could not allow a single seed to sprout.

Tobirama inhales, finds a balance between reason and emotion, and answers, “I will grant your selfish request, Lord Izuna.”

Hashirama’s chakra is almost as ecstatic as Kagami’s is. Itama’s is watchful, but not disapproving. 

“I am honored by your generosity, Lord Tobirama,” Izuna says with an alluring smile as he tilts his head just so, sending his wealth of ink-colored hair spilling over his shoulder and down his front, drawing attention to the chest and shoulders Tobirama saw bare and touched with his own hands mere days ago.

It is a subtle seduction that stirs Tobirama. Despite knowing exactly how it is achieved, he is not immune to a shinobi of Izuna’s caliber. Tobirama’s pulse picks up speed and his heart beats arrhythmically. 

“I am known to be generous with those I favor,” Tobirama replies, barely suppressing a smirk as Izuna’s pupils widen at the extra emphasis, even though he is still not certain what, exactly, being favored by a Blessed Child of Amaterasu-Ōmikami entails to the Uchiha.

“I am blessed indeed to be so favored, Lord Tobirama,” Izuna breathes reverently.

When Tobirama feels a thread of Izuna’s chakra wrap around his wrist, burning with want and hope and a silent promise of unwavering commitment, he brushes a tendril of his own chakra across it in response, overflowing with desire and the insatiable fascination he never let himself dwell upon before Hashirama signed the peace treaty and the gods imprinted it into their chakra. 

Tobirama cannot fight back the smirk that curls his lips when Izuna’s eyes instantly turn Sharingan red in response, to ingrain the sight in his memory until the day he passes into the Pure Lands. It is the highest unspoken compliment that Tobirama has ever received.

For Izuna has just blatantly indicated that he intends to shelter Tobirama within his hearthfire heart.