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Chapter Text

Izuna wakes up by the riverside shoal; the sharp sensation has returned all at once and hits his whole body like a thunderstroke. His chest burned, lungs heavy and half-drowned. He coughed violently, forcing out the water in his already stuffed lungs. He had no sense of how long he’d been lying there until his Uchiha’s survival instinct finally returned to him. The pouring rain hadn’t let up since the battle. He encountered the Senju troop around noon, with the sky still clinging to a dim grey, he guessed only two or three hours had passed.

The young Uchiha staggered to his feet and checked on his condition. Several cuts on his face and deep bruises on his torso, no broken bones, that alone felt like a miracle. He’d fell from a cliff, the height could easily kill him outright even though there was a river. His sword and dagger were gone, probably swept away by the torrent; luckily the pouches strapped to his waist and thigh had held firm, his gear and medicine still safe.

Izuna scanned his surroundings, trying to figure out where the river had carried him. He must have been swept miles downstream from the main battlefield. The cliff where he and the White Demon had fallen off was nowhere in sight.

Raindrops keep falling on him and are slowly taking away his heat. Izuna's chakra storage was nearly drained after the fierce fight with the White Demon.

Weary and cold, Izuna focused the little chakra that remained on keeping his body warm—enough to escape hypothermia. The thundercloud overhead stirred, implying more rainstorms followed. He couldn’t afford to stay exposed for long. He pushed himself into exploring the forest, in search of any cave or an abandoned cottage, anywhere with a roof would be salvation to him.

Izuna moved through the forest, he caught a trail of footprints pressed into the mud— small and soft, obscure. Whoever left them had tried to conceal it through backtracking or scattering leaves to mask the prints, but clearly it was done hastily, almost transparent to a seasoned Shinobi’s eyes like Izuna. A chill ran deeper than the cold rain. Izuna had a grim premonition of who these tracks would eventually lead to. Every nerve in his body went on high alert, scanning for traps, ambushes, the slightest flicker of movement in his blind spots. The White Demon was a scheming she-wolf that you can never let your guard down against. A trail that obvious could be bait, if the Senju searching parties had joined forces with her, then Izuna was no longer a survivor—but a prey.

Izuna hoped the battle progress without a hitch. Before he fell from the cliff, he’d managed to send critical intel on enemy troop movements to Father and Madara. Fighting on the mountain was a tactical disadvantage for the Uchiha—especially with Senju Hashirama and his dreaded Mokuton jutsu in play. Izuna was given the vital part of scout. He’d eliminated the patrol shinobi and secured the high ground to monitor Senju activity. If it were not the damn Senju Tobirama's sudden raid, he could’ve transmitted even more info to the Uchiha camp.

Truth be told, Izuna had seen this coming. In fact he was surprised that it took Senju Tobirama that long to catch his tail, after the Senju patrols were literally wiped out. This Senju woman has been a persistent thorn to the Uchiha’s for years, her absurdly sensor ability caused countless troubles. But she was different today, Izuna sensed keenly.

Izuna had been fighting her since he first stepped into battleground. Though it is painful to admit, but she was undeniably Izuna's equal—despite the disadvantaged sex and young age. Her arts on edge weapons were fast and deadly, her jutsu techniques were breathtaking. No one with sense dared claim she was beneath her brother and father, in certain scenarios, she was even worth a troop.

Izuna despised Senju Tobirama as fiercely as he respected her skill. His dearest brother Madara had always shared a weird love-hate rivalry with the Senju’s heir, whenever they clashed on the battlefield, both would obviously light up and push their limits fighting each other. It makes Izuna’s gut stir as if Madara treated the elder Senju like one long-lost spiritual brother, shared a vision which Izuna doesn’t agree with. The Senju always took what he loved most, his only remaining brother next.

His jealousy and anxiousness reluctantly drew his gaze towards the younger Senju— the ice-liked, calculating young woman, so different from other kunoichi he had ever faced. All of her was like the opposite of him, Senju and Uchiha, water and fire, man and woman, yet she reminded him of Madara and Hashirama's relation whenever they crossed blades, what makes the difference between the elder pair and the younger pair? He didn’t know. And he didn’t want to. Izuna buried the stupid thought deep. War didn’t allow these sentiments, unrealistic feelings towards enemy end up to your own weakness, shinobi is a shinobi, forged to be tools. Whatever he felt for Senju Tobirama was uncalled-for Uchiha Izuna. He was convinced that she would agree, after all, she is the ruthless White Demon, who took people’s life within a blink. Watching her fight was like witnessing a perfect, lethal dance.

But something was... wrong with her today, her movement lagged, strikes lacked their usual precision. She was struggling to keep up with Izuna's sword. At first, he suspected injury, but he knew better. He’d fought Senju Tobirama a million times. She would never allow mere pain to dull her edge.

His Sharingan revealed that the young Senju's chakra was draining faster than usual, as if she were carrying some dead weight. Izuna felt his blood boil with rage as he realized the damn woman wasn’t fighting at full strength with him. Did she think he was not worthy enough for her?! Sharingan spinning, he let out Katon and forced Tobirama to have no choice but to perform the Suiton continuously.

It was when the rain began to pour vigorously. Feeling the flames weakened by the weather, Izuna abandoned ninjutsu and met her blade to blade. Their clash dragged them toward the cliff’s edge, both short of chakra and stamina, but neither yielded. Too concentrated on the fight that they failed to notice the danger under their feet. Then came a deafening clap of thunder, the earth beneath groaned and cracked abruptly. In an instant, the cliffside quickly rushed both shinobi down the slope, eventually swallowed by the raging river.

Izuna’s last flicker of memory was vivid: the Senju woman gripping his collar with desperate strength, anchoring them both in the torrent while performing a Suiton-jutsu seal with her only free hand. Now, as clarity slowly returned to Izuna’s fogged mind, she used the last of her chakra to redirect the torrent, saving them both. He’d washed up on the shoal, battered but alive. No broken bones. No fatal wounds.

It was humiliating-almost felt like a slap on Izuna's face. The arrogant Senju degraded him by flaunting superiority and bullshit mercy, had Hashirama finally infected his naivety into the cold-hearted monster's head? A ploy, perhaps. A strategic move. Keeping Izuna alive could serve the Senju well—a chip, a hostage, a weakness to exploit on the bargaining table. The idea twisted in his gut. He refused to believe she’d acted simply out of compassion. Tobirama was the White Demon, not some sentimental fool. And yet, the feeling of her surprisingly soft hand gripping his collar lingered—steady, deliberate, and maddeningly humane.

Fortunately, Izuna is now out of danger and tracking Tobirama in reverse. He found no third-party tracks, meaning she was alone and likely vulnerable, judging by the erratic, messy footprints. The sting of humiliation still burned in his chest, and he had no intention of letting it fade quietly.

The trail vanished abruptly. Izuna activated Sharingan with difficulty and sensed a weak chakra signature not far away. It led to a small hut stood alone within the vast woods. It was likely used by loggers or wanderers. It stood on the brink of collapse, roof sagging and beginning to cave in; it would not make a good shelter for any sane soul. Now Izuna didn’t need to guess. Senju Tobirama was here, how can she not? The location was too perfect—isolated, defensible, and deceptive. A place to rest, yes... but also a snare for anyone reckless enough to follow. Izuna knew the game well.

A dagger sliced through the air toward Izuna’s head— but he knocked it off with a kunai effortlessly. Tobirama lunged from a tree branch above, her arms snaking around his neck in a sudden chokehold. She’d been waiting, hidden, patiently. But Izuna had anticipated the ambush. Without hesitation, he seized her arm and hurled her over his shoulder. Tobirama twisted mid-fall, legs dragging Izuna down with her, and in a flash, her kunai pointed at his throat. Just as he suspected—she was weakened, relying on speed and surprise to compensate. The two locked in a brutal grapple, limbs tangled, bodies slick with mud, each straining to overpower the other.

Pinned beneath her, Izuna drove his heel into her abdomen with punishing force. Tobirama was flung meters away like a broken ragdoll, a muffled groan escaping her lips as kunai slipped from her grasp. Breathed heavy and choppy. Izuna surged forward, grabbing her muddied silver hair and locking his arm around her throat. Her hands clawed at his grip, but the strength was fading fast. Moments later, her struggling arms fell limp, and the forest fell silent once more.

—

Izuna removed his drenched coat, muscles stiff from cold, and crouched beside the hearth. The woodpile outside was soaked through, useless under the relentless downpour. With no other choice, he hacked apart abandoned wood furniture and tore up two tatami mats, feeding the scraps into the fire. Smoke curled upward, thick and acrid, filling the hut with the stench of damp and mold. The floor was covered with years-unsettled dust and the roof groaned under strong wind. Izuna doubted it would blow out anytime. But for now, it was shelter—and that was enough. In the flickering firelight, warmth slowly returned to his limbs, and Izuna allowed himself a moment of peace.

“Can’t believe I'm going soft with Senju…” the young Uchiha muttered as he carefully checked the armour and gear ripped from the silver-haired kunoichi, who was now slumped against the wall, chakra sealed, hands and legs bound tightly behind her like a doe to be slaughtered.

He hadn’t given much thought about how to deal with her. Ending her life would be effortless —a luxury, even. Their kind rarely died in peace. After he subdued her, he leaned in to observe the unconscious Senju woman, kunai pointing at her neck. She had a deep-frowned face, probably injured from Izuna’s attack. Pale hair matted with mud and blood, eyes shut but Izuna knew the colour beneath too well.

He always thought it was a cruel joke. He wondered if she would hate her own reflection, seeing the hue that had killed her kins. But Izuna cherished that colour, it was the same as their clan's Sharingan—vivid, unyielding, sacred. It was a bond, an invisible crimson umbilical cord that tied Izuna to everything he cherished.

The young Uchiha stood still for so long until the cold sent a shiver down his spine. He immediately ashamed by his vacillation. This woman always irritated him as always, countless Senjus died horribly in his hand, what made Senju Tobirama stand out from them? With a swift gesture, Izuna carried the unconscious body over his shoulder and laid her on the hut floor. A prisoner was only useful if kept intact, after all. Losing such a powerful warrior would be a pain in the ass—let alone the clan leader’s only daughter. The thought of many Senju faces twisted in bitterness and helpless rage lightened Izuna’s mood greatly. That alone made keeping her worth the trouble.

For now, he had no choice but to wait the night. The storm outside raged with such fury that Izuna doubted even the most determined search party could trace their path. That left him confined to the same space as Senju Tobirama. There was nothing but flickering shadows and occasional crack of burned firewood. Izuna sat in silence, gaze fixed on the fragile figure lying three meters away. The rain-soaked fabric clung to her like a second skin, outlining every curve with titillated clarity. Tobirama’s chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. Something about that quiet, involuntary motion stirred an unsettling satisfaction in him—one he couldn’t quite name, and certainly wouldn’t dare admit.

More hours passed, nightfall and firewood nearly burnt out. Izuna, lulled by the quiet and the flickering warmth, was on the verge of drifting into a light doze—when a faint rustle near the wall snapped him alert, his body jolting upright in an instant.

Senju Tobirama stirred with a soft groan, her mind clearly still clouded. She frowned as discomfort ripped through her, cold sweat glistening on her forehead and neck. Twisted and turned like a drowning bug — Izuna could almost feel her pain just watching. As her fluttering eyes finally struggled to lift again, red-eyed met the Uchiha's. Her unreconciled mixed exasperated face amused Izuna enough that he nearly laughed aloud. Then, with startling agility, she slipped her feet beneath her bound hands and wriggled free with great flexibility.

Izuna watched from distance with a teasing manner. With her chakra sealed and whatever unseen affliction weakening her, he could literally overpower Tobirama with a single hand. Surely she wasn’t foolish enough to challenge him like this. If she was willing to lower herself enough, he might even be inclined to go easy on her, Izuna mused with quiet satisfaction.

To his surprise, Tobirama made no move to fight back or loosen the rope binding her feet. Instead, she curled inward, drew her knees to her stomach and rocked side to side softly, soft whimpers escaping her lips with each motion.

“No…Not now…” She gasped. Izuna could hear it clearly—fragile, trembling, vulnerable, words he’d never imagined applying to Senju Tobirama.

Izuna finally understood something was deeply wrong with Tobirama. Her hands trembled as she lifted her black shirt and mesh, peeling away layer after layer of bandages tightly wrapped around her lower waist. The swelling beneath them pushed unnaturally against the stark thinness of her limbs and hips—resembling a white spider. The unsettling image struck Izuna without warning. He forced himself forward, dropping to one knee, compelled to examine the unfamiliar figure. She obviously wasn’t in-term—five months at most. As he drew closer, she immediately stiffened, red eyes burned with a mix of humiliation and anger.

The clenched inside Izuna almost suffocated him. He could only stammer out broken questions, helpless, until he noticed the spreading pool beneath her—fluid and blood soaking through her pants and staining the floor. The scene was so vivid, he almost believed it was a high-level genjutsu. But then he remembered he’d sealed her chakra earlier. This was reality. Senju Tobirama had been carrying a child—and still chose to face him on the battlefield as if it meant nothing. Was the child made out of wedlock? On her consent? Izuna couldn’t recall any news of a Senju marriage. Wasn’t she his age—barely an adult? And yet, here she was, living a life miles ahead of his own.

The sight of the purple bruise on Tobirama’s side struck Izuna like a blow, a phantom fist tightening around his ribs. Could it have been from their earlier fight? He’d unleashed everything with that kick—he had to. Tobirama was no ordinary kunoichi. He must give out his full strength, because he respected her so much—

"What’s wrong with you, Senju?! You think you can just dump this on me and walk away? " Izuna hissed, hands reached uncertainly near Tobirama’s twitched belly.

Tobirama halted, gaze heavy with fatigue and irritation. “The child was gone a week ago, no matter how much healing chakra I poured into it. This has nothing to do with you; it was inevitable once the chakra flow stopped. So you can quit that pitiful look, Uchiha.” Her voice dripped with genuine contempt.

“You knew this all the time? Why would you join the battle—did the father ever allow this?” What kind of parent are you? Izuna kept the words to himself, knowing that he would’ve way out of the line.

“…Get off me.”

Tobirama braced herself against the wall, rising with unsteady limbs. She paced across the room in a restless daze, one hand cradling her swollen belly, the other pressed to the aching lower back. The young Senju winced and groaned from time to time, clearly agonizing. Izuna had known her his whole life, Tobirama wouldn't even flinch when a kunai pierced through her shoulder.

He stepped toward her, reaching out to steady the woman who was about to collapse. “Shut up and do what you need to do,” Izuna said rigidly. “I'm not helping you, Senju. It's just a debt to you getting me out of the river.”

Tobirama blinked, confused, and stared at Izuna as if he were an entirely different person. But the petting hand trying to soothe her from the pain was comforting, echoing the tenderness of Hinoki-dono; who gently cradled her still-flat belly, whispering love words to the growing child beneath. Her heart clenched even to think of him, a man too loving and selfless, like her brother. He truly believed peace with the Uchiha was possible, together building a gentle world suited for future children. Would Hinoki-dono have accepted Izuna’s helping hand now? Of course he would if it meant saving Tobirama, one he cherished most.

Tobirama tried so hard not to let tears escape. Voice barely above a whisper, “…You better be helpful.”

Chapter Text

Time slipped past Izuna unnoticed, until the sound of the rain stopped and gave way to the soft chorus of crickets. Midnight had long passed, and they had been doing this for hours and hours. His mind consumed by the task of easing Tobirama, supporting her crumbling body, deliberated circles across her lower back and belly.

“Don’t you need to lie down? “

“No...” Tobirama barely uttered the word between the rhythm of heavy breath.

Before Tobirama was dazed by pain, she attempted to beat every procedure she knew into Izuna—she tried to appear controlled and unruffled. Still, he could easily smell her anxiousness behind those textbook lectures. They have barely come of age, without any elders to guide them through, only by instinct and hearsay knowledge.

Izuna didn’t feel responsible until the image of Tobirama doing this all alone crept into her mind. Alone in a dark, half-shattered house with no supplies and no one to attend.

If she knew the miscarriage was inevitable, why would she still throw herself onto the battlefield? She wouldn't stand a chance of getting away in one piece if she crossed paths with some of the Izuna’s uncles or cousins—those more than willing to add another record on their kill count. Izuna was certain it would’ve been infinitely safer and more secure at least within the Senju camp, especially with her doting brother Hashirama by her side, or, her husband—the thought alone made Izuna feel uncomfortable. The young Uchiha promised to gift the man every ounce of pain he could muster if he knew his name—enough to make him wail in agony and regret for neglecting the woman and child who should have been his priority.

If it were another scenario, he'd have scoffed at her poor judgment: This is the man you gave yourself to? See how low your lewd nature has brought you.

Senju Tobirama had once stood, in Izuna’s eyes, as the embodiment of the ideal shinobi—coldly logical, ruthlessly efficient, like a machine detached from distractions of any useless sentiment. Yet reality reminded him that even such a flawless being, was no more than an ordinary woman, swayed by sentiments he deemed hollow and foolish. She had the chance to choose strength, to ascend beyond mortal limits as Izuna chose—to stand as his sole rival until one must fall by the other’s hand, soul forever stained by the other’s presence. Yet Senju Tobirama turned away from that path. She chose the vague love from a nameless man over Izuna, even gambled her life for the long-dead child inside her womb.

Death was an insurmountable shadow that clung to their kinds, staking your life on a thin thread like that seemed foolish to Uchiha Izuna. Why bother to endure the pain if everything you cared about was meant to be torn and shattered? The more you loved, the more you would lose; it cradled nothing but weakness, turned your blade dull before you even noticed. Izuna would never allow himself to fall so low; these were all womanly problems, problems of the Weak—who were too broken to lift a weapon again, too numb even to muster the will of living.

The wound of the mind cuts deeper than any blade. See, Izuna, love is the simplest and easiest gift everyone can give. Remember, there will not be hatred if there is no love—It is what we Uchiha often overlook, it is what our strength is rooted in. His mother and sister Washiba 's teachings inappropriately emerged from Izuna's long-buried memory. They once told him under a beautiful autumn sky of red and purple, wearing big smiles, feeling pride for their duty from their hearts. It was so long ago even their voice seemed tarnished—long before Washiba bled out to death from a sword pierced through in her stomach; before mother broken into a hollow shell, collapsed from the fact of witnessing so many of her children perishing before her own eyes. The clan’s two finest healers could not save themselves.

Come on.  Do not lose yourself in these mere mortal problems. You are the Senju Tobirama, the fastest shinobi ever to grace the battlefield, the one I swore my life to defeat. You are not like those weak. Got rid of your bad choices already and return to the shinobi you were born to be!

Izuna’s gaze drifted to Tobirama’s sweat-drenched form, her breath coming in sharp and intense as the contractions grew shorter and stronger in the interim. Until her endurance finally reached breaking point, she could no longer hold back the shriek tearing from her throat, red eyes brimming uncontrollably with tears. The piercing sound sliced through the air, stabbing at Izuna’s already frayed mind. They had reached the point where modesty no longer mattered, neither of them flinched at her half-naked body. "It's starting." Tobirama panted. The two together counted the duration and frequency of each contraction. Izuna reached down to check on Tobirama, noting it should be the child’s head. What he saw confirmed that this mess had finally entered its final stage. Izuna deep breathed, forcing calm into his voice so as not to feed Tobirama’s nervousness. “Yes,” he said softly. “It’s coming down.”

The young Uchiha helped Tobirama position herself on her knees, hands supported her waist firmly. Tobirama’s hands clung to his shoulder, head leaned against his neck. Their upper body pressed together, the intimacy made Izuna skip a beat for a moment, as beads of sweat fell onto his skin and her warm, heavy breaths brushed through his ears. She smelled copper and earth, which brought Izuna back to his mother’s dying bed, evoking lots of memories too hurtful to recall. Izuna asked uncomfortably, “How’s you feeling?”

 "Hurt," Tobirama replied, struggling to straighten herself up a bit. "...I need to push now."

A falling pressure descended as uterus contracted repeatedly, and her body demanded to push. Tobirama's whole lower abdomen on fire, she tried to dig out every so-called secret breathing technique she once learnt. But the pain was so unfamiliar and raw, nothing like her menstrual cramp. How could one endure such pain multiple times in womanhood? And she wasn’t even delivering a full-term babe. She thought of the birth of her younger brothers, father and mother’s joy etched faces with the little bundle on their arms. How could one not love the babe deeply after knowing the ache of your life?

Oh she wished mother or Hinoki-dono were by her side no, but the two were both lying six feet under. A strange sentiment emerged within Tobirama, she didn't want the babe out. She wanted to be with the babe as long as possible. She felt full and safe with her babe within, her body was a moving coffin full of Hinoko-dono's memory, scent and love. She knew she eventually had to do this, but she could deceive her womb and body to slow the process down by infusing chakra into the lifeless babe, as a quiet act of defiance. A bit more, just a little longer till she found consolation from her sorrow. But the pain was so much, her mind and her body's warring against each other was tearing her apart. It made her extra sad because she understood her body would—and must win.

"Izuna, I ca—"

“You can, Senju, carry on. Get it out. It is close.”

Inhale. Push. Exhale. She repeated the rhythm like a machine, as if her soul had slipped away, leaving only flesh and will behind. Her body and gravity would do their jobs. Tobirama's fingernails digging hard into Izuna's shoulders were certain she’d drawn blood beneath his clothes.

Yet Izuna didn’t flinch. Even as she was worn out and puffed, Izuna steadied her. He lifted her flushed face—cheeks spotted by broken capillaries, and pressed his forehead to hers, slowly syncing his breath with hers in quiet solidarity. Why would Uchiha Izuna help his enemy anyway? The question flickered through Tobirama, her sanity fading as oxygen slipped from her brain. But now, the Sharingan gazing at her seemed strangely beautiful, which she had never noticed on the battlefield. Somehow, she felt safe looking into those crimson eyes.

There was something flickering inside Izuna's eyes, an unwavering will that Tobirama could feel but couldn't quite comprehend. Did Izuna want her to live? The usual hatred and teasing from his eyes were replaced by a startling tenderness, which was strange, but seemed very genuine to Tobirama's eyes. As though this quiet affection was deliberately concealed deep but had always been part of him. It was the same affection that she felt many, many times from those she loved, as she would have passed it on to her babe. It was equally big as her sorrow. Mother, Kawarama, Itama, all the clanmen and Hinoki-dono's death had carved wounds into her soul. Yet if she had not known these pains, she wouldn't have realized how deeply she could mourn, love, and fiercely protect what remained. This ache echoed so intensely in her body —was proof of how she still cared so much.

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. She drew herself upright, as if summoned by the strength of her own thoughts, grounding hands that held her. Hey, little one, sorry that I failed to protect you. But Mama wants to see and touch you so much. So please please come out. We will go home and you can make Papa’s company. The words slipped from her lips in a dazed whisper, unnoticed even by herself. What she didn’t notice as well was Izuna’s frowning face, with sad and swollen eyes. Tobirama drew in one final, trembling breath and pushed with everything she had, so fiercely that time seemed to vanish—until a warm, fragile weight slipped free.

Her body almost fell from the overwhelming relief; in that instant, Izuna’s gentle grip guided her to lie on her back. He then turned back, Tobirama could only hear the sounds of tearing fabric and Izuna searching for something in his pouches. Tobirama groped between her legs with exhausted hands, reached the babe's bloodied, small, warm body. She cradled the small body not caring that the messy fluids would dirty her chest. She finally got to meet the babe she carried for five months. She fiddled the babe’s little arms and toes, although it was small, redden-skin and underdeveloped, but it still seemed very beautiful to Tobirama. “Hello, little one…”

Izuna sat beside her, the hem of his robe was shredded into rags. He started to clean up her body in a strange peace. “…How is it?” He asked.

“A boy.” Tobirama softly replied as she rocked the babe, “As his Papa and Mama expected.”

Izuna gave a perfunctory hum, didn't seem entertained by the reply. Tobirama could read the You know this doesn't change anything right? expression on Izuna’s face but his Sharingan said differently. They both reached down to Tobirama’s still swollen belly, doubtfully examining if the uterus was doing its job again, knowing the placenta would soon follow. It was almost twilight now. Izuna threw his long-dried coat over Tobirama— figured the dried sweat caused her shiver. Izuna frowned, brought a broken clay bowl to Tobirama's lips with dissolved powder medicine. “Drink. It will help the bleeding more or less.”

This feeling lingered in his heart—jealousy—troubled him so much. For so long, he had convinced himself that Senju Tobirama was nothing more than a heartless machine that they shinobi always transformed themselves into: A tool born to serve mission and duty; didn’t need to love, or be loved—because those things would eventually slip between your fingers. But the sight of Tobirama and the dead kid stung Izuna. She had loved—truly, deeply—the child and its father. Possessed the ability that Izuna had long lost—or perhaps didn’t dare to. It was not Senju Tobirama could not love, it was Senju Tobirama didn’t choose to love Uchiha Izuna. He was left out of her tenderness. Admitting this was like flaying him alive.

So it's me again who doesn’t get to be chosen. Izuna tossed more wood into the fire again, watching the flames catch with irritation.

The rhythmical cracking sound made both sleepy. Izuna felt worn out as much as Tobirama, his mind fell into the realm of dreams. But this time, the haze carried him deeper—into memories he’d buried long ago, and he blamed Tobirama for most of the part. Just before memories claimed him, one thought lingered: I really, truly like Senju Tobirama…but I also hated the guts out of her.

-

Izuna was a boy again, with Madara and father—his only two remaining family.

Two fresh tombstones marked the resting places of their mother and youngest sister Chocho. The three of them were in the clan’s graveyard, a place steeped in silence and sorrow. Izuna always felt a deep unease whenever he stepped onto that soil. The faces of his lost siblings would rise in his mind with painful clarity, which he tried to bury those memories, to deny their weight as he grew up.

“Father, why won’t Mother take healing?” Izuna asked, burying his face on his knees, voice muffled. Madara side-eyed him with shock and grief.

His father stayed silent, so long that the sun started to set and light reddened the land. The air smelled of autumn and burnt-out funeral pyre. Until father finally heaved a sigh, he gazed at the tombstone as if he wanted to brand his wife’s name into his eyes. “…Your mother had made her choice. She’ll meet your siblings in the pure land.” His voice was serene, like his usual tone when giving orders. “Training is spared for three days.” Father left without a second glance.

Long ago, before death had cast its shadow over their home, Izuna once lived surrounded by a loving mother and father, and a house full of siblings whose laughter once filled the halls. Each one shaped him in their own way. Togakushi and Taetaka, his elder brothers guided him how to wield every weapon with precision and purpose; Koku and Madara drilled hard him in strength and speed until his body moved like instinct; His eldest sister Shiga led him to the depths of chakra control and Sharingan; His mother and sister Washiba taught him the medicine and all delicate secrets hidden beneath skin; And his father taught him the weight of leadership and duties to Uchiha clan.

Also there was Cho-cho, the youngest, the one who possessed the energy to light up even the darkest shadow of their home. The sweet Cho-cho always wore pigtails and like to dye her nails red; the cheerful Cho-cho always pestering his brothers to train her shuriken techniques; the empathetic Cho-cho that adored her parent, always served as a devoted assistant by mother’s medical tent even on the battlefield; the Cho-cho that too gentle to hurt or kill anything; the Cho-cho that all of them thought deserved to smile and live the longest life.

In Izuna’s memory, his mother was a brilliant and fiercely unrestrained kunoichi—the most gifted healer in the clan. She spoke sharply like strategist and never flinched from protecting her clansman. She was the sun in their world: warm, radiant, and full of life. Beside her, his father was the quiet moon—wise, steady, always watching from behind with unwavering support. Izuna remembered the pride in her voice when she once recalled the moment her Sharingan awakened—not through grief or loss, but from the fierce instinct to protect her best friend during a battle in her youth. It was a story she told with fire in her eyes, a testament to her belief that love was a power far greater than hatred. She taught them with a firm voice and unwavering: power meant nothing if it wasn’t used to protect.

As the conflicts deteriorated, Izuna’s siblings fell one by one. She frowned and cried more often with every farewell to her family members towards the front line. The grief in her eyes started to overcome her past optimism. Her breaking point came when sister Washiba died in her arms. She screamed, raw and broken, at Izuna’s father: Why can’t my Sharingan evolve anymore? Am I not love them enough? Am I not loss enough? How can my eyes betray my own feelings? No matter how many children she cremated, how much blood-tears river down her cheeks, how much pain she swallowed. As if mocking, Mother’s Sharingan remained unchanged. 

But Cho-cho's death was the final blow. At that time, only Madara, Izuna, and Cho-cho remained—the last fragile thread that held the once-vibrant family together. It happened during a raid targeted their rear line, an explosive assault tore through their defences. The aftermath left them with only half of Cho-cho’s body... and Mother wrapped in bandages, severely injured from burns. When she regained consciousness, she didn’t speak—she sobbed, cried, howled like a wild beast. She apologized repeatedly to every child she had lost, even father couldn't hold her down. Why? She cried, again and again, until her voice broke and her strength gave out. Izuna felt it. They all did. Her soul had left. What remained was a shell—a body that breathed out of habit, not by her will. She refused to attend Cho-cho’s cremation. Refused the clan’s healing. Refused to speak to her husband. Refused to look at her last two surviving sons. And in the end, she refused food, water, and even life itself.

In those days, Izuna and Madara often sat in turns outside their mother’s room, waiting quietly for any sign she might need them. But all that met them was silence—an unspoken refusal—and the lingering, metallic scent of death that clung to the air.

As Izuna gazed across the rows of tombstones, a quiet, aching thought settled in his chest: in her final moments, she may have regretted it all—marriage, motherhood, her whole life. Perhaps she had rather chosen never to love, if it meant being spared the agony of watching everything she cherished be destroyed. Her heart was divided into too many pieces because she had so much to protect. And when those pieces shattered and pain hollowed her, there was nothing left to hold her together.  Maybe she feared facing Izuna and Madara again—feared the same Sharingan that mirrored her pain and sorrow. Izuna wanted to cry. He needed to. But cruelly, no tears came. Only the bitter taste of disappointment. She chose the easiest path. A weak person’s choice. Mother had chosen death over staying alive for him. His existence wasn't enough to anchor her in this cruel world.

He was left behind. Unwanted. Not chosen.

“Izuna,” Madara hugged him, wet breath brushed through his neck. “I’ll protect you no matter what. You’re my only brother.”

“Yeah…I’ll protect you too, brother.” He whispered, his voice barely holding together as warm tears dripped down his cheeks. Oh Mother… I wish you could say this to me too.

For the first time, Izuna's eyes were red as the crimson sky, to share the same sorrow that many of their clansman once felt.

-

“Aren't you regret? ...after experiencing this?” Izuna asked, eyes focused on the other’s motion. Tobirama sat in front of him, silver hair even shinier under the radiant sunlight.

Tobirama didn’t flinch at his question. Her hands moved wrapping the child’s body in bandages, with tender and scared motions. Izuna had suggested burial or cremation on the spot, thinking that if she had chosen a cremation, he might have offered help with his Katon-jutsu, not out of obligation, just because he wouldn’t dare undo her chakra seal. But she insisted the child be buried beside his father. That was when Izuna understood that there was no one else but Tobirama left in this little family.

“It’ll be hypocritical to say I’m not.” Tobirama paused as she tied the final knot around the small bundle. She could feel the uneasiness behind Izuna’s words, knowing the question didn’t just imply the event of the past few hours. She didn’t expect Uchiha Izuna to be a philosopher. She fought him too often, but it may be the first time that the two young people truly got to have a proper talk. “But it’ll be disrespectful to those I cared. Without the experiences with them, it wouldn’t be me today.”

“This may sound strange, coming from a Senju to a Uchiha… but I must pledge my thanks. I might have kept pretending the losses weren’t real if it hadn't happened yesterday."

“Looks like you can take it better.” Izuna hummed. Better than me for sure. He thought.

There had been moments—brief, stolen glances across war-torn fields, when he imagined her without the armour and weapon. What her voice would sound like when it wasn’t issuing orders. What was she like being only as Tobirama other than a Senju. Now Izuna had known she had loved, she had lost, she had endured, and she had relieved. Izuna expected that from now on, every time he saw her, she would remind him of something else aside from enemy and clan. Not just love. But the freedom to choose something other than hatred.

For that Izuna knew he was doomed, because he fell in love for a woman who didn't love him.

In the end Izuna eventually removed Tobirama's chakra seal, the two stood on the treetop. Tobirama cradled the small bundle against her chest armour, detecting chakra signatures in the area and any movements from their clans. Izuna leaned against the trunk, buried half his face beneath his high collar, casting a sidelong glance at her in silence.  Except for the bloodless pale face, she looked exactly as he was familiar on the battlefield, stern, composed, and quietly graceful. Somehow he found himself wanting to look at her just a little longer.

"A team of Uchiha shinobi upstream. You will meet them heading north in half a day." She reported, voice sounded a bit provoking. "You kind sure moved fast."

"I think this implies farewell, is it? Senju?"

Tobirama rose to her feet, her gaze meeting Izuna’s quiet smile. There was a flicker of unease caused by the unexpected warmth from him. Yet, before they parted ways, she offered him a smile. Restrained, but a very sincere one.

And Izuna knew he would press this fleeting smile into his heart. In the later days, when night stretched long and silence fell, he would think of today for many, many times.

Chapter Text

1. Tobirama/Hinoki relationship

They are more like common-law marriage/cohabitation. Meaning the two perform husband/wife duties without ceremonial acknowledgement, they probably live under the same roof in the compound. The clan tolerates their relationship somehow bc in this story Tobi is girl, making Hashirama the sole heir of Senju mainline with no male spare, and that is a BIG BIG crisis to the clan.

The logic behind Papa-Butsuma matching up Tobi/Hinoki are:

• They're both Senju and strong shinobis; any possible kekkei genkai can stay within the clan.
• Tobi not officially married, meaning any child came out from Tobi remains under her name, or under the main branch control. The father's family can't simply usurp through marriage/their son. (Inheritance of mainline daughter is higher than branchline uncles, pure blood goes first). If Hashirama died early and childless, Tobi's son can succeed Hashirama as his adopted son, the birth-mother Tobi will rule acting before the kid comes of age.
• Tobi is still free in the marriage market. Butsuma can trade her out/break a marriage anytime if needed, with advantage that she is fertile. (In older Japan, remarriage was common, and widow with child was quite popular. Signing and breaking political marriage were like daily practice Lamo)
• Most importantly, Bustuma doesn't want to lose a powerful warrior to another clan/promote some minor Senju family through marriage, not at least in the height of war. He doesn't want others influencing his leadership.

So Tobi/Hinoki ship is highly purposeful under Butsuma's arrangement; it goes well mainly bc Hinoki-dono is a decent and respectable guy. Hashirama is fine as long as Tobi is happy + they are all childhood friends. Hashirama likely will approve their marriage once he succeeds the clan head so Tobi & Hinoki feel okay with it for now.

We can also foresee that Butsuma will forbid Tobi from long mourning and keep pushing suitable men to her, but apparently Tobi won’t give a shit. She really doesn’t care if the lineage goes to the branch line as long as the successor has a sane mind. Anyway she will stay single for a long long time until she feels ready for another relationship. *rubbing hands* (Or not bc workaholic Tobi got a Konoha to run and many kids to attend. But who knows?)

Ps: Butsuma is not one-sidedly calculative and cruel to his daughter. The plans also assure Tobi can remain within the power circle after he or Hashirama dies (highly possible as leaders always fight at the front), a safeguard for her future life. So that she won’t be cast away like nothing by the next clan head. It’s just the father-self and leader-self can’t coexist. Also typical in age that you turn yourself into a tool just to survive, you can’t even express love in a proper way. Still, treating girl like baby-oven is debatable. (Is it just old society's problem? sadly this still happens today *deep breath*)

Yes, as East Asian and historic drama lover, I think about these shits a lot. :D

2. Uchiha family members

• Mama's name is: Uchiha Chikuma.

Kishimoto designed the Uchiha brothers' name referencing the mountains in Northern Shinshu. So I reference Mama's name to a river that flows through most parts of Shinshu. The river is the Shinano River (信濃川, Shinano-gawa), the upper reach is known as Chikuma River (千曲川, Chikuma-gawa).

From the kanji, Chi(千) means "Thousand", Kuma(曲) means "bend". It’s named after the thousands of bends it makes. I think it is also okay to imply Mama's tragedy and broken mentality.

I also like that in a cultural sense, rivers are often referred to as the cradle of civilization. Wonder if the term "mother river" is commonly used in other countries? I literally grew up with this term lmao

(Sadly I didn't get to mention Mama’s name in the main text bc it was highly Izuna's perspective. It is so typical that as kid I wasn't familiar with my parents/elder relatives' names (real story), if you dare call them by their first name you will earn a scold for sure.)

-

Below are some Izuna's siblings names, they are mostly mountain names. Sometimes I used Kunyomi (a different way to pronoun the kanji) when I feel the sound does not match well.

• Togakushi: reference the Mount Togakushi (戸隠山). The mythology behind the mount is actually quite interesting; you can Google it for more info, I set him as the eldest due to it.
• Taetaka: reference the Mount Myōkō (妙高山/名香山), I used kunyomi to read it as the original pronunciation is too feminine. 
• Koku: reference the Mount Kurohime (黒姫山), Kuro means "black" and Hime means "princess". Koku is another pronunciation of "black" and can refer to some nice kanji. (e.g. 国 "country", 極 "the finest", 克 "to overcome", etc)

The above three+Madara+Izuna were Kishimoto's mountain name reference to the canon Uchiha five brothers. Below are the sisters' names, also came from mountains in the Shinshu area.

• Shiga: reference the Mount Shiga (志賀山), means "determination + to celebrate". Also a commonly used girl name in older-day Japan.
• Washiba: reference Mount Washiba (鷲羽岳), means "eagle's feather".
• Cho-cho/O-cho: reference Mount Chō (蝶ヶ岳), means "butterfly". I double-read it bc it sounds cute.

The age order of each sibling is not strictly specified; I only designed that Togakushi is the eldest and Cho-cho is the youngest. Madara and Izuna are somewhere between. Madara is not the eldest, different from canon. 

Thinking name makes me happy :) I actually have a long baby's namelist for different Tobi ships  Lmao. 

-

3. Fem!Tobirama/Izuna dynamic here

Anyway the purpose of this fic is my obsession with Mommy Tobirama so it is okay to say this story works on either genderbend/ABO/Mpreg etc background. But I don't want extra paragraphs explaining background setting so here comes Fem/Tobi. But funny is it did create different dynamic from regular M/M IzuTobi.

I kind of think M/M IzuTobi will be easier to release their feelings to each other, of course in anime there are a lot specializing/respect for your rival stuff going on, and it is often seen guy-to-guy only. (bc most guy shared similar braincell? they understand each other's thinking idk) But if I want jealous/awkward/cringy/denying teen Izuna, it doesn't quite work out bc the main point is not knowing each other. 

For F/M relationship, not taking the initiative results in strangeness, misunderstanding and unreal fantasy. Realising differences from others' life causes jealousy. And you don't dare try to approach so end up being angry with yourself + the other doesn't get you at all← God this is yummy.

4. Some background thoughts

Some years ago I came across passages discussing topic of "Eternal recurrence", not philosophy student and not familiar with Nietzsche's. The expriment question that would you choose to relive your life infinitely?  It suggests we should affirm one's life and reflect how we should live the moment. 

My feeling say no but my rationality say I should agree with it, of else you will fall into Nihilism... I think a lot on the theory as teen bc  myself definitely won't choose reliving my not -so-good life like again and again. So if I am in naruto universe, I might secretly agree with Infinite Tsukiyomi (without the Black Zetsu shit though) while admitting it's not good. 

Somehow I can easily imagine Tobirama accepting "Eternal recurrence", not regret his every choices and happy with his life. In this fic, Tobi & Mama are what I imagined of the spectrum of answers to the big question. Izuna'll try, that's a bit self-inserted thinking though. I hope the fic doesn't look too moralizing.

Anyway I bid Nietzsche (as well as other philosophers) will love Tsukiyomi ability, for his experiment.